FOREWORD: This is an ongoing fanfic. To start reading from the beginning,
click here.
Series: Final Fantasy VIII (8)
Pairing: Zell Dincht & Squall Leonhart
Status: part 11 and ongoing
Rating: PG
Warnings: shounen-ai, light Rinoa bashing
Search keyword: ff8_floating
Notes: The boys are controlling the plot. Forgive me for taking an eternity to get around to writing this, the boys went on vacation again. The time this part begins is after the training session, which lasts longer than Squall's "detention" time. Go figure. What happened to him isn't disclosed yet, so stay tuned.
"Dash, dive, uppercut..." Zell muttered to himself as he covered the gashes on his arm on his way back to his room. He had forgotten to stock up on curative magic before the training session, or rather, he had forgotten how good Irvine was since battling with Ultimecia. Why on earth do they have to use live ammunition and real weapons during their training sessions? Damn that Galbadian SeeD, or well, he was a Balamb SeeD as of now. Ms. Glynn said so anyway. If he didn't get Squall back as a training partner soon, he would need to sacrifice offensive magic for Cures from now on. Zell lamented at the thought of weakening his junctions for the sake of leaving training without bleeding like a dying gnat. Sure the girls offered to patch him up, but he was too proud to admit he needed it, even when his arm looked like Irvine's shots grazed him a hundred times. Bummer. Irvine got his fair share of blows too, of course, but unlike him, Irvine let the girls shower him with spells induced by his "manly" charms.
Hobbling a bit back to his room, Zell had the luck to run into Squall of all people. The scar on his forehead wrinkled as Squall frowned at Zell.
He bit back a nervous laugh. "Hey Squall, how'd Xu's class go?"
"You're bleeding."
Zell flashed a grin and waved off the claim. Bad move, though, as the hand he waved was moist with blood from his bicep. "It's nothing a potion can't heal," he replied, trying not to wince from the loss of pressure to his wounded right arm.
"Potion my ass," Squall growled and pointed to his room a few doors away from where they stood.
Right. So Squall wasn't his commander anymore, but Zell found himself humbled and following Squall's implicit orders anyway. He waited for Squall to slide the keycard and open the door for him to enter first. Zell gaped when he walked into the mess that was highly abnormal for Squall's room. The brunette quietly closed the door behind him and ignored Zell's incoherent exclamations about the disarray.
"Sit down somewhere," he ordered curtly, walking past Zell and into the room, picking up a few Weapons Monthly magazines from the floor and putting them back into the bookcase where they belonged. The blonde, however, was still in some considerable shock and was rambling something about "what the hell happened?" or another. Squall sighed and rubbed a gloved hand along the scar on his forehead.
The inside of Squall's room looked like it had been turned upside down, and yet Zell couldn't detect a reaction in Squall. He kept asking Squall what happened, if somebody ransacked his room, or if Siren was let loose or something, but Squall didn't look like he was paying attention.
"I felt like spring cleaning, okay?" he finally replied, a little annoyed that Zell wouldn't just shut up and sit down somewhere. Of course, the place was a mess and there wasn't exactly a visible spot for him to sit down though. So the brunette walked over to his bed and brushed enough space for Zell to sit down, hoping he would take the hint and stop being masochistic about his wounds.
Zell stared at Squall. Spring cleaning? What kind of spring cleaning looks like a tornado blew through? "But I'll dirty your bed," the blonde mumbled at Squall, clutching his arm and standling idly amist an island of knocked over items.
Squall sighed. Zell apparently didn't notice he was a bit more concerned about his friend's well being than cleanliness, and given the condition of his room, Squall really could care less about dirty sheets. He sat down instead, and gestured Zell over silently. One wouldn't guess that Zell was a bold fighter by the way he walked towards Squall, stepping rather carefully about as to not step on anything scattered on the floor. Squall could almost smile at the thought that Zell was really just an innocent boy inside.
"You've finally gone over the deep end, haven't you," Squall heard as he gazed up at Zell's grin, seemingly unfazed by the obvious fact that he was in pain.
Whatever, he thought but didn't answer. Reaching up, Squall mumbled a few words as he placed his hands on Zell, casting Heal on his wounds starting from his arm and down to his legs. Between the warm green glow of the spells and Squall's murmurs, the blonde felt his senses return bit by bit. Zell watched Squall work his magic, watched Squall as he concentrated on healing him. The way his lips pursed when he spoke and the way his voice seemed to work their own magic over his wounds, the wounds which Squall could not see. Everything seemed so perfect about the man sitting before him, and not a thing in the world could make Zell think otherwise.
He bent forward slightly and nuzzled his face into Squall's hair, inhaling the scent that was unique to Squall alone. It was then he realized Squall had stopped and stiffened from the sudden closure of space between them. Zell backed off quickly and blinked at him, suddenly afraid of what he had done. He could almost see the words forming like a storm cloud in Squall's eyes, and before he knew it, he fled the room without a word.