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Entry tags:
FFVIII: Visit
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Seifer/Zell
Warnings: Sap
Rating: PG
Summary: Seifer visits Zell without even knowing why he's doing it.
It's been years. Five, six, seven. Seifer fears he's losing count, the days slipping through his fingers like sand on the beach near the orphanage. Every day just the same: dodging people, stolen moments with people who don't really care, hiding behind odd jobs and books and brief love affairs. He's not even sure why he got the urge to find Zell, of all people, but the urge is there and like so many of his urges in all his life, it won't be denied. It's like the itch he felt when he looked at Edea in her black dress that framed her body perfectly.
But it's not as dark, and thus, Seifer judges, safe to follow up on. He judges most things by that, nowadays: the itch in his palms and the warning voice in his head. The only alarm bells that ring in his head now are old ones, comfortable, a known enemy. He's past all that now anyway -- the urge to kiss Zell gone as much as the urge to bully the life out of him.
Sort of.
It's raining in Balamb, cobblestones wet and slippery under his feet. He'd heard that Zell quit Garden a year or two back, but he's not counting on that being true. SeeD knows the power of rumours as well as any government: spreading false information is the key. One of the keys, at any rate.
"Ma Dincht," Fujin had said, looking at him with her eyes all knowing, because she did know him, better than anyone else. He'd barely even mentioned Zell to her, but that fact didn't make her any less right. If anyone knows the truth of it, apart from Zell himself and the invisible genius behind SeeD, it'd be Zell's mother. Adoptive mother, Seifer thinks, wryly reminding himself.
All the same, he hesitates in front of the door. He can smell cooking inside, bacon and eggs and toast, and thinks that soon, maybe, Zell will be sitting down to lunch there with his mother, grinning the way he always did.
He knocks on the door.
For a moment, it seems as if there's no reaction -- as if he's some malevolent, unwanted ghost, unaware of his own death. But then he hears a shout and the clatter of footsteps, and all of a sudden the door opens, and there -- there he is. His hair isn't spiky anymore, bangs tumbling around his face, his baby blue eyes still the exact same shade as Seifer remembers, his lips parted in surprise. Seifer quickly discovers that the old urge to kiss him really hasn't gone away.
"Hey there, chickenwuss," he says, as easily as he can, and everything clicks into place and he's real again, standing there, solid and real in a soaking wet black trenchcoat, different and the same.
"Seifer," Zell says, amusement and annoyance, and then he steps back, inclining his head. "C'mon in. Ma's making lunch. Want something?"
Seifer opens his mouth to say something cutting and dismissive, and then his stomach growls. Zell's mouth quirks, but he looks as if he's finally learned better than to laugh. Seifer pushes past him roughly anyway, taking his coat off and looking for somewhere to put it. "Aren't you going to ask why I'm here?"
Zell shrugs, and goes to help his mother, as if Seifer and his reason are all immaterial. Seifer sits down at the table, awkward, an intruder; the two of them talk around him, cheerful, a family. He starts to feal unreal again, surrounded by so much warmth that has never really touched him before. The affection between what he's come to think of as the triad -- himself, Fujin and Raijin -- is cool and casual, barely there except in the ties that bind.
"If that's not enough, tell me," Ma Dincht says, and there's a sudden decisive click as the world steadies somehow, puts itself into focus, and Ma Dincht is putting a plate down in front of him. Seifer smiles at her, and catches Zell's surprise -- you never used to smile like that, it says. And nor does he now, generally.
Seifer stays silent as he eats, listening to them. He catches Zell flickering glances towards him as he speaks: somehow, in the course of the conversation with his mother, he updates Seifer on everything. On Squall, more silent now than ever, withdrawn into a ceaseless work of genius, making SeeD better and better; on Rinoa, bright-eyed and fragile and long, long gone back to Deling and a more comfortable life; on Irvine, a hazy figure he barely remembers; on Selphie, married and happy and bringing up a brood of children. And the news of Zell himself: Garden left behind, a more comfortable life now, helping in the junk shop across from the house. Seifer isn't surprised.
"Whatever happened to Raijin and Fujin?" Zell asks, all of a sudden.
"I still see them," Seifer says, shrugging. And then, when Zell seems to expect more: "They're married now, though it still doesn't seem like they even like each other, some days."
Zell laughs. He remembers Fujin and Raijin from the earliest days of training; an unlikely partnership brought about by the fact that Raijin was the only one who didn't seem to mind Fujin's tendency to leave him raw with bruises after sparring. Seifer was the one who made them friends, really, united them in being his satellites. Now Seifer feels as if he is their satellite -- and maybe that's why he's here.
