Final Fantasy VIII: Ruminations from the Edge of the Deep Blue Sea
Seifer feels the crack of Zell's fist against his jaw and tumbles into the frothing waves. He rises as fast as he can, soaked by the ocean and the storm. He shouldn't have expected Zell would be any different.
"God, you fucker!" Zell says, and he's helping Seifer up, tugging him out of the water, fisting his hands in cloth that drags with wet.
Thunder rolls overhead.
Seifer wonders at the reversal: Zell shoving him down and picking him up. He expects to be shoved down again like he'd done to Zell so long ago, onto broken shells and unforgiving surf. He braces for it.
It never comes.
Instead Zell tugs him down for a kiss that takes Seifer by surprise. He tastes blood and salt before he's pushed away.
Zell glares up at him through wet hair. The anger in his eyes eclipses the ocean, and Seifer can see himself in them, worn down and weary. "I hate you sometimes," Zell says.
Seifer's jaw aches—but it doesn't keep him from talking back. "Because you sexually assault everyone you hate. I don't care what you think of me." Except there's no cut to the words. He's too wet and tired to care.
Zell shakes him. "This isn't you! When do you ever spend time moping?"
"It's not moping."
"Stop lying." Zell's voice is harsh. "Please, just stop."
He starts to speak, but warm palms slide under his jacket. When Zell puts his mouth back on his, it's a dare and a risk, a demand that Seifer stop looking back. His hands are light, fingers skimming under fabric, waiting for Seifer's decision.
And where Seifer thought it would be hard, it's so easy to press forward, kiss Zell back, and make his choice.