A/N: Hola!

Yes, yes, I know.

"Hey! Aren't you working on two different stories right now? Plus those two others you have a writer's block on?"

Please don't hurt me. But I tend to create on average about 20-50 story ideas each week. But on average about four or five actually makes it to be thought out. And on average one or two makes the cut.

Therefore, this one made the cut. And I had to do it. Alas, I didn't abandon the other ones. And the two with the writer's block? I don't know what to do with those. I don't want to remove it, 'cause I happen to like the ideas, but I don't wanna continue them because I'll just end up rambling on about stupid stuff in it, not having a clue what to write.

So just bear with me on this one. I'm a multitask-er, a bad one at that.

If you didn't already skip through my ramble crap, I'm going to do the usual lay out.

Warning: VERY EXPLICIT STORY PEOPLE. Sex, smoking, naked people, suggestive humor, sexual themes, drinking, cursing, blah blah blah. If you weren't expecting all these things, then go shoot yourself. This is an M rated fic. Duh.

Disclaimer: Alas, thou don't own thy Square... for I aren't... not... lying... ._.

?

MOVING ALONG...

I'm done here. Let's get to busting this joint.

LOL, sounded so black right there.

Ignore me.

Enjoy! :)

Cloud

"Oh Cloud... you are the world to me. I just want you to know that," a man with long silver hair and green eyes reminded, holding up Cloud's chin.

"Then... why're you leaving me?"

"No, Cloud... you'll never understand. That's why I must leave."

"But wait! Don't leave me! You don't expect me to be alone, do you?!" Cloud pleaded.

The man smiled. "I'm sure you'll manage..."

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

I groaned and blindly reached my hand out for the alarm. "Shut up," I muttered. It wouldn't stop. "Shut up... shut UP!" I shouted, sitting up quickly and turned to the right side of the bed. The man I was looking for wasn't here again, of course. As always.

"He's gone, Cloud. When are you going to realize that?" I mumbled, gently rubbing my hand down my face in annoyance. That man would never leave my dreams. I don't even want to say his name, for it brings bad memories. Memories I can't explain. Memories I can't erase.

I slowly turned to the beeping alarm, and turned it off. A note sat next to it, waiting patiently to be read. I picked it up and opened it, reading the contents.

Job interview today. Get ready!

"Oh shit!" I exclaimed, and sprouted out of bed, once again leaving it undone.

I ran to the kitchen, taking a box of Honey Bunches and pouring it into a bowl. Damn it... the TV was left on again.

I opened the fridge in search on milk, but there was none. I groaned and looked around. No, I didn't have time. I had to improvise. No breakfast today. I also had to remember to go grocery shopping today.

I took a brief shower, not even rinsing very well, for I came out of the shower half covered in suds of soap. Without hesitation, I wiped it off with my towel. I can't be late. Not this time. I'm always late. This was my seventh job interview and my tardiness always manages to screw over my chances. But not this one. This was the last straw. After that, I'm giving up and turning to male prostitution.

I'm kidding, folks.

Kind of.

Not really.

I searched the insanely disorganized closet for a matching tie with my blue collared button down shirt. "Where the fuck is my suit...?" I mumbled to myself.

"I'm telling you, man, you're going to blow this one again," said Zack's words of wisdom. Too bad he was my best friend, so I had to put up with his constant shit that fell out of his mouth every day. "Ten minutes to get to your job interview and you can't even find your suit? Please, just give up."

"Will you shut up? I'm sure it's here somewhere," I replied, searching the back of my car. "Aha!" I rejoiced, pulling out a faded... dirty... wrinkly suit that smelled like it's been cramped there for weeks.

"Yeah, you know what? I'm gonna go suit-less again," I informed Zack. Zack laughed on the other end.

"You'll be lucky if they take you seriously," he retorted.

"Ha ha," I said dryly, as I hopped into my cheap, 2003 BMW. I revved the engine multiple times until it finally started, quickly backing out of the driveway. Looks like I'm going to be doing 80 again on the highway.

With almost a minute to spear, I parked my car very poorly into a parking spot, blocking two spaces, and rushed out of the car, almost forgetting my case. I basically ran toward the building as discreetly as possible, and waltzed into the door, strutting over to the front desk.

"I'm here for a job interview," I huffed, making it exactly on the dot. 9:30 AM.

The woman at the desk raised an eyebrow and spun her chair to a phone. "I'll be sure to let him know you're here... your name, please?"

"Cloud."

"... last name, sir?"

"Oh! Uh, Strife."

She pressed a button on her phone and held it to her ear. "Mr. Leonhart, sir, we have Mr. Strife waiting for you at the front for his job interview. Oh, okay. I'll tell him. Thank you." And she hung up. "She says he's busy at the moment. But he'll let us know when he's available. For now, why don't you just wait over there in the waiting room."

I slowly nodded. "Yeah... yeah, okay. Sounds good."

Her eyebrow quirked up again. "Very well, then." And she continued her work as a secretary, picking up a phone call. "Leon Tech Headquarters this is Larxene speaking. How may I assist you this morning? Yes, let me put him on the line."

I turned around and awkwardly walked over to the waiting room, seeing about ten other people sitting there, waiting patiently with magazines or phones in their hands. I hope they aren't all here for the same person. I don't have that kind of patience.

The place was very prestigious, showcasing its wealth very prominently. It had revolving doors, and well-kept elevators. There was a pack of business people observing the place while a guide with a microphone explained to them what they were seeing while she held a fake smile. There was a fountain inside and out, and lots of fake plants. The floor was extremely shiny and marble. It was 70 stories high, and you could see the janitors cleaning the windows through the glass.