"Do you want to stay for a while?" Zell asks, as he picks up Seifer's emptied plate to wash it; Ma Dincht looks on with interest and amusement.
"Okay," Seifer says, without even thinking.
It's probably a bad idea if Zell is already rubbing off on him like that.
---
Seifer sleeps on a camp bed in Zell's room. Ma Dincht set it up for him, brushing aside Zell's protests. "You can sleep in here," she told him, "since Zell invited you to stay without asking me."
He still wakes up as he used to back in training, staring up at the blank ceiling and listening to birds sleepily tweeting outside. He can hear Zell's breathing, too, the hint of a snore coming at the end of each breath. Oh-six-hundred hours, the time when he used to rise and get dressed and head for the training center to fight Squall.
The snoring stops abruptly and Zell rolls over. After a moment, he speaks, voice still thick with sleep. "You're awake early."
"Old habits," Seifer says, falling silent again immediately. A particularly loud bird is busy almost bursting its lungs with a song. Seifer rolls his eyes at it and resists the urge to roll over and bury his head in the pillow. "I don't like getting up at this time, though."
"Me neither," Zell says, very softly. He sits up, rubbing his eyes, but he doesn't move out of bed. "Do you maybe feel like telling me why you're here?"
"No."
"Asshole," he says, without any bite to it. He stretches a little. "If we get up this early, we'll wake Ma, so we should stay in here a while."
"Fine with me."
Zell flops back again. Seifer is struck with the incredibly stupid urge to get up and crawl into bed with him. He has a feeling that their bodies would fit perfectly: Zell smaller, more compact. He won't ever make the mistake of thinking Zell is weaker, of course, that isn't the issue. In fact, he's pretty sure Zell's kept in better shape than he has, and would roll him out of bed, sit on him, and punch him hard enough that his great-grandma, whoever she was, would feel it in the next life -- whatever that is.
"Are you going to be staying long?" Zell asks, at last.
"I don't know."
Seifer hears Zell roll over in his bed again. He looks up to find Zell looking down at him, grinning. "I love you too, idiot."
"I didn't say I love you!" he says, mortified, a hot flush rushing to his cheeks. Zell plainly doesn't believe him, and, well -- Seifer wonders if it might, maybe, be time to act on that urge to kiss Zell. Except -- no. Yes. No.
Oh.
Yes, apparently.
Pairing: Seifer/Zell
Warnings: Sap
Rating: PG
Summary: Seifer visits Zell without even knowing why he's doing it.
It's been years. Five, six, seven. Seifer fears he's losing count, the days slipping through his fingers like sand on the beach near the orphanage. Every day just the same: dodging people, stolen moments with people who don't really care, hiding behind odd jobs and books and brief love affairs. He's not even sure why he got the urge to find Zell, of all people, but the urge is there and like so many of his urges in all his life, it won't be denied. It's like the itch he felt when he looked at Edea in her black dress that framed her body perfectly.
But it's not as dark, and thus, Seifer judges, safe to follow up on. He judges most things by that, nowadays: the itch in his palms and the warning voice in his head. The only alarm bells that ring in his head now are old ones, comfortable, a known enemy. He's past all that now anyway -- the urge to kiss Zell gone as much as the urge to bully the life out of him.
Sort of.
It's raining in Balamb, cobblestones wet and slippery under his feet. He'd heard that Zell quit Garden a year or two back, but he's not counting on that being true. SeeD knows the power of rumours as well as any government: spreading false information is the key. One of the keys, at any rate.
"Ma Dincht," Fujin had said, looking at him with her eyes all knowing, because she did know him, better than anyone else. He'd barely even mentioned Zell to her, but that fact didn't make her any less right. If anyone knows the truth of it, apart from Zell himself and the invisible genius behind SeeD, it'd be Zell's mother. Adoptive mother, Seifer thinks, wryly reminding himself.
All the same, he hesitates in front of the door. He can smell cooking inside, bacon and eggs and toast, and thinks that soon, maybe, Zell will be sitting down to lunch there with his mother, grinning the way he always did.
He knocks on the door.
For a moment, it seems as if there's no reaction -- as if he's some malevolent, unwanted ghost, unaware of his own death. But then he hears a shout and the clatter of footsteps, and all of a sudden the door opens, and there -- there he is. His hair isn't spiky anymore, bangs tumbling around his face, his baby blue eyes still the exact same shade as Seifer remembers, his lips parted in surprise. Seifer quickly discovers that the old urge to kiss him really hasn't gone away.
"Hey there, chickenwuss," he says, as easily as he can, and everything clicks into place and he's real again, standing there, solid and real in a soaking wet black trenchcoat, different and the same.
