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It took a rather embarrassing length of time for Zell to piece things together, but then again he hadn't realized that he was looking at a puzzle that needed piecing. After the whole affair Ultimecia, things had returned to usual, more or less. He spent most of his days at Garden, where work continued to come in, despite the fact that the purpose the school was created for had come and gone. He spent his weekends with his mother, who worried about him even more now that he had proven himself capable of saving the world. And the cafeteria was still forever out of hot dogs, save for that one wonderful night where they had made extra just for him in celebration.
And so it was that he would find himself back at his home quite often, eating his mother's famous stew in the kitchen as his favorite kind of pie (persimmon) cooled on a nearby trivet, as his mother's voice would soothe and relax him in the way that it did when she used to tell him bedtime stories at night. She talked about the neighbors and about the price of milk, and he listened to her voice more so than her words, content to just be near her. He might notice fragments of information, but nothing he considered very important. In retrospect, he did recall her talking about a young fisherman who always gave her good deals on his catches, but there were quite a few fishermen that worked in and out of their pier, and the new ones among them were bound to be young. The fact that she had called him handsome didn't particularly stand out either. But, Zell supposed, he should have noticed when she had remarked on a thin, diagonal scar that ran above his nose.
But the fact was Zell didn't noticed. So he was absolutely shocked when one crisp, cool morning, he volunteered to go down to the fish market so that his mother could sleep in, and he found out that his mother's new favorite fishmonger was no other than Seifer Almasy.
Crap, crap, crap, Zell thought, before he ducked before a convenient stone pillar. Mrs. Landolo gave him a little scolding look when he nearly knocked her over as he did so, but he clasped his hands and mouthed a silent apology and all was forgiven. She wandered away and he slowly, carefully, stuck the top of his head from being the pillar to see that, yes, that was really Seifer, wearing a plain t-shirt and loose pants as a scaled a fish at one of the many stalls that dotted the pier this early in the morning. And all of the sudden other important clues came rushing back to Zell.
"Are you jealous that he decided to live in Balamb Town?" Rinoa asked, lounging on Squall's bed as they all ate treats Irvine had brought back from a recent trip to Esthar. "We were just kids who thought we were in love, but there's nothing actually between us."
"I'm not jealous," Squall replied. He looked, for all intents and purposes, perfectly sincere in his declaration. "I trust you."
Rinoa pouted. "You know, you could at least pretend you were jealous. . . "
Or that time he had ran into Selphie and Squall having a conversation, and Selphie had said something along the lines of, "Maybe Zell can ask him if he wants to come back to Garden, since he's always going into town," before their conversation had turned to other things.
Who else could they all have been talking about if not Seifer? Seifer, who was currently smiling and talking to giggling female patrons as though he belonged in this stall, in this market, in this town that Zell called home. For a moment a memory superimposed itself on the scene in front of him. A young Seifer, from the time that Zell had first entered Garden, laughing and talking with the upperclassmen. And Zell had remembered being so impressed with this boy barely older than him who could hold his own with the older students, who seemed so confident in everything that he did. At least, Zell was impressed with until he fell down in front of Seifer in a hallway and Seifer had loudly and rudely ridiculed him for it.
A flush of anger ran through Zell at the memory. He realized that he was being silly hiding behind a pillar and watching Seifer, and that if he stood around any longer he might start to stink of the fish odor that couldn't help but permeate the market. He walked right up to the stall, slammed his hands down onto the surface, and proclaimed, "One tri-colored carp, please."
Seifer, cut off in mid-sentence, closed his mouth and turned to Zell. Zell suppressed a cringe, expecting that trademark smirk and a comment about how chickens don't eat fish. Instead, Seifer turned back to the young women he had been talking to before.
"I'm sorry, girls," he said, "but I have to wait on a customer. Would you mind coming back later?"
Some giggles and an "Of course not, Seifer" later, they were gone, and Seifer was turning back toward Zell.
"How big do you want it?" Seifer asked.
Zell blinked. He wondered if this was actually Seifer in front of him, or if it was just some random person who also happened to have Seifer's appearance, name, and voice. He was a little dazed as he answered the question. "The smallest one you have."
"Is this one okay?" Seifer asked, pointing to one of the fish that he had on ice in the stall. At Zell's acquiescent nod, he picked it up and started to prepare it for sale.
For his part, Zell could only watch in amazement. No insults, no taunts. . . he wasn't sure why he didn't feel relief because of it, but there was something very uneasy about this new Seifer. He couldn't help but watch as Seifer worked. He watched the handsome lines of Seifer's face, the blue eyes focused in casual concentration, the callused hands that were hardened first from practice with the gunblade and then by use of the fishing pole. A small part of him had always admired Seifer's large, sturdy hands, but Zell would never admit that to anyone, even on threat of death.
"How's your mother?"
The casual question startled Zell from his reverie. The shock that such a mundane question had been asked had him silent for a few moments, but he soon brought himself to supply an answer.
