Mind Games

“What the fuck are you doing here, Almasy?!”

The elder boy resisted a roll of his eyes, shooting Zell with a contemptuous sneer. “I just told you, we have to talk. I know concentration’s not your strong point, Dincht, but try to keep up with me here.”

“That’s not what I meant, arsehole,” Zell snarled. “How did you get in my room?”

“1-2-3-4? Come on,” Seifer gave a derisive chuckle, earning himself daggers from the martial artist, who looked near ready to rip his unwelcome guest’s head off with his bare hands. “If you wanted your room to be broken into, why don’t you just leave the door unlocked?”

“You’ve got no fuckin’ right to just barge in here-”

“Excuse me, I did not barge,” He defended himself, sitting back down on the bed with the same air of serenity Zell had managed during their encounter that morning. Zell, on the other hand, was fuming as bad as Seifer had ever seen him, and the older boy smirked in satisfaction - this was how things were supposed to be. Obviously, the logistics of their earlier confrontation had been nothing more than a fluke. “I opened the door and entered quite calmly, thank you.”

“That’s not the point, and get the fuck out,” Zell demanded, flinging the door open and pointing his finger to indicate in exactly which direction he expected Seifer to get moving. Seifer did rise, but he didn’t leave; he reached past Zell to slide the door shut again, deriving a measure of amusement in the series of colour changes the enraged younger boy’s face went through before settling on a very becoming shade of scarlet. Even his ears were red; over all the years of bullying and harassing, this might have been the angriest Seifer had ever seen his favorite target get - well, everyone had a limit, and it seemed Zell drew the line at breaking and entering when it came to Seifer’s invading his privacy just to torment him. Not that that’s what the gunblader was there to do, at least not this time, but there was no way for Zell to know that.

Seifer stood in front of the door, smirking - and thoroughly enjoying watching Zell fume as he continued, “No can do, dipshit. Y’see, when I said we needed to talk, I didn’t mean I would insult you and you would yell at me repeatedly to get out - I actually have something to discuss with you, and I’m not leaving until I’m satisfied that you understand how pissed off I am just now.”

For the first time, Zell looked slightly wary, but he didn’t back down a step, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and glaring up at Seifer. “What could we have to discuss, shithead?”

“Do you recall that I promised I would murder you if you told anybody I spent the night here?” Seifer asked, the tone of his voice deadly. Zell’s eyes narrowed as he was thoughtful for a minute, still looking confused as to just why Seifer was there, but marginally less infuriated than he had been moments before.

“Actually, I don’t remember you saying that, but more to the point, I haven’t told anyone.”

Seifer frowned. Perhaps he had just thought it. He shook his head a little, and said in reply to Zell’s vindication, “Then how did Quistis know?”

“Quistis?” The martial artist repeated, his expression contemplative. Seifer nearly wanted to laugh; thoughtfulness was not a good look for Zell. In fact, he looked downright silly, his face - cheeks still stained with the colour of his anger - scrunched up in concentration as he deliberated over the question Seifer had posed. Suddenly, a look of understanding crossed his face - About damn time, Seifer wanted to growl - and, with a short sigh, he said, “Shit. The ashtray.”

“The ashtray?”

“Yeah, I left it out,” Zell groaned, taking a few steps backwards to plop down on the edge of the bed. “The ashtray, and the two mugs, and she came over ‘bout noon and saw it.”

“And she knows that you don’t smoke,” Seifer said conclusively, starting to see where this was leading.

“And you do.”

“She also knows that I disappeared halfway through the party last night and didn’t reappear until mid-morning, shortly after which she visited you to see that you had recently had company,” The older boy continued on, piecing it all together. Zell made a quiet noise of understanding, and then suddenly leapt to his feet, looking excited.

“So... she doesn’t actually know anything! She’s just guessing!” He said wildly with a grin. He looked positively joyous until Seifer stepped forward, snarling in anger.

“What the fuck are you so happy about, Chicken-wuss?” He barked - not fazed a bit by Zell’s hiss of, “Quit callin’ me that, goddamnit!” - and he went on crossly, “This ain’t fucking funny. What she thinks happened is way worse than what actually happened.”

