Convergence [2]: Blood Roses

~ 13 ~

-Breeep-Breeep-Breeep-Breeep- Stupid damn -Breeep- "Argh, shut--" Swat. Flump. -Breeep- Swat. -Bree-Clunk. "--up! Ha," Zell mumbled triumphantly into his pillow, "Ha ha, bastardclock."

Wait, this was Squall's alarm. Which meant Squall wanted to get up now, but Squall wasn't in the bed, because he'd sent Squall off to look for Seifer.

Zell heard it, every little wail Squall made, and it had taken all the willpower he could muster not to go out there and put whatever either of them wanted him to in his mouth. Or whatever, just see them, even.

Okay, so he had seen them. A tentative peek around the corner, just for a second, long enough to realize Seifer wasn't being an asshole. Long enough to feel proud of him when he went back to bed. Now,Now, if only he could manage to make Squall come like that.

But now, it didn't matter. What mattered was that although it was early (for a Sunday, anyway), Squall didn't want to sleep in, and it was Zell's job to go out there to wake him up. That he did, pausing only to tiptoe in the hall while he adjusted the seat of his shorts.

Squinting in the hazy light of an overcast mid-morning, Zell discovered that Squall wasn't the only person he would be waking up -- as a matter of fact, he could barely even see Squall at all, his upper half blocked from view by Seifer's back. Upon leaning over them, Zell discovered that Seifer, with Squall curled right up in his arms as they slept and his mouth buried in the hair at the top of Squall's head, looked unforgivably cute.

Seifer. Cute. Too bad he had to disrupt this.

He poked Seifer tentatively in the shoulder, and Seifer jumped, his hold on Squall visibly tightening before he opened his eyes, one of them peering green and groggy upwards.

"Gotta wake him up," Zell whispered, "Alarm."

Seifer lifted his chin to speak, a copper hair sticking to his lips, "Like hell you do," he refused.

"Time'sit?" Squall mumbled, making both blonds cringe.

"Doesn't matter," Seifer replied in hopes of salvaging the situation Zell had ruined, "Go back to sleep."

"What time is it?"

"Ten," Zell replied, "I was thinking --"

Squall cursed and shoved Seifer's arm off of him. "Gotta... " he mumbled as he slowly struggled to dislodge himself, "T.C.'s still a damn mess unless they've started work, which I doubt..." His feet met the floor after awkwardly swinging over Seifer's legs, "Gotta check for a reply from Galbadia, shit, see Rinoa, Ellone..." His steps faltered in the hall; he shook his head, and continued into the bathroom.

"See what you did?" Seifer scolded listlessly, an arm flung up over his eyes, too tired to even bother sharing Zell's view of Squall's bum before he disappeared. "Sent him into fucking apeshit mode when he's had his eyes closed less'n five hours. And I'm tired of you people asking me why I give a damn, so don't."

Before Zell could explain that he was just trying to do what Squall wanted, or even that he wasn't going to ask any questions, Squall rushed back into the room. The light speed of his steps caught Zell off-guard, but more so the similar manner in which he caught Zell's face between his hands. "Thanks," he said casually before offering an ironically soft kiss, "For not letting me sleep all day."

Then he was gone again, leaving Zell trying to scratch away the flutters in his tummy. "Damn, is he ever bein' weird..."

"I think 'scatterbrained,' would be a more accurate term," Seifer skillfully replied around a yawn. Not enough time to get it all sorted out, he figured, because he felt the same way. "You just cut him off in the middle of a sentence and asked him to change the subject, metaphorically speaking. If you don't mind, I'd like to continue from where I left off." And hopefully not have any more flashbacks-turned-nightmares like the one he had woken up from -- Rinoa kicking him square in the teeth when he bent down to kiss her shoe. "Why don't you go clean something?"

Zell's eyes drifted to the other sofa-end. Ugh. "Why don't you gohome?"

"Because," Seifer replied, then sat up anyway, "Now that you've mentioned moving, I've realized that doing so into a certain someone's bed would be much --" The navy carpeting flashed a white heat that spread beneath Seifer's cheekbones, seared fury down his throat. He coughed, face in his hands without a thought. Seemed he wasn't the only one who didn't like being interrupted; his pals had done some sorting of their own.

And fuck, were they ever mad.