"She's fine," he said. Then, as an afterthought to make amends for how awkward he was no doubt being, "She says hello."
Seifer smirked (there, there was the old Seifer that Zell knew) and glanced back at Zell. "Does she now?"
"Yeah. She seems to like you a lot." I have no idea why, Zell would have said, if this conversation had taken place at a much earlier date, but it didn't seem appropriate given how normal Seifer was being. Still, Zell couldn't help the mutter that escaped his lips next. "So this is Nice Seifer."
"What?" Seifer asked, his smirk growing. He had the fished wrapped up in thick brown paper, now, and he put it on the counter next to the till. "That's two hundred gill."
Zell could feel a light blush appear on his face. Was he being rude? He had been told that he lacked tact, in the past, but it had never bothered him before. "It's just. . . for awhile now, I've been thinking that the you that Rinoa talks about isn't the you that I know. From the way she tells it, you're one of the nicest, most considerate guys she knows. I guess I've taken to thinking of that Seifer as Nice Seifer instead of, you know, my Sei-"
Zell stopped and blushed some more. What had he just been about to say?
Seifer raised an eyebrow. "Your Seifer?"
"That's not what I meant," Zell couldn't help but snap. Then he felt silly for getting worked up about it, so he softened his voice and attempted to explain it better. "It's just. . . I guess you've changed."
"I've been through a lot. We both have."
That was true enough, Zell supposed. Still, he couldn't help but push a little, especially since he didn't think this more amenable Seifer would be terribly averse to it. "You should have been nice to me from the beginning, though. I mean, it's not like I ever did anything to do."
Seifer shrugged. "Well, when we met, I was at that age where you bully the person you like. And then I guess it became a habit, and that's just how our relationship became defined."
"Oh." Zell nodded his head as though the explanation were the simplest thing in the world, but then Seifer's words actually sunk in. You bully the person you like. Zell could feel the flush spread through him. He blushed easily to begin with, so he was sure his whole face was as red as a tomato. His ears felt like they were burning, and he found that he couldn't bear to look at Seifer. In fact, he was doing his best attempt to look in every direction except Seifer's all at once. "Oh. I see. So that's how it was. Umm. . . it was really nice seeing you again, but I think I have to go now."
After he ran home, his mother asked him where the carp was, and he mumbled some excuse about accidentally dropping it along the way. He promised to go get some chicken in a little bit. For now, though, he just wanted to get inside the familiar walls of his room. He wanted to sink into his bed and calm down his rapidly beating heart.
You bully the person you like.
He remembered his first memory of Seifer. He remembered an attractive boy just a little bit older than he was, laughing and talking with the upperclassmen with all the confidence in the world. He remembered blushing and getting distracted, even though his mother was trying to tell him something. He remembered later, running up to talk to the boy, when he tripped, fell, and was heartbroken as the boy laughed at him. Zell flushed some more as he turned onto his side in bed, his pillow clutched to his body, his eyes staring out toward the port.
"Seifer," he murmured, wondering if things would have been different for them if they had met just a little bit later in their lives.
It wasn't long before Zell had calmed himself down enough to go downstairs to the kitchen, although he was shocked once again to see Seifer right where he wasn't expecting to. In this case, at the kitchen table next to his mother.
"Oh, Zell," his mother said, "look who it is. Seifer was just coming to return the fish that you dropped."
"Apparently," Seifer agreed. "But I was just leaving."
"Zell, why don't you see him out?"
"But the door's right ther-"
"Zell."
Zell hung his head and made his way over to Seifer. "Yes, Ma."
Zell was sure that, at this point, he might spend the whole day flushing. He walked by Seifer's side out the door, his eyes firmly focused on the ground at his feet, until they came to a motorcycle. And of course Seifer would look devilishly handsome as he swung those long legs around the bike, as he turned to look back at Zell with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to swallow him up sometimes when they looked at him.
"You don't need to be so affected by what I said before," Seifer said. "It was a long time ago."
"Oh." Zell frowned. Of course. It had been when they were kids, just a crush that Seifer had no doubt gotten over by now. Zell's heart felt like it was back to normal, but somehow that left him feeling at a loss. "Sure."
"Unless," Seifer said, that insufferable but infuriatingly attractive smirk on his lips, "you want to give it a shot now."
Zell bit his lip. His heart was speeding up again, but he found that he somewhat like it.
"Could I. . ." and here Seifer faltered in a way that Zell couldn't help but find adorable, because he had never seen Seifer falter before, "could I come back later tonight? There's a place I could take you, that maybe you would like."
"Oh," Zell said, even as he wondered when his vocabulary had become so limited. "Sure."
Seifer smiled. A genuine, honest-to-good smile, directed right at Zell. Zell felt like he might melt into the cobblestone street. Instead, he gave a feeble wave as Seifer rode away, then smiled as he made his way back inside. He always did like surprises, and today was just full of them. . . he couldn't wait to see what more it had in store.