“What she thinks…?” Zell repeated, trailing off with a blank stare. It took him just a moment to get it, and he took on an expression of total disgust, crying out, “Eww! Shit, no way, no!”

“Yeah.”

Zell shuddered, his face a ripe shade of pink, and he sat down heavily on the bed again to think. He looked almost ill at the thought of it - and Seifer thought he knew exactly how the other boy felt; really, who could seriously believe that there would ever be something between him and Zell, of all people? Shit, Seifer would sooner let Leonhart fuck him than give any amount of significance to the idea of him and that dipshit martial artist. The very notion was nauseating.

And yet, a little voice piped up in the back of his mind, this isn’t the first time today you’ve entertained said notion...

Zell shot up again. “Alright, so… just go tell Quistis the truth. You were drunk, and because I am not a complete arsehole like some people-” He gave Seifer a very pointed glare, as if the gunblader wouldn’t have been able to tell to whom he was referring, “-I didn’t kick you out. I’m sure she’ll understand, it’s just a misunderstanding on her part…”

“I’m sure she’d understand, if her and the clod squad weren’t all just itching to find a reason to boot me out of here,” Seifer said coolly. “Quistis has been hounding me all fuckin’ day trying to find out where I spent the night and, no doubt, to confirm that I was doing something to tarnish the Garden’s reputation.”

“What do you give a shit, anyway? You hate being here,” Zell countered - and while it was painfully true, Seifer chose not to respond, merely grinding his teeth as he contemplated his situation. Of course he hated being here, but there was nowhere else for him to go; did Zell really think he’d stay in Garden if he had any other choice? Nowhere else would take him, and as it was, he’d had to practically beg just to be let back in here - not Squall, of course; Seifer would have rather faced a thousand years of exile than petition him for a favour - He had gone to Matron, the only person in the world who could even remotely understand how he felt, and she had appealed to Cid, who, in turn, had appealed to Squall, who had only eventually allowed Seifer to return to his home within the Garden under the strictest of guidelines (and, Seifer was inclined to suspect, with a lot of cajoling from Rinoa, who could always be counted on to want to help him in a time of need provided she could lord it over him later, which she did as frequently as possible whenever she was around - which is only one of the reasons why Seifer had a great many hiding places within the Garden.)

He hated knowing he was so indebted to all of them, but he could hardly do anything about it now; he simply kept his head down as much as possible and studied hard and, on the very rare occasions that he was given a mission, did his best to uphold the honor and credibility and pride, etc., of the SeeD name. To tell the truth, it was hardly any better than being the sorceress’ lapdog had been, apart from the fact that he got paid for being a SeeD, but (loathe as he was to admit it) if Garden ousted him, he would have absolutely nowhere left to turn. So as much as it pained him, his only option was to keep sucking up to Squall and his cohorts and hope that, in a few decades or so, his face would no longer be recognizable as The Guy Who Tried To Help That Crazy Bitch Destroy The World and he might possibly be able to live a quiet, semi-normal life in some reclusive little town somewhere.

He sighed.

“You know?” Zell said suddenly, jumping back to his feet with a triumphant expression on his face. “Fuck this, I’m gonna go tell her myself. I don’t give a shit what happens to you,” He declared, bouncing on the balls of his feet and then striding for the door. Seifer cut him off, blocking the doorway with his moderately larger frame, hoping that would be enough to hold Zell off for the moment - the gunblader was pretty handy with his fists when he needed to be, but he knew that Zell could whoop his arse if he was really spoiling for a fight.

“Think about this, Dincht.”

“I’ve thought about it. I couldn’t give a fuck less if they kick you out. In fact, it would make my day,” The instructor announced with a smug grin as he socked Seifer one in the stomach, and then shoved him aside to open the door. “Have a nice life, arsehole!”

