AUTHORS NOTE: Thanks to everyone who leaved a review! As you might have noticed by now, this story is somewhat like a bad soap-opera. Hope you don't mind! (obviously not, since you've gotten this far…).
Anyhow, this is the chapter where things start to get kiiiiiiiind of out of hand. But don't worry, it gets much, much worse a few more chapters in. You have been warned. Hope you'll stay with me!
Even though two thirds of the mansion were locked down, it was still huge. Every room seemed lager then the other. The bedrooms were so different in size from the ones at Balamb that they almost gave Squall a case of agoraphobia.
The dining-hall were the most overgrown room Squall had ever seen. The ceiling were at least 10 meters above their heads, and from it dangled sassy lamps made in a goldish metal, Italian- style.
The room was dominated by a dining-table large enough for thirty guests and their meals. The walls were draped in a dusked-yellow tapestry and golden-lined drapes covered the tall windows. It seemed to be candelabras everywhere, on the fireplace, on the table, on shelves and in the windows. Seifer were going in a wide circle around the room, lighting the candles on the table an the fireplace.
"Their" he said "All cosy and nice"
"Someone disapproves of electrical light" Squall mumbled as he sat down at the far end of the table.
"Maybe the electricity isn't that reliable in these part of the world" Zell said, walking out of the kitchen with a steaming pot in his hands "They have an gas-oven too"
"Won't you tell us an anecdote or something about the oven?" Seifer sneered and looked up on Zell from his place to the left of Squall.
"What?" Zell harshly replayed as he put the pot down at the table.
"Well, you always seem to do that, telling us a lot of shit we don't want to hear" Seifer explained.
Their eyes met, Zells and Seifers, but to Squalls surprise Zell turned away without a replay our threats of violence.
"Be nice, or no dinner" Zell said weakly with his face turned away from Seifer. He went around the table and sat down on the opposite side of Seifer. Squall frowned at Zell. He seemed different some how, smaller. Weaker. He was not the life-full youth Squall knew from his history-class. He seemed… sad? Meanwhile, Seifer had taken the lid of the pot and fumes of spice and fish floated into the room.
"It doesn't smell so bad" Seifer commented and looked at Zell "What is it?"
"It's a kind of wok, fish, rice and vegetables fried and cooked together" Zell explained "I had to improvise a little, though. I didn't have all the ingredients"
Seifer gave Zell a weird look accompanied by a smile that wasn't all that hostile. Then he reached for Squalls plate and placed four scoops of the food at it. He repeated the procedure with Zells plate and last with his own. Zell passed a bottle of Cider around and then they started to eat during complete silence. When no words had been uttered for a troubling amount of time, Seifer broke the silence.
"Well, this isn't even half-bad" he said, turned to Zell.
"I'll take that as a compliment" Zell responded, glaring down at his food, his head resting at his elbow.
"It's good, Zell" Squall agreed in a low voice. He didn't think it proper to speak to loudly in such a silent house… and it's silent master. Somehow Squall couldn't get his mind of that beautiful silver-hair and dead eyes.
"Yeah, how did you learn to cook?" Seifer continued, not being able to give all praise "Thought your mommy did that kind of things for you"
Zells grip around his fork tightened, and he bent his head even further down over his plate.
Squall starred at the fork and half expected Zell to break it. He thought that now, now was when Seifer were gonna get it. But the outburst of rage never came.
"Seifer, please don't talk about my mother" was the only words that came over Zells lips, and they came in a controlled, low, voice.
Seifer sighted.
"Man, being stuck here with you two and that half-dead thing up there" he pointed towards the ceiling "Is gonna be a total bore since Zells obviously is turning into YOU"
He gave Squall a blaming look.
Half an hour later Zell stood with his arms covered in cold water. The dishes was neatly piled on the bench besides him and though he kept his eyes on the glass he was cleaning, his mind was far away. What was he suppose to do? What the hell was he suppose to do! God damn, he felt so useless! He'd never felt more like a failure in his life. He was weak. He was helpless. If he just could be stronger… be smarter… If he could just for once use that stupid hunk of meat in his head he might had been able to stop it. If he hadn't been so blind. If he hadn't been so reckless…
The glass shattered in his hand. He looked down as the dirty water became alive with his blood. He looked at his cut hands and the small floods of red streaming down his fingers. Somehow, he felt strangely relived. The pain in his heart wasn't that much of a torture now as the throbbing pain in his palms took it's place. But this pain was much better, much more controlled.
He had read about this. He knew where this kind of thought would lead him. But he didn't care. For once in his life he didn't give a fuck. He needed relief, and it was right there, in front of him. So close, so sweet…
Life is dangerous, you might actually die.
He laughed at the irony. He laughed at the pain. He laughed at his helplessness and his misery. It was not a pleasant laugh, more the kind you let out when you don't know what else to do. And short after that the laughter became shivering sobs. He sat down at the floor, his back pressed at the bench-side. He hid his face in his arm and he cried.
"God, mom…" he whispered "I can't even help myself"