"Hey, woah..."

"Just blood," Seifer answered distantly, "My head, sat up too fast." He smacked away the unsure hand that touched his arm before it could settle. "Go fuck off someplace, will you?"

The move uncovered Seifer's face enough to show the effects of more than dizziness, but Zell couldn't help being hurt by that, and it was all too confusing to form a question about anyway. "Fine with me, assface." He turned on a rigid heel, "You stay here, I'm goin' back to bed."

Seifer didn't move a muscle until the whisper of bare feet on carpet turned into tile squeaks and a door clicked shut -- and as soon as it did, sprung to his own feet and fought not to double over while hastily tightening the blanket around his waist.

Squall got headaches too. He knew that. Therefore, Squall had to have painkillers -- unless he was the masochistic type that really did brave them out, but Seifer wasn't about to even consider that possiblity. They had to be somewhere, and that somewhere wasn't the bathroom, because he'd already looked.

Kitchen cupboards opened and closed, every one passing a blinded but furtive inspection before he moved on. He struck gold in the form of cylindrical plastic above the sink and only looked at the label long enough to make sure it wasn't anything useless like an antibiotic before he tackled the lid.

Seifer pulled, turned, and flicked with his thumbs. Line up the arrows, that was all he had to do, if only he could focus sharply enough to see them. The bottle fumbled from his hands and clattered into the basin like a spiteful maraca, bumping his fingers as his rush to quiet it only made it louder before he captured it and got back to work. He couldn't remember ever having thrown up in his life, let alone from this, but a gag was hanging in the back of his throat so if he didn't get into this fucking thing soon --

Cold hands folded over his, but he threw them off, ignored them, and they came back with a low sigh and much more power to back them up. At first, it seemed they were shaking, but they weren't. His were. He surrendered the bottle and gripped the edge of the counter, closing his eyes and then reopening them to stare down the drain when the world started spinning.

"Here," came a whisper before a soft nudge to his arm, and he reached out to feel two little pills plop into his palm. Three -- or the whole damn lot of them -- would have been preferable, but he raised his hand to his mouth without argument, finding that he had to calm his breathing before he could swallow them. He remained hovering over the sink, willing it away, willing his head to just shut the hell up.

The water ran, and a filled glass came between himself and the stainless steel below him. He took it and drank because he knew he should, eyes on him all the while, the only time he hated being watched. The sweat on his arms and forehead grew cold. Gradually, he stopped shaking, and gradually, the pain shifted from a steady waterfall to a manageable ebb and flow, but he remained still.

"You wanna tell me," Zell quietly began, "What hellhell I just helped you chase away?"

"Can't say I do." Seifer maneuvered his face into a smirk and shoved back, brushing past Zell into the hall. The shower was running -- good because it meant Squall hadn't heard a thing, but bad because damn, did he ever need one.

Satisfied by curious glimpse at the label, Zell returned the bottle to the cupboard, softly shutting the door when all he wanted to do was slam it. Chewing his lip almost hard enough to draw blood, he scrunched his face up, breathed, and followed Seifer into the bedroom. He didn't close the door behind him to offer Seifer privacy; it was merely to keep his own words from meeting any other ears. "If you know me at all like to say you do, you know I'm not gonna tiptoe around you," he told the figure with its back already to him, his sharp edge purposeful, "You aren't gonna keep your job if you got an addiction --"

Seifer scoffed and then full out laughed, a series of pointed 'ha's that shook the bedsheet from his shoulder. "Is that what you think it is?"

That was more than a headache. It was Seifer as white as snow and ready to pass out, irises almost hidden by his pupils -- definitely nothing like the side effects Squall was exhibiting. And if Seifer didn't have anything to hide, he wouldn't have lied about it in the living room. Crossing his arms tightly, Zell leaned back into the door to feel it press as hard as ice against his shoulderblades. "I'll take a better explanation if you've got one."

"I have one, and I'd like to keep it." Seifer cleared his throat, "Sleep or leave, your choice."

"'Kay, sure," Zell gambled, "I'll go check up on Squall, see if he's hurting too, ‘cause if he is he'll want me to bring him his --"

"Keep your mouth shut." Squall wasn't stupid. Especially after what happened the day before, Seifer wouldn't put it past him to figure this out. And once he figured it out, he would take it away. That was a given.

