Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Lightning. ❯ Chapter, The Twenty-Third: In Which Zell Tells Seifer. ( Chapter 23 )

Kitty: I remember what he tells! XD

Eoko: You had better. It's your chapter.

Kitty: Woo! My chapter! Hey, the Tigers are leading! But still a quarter and five minutes to go. Still plenty of time to lose the game...

Eoko: Don't talk like that, Kit! And for all you weird non-AFL followers, the Tigers are the Richmond Tigers, and they rock! Sometimes.

Kitty: Hardly... But that's 'cause we're rebuilding at the moment. I'll tell you this much, Seifer would look hot in an AFL uniform... Those short shorts...

Eoko: Yea, okay. You just try to get him into those, then we can talk about hotness level.

Kitty: He would be hot! They make even the worst arse look good.

Eoko: I should get me a pair of those...

Kitty: I don't know how they'd look on a girl... ANYWAY! We should let these good people find out what Zell tells Seifer.

Eoko: Since we already know and all. Yes, indeed! Read away!

Chapter, The Twenty-Third: In Which Zell Tells Seifer.

Seifer didn't move from where he was until Zell had fallen into a restless, exhausted sleep. Then he slid quietly off the fighter's back and carefully removed his shoes, pausing every time Zell made a sound, so that it took him almost fifteen minutes per shoe.

"The things I do for you, Chicken Wuss..." Seifer murmured as he pulled a sheet up over Zell's broad shoulders.

Fuck, he looked awful. Seifer brushed damp bangs out of puffy, red eyes, then sighed and went to sit down, silently watching the sleeping fighter. Even unconscious, he didn't look happy. It wasn't just the red eyes. The curve of his mouth was downward, and there was obvious strain in the youthful features.

And all for the fucking Cowboy.

Seifer rubbed at his eyes, hunching down in the chair, and propped his cheek on his hand. He had half a mind to go and find Irvine and tell him just what he'd done to Zell. Maybe then he'd get it, and stop being a brat about all this. Then again, he reflected, some selfish little part of him was awfully glad things hadn't gone well, and damned if he could figure out why.

He growled and stood up again, stalking over to the little fridge to get himself a drink.

What the hell was wrong with Irvine anyway? People would kill to have Zell want them. Okay, so the fighter had been a bit of bitch to the sharpshooter, but damn! Surely he could see how sincere Zell was?

"I fucking need a cigarette!" Seifer hissed as he threw himself back down in the chair, but it was Zell's room and he'd been forbidden on several occasions to never, ever smoke in there, on pain of never being allowed back. And he didn't want to upset the fighter anymore than he was already.

Zell murmured in his sleep and made a sorrowful face, lips shaping Irvine's name and Seifer wanted to break something. Preferably Kinneas' neck. He entertained that thought for a long, long while. It helped him stop thinking of smoking.

- - -

When Irvine awoke Monday morning, he couldn't remember what he had done from the time Selphie left until he crawled, naked, into his bed and cried himself to sleep. He only knew he'd cried himself to sleep because his pillow and his hair were still damp. He shifted a little, utter misery making his breath catch again, and realized he held something in his right hand. He opened his fingers and found Rubedo - Zell - Rubedo's note there with his phone number.

"Rubedo..." Irvine whispered, tears coming to his eyes again.

He felt as though someone close to him, someone so important to him that his heart beat faster just at the mere thought of him, had died. He would never see Rubedo again. Those strong arms would never hold him again. That gentle mouth would never... never...

Hyne!

Ever since the kisses they had shared - had that only been a couple of days ago? - Irvine had been allowing himself quite the imaginative daydreams about certain other things they might do. It had been difficult without a face to put to the man, but it was by far more difficult to put Zell's face to him.

Zell.

Zell...?

Zell!

Fuck! He had class with Zell tonight!

He seriously considered just skipping the whole damn thing, but then he remembered Aki would automatically fail them and groaned. He didn't want to fail. He couldn't afford to fail.

The day seemed to past quickly after that realization, his other classes flying past in a blur, and he wasn't even sure what happened at lunch. Rikan, he thought, looked especially mournful, but he couldn't find it in him to care, since he couldn't find it in him to feel much of anything but pain.