"Seifer," Zell says, amusement and annoyance, and then he steps back, inclining his head. "C'mon in. Ma's making lunch. Want something?"
Seifer opens his mouth to say something cutting and dismissive, and then his stomach growls. Zell's mouth quirks, but he looks as if he's finally learned better than to laugh. Seifer pushes past him roughly anyway, taking his coat off and looking for somewhere to put it. "Aren't you going to ask why I'm here?"
Zell shrugs, and goes to help his mother, as if Seifer and his reason are all immaterial. Seifer sits down at the table, awkward, an intruder; the two of them talk around him, cheerful, a family. He starts to feal unreal again, surrounded by so much warmth that has never really touched him before. The affection between what he's come to think of as the triad -- himself, Fujin and Raijin -- is cool and casual, barely there except in the ties that bind.
"If that's not enough, tell me," Ma Dincht says, and there's a sudden decisive click as the world steadies somehow, puts itself into focus, and Ma Dincht is putting a plate down in front of him. Seifer smiles at her, and catches Zell's surprise -- you never used to smile like that, it says. And nor does he now, generally.
Seifer stays silent as he eats, listening to them. He catches Zell flickering glances towards him as he speaks: somehow, in the course of the conversation with his mother, he updates Seifer on everything. On Squall, more silent now than ever, withdrawn into a ceaseless work of genius, making SeeD better and better; on Rinoa, bright-eyed and fragile and long, long gone back to Deling and a more comfortable life; on Irvine, a hazy figure he barely remembers; on Selphie, married and happy and bringing up a brood of children. And the news of Zell himself: Garden left behind, a more comfortable life now, helping in the junk shop across from the house. Seifer isn't surprised.
"Whatever happened to Raijin and Fujin?" Zell asks, all of a sudden.
"I still see them," Seifer says, shrugging. And then, when Zell seems to expect more: "They're married now, though it still doesn't seem like they even like each other, some days."
Zell laughs. He remembers Fujin and Raijin from the earliest days of training; an unlikely partnership brought about by the fact that Raijin was the only one who didn't seem to mind Fujin's tendency to leave him raw with bruises after sparring. Seifer was the one who made them friends, really, united them in being his satellites. Now Seifer feels as if he is their satellite -- and maybe that's why he's here.
"Do you want to stay for a while?" Zell asks, as he picks up Seifer's emptied plate to wash it; Ma Dincht looks on with interest and amusement.
"Okay," Seifer says, without even thinking.
It's probably a bad idea if Zell is already rubbing off on him like that.
Seifer sleeps on a camp bed in Zell's room. Ma Dincht set it up for him, brushing aside Zell's protests. "You can sleep in here," she told him, "since Zell invited you to stay without asking me."
He still wakes up as he used to back in training, staring up at the blank ceiling and listening to birds sleepily tweeting outside. He can hear Zell's breathing, too, the hint of a snore coming at the end of each breath. Oh-six-hundred hours, the time when he used to rise and get dressed and head for the training center to fight Squall.
The snoring stops abruptly and Zell rolls over. After a moment, he speaks, voice still thick with sleep. "You're awake early."
"Old habits," Seifer says, falling silent again immediately. A particularly loud bird is busy almost bursting its lungs with a song. Seifer rolls his eyes at it and resists the urge to roll over and bury his head in the pillow. "I don't like getting up at this time, though."
"Me neither," Zell says, very softly. He sits up, rubbing his eyes, but he doesn't move out of bed. "Do you maybe feel like telling me why you're here?"
"No."
"Asshole," he says, without any bite to it. He stretches a little. "If we get up this early, we'll wake Ma, so we should stay in here a while."
"Fine with me."
Zell flops back again. Seifer is struck with the incredibly stupid urge to get up and crawl into bed with him. He has a feeling that their bodies would fit perfectly: Zell smaller, more compact. He won't ever make the mistake of thinking Zell is weaker, of course, that isn't the issue. In fact, he's pretty sure Zell's kept in better shape than he has, and would roll him out of bed, sit on him, and punch him hard enough that his great-grandma, whoever she was, would feel it in the next life -- whatever that is.
"Are you going to be staying long?" Zell asks, at last.
"I don't know."
Seifer hears Zell roll over in his bed again. He looks up to find Zell looking down at him, grinning. "I love you too, idiot."
"I didn't say I love you!" he says, mortified, a hot flush rushing to his cheeks. Zell plainly doesn't believe him, and, well -- Seifer wonders if it might, maybe, be time to act on that urge to kiss Zell. Except -- no. Yes. No.
Oh.
Yes, apparently.
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