Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts or anything but this fic.

A/N: I wasn't really sure (again) what to do about the next chapter. Having no focus ahead, I expect to run into some loops or holes or whatever you'll call them, in the future. For now, this works I guess. ;

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Seifer first instinct was to lock himself in the safety of his car. He considered it for a moment on his way out of Pao's Dragon and then thought better of it. The brunette was nowhere in sight but he seriously doubted that she could have made it very far. While he was concerned about the outcome of his vehicle, fully aware of what company patrolled the streets at night, he was more concerned about the young woman that had abandoned him in the restaurant. Driving would do him no good; it would save him time, but it would prevent him from reaching areas such as alleyways and buildings that Olette might have decided was a good hiding place – although, she didn't seem the type to hide. The girl was a bundle of dynamite. She was amazing.

Determined to locate his partner for the evening, the blond took a left from the establishment and began to search for Olette from the sidewalk. His gaze sifted through any groups that passed by and he scanned into every window and alleyway he found. When he was nearly out of sight of his vehicle, he stopped short near an intersection and assumed that she had not gone this way. Any male with half a jar of hormones passing by would have harassed her by now and caused a fuss; regardless of her sneakers, the brunette had looked stunning. The thought of it made him frustrated that he hadn't bothered trying to stop her on her way out.

Turning back the other way, he was surprised to see who he was pursuing coming in his direction. He figured she would have wanted to walk home again even if it were a dangerous and improbable process. When she was within arm's length, she reached out and slapped him firmly across the face with enough force that he stumbled slightly. Not only was the woman a lit fuse, but she had quite the arm, the blond discovered.

"Take me home," she demanded. "I can't make it on foot tonight." She was not only cranky but also tired. Her legs still hurt and while she was certain no one could see the growing bruise on her leg beneath her skirt, she could definitely feel it. Her feet were sore and her muscles ached. Just walking out of the restaurant had caused her severe discomfort as it was.

"Why should I take you home when you're acting like a brat?" His retort earned him another strike, this time on the other cheek.

"Because you took me out here and I'm your responsibility!"

"I'm not responsible for dealing with this attitude you're giving me!"

"You're the one with the attitude, calling me uptight, you ass!"

"Maybe I shouldn't have come out to look for you if you're going to be like this," he stated with as much calm as he could muster.

She felt like she had struck ice. No matter how much she screeched and wailed at him, no matter the insults and accusations she flung, no matter how insufferable she was being; he wouldn't give up. She had to admit that he was being fairly reasonable, but she still could not see what exactly it was that attracted all the girls from the college. There was nothing but looks, and those went away.

"When you've grown up a notch, I'll take you home," he concluded. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and brushed past her as if he was a steel wall. This wasn't the man that had offered her dinner, a man with a warm and inviting spirit around him; this was a man who behaved as if he were defeated and tending to sore wounds. It made her feel almost guilty to see him like this because of her.

For a great while she stood where she was, hands clutched tightly around her phone and tremors wracking her body. She had no indication from anywhere what to do. The streetlights weren't enough to ward off the dark and soon she began to notice a decline of the average upstanding citizen. She didn't want to be alone here in the city; there were plenty of rapists, thieves, and murderers out here and she didn't want to become a victim – but she didn't want to have to apologize or be defeated by Seifer again. The stubborn streak in her flared up and she convinced herself that she had done nothing wrong. He deserved every bit of "attitude" she had given him! He was a jerk who was so full of himself that he obviously could not recognize it even since she had told him.

So when the suspicious looking man approached her, trying to sweet-talk her and ask if she wanted a ride, why did she wish she was with the man she had so despised just a moment before?

"Come on, baby cakes. You look like you could use a good time," the man attempted to persuade her, an unconvincing grin on his face. With an unkempt mustache and tattered clothes, she seriously doubted that she was the only one that felt negatively about this person.

"I'm not interested," she muttered, turning away to signify that she was feeling what she said, and that she was finished with the conversation as far as she was concerned. The man was adamant, however, and began to follow her.

"You don't know what you're missing. I can show you around and we can have some fun."

"I said I'm not interested," she repeated, doing her best to sound firm. It was no use; obviously this character wasn't listening to her.

"I insist," he growled.

She felt a hand clamp around her arm and she yelped from the pressure. She couldn't pull her arm from his grasp and she began to grow panicked. What was wrong with this man? Didn't he have anything better to do with his time than harass young women?

"Come with me and you'll have a good time, I promise, sugar," she heard him say, but she was no longer truly listening. Her mind sought furiously for a way to escape and in her desperation she swung her leg forward and kicked at his knees. It brought a howl of pain from her attacker and distracted him long enough to loosen his grip. Seizing her opportunity, she bolted in the direction that she had last seen Seifer go.

