Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Lightning. ❯ Chapter, The First: In Which Irvine is Furtive. ( Chapter 1 )

Lightning.
A Final Fantasy Eight collaboration fic by Hicky and KittyMeowMaxwell.

Pairing/s: Unknown.

Plot: Unknown.

Insanity Level: High to Insanely Astronomical.

Warnings: Many.

Author's Notes: From Kitty: Hicky was bemoaning the lack of Zell/Irvine and/or Seifer/Zell, having read everything (she says) that exists anywhere on the internet. I said we should do a collaboration fic. So this is it. So... maybe the pairing's aren't unknown. Eh, I'm sure we'll get a little Squall in there. *grins* Oh, and probably some yuri too, who knows? Even we don't.

Hicky: I have read them all! I even went to MEDIAMINER dammit! And google!

~ ~ ~

Chapter, The First: In Which Irvine is Furtive.

Irvine peeked warily out of the Library before daring to set foot outside of its relative safety. He inched along the wall, looking furtively around and holding a cloth bag filled with books to his chest.

They were stalking him. He was sure of it.

No one was entirely sure how it had happened, or to what extent, but upon Seifer Almasy's return to Balamb Garden, he'd laid down arms against Zell and the two of them were rarely seen apart anymore. They still called each other names, but the tone was different, and they only laughed about it. Furthermore, Seifer had a new target, and Zell delighted in the torment as well, adopting Seifer's nicknames and using them with malicious glee.

Pretty Boy, Cowgirl, Cowpoker, Tinker Bell, Prima Donna, Pansy, Prissy, which had recently translated into "Priscilla", Slut-Boy, which was actually a Zell Dincht Original, along with Mr. Two-Bullets-Short-of-a-Cartridge... And when Seifer was feeling particularly nasty, Gutter Whore.

And Irvine hadn't even done anything to warrant being a target! The blonde pair's favourite name at the moment was Tinker Bell, because they found the sharpshooter's protests that he wasn't a fairy amazingly funny. And they insisted he was. Which he wasn't. He couldn't be. He spent too much time with women to be gay. Him? Never.

It was their fault he hadn't yet made SeeD - which was, of course, something else they liked to tease him about - because he was so busy trying to avoid them he couldn't concentrate properly on his studies. At least when Seifer had been picking on Zell, there was only one of him. Irvine had the two of them to contend with.

And he was thoroughly disgusted with himself for sneaking around, as had become his habit. He had been able to deflect their taunts with a careless wave of his hand, or something snapped back to start with, but it was constant and there was only so much standing up he could do. Neo-Sorceress war or not, he was still only seventeen. Yet another fact they delighted in reminding him of, being younger than either of them and Squall as well.

He was almost to his room, so close, only three steps away, when someone squealed "Irvy!" and a streak of yellow tackled him, sending the books flying and the sharpshooter crashing against the wall with a slight grunt of pain. But he couldn't help smiling at Selphie when she apologized sheepishly and collected his books up for him.

"Hey, Selph."

"Hey! Where were you last night?!"

Irvine affected a look of confusion, though he knew perfectly well what she was referring to, and the reason he hadn't gone.

"Quisty’s birthday!"

"Oh! Dang! I, like, totally forgot!"

She looked at him, far more shrewd than anyone ever gave her credit for, and planted her hands on her hips, pouting at him.

"You're full of it, Irvine Kinneas. You didn't go 'cause you knew Beavis and Butt-Head would be there. You can't let them get to you. It's what they want. Remember we always used to tell Zell not to rise to Seifer's teasing, 'cause it's the reaction he's looking f-"

"I know that!" Irvine snapped and Selphie's eyes widened. "You, like, think I don't? But it ain’t so easy as all that! It's-"

His breath hitched and he turned away, taking his books from her.

"I'll see you later."

"Irvine, don't cry... Please don't c-"

"I aint cryin'!"

And with that, he went the last three steps to his room and entered, auto-locking the door behind him.

He leaned back against it and slid to the floor, resting his forehead on his arms folded across his knees. He choked back the sobs, embarrassed, disgusted, angry with himself for letting them affect him so much. He knew she was right, he shouldn't rise, but it was so hard...

And they... they were so...

Ssso what...? What?

Nothin'. They're... nothin'.

You keep tellin' yourssself that, Cowboy. Jussst keep it up.

He was silent, tired of Leviathan's insistence that he stop pretending. He wasn't pretending. It was the truth. He wasn't gay. Couldn't be. No way. Climbing to his feet, the sharpshooter took himself for a hot shower, where he could cry without feeling the tears run down his cheeks.