“Do you really think,” Seifer wheezed - shit, it had been so long since he’d grappled with Zell that he’d forgotten how much power the smaller boy could pack into one punch - and Zell hesitated, not even two paces from the doorway. “That if I get kicked out of here, I won’t be beneath dragging you down with me?”

“What?!” Zell hissed, spinning around and marching right back into the dorm, slamming the door shut again behind him. “You wouldn’t…”

“You’re an instructor, too. Think how much trouble you could be in if it got out that you were sleeping with a student…”

“You are the biggest fuckin’ prick-”

“So how about,” Seifer went on, straightening up as he finally caught his breath, “Since it benefits us both for this to never get out, we try and find a different solution?”

“Yeah? You got something in mind?” Zell spat, pacing around the room in a fury, and Seifer resisted a smile; even if he hadn’t come here for the express purpose of tormenting the other boy, that didn’t mean he couldn’t take pleasure in it. It was always fun to watch Zell flip out - he was so animated about it, and it was just too easy to ruffle his feathers… although this time, it was understandable that he be distraught; this was his career Seifer was threatening to ruin.

The elder merely shrugged, giving a short, thoughtful sigh. “Give me a minute.”

“Oh, where’s the genius you’re always bragging about now?”

“Why don’t you stop flapping your mouth so that I can hear myself think,” Seifer bit. Amazingly, Zell followed his instruction - but he didn’t cease his frantic pacing, trotting back and forth across the small area of floor not occupied by furniture, occasionally pausing to let out an enthusiastic “Oh!” as if he’d had an idea, but eventually going back to his relentless pacing. As annoying as Zell could be at times - and oh, could he ever be annoying when he really put his mind to it - Seifer couldn’t help thinking that his boyish energy was rather… adorable. And even as soon as that thought crossed his mind, so did the one that reminded him just who he was thinking these things about… Zell, for fuck’s sake! Hadn’t he, just hours ago, been more attracted to the idea of suicide than he had been to the other boy?

And then it hit him.

“What th’fuck are you smirking at? Quit it,” Zell commanded, watching Seifer with great unease. Seifer ignored him, grinning to himself as he thought on it more… this was probably the best idea he had ever had. Hell, how could he have not thought of this before? The plan was ideal; it would not only get both Quistis and Squall off his back and ensure that they wouldn’t be quite so keen on booting him out, but it would thoroughly humiliate Zell in the process - of course, if he didn’t pull it off just so, Seifer himself could end up crawling out of the ordeal with his dignity hanging by a thread, but that was a risk he would just have to be willing to take.

“Man!” Zell exclaimed, crossing the room to jab Seifer lightly in the shoulder. “Quit that friggin’ creepy grinning! What’re you on about?”

“I have the perfect plan,” He announced smugly. Zell’s eyes lit up in excitement, and he bounced closer to the taller boy.

“So what is it?”

“Let’s be friends,” Seifer proclaimed. Zell stared at him, big blue eyes wide with incredulity - and Seifer couldn’t help but be a little disappointed by how utterly put-off the other boy seemed by this suggestion. He didn’t have to look so, well, offended, did he?

“That’s your plan?” He said, the disbelief in his voice bordering on astonishment. “That’s fucking terrible! Why the hell would I want to be friends with you?”

“Let me rephrase that,” The gunblader amended. “Let’s pretend to be friends. Better?”

“Are you shitting me? How is that a plan?”

“Just trust me on this one, Chicken-wuss. I’m not sayin’ act all buddy-buddy or anything. Just do what I say and it’ll work.”

Zell looked less than convinced. “I fail to see how pretending to be friends is going to prove to Quistis that we’re not fucking. Seems kinda counter-productive, don’t it?”

“First of all,” Seifer replied as a cold shiver ran down his spine, “I never, ever want to hear you utter that phrase again. And second, it’s not necessary for you to understand. Just follow orders.”

“Fuck you! Just come up with something better!” Zell seethed, throwing another punch at Seifer’s shoulder, which was still aching from the last slug the martial artist had bestowed on him. Shit, the boy didn’t know his own strength - not that Seifer thought he would pull his punches even if he did.