"What?" Zell's steps toward the bed were smooth and relaxed. "I don't see any problem with me and him comparing notes. I mean, what's his is yours now, right?" He sat down, pulled his legs up to cross them, and Seifer actually tried to hide his face in the pillow. "It's only fair to let him know his prescription's being filled for two now. He'll have to go back twice as often --"

Seifer swiftly rolled over, clamped a hand around Zell's wrist, and squeezed. "Keep. It. Shut." His stare was unwavering, and Zell's the same. He squeezed harder, knowing it hurt, but Zell didn't even flex.

"Don't want him to know you broke into the med cab'net, eh?" Zell whispered. Seifer's chin bobbed downward once, precise, anything but desperate no matter how strongly he was feeling it. "Then either you tell me what the heck is up," Zell continued, "or I tell him what I just did -- just saw -- back there. Because you can bet he'd wanna know."

Seifer flung Zell's arm away and rolled back over. "You'd drop anything I told you at his feet like the Sunday-fucking-Times in exchange for a pat on the head," he murmured, "Within ten minutes."

Seifer obviously wasn't going to spill his guts into Zell's ears without more prompting, and this was too big a deal to just let it fly. For all Zell knew, something could have been killing him. "It's happened before, right?" He took Seifer's silence as an affirmative, and pressed on, "Been to the infirmary?"

"No."

"You junctioned?" Nothing. "How many?"

"Shit if I know."

Zell's reaction was instantaneous: he shot from his butt to his knees, his eyes about to bulge out of his head. "WHAT? You don't know? How on Hyne's green fucking planet can you not know?" When he looked to Seifer for an answer, he noticed the pillow over his head, and forced himself to quiet. "Uh... well... what's your... guestimation?"

Muffled nearly to silence, Seifer casually answered, "Five, six maybe. Couple years."

Zell choked on his own spit, lowered his head, and coughed. "Straight?"

The door opened. Moment of truth. Zell forced a grin before the towel dropped from Squall's head and tried not to drop the weight of what had just been placed atop his own shoulders before it hit the floor. Just a glance from Squall as he made his way to the closet tried to drag Seifer's words out of Zell's mouth like it were his own confession to make; but he wasn't the rat anymore, that was history and no matter how badly Squall would want to hear the answer if he knew there was a question to ask, Zell wouldn't say a word.

For now, anyway.

Squall shoved his way into another new tee and squinted at Seifer's covered-up head. "Problem?"

"Nope," Zell replied, a little too hastily. "Just talking."

Seifer didn't have to look up to see Squall's double-take at that one. "Talking my Hynedamned ears off," he rescued, still muffled, and Squall's eyes crinkled warmly before he crouched by the foot of the bed to reach beneath it.

He felt good. Everything was back to normal -- Zell blabbing, Seifer swearing, himself feeling like he had lost eighty ps hes he didn't know he carried and looking forward to having time alone. His mind was sharp, only slightly fuzzy after waking from the best sleep of his life. "I'm going to the office," he explained, an efficient list already forming, "Don't bother rushing to get out of here. I don't care how long you stay." He recovered a flat black rectangle and snapped open its twin silver fastenings before Zell had the chance to ask what he was looking for, took his chain from the corner and closed it again, sliding the case back beneath with an getigetic push.

Of course, he had dreamed, as expected, probably all night, but he could only remember one of them. "I don't know if you were there to hear her, Zell, but Rinoa asked us to let her sleep in. We'll all meet down there at one, if that's okay."

"'Course it's okay," Zell replied. Seifer grunted. He didn't feel like getting up. Ever.

But Squall was already in the bathroom, two closed doors between himself and the others. He had to do something, yet -- celebratory, symbolic, something that would make Rinoa smile as soon as her eyes fell on him.

As he fondled his hair, tried to shift his part a little to the right and strike some semblance of nostalgia into it, he found that even after willingly running through them countless repeated times in the shower, dreamed images still haunted him.

In Winhill, back at the orphanage, and taking the long way back to the Garden from Balamb all at once, surrounded by multihued grasses speckled with white dots like the first snowfall in November. Warm air, no wind.

Despite his earring's size and constant attempts to jump from his fingers, that part was easy: swift poke through the lobe, fingering the backside to ease it through a hole that was still trying to close up, finish the job with a tinier stainless steel backing.