She realized she had been extremely lucky. The man had only followed her for a little ways before he reached a couple of blocks from the restaurant. Loyal customers had begun to make their ways to Pao's Dragon and he couldn't afford getting caught, she imagined. Outside of the business she managed to spot a familiar face and moved towards it as fast as her aching legs would take her.

"Take me home," she pleaded. Still moderately breathless from her escape, she had to speak between breaths.

The blond was genuinely disturbed but he felt it necessary to mask it. The state of his date was perplexing. He had not seen her come back which had surprised him, because he had been keeping a watch for her despite their argument; he was at a loss for pleasant situations that would require her to be so winded. He put his arm around her shoulders tentatively and became increasingly worried as he was met with no resistance.

"Are you okay?"

"Just take me home, please."

Now anxious and quite concerned, he led her to his car and escorted her inside. She seemed to relax once he had joined her and locked the doors, but nothing was said about whatever traumatizing experience she had faced. As he started the car, he decided to pry.

"What happened?"

"There are bigger jerks than you, I learned," she stated simply. He understood then.

"You should have come back sooner. It couldn't have taken you that long to walk back over here."

"And let you have a sense of victory?"

Her tone made him glance over to her. He could not tell if she was being serious or not. She seemed indifferent for the most part, aside from a slight shake. The blond was unable to completely take his eye off of her. Despite the incident she seemed back to normal; it was a feat most females he knew could not accomplish. He felt a growing respect for her because of this.

The ride seemed shorter even though the same route was taken back to her apartment. Once there, he exited the Porsche and held open the door for her again. He was surprised to see that she seemed a bit hesitant to leave.

"We're home," he informed her, subtly prodding her to step out. After a moment, she complied and slipped out. As she stood, she made brief eye contact with him, then walked off without a word and disappeared behind her door. There was no "Thank you," no "I had a good time," and not even a "We should do this again sometime." There didn't need to be. The look in her eyes told him volumes. Olette was a beautiful young woman, but she was lonely; yet she wasn't about to let her loneliness cause her to lower her standards. His respect for her steadily increased upon this revelation.

Suddenly he felt compelled to go back to her. Unsure of what else to do and having nothing else planned, he strolled back to her door and knocked on it lightly.

"Just a minute," came the muffled reply. He heard the rustling of clothes and was aware that this time she probably was going to answer the door properly dressed. It almost made him smile, but he stopped short as the door opened.

She obviously wasn't expecting him judging by the look on her face. Her hand pushed open the door a bit further as if to invite him inside and her other hand clutched a denim jacket shut over her chest. She still had not changed from her skirt and he thought that she had no need to.

"May I come in?"

She seemed indecisive, but after a moment nodded and stepped aside to allow him entrance.

"Sure."

He had never thought that he would be back in her apartment again. The place most definitely was not his favorite location to lounge about but he thought he could get used to it. Olette lived here and that was what mattered at the moment.

"What did you need?" She seemed strangely friendlier for some reason now although she merely looked inquisitive. She was not snapping in his face and he considered it an improvement.

"Nothing," he told her honestly. "I just felt the urge to come see you again."

"I see. I don't have anything to offer you here."

"You mean that, don't you?"

"I mean what?"

"That you don't have anything to offer me. It's not just me; you really don't have anything to even offer yourself, do you?"

He knew he had caught her off guard by the stunned look on her face. It slowly was replaced by one that resembled annoyance.

"It's none of your business about my living conditions. If you don't have anything you need, then get out," she spat, arms crossing over her chest as if to protect herself from any other questions he might present.

He had not expected her to lash out at him for such a simple question. Clearly the subject about her lifestyle was a sensitive one.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he began, pausing to see if she would cut him off. When she said nothing, he pressed on. "I don't need anything from you. I came here to see you, not your house or to have whatever is in it. You don't have to offer me anything, alright?"

When she remained silent, he pushed the issue.

"Alright?"

"Fair enough," she agreed. "Would you like to sit down, then? The couch is in decent repair," she offered, one hand sweeping towards the furniture in an inviting gesture. He shrugged and made his way over to sit down. Again, he was surprised when she sat next to him; he was not surprised by how she hunched over and gazed down at the floor.

"Do your friends come over often?" He didn't see any harm in asking about her friends.

"No." Her tone shocked him; it was bitter and made him decide speaking of her friends was also off-limits. He attempted to find something else to discuss that wouldn't offend her.

"Do you have family?" Her face grew more sullen, if possible.

"My mother died last month. She was the last one." Apparently this was also not something to talk about.

"You don't have pets, do you?"