“You hit me again and I’m not going to bother trying to bail your arse out of this.”

“You said you had a plan! And ‘let’s be friends’ is not a fuckin’ plan! Explain to me how the fuck being friends is supposed to solve this shit.”

“I would, but I’m not sure I know enough small words,” Seifer bit back, but with little venom. Zell flared up at this, but he let the comment pass by without remarking on it, beginning to pace again. Just can’t fuckin’ sit still, Seifer thought to himself in annoyance.

“Why me, Seifer?” Zell snarled suddenly, waving his arms wildly as if to emphasize the depth of his anger. “Why’d you come crawlin’ into my fucking room?”

“I was drunk, remember?” Seifer snapped.

“Yeah, so?”

“So, as is usually the case with drunk people, I wasn’t entirely in control of my actions,” The gunblader went on, punctuating his words slowly as though he was talking to a child. This answer didn’t assuage Zell any - in fact, it seemed to only amplify his anger; Seifer thought he looked about to boil over.

“Alright, and that made you feel the need to climb into my bed, why?”

“Uh, again, can I plead drunk?” Seifer scoffed disdainfully, although secretly he was quite embarrassed about that particular fact, but he felt secure that Zell could never pick up on something like that. “Rest assured that if I had been in a state of mind even resembling sobriety, I certainly would not have picked you to curl up next to for the night.”

He watched with some pleasure as Zell visibly shuddered, the red of his blush washing out into a very fetching shade of pink, which Seifer could only assume was due to embarrassment. “You’re the one who said not to talk about that!”

“I’m talking about sleeping. You were talking about fucking.”

“It’s all the same! Anything that involves being within ten feet of you makes me physically ill.” Zell insisted, slumping onto the bed again. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and he glared at Seifer with a fury the older boy hadn’t seen the likes of since that terrible (and, from Seifer’s point of view, quite amusing) week when the cafeteria missed a shipment of hot dogs and Zell had to be restrained from going postal on the lunch lady who had broken the news to him. Although Seifer had to admit, the dusky hue that was spreading over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose was quite becoming. Mortification suited him much better than thoughtfulness, even if Seifer had no idea what the idiot had to be embarrassed about - he wasn’t the one who had gotten trashed and done Hyne knows what the night previous.

Seifer peered thoughtfully at him. “Are you homophobic, Dincht?”

“No!” Zell replied vehemently, the forcefulness of his response surprising Seifer just a little. He added suspiciously, “Why, should I be? Are you a homo?”

“No. Are you?”

“No!!” Zell leapt off the bed. Seifer sighed, finding himself growing irritated with the boy’s antics, amusing though they were.

“What? Not like it’s an illogical conclusion to make. Considering how worked up you’re getting over this whole fucking deal, I figured you were either homophobic, or gay yourself.” He remarked coolly. At once, Zell jumped toward him, finally at his limit, grabbing Seifer by the front of his coat and throwing the door open with the other hand. Seifer didn’t bother to fight back as he was flung out the door - there wasn’t much he could have done in any case; he could tell just by the absolutely effortless way Zell tossed him into the hallway that the younger boy was still junctioned, and as much as Seifer hated to admit it, although he was almost a match for Zell in hand-to-hand combat when they were both weapon and magic-less, if the other SeeD was junctioned, he didn’t stand a chance. Seifer never had a GF of his own; only when he went on missions was he lent one by Garden, and then only if it was something he wasn’t likely to be able to handle with his strength alone. Granted, because of that he had trained twice has hard, and he was discernibly stronger than most of his fellow SeeDs without any magic at all, but when it came to bare-handed brute strength, Zell had him beat, and he knew it.

“Stay the fuck outta my room!” The instructor hissed savagely, jabbing a finger into Seifer’s thrice-abused shoulder, before he stepped back into his dorm and wrenched the door shut again. He then proceeded to stomp around, kick something, and then punch the wall - or at least that’s what it sounded like to Seifer, who still stood outside the door, grinning. He shook his head slightly, reaching forward to type in 1-2-3-4 on the keypad on the wall, and then stepped into the entry of the room.