Rinoa wore a woven crown of lily of the valley, a blue sundress spread haphazardly around her sitting form, grass blades tickling her bare knees. She was working diligently on another, this of white daisies, one of which she placed in his hand.

His ring was still there; he had never taken it off; it had been with him too long, longer than the pendant, longer than he could remember. He wanted to remove it, all of a sudden. He had removed it for her; only her. It had been so long that he couldn't remember what the inside looked like, but he left it to glint uncaressed in its self-made dimple on his middle finger.

"I taught her to make them me, me," Rinoa explained, tipping her chin toward a familiar eight-year-old girl who was adorned with a wreath to match. Ellone smiled, and nodded, and somewhere Seifer laughed. When Squall turned around, Laguna was there, refusing to look anywhere but at his own shoes. "Now I'd like to teach you," but Rinoa never got the chance, because Squall woke up.

Pendant. He wished he'd had to search for it, just to make the moment more momentous in mimicry of why he was looking. He wanted it for her; because she liked it, not because he did. He wanted some of the past back; he wanted to honor certain memories while forgetting others, though the cool, heavy fall of a chain over his collarbones hadn't the ability to be selective. He would honor all with this, because he was doing it for her, or he would honor nothing. It was so natural to select the former that the latter pained him.

When he faced his reflection -- stepped back, focused his eyes, looked at himself -- he felt distinctly that he was playing dress-up. He hadn't worn the three in ages, not since her. The earring had come out when he caught it with a too-fervorous hair brush and he had just never bothered to put it back -- something so small to complete this triad, seemingly insignificant. He had borne the symbols of necklace and ring with unchanged pride countless times since her disappearance, without a thought. This changed it. This completed it.

He felt seventeen again.

Before that could scare him, he left the mirror for the kitchen.

~o)O(o~

Seifer didn't say anything when Squall left, hoping Zell would let him keep at least the ass end of his cat in the bag. Zell didn't say anything either, at first -- too fogged up with too many questions -- instead going for the two days' worth of clothing on the floor.

Squall had sent his clothes to the student launders his entire life. Zell would have eacheach him how to do this, too, sometime. "I had three, once," he began, in the middle of pulling a pantleg right-side out. "Don't know what I woulda done if I had to keep 'em more than a month. Next to impossible to keep 'em all happy. Drove us all kinda nuts in the castle, having so many." He realized he was folding pants that were just about to be washed, shook his head, and threw them on top of the dryer. "Not saying time compression didn't have anything to do with it, it wit was the GFs too."

Seifer pulled the pillow from over his head and rolled onto his back, shoving it behind his neck. "I guess some people just can't handle them."

Bending to pick up his own t-shirt, Zell was surprised to hear Seifer speak. "You can?" He sniffed the fabric, tossed it across the room. "Nah, course you can," he corrected, "You can handle anything."

Unperturbed by Zell's sarcasm, Seifer opted to agree with it. "I haven't come across anything that I can't."

"So, what, you can't just be happy with that? Gotta go lookin' for a challenge? I never knew you were so eager to get knocked down. I mean -- I mean, you're being a damn idiot right now."

"And you're the last person I need a lecture from."

Zell continued right over him. "You got all these things plugged into your head and I bet you don't even summon. It's not like you need 'em. Plus, they've gotta be gobblin' up chunks of your brain faster than --" Shit. Zell froze while checking a pocket, swallowing hard. Oh, shit.

Seifer had no trouble reading Zell's expression, and regretted having underestimated his skills of deduction. He had hoped Zell wouldn't ask why, and planned to feed him something bogus if he did, but he had never thought he would figure it out himself. "Congratulations."

When Zell looked up, his eyes were bigger and bluer than they were supposed to be. "Was it really that bad?" he asked quietly, expecting a serious answer.

Instead, a laugh burst from Seifer, made of more than amusement as he used it as an excuse to let something out of his chest. "I don't know, stupid. Do you think I'd keep them if it didn't work?"

"But... but..." Zell twisted his finger up in a beltloop, unwound it, twisted again. "Hyne, Seifer, you can't --"

"Yes, I can, and I will. And you'll keep it to yourself."

"And you'll kill yourself," Zell fired back, flinging the morning's second pair of pants across the room. "And then Squall'll kill me. Shit, fuck..."