His friends tried all day to find out why he barely talked, and looked as though "someone had run over his dog", as Hiro so delicately put it, but he refused to tell them. At any rate, they entered the Training Room in a protective cluster around him, which only tightened when they saw that none other than Seifer Almasy was leaning against a wall, foot propped up against it and arms folded across his chest. His eyes lit on Irvine, but the sharpshooter wasn't looking. Terry and Harada glared at the gunbladist, who only smirked and gave a small, derisive laugh through his nose that was little more than an exhale.

Irvine had eyes only for Zell.

The little blonde was running through several complicated moves, his face set and his eyes unreadable. But... he...

"He looks as bad as I feel..." Irvine whispered.

"What?" Terry asked swiftly, looking at him.

"...N-nothin'..." Irvine said vaguely, watching Zell's muscles flex beneath his shirt.

He'sss the sssame persss-

"Don't even bother, Levi..." Irvine muttered. The Cadets didn't even glance at him. They'd soon grown used to him suddenly saying something out of the blue, and knew what it was. But still, he couldn't stop staring at Zell.

Seifer narrowed his eyes at Irvine, and the second Zell stopped moving, he was at the fighter's side. Irvine hesitated after the role had been called while everyone else automatically found their partners and began on the stretching exercises. Zell didn't even look at him, so he put his hat aside and went through the stretches as well.

"Okay, everyone," Zell said after a while. His voice sounded softer than usual, and several of the students exchanged glances at the lack of his general exuberance. "We're going to be working on breaking holds today. Say you don't manage to get your weapon back, or you're a little slow to block, so you end up in someone's arms. And not in a good way, either."

There was a murmur of laughter, but even that line was delivered with far less enthusiasm than was typical for the fighter, so they didn't react as they usually did.

"Something's wrong..." Harada whispered to Irvine, who said nothing, because he knew she was right.

"Seifer..." Zell said, then he lifted a hand when Seifer moved towards him. "Oh, I almost forgot. For those of you who don't know him, this is Seifer. Contrary to popular belief, he doesn't bite."

"Unless you ask," Seifer murmured, showing his teeth.

Zell rolled his eyes.

"Okay, Seif. Enough terrorizing my students. Let's do this."

Seifer smirked and winked at the class, then shrugged out of the velvet jacket and tossed it aside before putting his arms around Zell from behind, pinning the fighter's own arms at his sides. Irvine couldn't keep his mind from taking a swift slide into the gutter. Seifer's eyes met his and the gunbladist smirked. Irvine flushed and looked away.

"Seifer and I are pretty evenly matched," Zell said, quelling the murmur of his class. "He's taller than me, but I'm stronger. He's faster than me, but I'm more agile and I know more about fighting without a weapon. However, none of that matters. It's about weak points. I'd figure most of you, especially the girls, will know where to hit. Any takers?"

"Groin!" one of the small girls piped instantly.

"How did I know that would be the first one? Anyone else?"

"Solar Plexis."

"Right."

"Neck or throat."

"Yes."

"Knees...?"

"You're right, don't be so hesitant."

"Instep," Irvine said after a long pause where everyone looked at everyone else. Zell just nodded.

"Right, all of you, but I'm not about to go bashing Seifer up."

He spent the next twenty minutes demonstrating how to break holds, then set the class to it. Irvine stood, looking at a loss, as Zell drifted through the class, correcting and assisting where it was needed. After about five minutes when it became obvious Zell wasn't going to approach him - for which Irvine forced himself to be grateful - he took a step forward, intending to go and remind Zell that, even though he hated him, he needed to pass the class. A hand fell on his shoulder.

"S-S-S-"

"The one and only. You can practice with me today."

The way he said it left no room for argument, and Irvine was too tense for the first twenty minutes to have any hope of doing what Zell had showed them all. But he became steadily aware that Seifer was being highly professional. Especially when, after the fifth time Irvine had made a sound of utter terror, the gunbladist told him flatly to stop being an idiot, because he wasn't about to fuck up Zell's class by doing anything less than teacherly towards a student.

He still found himself wishing it were Zell's arms around him several times before he could squash the wish.

Zell dismissed the class ten minutes before finish time with congratulations and a few final notes on what they'd done. Irvine was leaving when a hand touched his shoulder and he turned to find Seifer looking at him.