“Just a hint,” He said smugly, simpering as Zell whirled around in a fury to stare at him. “You might want to change your passcode if you don’t want every retarded child and large rodent that comes through to be able to enter your room.”

“Almasy!!”

“Really. 1-2-3-4? Hyne, anything is better than that. Use a date, someone’s birthday, something-”

Zell roared, shoving Seifer back through the door, slamming it shut once more. Seifer contemplated opening it again, but only briefly, as it was very likely that Zell would be standing just inside waiting to sock him again, and he didn’t much feel like getting his nose broken today. Still, he allowed himself a triumphant grin as he turned and sidled away down the corridor - Zell was already playing perfectly into his plan, and the imbecile didn’t even realize it. And what a magnificent plan it was, too.

It was almost a shame he would be leaving for Esthar in just a week…


“Shit,” Zell breathed, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. “Fuck. This is so…” He trailed off with a frustrated groan, running a hand through his hair.

Fucking Seifer. Just had to come barging into his room, into his life, just at the absolute wrong time. Making him think about things, consider things that not once in the twenty-one years he’d been around had he ever thought about or considered before. Making him suddenly reconsider every fight, every argument, every encounter he’d had with Seifer over the years, every barb he’d taken and every punch he’d thrown, searching for a hint of what he was feeling right now, to see if it was a new development or had always been there, lingering just under his irascible surface.

In the back of his mind, somewhere, Zell already knew the latter was the case. The tension between Seifer and himself was old hat; it was practically a routine, or at least it had been up until the war, after which Seifer had retired from bullying except on the most minimal level, and almost solely toward Zell. At one point, he had been accustomed to fighting with Seifer - physically as well as verbally - at least once or twice a week. But he’d had more interaction with Seifer just today than he had over the past four years.

So he simply wasn’t used to dealing with the older boy, that explained all this frustration. He tried working out that logic in his head, but it just didn’t pan out; although it was a good theory, it didn’t explain why he was half-hard from fighting with the other boy. In fact, he couldn’t come up with any theories that explained that to his satisfaction.

He threw himself backwards onto the bed with a loud cry of vexation, pulling the pillow over his face. He wasn’t even going to acknowledge the idea that his burgeoning erection might have been caused by… well, no, that was just absurd. He was just so strung out lately, and it had been such a long time since he’d had a good fuck, it was only natural he might get a little worked up when the adrenaline started flowing. Somehow, this rationale didn’t make him feel any better.

“Fuck, shit, fuck,” He cursed to himself, not knowing anything else to say that could accurately express his pique. He flipped over, burying his face in the pillow, and gripping the edges of the mattress tightly as his hard-on pressed into the bed. He tried unsuccessfully to will it away - he refused to jack off when he considered that his erection had been caused, however indirectly, by Seifer. “This is messed up,” He moaned to himself. “So fucking messed up.”


Zell pasted on the cheeriest face he could manage before he left his room early Monday morning, and he was glad he had, too, because not even a hundred feet down the corridor he was greeted by Nida as the other boy came out of his own dorm, clutching a thick stack of books in his wiry arms. But even his cheeriest facade was not put on well enough, it seemed, because after the pilot muttered a semi-enthusiastic “Good morning,” He paused, a note of concern crossing his expression, and added, “Or isn’t it? You look terrible, no offense…”

“Uh, none taken,” Zell said, rubbing his tired eyes. “Just couldn’t sleep, is all.”

“Hmm,” Nida replied, apparently not interested. That was one thing Zell liked about Nida; the pilot minded his own business. Or he just didn’t really care to hear about Zell’s problems, which was more likely, since they weren’t particularly close friends. Either way, if he was going to meet someone this early in the morning when he felt so like crap, he would rather it be Nida than any of his other friends; at least he was fairly reassured that the other SeeD didn’t have any desire to probe into his personal life. He shot Zell another inquisitive look. “You’re working today? I had thought all your classes were done for the semester.”