"Oh, please." Seifer waved a hand and let it fall across his chest. "So I had a bit of an upset this morning. They're rare, and far from deadly. You're blowing this out of proportion."

"What about when there's nothin' left for them to eat up, huh? Then what?" Zell cleared his throat, and answered his own question: "Then you'll be a vegetable, that's what. Then you won't be anythin' but a chunk of fucking meat."

Seifer shrugged. "That's a long way off. I'll deal with it when I have to." Just like everything else. Just like he'd told himself he would. No plan yet -- not remembering their names meant not being able to put them back into the system even if he wanted to -- but his intelligence had never failed him before. "When I have to."

"Yeah?" Zelled ted to turn another shirt rightside out, and only succeeded in tangling his arms in it. He struggled, got free, and whipped it with poor aim to flump against the wall. "Before or after you literally forget how to breathe?"

Seifer was unsure how to answer that (mostly because it made his stomach twist up), so he tsked. "Such a pessimist, Chickie."

"Maybe I'm not scared to see shit like it is." Finally giving up on trying to get anything done, Zell walked around the bed to the side Seifer was on, stood there, and stared at him. "I dunno if you're scared or what, but you have to think about it. Having three GFs at once was unheard of when I did it. Five or six is insane. You are insane."

Seifer closed his eyes, trying not to show that he was wincing at the volume in Zell's voice. "I did think about it. It's a decision I've weighed and contemplated and made."

"Get rid of them." Zell's voice lowered, and to Seifer, it almost sounded dangerous. "Get rid of them, or I'll tell Squall why you don't remember. I'll tell him everything. I'll tell everyone everything."

"Go ahead," Seifer replied lightly, "as long as you know that I won't give this up without a fight."

Zell took a step back and swore. Pitting Squall against Seifer would no doubt pit Rinoa against one or both of them -- would tear them apart when he had already promised to do whatever he could to support them. He couldn't even blamefer fer for bringing him into this. He took a deep breath, and Seifer didn't move when he sat down beside him. "Then summon, at least. Get them to quit hating you. Make it easier on yourself." Zell cringed. Lose your mind quietly, Seifer; if you're sentencing yourself to death, at least make it a painless one. Zell didn't know what else to ask him to do.

"I would if I could, but I don't know their names."

"Shit." Zell had half-expected that. "I'm gettin' the idea you're out to fuck yourself as hard as you can."

"It was an accident," Seifer mumbled, barely able to believe that the words were coming out of his mouth, "Forgetting them. I didn't plan that."

Zell raised a hand to nibble on a thumbnail, his view clarifying at a startling speed. "Control," he said around it, "See? They're already taking it away from you." Maybe, if he couldn't force Seifer to change what he was doing, he could convince him to. "And I bet it makes you hate 'em back."

"It's better than the alternative. If it wasn't, I would change it. I haven't lost any control to them."

Zell could easily have called Seifer a coward and been right. Instead, he observed, "Physical pain for emotional. A tradeoff." Living lives focused on training to take a hit and keep going, cast a spell, get over it, surge on, they had all made that bargain before. Psychological counseling hadn't been a part of Garden until Quistis created the job for herself. Testing, yes, but it was only do decide on whether ‘recuperation time' was warranted, or if someone was shellshocked enough to require the boot. Feeling had never been encouraged. How else were they supposed to handle being human? "Kinda extreme, but I get it."

"Great." So let's talk about something else now, like you or Squall or fucking, Seifer wanted to say. He tried to come up with some sort of innuendo to get Zell's lip curled up to where he liked to see it, but nothing came to him. "I'd say that's quite a barrier we just broke down, hm?" He grinned and kept his eyes closed, not seeing Zell mirror it.

"Somebody'd be proud."

"Well shit, don't talk about him, or all will be for naught." When Seifer chuckled, he could almost hear Zell laughing with him. "And, just to reiterate, tell him -- or anyone else --about any of this and I'll fucking kill you."

"That doesn't scare me, y'know. Not anymore."

Seifer raised his arms above his head and stretched, the mattress feeling much softer once he relaxed. "Bullshit it doesn't."