"In case you care," the gunbladist said lowly, glancing over to make sure Zell was occupied with the couple of students he had asked to stay back to go over a couple of things they hadn't seemed to grasp. "He spent hours crying after you left him out on the plains yesterday. And he-"

"Right. Like I'm goin' to believe anythin' you say. You were probably in on the whole thing!"

Seifer bristled, a hand coming to Irvine's collar and lifting him a little onto his toes.

"If you don't fucking-"

"Thanks, Zell!" one of the students said, and Seifer released the sharpshooter, since Zell's distraction would soon be gone.

"I can't tell why the fuck it is, Priscilla, but he cares about you. And you're stupid to throw that back in his face."

Irvine said nothing, eyes fixed on some point around the vicinity of Seifer's shoe. When it became apparent the gunbladist wasn't going to say anything more, Irvine turned on his heels and left, silent tears running down his face.

Zell didn't care. He didn't care. He didn't care. He didn't care! It was all just a mindfuck. It had to be. It was Seifer, for Hyne's sake! Of course he'd help the fighter fuck up Irvine's life even further.

I hate you! Damn you, I hate you! I'll always hate you! Always!

- - -

Zell lapsed into a thoughtful silence the moment they exited the Training Room and remained that way all through their dinner and their return to Seifer's room. They went over the class, but Seifer could tell the fighter was barely paying attention to what they were talking about. It was starting to piss the gunbladist off, but he couldn't bare to set Zell crying again, so he didn't say anything about it.

They were talking about the members of the class that were doing the worst when Zell suddenly slapped his thigh and snapped his fingers.

"That's it!"

Seifer blinked several times at him.

"What's it?"

"Lightning."

"Pardon?"

"That's the way."

"The way to what?"

"Irvine."

"Lightning?"

"Yes."

"M agic?"

"No, a chocobo."

"A chocobo? You mean Qu-"

"No!" Zell stared at him like he was stupid. "What the hell are you on, Seifer?"

"Me?! I don't even know what the fuck you're going on about, Chicken! Talk sense, and it might actually mean something!"

The fighter sighed, then started to explain to him as though he were a two-year-old.

"Irvine had a chocobo called Lightning. He had to sell him, because he couldn't afford to feed him anymore. Our fault..." Zell trailed off briefly, then picked up again. "I'll get him back, then Irvine won't be able to... to hate me anymore."

It was Seifer's turn to stare.

"Zell, all damn chocobos look the same. How are you going to know which one it is? And where are you even going to look in the first place?"

"Well..." Zell considered. "He wouldn't have sold it to anyone who he didn't think would look after it, so most likely he sold it to a ranch, and a good one at that. Possibly it'd be close, so he could visit, plus he wouldn't have been able to take Lightning far away to sell in the first place, because then how would he have got back? If it's been called Lightning since it was a chick, which it most likely has, then there's no way they'd be able to change it's name. And, let's face it, how often does a six-foot, genuine cowboy with blue eyes and a long ponytail turn up wanting to sell a chocobo? Whoever he sold it to will remember. Then I can pay to house it and feed it... and... and maybe..." He trailed off, running a hand over his face.

"Zell-"

"Don't fucking try to talk me out of it, Seifer!" the fighter snapped suddenly.

Seifer backed off and stuck a cigarette in his mouth, getting pretty damn near to pouting.

"I get that you're attracted to him," the gunbladist said after a while, ignoring the sharp snap of Zell's eyes to him. "Felt damn good to hold him today, and he's pretty sexy, for a nancy cowboy, but is it worth all this damn aggravation?"

"Yes," Zell said simply, standing suddenly and heading for the door.

"Why? He's already kicked you in the guts."

"It doesn't matter." The door hissed open.

"Of course it does. He hurt you."

"I hurt him first."

"But you said you were sorry, and he didn't even give you the time of day!"

"It doesn't matter," Zell repeated, looking over his shoulder, eyes warm. "I love him."

And Seifer could only stare as the gentle admission hung in the air between them as Zell headed off down the corridor to his own room.

In that moment, Seifer hated Irvine Kinneas with a passion he hadn't felt since the day he realized Ultimecia had played and manipulated him only for her own gain. And the worst thing was, he was starting to realize why everything about this situation pissed him off, but it was too damn late.