"I live alone, Seifer," she stated, rising from the sofa. From this angle he was able to see the scrape on her leg and, against his better judgment, he grabbed her hand to prevent her from creating distance. He had no other ideas to keep her from throwing him out; he was not ready to leave yet.

"Your leg," was all he said. He was oblivious of the stare she was boring into him.

"Yes, I have a leg," she uttered quietly. She was aware that he had most likely seen the wound on her shin by now, and her suspicions were confirmed when he pushed enough of the fabric of her skirt away to inspect it closely. She felt her cheeks heat and attempted to pull away. She was unprepared for the firm tug in response. Later on Seifer would argue that his action was meant to keep her from pulling away, but what had happened was that she had lost her balance and toppled forward in his direction.

She had often read in comics and in stories that when this happened, the lady fell cleanly into the man's lap. Instead of landing in his lap, she stumbled over his legs in a struggle not to hit the ground and slipped towards the floor for the second time that day. She closed her eyes out of habit and was not able to see his arm shoot out to prevent her fall; so when she came to a sudden stop and did not feel her head slam into the floor, she was almost delighted. As her eyes slid open she noted that his arm was pressing into her chest most uncomfortably and that his other arm was loosely encircling her waist. It was a position many girls would have killed to be in, but it was not one she wanted yet. She was relieved when he let her go as she straightened up.

The brunette wanted to thank him but said nothing – her voice had left her. She knew well that her face was sporting a noticeable red, and piled on top of the events recently the embarrassment was too much for her to handle. As much as she tried to resist it, she began to cry.

It was alarming to see the woman that had fought so hard, and had been so strong, break down in front of him. It was plain to Seifer that whatever she had been through tonight had caused everything to tumble down; but he was unsure of how to help her. He did not understand her situation or practically anything happening in her life; she told him nothing and he doubted that she would tell him much in the future. She protested against his being a gentleman but griped constantly about how arrogant and rude he was; what was he in her life? Granted that he had rarely ever spoken to her and had no reason to butt into her life; but she needed help, she needed it now, and there did not seem to be anyone else to give it to her.

Unsure of what else to do, he stood and placed an arm around her shoulders. When she remained unresponsive, he lowered his head and tried to get a clear look at her face.

"Hey, what's wrong? Do you want to talk?" Her head shook but she made no attempts to pull away from him. It was a good sign considering their interaction so far.

"You should sit down," he suggested. She wiped her eyes and joined him on the sofa, disregarding her previous needs to keep her distance; she leaned on him freely and let the tears roll down her face. There were no words, no explanations; just the gasps and choked cries as the two sat together. He had learned that her world was fragile as well as lonely. For this reason he was hesitant to leave, but as time passed and it was nearing midnight, he knew he should get home. When she had gradually began to quiet and he had managed to lull her into a state of calm breathing, he turned to her.

"Hey, you have my number, right?" She shook her head numbly. He was distinctly aware of her head in the crook of his shoulder and felt reluctant to leave.

"Well I'll give you my number so you can call if you need anything. I'm going to have to go."

At this she began to mutter so incoherently that no matter how intently he listened, he could not understand her.

"Slow down! I can't understand you; you're too muffled!"

She sniffed deeply and swallowed. The brunette despised her current condition and what she was about to say, but she felt so traumatized and had no one else to call for comfort and consolation.

"I don't want," she began, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, "I don't want to be alone." Having admitted this, she inhaled and continued.

"When you had gone back to your car earlier tonight, there was a man there." She glanced at him as if for approval and he nodded to show that she had his attention. Satisfied that he was listening, she began to make gestures as she explained the ordeal that she had gone through with the man on the street.

"I don't want to be alone. It's stupid but I feel that I'll be followed or someone will break into my house and do something," she finished. Her fingers were weaving together nervously; she could not bring herself to ask what she wanted to ask – she refused to ask. She had no business asking such a thing from Seifer; she barely knew him! But he understood.

"You want to stay at my house tonight? I have room for you."

She looked at him uncertainly. Her eyes were red and swollen and her hair was a mess; she knew she must have looked horrible and had no desire for him to see her in such a state, but she needed confirmation that he was being serious. When she saw the look in his eyes she understood his mind was not on inappropriate things and that he was not as full of himself as she had made him out to be. She would have guessed that being popular meant nothing to him. He was genuinely worried about her and was tending to her needs the best he could, the best she would let him. She owed him an apology, he deserved it.

"I'm sorry for being rude to you so far."

He regarded her silently for a moment before his face split into a warm smile.

"It's no problem. I understand that you have problems; everyone does. So, did you want to come to my house?" She returned his smile hesitantly.

"I'd like that."