"... But I won't anyway." Zell looked away when Seifer blinked -- it was slow, a thankful nod with his eyes that just didn't fit him -- and shivered. Once in a while, especially in the morning, especially when he wore nothing but old shorts, he could feel Trabia in the Garden's dry, manufactured air.

As though in contradiction, Seifer snapped into action, drawing the throw he'd brought with him over his shoulders and sitting up. Zell scooted out of his way just in time and curiously watched him walk to the window. "Fucking hate winter," Seifer mumbled, pulling the curtain to the side, letting the heavy linen fall around one of his shoulders and block Zell from his sight.

"Not winter," Zell corrected. "September."

"Idiot." All Seifer could see was white; pure, unscarred white, the sky blending into the ground where the mountains didn't rip them apart. "It's always winter here." The pane misted a grey halo beneath his fingertip before it traced the curve of metallic blue -- cafeteria or dorm or useless garage, one could never tell -- just above the sill. "Fucking hate winter."

Zell took a few breaths before he replied, training his voice to sound curious when out of habit it wanted to accuse, "Then why'd you get up and stare at it?"

Seifer didn't answer and Zell sensed that he was beginning to understand first-hand just how possible it was to know and not know an answer simultaneously. Whatever that answer was, it put him on his knees and straightened his legs once he was beneath the curtain to stand shoulder to pectoral beside Seifer. Seifer glanced down at him, stonefaced, and squinted back through the glass. It was bright outside, painful. "What do you want now?"

"Let's go," Zell replied, bobbing his head to the wilderness outside, grinning at the prospect.

Pushing his eyebrows together sarcastically, Seifer shook his head. "Didn't hear a word I fucking said, did you, Chickie?"

Zell nudged him with an elbow for using the name, his smile only falling a little. "Fine, if you don't think you could hit me, I'm not gonna argue --"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, after all, I'm damn fast. No matter how good an arm you've got ..." Zell clicked his tongue and shrugged, but Seifer still imagined a glint in his eye, and surprised himselth hth his ease in backing out of a challenge.

Backing out was what he literally did -- out from the enclosure of the curtain and across the way to the bathroom, not caring how hard and incredulously Zell stared at him when he went.

He took his shower as hot as he could get it, and stood so it would pound against his skull and point out how tense he was. It had to have been at least fifteen minutes before he began soaping up -- nothing like being alone beneath a limitless stream of water after a youth spent rushing and wondering whose eyes were on him for how long -- and he spent another ten engulfed in the scent that, once commonplace, had recently become liquid Squall.

The bedroom appeared empty when he stepped into the hall, striking him with a sharp fear that Zell had run off to spill every word he'd been told, and as he continued to the kitchen, became convinced of it, rage rushing in thick waves down the back of his neck.

Biff.

He jumped, spun, and found Zell smirking devilishly at him from the living room, one wet hand waving an innocent greeting. Still brushing icy snow bits from where they had splattered across his bicep, he stalked after the smaller blond, amused murder in his eyes.

"Hey, no no!" Zell made a 'T' with his arms, "Glad you wanna get me back, but time out 'til we're out there."

Seifer ignored the plea, grabbing him by the back of his collar and pulling him towards the balcony, "Outside? Alright." He grasped at the doorknob, Zell's mad giggling chain of 'no no no no' better than any music he'd ever heard. But it was tempting to give Zell bargaining time. "Tell me why," he allowed, "I shouldn't just stuff your face full of snow right here and get it over with?"

"Not fair! And... and --" Zell struggled for a breath, beginning to feel regretful for his setup, "Kitchen table, go look."

Seifer raised an eyebrow, dropped Zell (who fell gracefully to his fingertips and toes before springing right back up), and followed the instructions, one hand holding his towel tight around his waist. "Shit, well isn't that special." The travel mug was between his palms in an instant, the tag-on-a-string brushing the knuckles of one hand. So nice, so warm. "Give it up."

Zell peeked around the doorway, his smile boxy and proud. "You were the only one that picked tea at the meeting the other morning. Figured knowin' would come in handy."

"... Too keep me from turning your face into an iceblock?"

"Or somethin'."

Mid-sip, Seifer made an acknowledging 'hm' sound.

"Oh, and..." Zell dug into one pocket, "I found this when I was gettin' the laundry ready. Any idea what's on it?" On the second-last word, he held out his palm, and Seifer nearly spat his mouthful across the room.

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