Breaking Point

Zell was the life of the party. At least, so he thought.

He stumbled around, light as air, red cup in hand, greeting anyone he recognized with a loud yelp and a sloppy hug. This was the best idea anyone had had in ages. At least that's what he kept telling everyone, and after a while he really believed himself. Irvine Kinneas was turning a year older tomorrow, and earlier this morning, he decided he was tired of just that—just turning a year older. On a whim, he called everyone in Garden he had met, and told them to come to his temporary room that conjoined with Zell's at around nine-ish—there would be music and gossip. Oh, and he told them all to bring drinks.

So that's what they did.

And that's exactly why Zell felt so fine tonight, floating around the room. Until he finished his drink, wobbled about towards the punch table, but bumped arms with Lina.

"Oh, sorry," she said automatically, when Zell knocked into her. Her gazed turned upward and the apologetic look on her face faded. "Hi Zell."

"Lina!" he exclaimed, his voice loud and merry. Lina flinched at his friendly demeanor. "Wha-where were you today?" Lina took only a second to register that he was talking about their previously arranged agreement to meet every day for her "mentored" project. Of course, that was before Zell acted so strange the day before.

Lina sat in her room staring at the clock: fifteen minutes past four. Fifteen minutes past her supposed meeting with Zell. She was still confused from their most recent encounter. There was no point in going. Lina remembered his face, how he'd shut off completely—she didn't need to stand for that. He didn't like her. She knew it. He could try to hide it, but his rudeness and lackluster attitude towards their "meetings," if you could call them that, showed how he truly felt about her. He didn't care. So why should she?

Lina nervously folded her hands, attempting to form the most neutral response she could off the tip of her tongue. "Well, I, uh, guess I didn't think you'd want me to come," Lina explained.

Zell noticed how her hands were laced in front of herself, no drink in hand, and always so calm and polite. He wished she wouldn't. More than anything, he just wanted to see her let loose, throw back a drink, and enjoy the party. It'd be amusing, he thought, and that she was just the opposite made him feel irritable.

"Well, I was expecting you," he said, his tone suddenly biting and angry. "You shouldn't just go 'round breaking arrangements like that."

Lina shot him a glare. She recalled how he had shut her down, pretty much forced her to leave, the trigger of the subsequent break down she had in Selphie's room.

"I'm sorry to have disappointed you," Lina said with a sharp tongue. Maybe it was the drink she had earlier, maybe it was something in the air, she didn't care what he thought anymore. He was toying with her last nerve. "It didn't occur to me that the very thought of me might not actually repel you. So sorry," she continued, an obvious edge of sarcasm in her "apology."

"Okay, is that really how you want to do this?" he said, the humor in his voice quickly diminishing. He took a step towards her so that they were closely face to face now. Lina could feel his hot breath on her skin, could smell the sweet, bitter taste of alcohol. Zell felt his temper rising uncontrollably. Never had someone dared to speak to him like this. He didn't care that she was a girl. He'd throw the punch. He felt the urge boiling in his blood. Lina was being rude, and she knew it. "I swear I'm..."

"What, Zell!? You swear you'll what?" exclaimed Lina. She was tired. Tired of him, tired of this. Tired of these petty arguments. And above all, tired of his aggressive attitude, his need to be correct, his need to win an argument. Why couldn't he just walk away? Didn't he know this was hard for her too? Didn't he understand? Or was he too blind to notice? "I'd rather be completely honest," Lina sighed, pressing her mouth into a thin line. She was determined. She needed to get to the bottom of this. "Why did push me away yesterday?"

"Maybe I'm scared of you," he mocked. Zell felt the anger curl up along his lips. "You came out of nowhere and just started following us around. I know jack shit about you. It scares the shit outta me." He glared into Lina's eyes with deep intensity. The alcohol pulsed through his system. To make it worse, she was pushing all the wrong buttons to find her answers. Screw courtesy! She had crossed the line.

"Zell.."Lina watched his blue eyes with equal fervor.

That's when he lost it. The burning, uncontrollable rage brimming at his lips manifested in words, sharp and unedited with no other purpose than to do damage, "Who the fuck are you anyway? You don't even know you. You don't even know if you have a last name."

Lina didn't say anything at first, just stood there, all amusement quickly draining from her bright brown eyes. What had started as harmless banter now became a personal attack. Her defenses shattered.

But Zell didn't stop.

"Hell, you're pathetic, walkin' around Garden like you have a cause. Everyone acts nice because they feel bad that you don't know jack shit. They feel sorry for you. And so do I."

Bam. He pulled the trigger and his aim was flawless. They stood, facing each other, for a long time: two individuals, columns that stood on opposite ends of each other, one—Lina—finally crumbling and ready to fall.

Finally she spoke.

"You...feel sorry for me?" she asked, but didn't need a reply. She finally tore her eyes away from him and looked away, as if searching for something, for justification. Tears welled in her eyes. Zell suddenly realized he'd mistaken that pain I'm her stern gaze for intensity. "Is that all you have to say?" she choked, blinking away the tears.

It wasn't her fault she couldn't remember. It wasn't her fault she didn't know—that she wasn't blessed that luxury. But Zell had made her feel at fault anyway. And with his confession, confirmed her deepest fear—that she was just a special case, a walking exhibit, a freak to eye at a distance and avoid.

Suddenly, Zell didn't feel so "fine" anymore. The way her eyes burned into his heart made him feel something he hadn't felt in ages, something no amount of alcohol could assuage: regret.

"Lina...I...didn't mean..." he started.

She pushed past him before he could stop her, dashing towards the exit. He watched her sprint towards the door, her hands to her face. He didn't pursue her; he was frozen in his place. Zell felt sick. Sick with what he had said. Sick with himself. And he hated himself for it.

He knew the cure to this sickness. He had to do the one thing he hated doing, the one thing he swore he'd never bother himself with again: apologize.