Final Fantasy VIII: Finding the Sun
Seifer didn't know where Quistis and Selphie found the strength to hold him back from the entrance to the infirmary.
"Let go," he said. He kept seeing it in his head, Zell crumbling to the floor, over and over again. Seifer watched Zell fall down and knocked him down plenty, almost every day, but that fall had hurt to watch. He figured he'd be watching it in his head for a long time to come.
Selphie was tiny, but a pretty effective roadblock. "What did you do to your hand?" She was holding onto his wrist, and Seifer finally looked down to see that his knuckles were bloody.
"I punched the sniper," Seifer said. "A few times." The spell washed over him, even as he tried to tug away and go forward. He heard more voices behind him, but he didn't bother turning.
Quistis said, "Seifer, you're in shock, and you should probably sit down."
"What is she doing in there?" Seifer hadn't been there when they put Zell on the stretcher. He had been chasing down the asshole that had shot Zell instead of Edea. Zell might have saved Edea's life, but lost—he refused to think it, and he was startled when Selphie shoved him backwards into a folding chair even as the door to the infirmary opened and Quistis walked over. Seifer ignored the blood on Dr. Kadowaki's clothes and tried to stand, but hands on his shoulders—he didn't even know who they belonged to—kept him down.
"—blood, but he's going to be fine."
Seifer shrugged at the hands on his shoulders. "What is with you people, let me go."
Dr. Kadowaki looked toward him. "Squall, let him go. Zell wants to see him."
No one else got in Seifer's way as he stalked into the infirmary, and if Zell thought he could just throw himself in front of bullets, Seifer was going to wise him up fast. He pulled back the curtain at the first rest area, and all his anger drained out of him.
"Hey." Zell smiled at him from the pillows, and he looked washed out, chest bare but for the white bandage. He was still wearing his dress pants, and Seifer clenched his fists when his eyes crossed black material wrinkled with wetness—blood. "Wow, you look so pissed."
"Because I am." Seifer stayed where he was. "Real smart move with the human shield act, Dincht."
"Well, it worked." Zell laughed, and then winced. "Doc says I'll be sore for a few days, but nothing serious."
"Tell that to the pint of blood you lost." Seifer finally stepped closer to the bed, and he hated feeling like this. "You're not bulletproof."
"Yeah, I got that, thanks." Zell brushed at the material of Seifer's suit with his hand. "So much for that party. I hadn't even gotten to raid the buffet, or force you to learn that line dance Irvine taught me."
"I'm never dancing with you." Seifer thought that was the worst lie he had ever told, but Zell didn't have to know that. He could probably ask for anything right now and Seifer would do it, and that was a strange feeling. He watched Zell's eyes drift closed for a moment.
"You scared me, you asshole." Seifer whispered it, and when Zell's eyes popped open in surprise, found that he didn't even regret it. Zell reached up and grabbed his tie, tugging him down.
Another first, Seifer marveled, was that he didn't even care if every single person in Garden walked in right then and caught him kissing Zell. Seifer slid his hand behind Zell's neck and pressed their mouths together, warm and wet, and damn if he didn't want to crawl in the bed with him. He pulled away, blinking, and feeling angry and helpless and happy, all at the same time, with no outlet. Not with Zell in the bed with a gunshot wound to the chest, anyway. It was a realization that was almost like a let down.
Seifer had known these feelings already.
"Stay," Zell said, voice drowsy. "Okay?"
"Yeah," Seifer said, and Zell was dozing off already, chest rising and falling gently. "I'm not going anywhere."