“Oh, yeah,” Zell shrugged, casting a glance down at his instructor’s blues. “I’m just pickin’ up for Quistis. You’re not either?” He queried, noting the other boy’s civilian clothes. Nida nodded in affirmation, hefting up the pile of books in the crook of his arm.

“I’m off duty for now. I think we’re heading out next week, though, so…” He trailed off with an unmotivated shrug. “Wish I could take advantage of the break, but I gotta study…”

“You’re still taking classes?”

“Nah, Xu wants me to get my pilot’s license.” He sounded nonchalant, but Zell noted a hint of displeasure in his tone.

“Is that necessary?”

“Well, she seems to think so.” Nida snorted. Zell allowed himself a little chuckle. The brunette went on in a distinctly disgruntled tone of voice, “Never mind that I’ve been flying this thing around for nearly five fuckin’ years. Xu suddenly thinks I need a license, I’m gettin’ a fuckin’ license.” He sighed somewhat dejectedly as they exited the dormitory wing and headed towards the lift. Zell tried not to laugh outright at him; it was always funny to witness the changes in Nida’s behavior when he wasn’t around Squall, Xu, or Quistis. He wouldn’t dare argue a point to Xu’s face, but he certainly had no qualms with griping about her as soon as she was out of earshot.

They strolled toward the center of the Garden leisurely; Nida, clearly, had no more desire to get to his studying than Zell did to get to work. It was still early and there were very few students about. They reached the elevator in silence, and then, casting a cursory glance over at the blonde, Nida said tentatively, “So… any particular reason you didn’t get any sleep?”

“Eh?” Zell looked up, surprised. “I… just stuff. Work. You know,” He stammered, caught off guard by the question. He certainly hadn’t expected Nida to ask about it. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh. No reason, really.” Nida replied, but there was something decidedly smirky in his tone, something that Zell didn’t like.

“Nida, why do you ask?” He repeated more sternly.

“Well…” The pilot paused hesitantly, apparently wondering whether or not it was prudent to tell Zell whatever it was he thought was the reason for his lack of sleep. He went on, with more than just a tinge of curiosity in his words, “Just there was a little rumor that you’ve had company this weekend, that’s all.”

“Wh… what?” Zell scoffed, fighting remarkably hard to keep cool, when he suddenly had a strong urge to find Seifer and smash his face into something very solid. Whatever this was, Seifer had to be behind it. “Who’d you hear that from?”

But Nida replied simply, “Quistis,” and then shot a quizzical look down at the other boy. “By the way, d’you happen to know why she thinks I smoke?”

Zell didn’t respond, chewing his lip in distress. There was a “ding!” to signal the lift, and Nida stepped in, turning and waiting for his friend to join him. Zell did so after a moment’s pause, still deep in thought. Damn Quistis. He knew he should have just cleared the matter up with her when he had the chance. Now she thought he and Seifer were fucking - he still shuddered at the thought - and she was going to let little comments slip here and there until everyone was so curious about who Zell was seeing that he blabbed to someone. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even seeing anyone! If he had been getting some, it would have at least made the fact that there were rumors about it bearable.

“So?” Nida prompted, jolting Zell out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Did you?”

Zell peered at the other boy, mildly annoyed. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business, Nida, but no, I did not, and I have no clue how Quistis got that idea in her head,” He said somewhat tersely. He stepped out of the elevator as it opened on the second floor, and Nida followed after a brief shocked pause, a slight frown gracing his expression.

“Sorry, you’re right, it isn’t my business,” He apologized, trotting forward to catch Zell up. “Didn’t mean to piss you off or anything.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” Zell flashed a grin, and Nida seemed allayed. “Anyway,” He went on, nodding over his shoulder towards the classrooms down the corridor, “I’ve got to get to class… and you’ve got to study…”

“Right, I do…” Nida confirmed, glancing down at his books with the merest touch of dismay in his countenance. He seemed to remember something, and looked up again. “Oh, before I forget to tell you, Miri Avandia was looking for you all yesterday. Y’know, she works in the library?”

“Oh, right,” Zell said absently. Nida murmured a farewell, and Zell heard himself return it as the pilot shuffled away toward the study center, but his mind was elsewhere - specifically, wandering ambiguously between the two questions that had plagued him all Saturday night and all last night, which is why he’d gotten so little sleep: what was Quistis planning to do with her speculation about Seifer and himself, and what exactly was Seifer’s so-called “plan” to stop her? Well, at least one of the two had been answered just now, although given the turn of events, he’d have rather not even known.

He had to wonder just how many people she had chirped this little bit of gossip to before she’d left for Timber last night - it seemed that, since all the people Zell was somewhat close to were currently away, she had turned to acquaintances; her having told Nida was proof of that. Selphie was in Trabia, Irvine was in Galbadia, Rinoa was in Timber - but Zell was fairly certain that the instructor would find some way to get the information to her during her stay - and Squall wouldn’t give a shit, so there’d be no point in her telling him. She wouldn’t have told Xu; that would be like a death sentence on Zell’s head, and really, that only left… Seifer himself. Even though he and the gunblader were only close in the vast realms of Quistis’ overactive imagination.

He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Seifer since Saturday night - not that he was ungrateful for that. He could go quite happily for the rest of his life without meeting that bastard again. But he couldn’t help but think that Seifer was up to something; what, he had no idea, but he didn’t like it all the same. Maybe Seifer had realized that the best way to defuse Quistis’ suspicion over their relationship was to just stay the fuck away from Zell, and that definitely seemed a good plan in Zell’s reckoning. He had probably just been trying to piss Zell off that night, being his usual prickish self; otherwise, how could pretending to be friends be a plan for anything? It was ridiculous, and furthermore, it was retarded; Zell was hard put to believe that Seifer could plausibly feign amiability toward him any more than he could toward Seifer - more likely they’d only end up fighting even more if they tried.

He chewed his thumb as he entered Quistis’ classroom, where a few diligent cadets were already seated at their computers, raptly engaged in their studies. Two students looked surprised as he arrived and glanced at each other in disappointment; no doubt they had been expecting Quistis and hoping to win a little credit with their teacher by coming in early - Zell had played at the same effort when he was on the verge of failing a course or two back in his student days. Repressing a smile, he sat down behind the desk and pulled a sheaf of papers from one of the many folders Quistis had given him, pretending to be busy as he waited for the rest of the class to trickle in - but his mind was still whirling around the two problems that he just couldn’t think of a solution to, although he continued to ponder it until the bell rang for class, after he had taken attendance, and throughout the whole of the movie he played on the history of the Shumi tribe. And two and a quarter hours later, as the students were filing out of the classroom (looking marginally happier than Zell thought he’d ever seen any of Quistis’ students look after a class,) he still had come up with nothing.

Trouble was, thinking had never really been Zell’s strong point - oh, he was much smarter than most people gave him credit for; he’d passed all the exams he’d had to take to become an instructor with ease, and even back when he was a cadet, his problems with classes had been more in the line of sleeping through them or skipping them in lieu of more amusing pasttimes (i.e., eating and fighting) than not having the intellectual capacity to pass them. But plan-making was not his forte. Squall was a planner, Zell was just a follower. He just couldn’t think of any way to mediate his situation without one of three results: a) his reputation and, consequently, his job going down the toilet, b) Seifer getting the boot and slandering him in revenge and, consequently, his job going down the toilet, or c) people thinking they were fucking. Unless he just bit the bullet, told Quistis the truth, and hoped (or begged) that she didn’t throw Seifer out. But that last option just didn’t appeal to him very much.

Zell had never more ardently wished that all his friends hadn’t been deployed out of Garden - he really needed someone’s advice, although even if they were all here, he had no idea who he might turn to. For matters of business, he usually turned to Quistis; personal matters, he generally went to Selphie or, lacking the little brunette’s presence, Irvine. But this matter was neither personal nor business - what he needed right now was cunning, and tact, and guile…

He jumped straight out of his chair, grinning from ear to ear. He knew exactly to whom to turn...