There was a constant theme going on here. The women would wear whatever colored shirt they want along with a black pencil skirt and black 5" heels, with their hair pulled back into a bun, while the men would wear whatever colored shirt they wanted along with black slacks and black Italian loafers with their hair combed back. They all had a name tag, and they all had a wireless speaker in their ear to communicate with the other people in this vast building.

I touched my unkempt, spiky hair. As much as I've tried before, my hair isn't capable of being slicked back. If I somehow manage to miraculously land this job, they're going to have to put up with that fact.

The elevator dinged and opened, revealing a crying woman, rushing out of the building, in the same trademark dress code of the workers here. "He fired me! All because I grew a pimple on my forehead!" She quickly moved through the revolving doors, wiping her dripping mascara, and frantically drove away in her very expensive Mercedes.

I gulped. That's another thing I noticed. Not one ugly person worked here. Does he have a strong hate against ugly people? Is the boss ugly himself? This made me scared. I wouldn't call myself ugly, but I wasn't quite sure if I was "Leon Tech material."

I shivered. It was freezing in here.

Being cold... that reminded me of him. The man who left me. He never let me be cold. He would always give me his jacket or hug me very tightly to him, and at night...

"Mr. Strife?" Larxene called, holding the phone in her hand. I quickly snapped out of my flashback and stood up, trying to look as attentive as possible, as if I wasn't just re-imagining sexual images in my head of my past love.

"Yes?" I answered.

"He's ready for you."

I grabbed my case and walked toward the elevator, stopping next to her. She handed me a card. "This is to get around in this building. For safety reasons, and for privacy reasons, we require everyone who wishes to access this building to have their card on them, that way we know they mean business. The elevator is straight down. Your destination is on the 40th floor, second hallway, three doors down to your right. If you get lost, just follow the directions on the wall."

I nodded. "Thank you-"

"And another thing."

I turned to her.

"Mr. Leonhart can be... pushy and... and harsh. Just... get used to it. And just remember that he always gets what he wants. This is his 67th interview and no one's made the cut yet."

I gulped and nodded again. "Thank... you?"

She sighed and went back to her computer, shaking her head and mumbling something.

With that, I headed to the elevator and pressed the button with the 40 on it.

40th floor added to destination points, the elevator stated, and it started to move up. It stopped on the 23rd and opened its doors. A woman with short blue hair and a tall figure quietly walked into the elevator, pressing the 65 button and leaning against the wall. The doors closed again.

65th floor added to destination points, the elevator stated, and it proceeded to move along. I sighed. This is going to be a while, I thought, seeing as how fast the elevator was going.

The woman looked me over, forcing the sides of her lips to stay serious, although they were fighting a smile. She looked up at my face. "You look unusually young to be working here. And where's your name tag?"

"Oh, I don't work here. I have a job interview," I corrected, noticing that my clothes coincidentally matched the dress code. "And what do you mean, young? Everyone here looks young."

She laughed. "Of course everyone is. No one passed the age of 45 is allowed to work here. Hello early retirement. Besides, I'm talking about your general self. It doesn't look worn out, like the rest of us."

"Worn... out?" I repeated.

"I'm hiding it under my make-up, but I have extreme bags under my eyes from the lack of sleep I've been getting. The boss... he tends to tire everyone out with his attitude. Ever since he broke up with his partner, he's been even harder to deal with than before."

"Partner?"

"He's gay."

"Oh."

"Doesn't make him less harsh."

This made me a little worried. "Then why is everyone still working here?"

"Are you kidding? The benefits are really beneficial and the pay is amazing. Plus, it's easy to move up in rank. Just do as he says, please him a little, and he'll make sure your sitting on his right side at the next meeting. It's worth it in the end."

I slowly nodded. That made me forget all about the previous statements about the boss before. All I heard was "pay is amazing" and I instantly thought about ditching my tiny apartment and moving in to a cozy, roomy loft. Maybe even a better, more modern car. You know, one that doesn't require you to actually roll down your windows.

She gave me a warm smile. "Aqua by the way."

I returned it. "Cloud."

She checked me out. "You're really good-looking. The boss likes good-looking people. That hair, though..."

I shrugged. "It wouldn't cooperate."

She laughed. "Whatever. You'll do fine."

"And thanks. You know... for the compliment. Am I really that good-looking?"

"Hot even," she confirmed, winking. The doors opened. Arriving at 40th floor, the elevator informed. I pointed to the open doors.

"That's my stop," I said.

She nodded. Then stopped me quickly. "Are you... gay?"

I froze. "How did you know? I don't act gay, do I?"

She shook her head and laughed. "No. It's just you didn't stare at my boobs like all the guys do here. It was weird. But I was right, wasn't I."

I lightly smiled. "Yeah. Spot on."

She let go of my arm and jerked her chin. "Go. You're late," she teased. I gasped and rushed through the doors. She laughed and shook her head again as the doors closed. That wasn't the last time I would see her. I just knew it.

The secretary was right. The arrows on the wall would say what room you wanted to go to and the direction to head in order to reach it. They were so spot on I effortlessly made it to the boss' office as if I worked there and knew my way around. And of course, various times I was required to flash my card to a scanner to access a hallway or open a door. Larxene was also right about that.

I stood in front of the boss's door, took a deep breath to calm my nerves down, and knocked on his door. I could hear his mumbling a few words. "Come in!" he called, and he continued to mumble a few words. I opened the door and saw him spinning a pen around in his hand while talking to himself. I stood there, not knowing where to go.

He turned his chair to me, revealing a very handsome man, looking like he's just getting used to age 30, with striking blue eyes, and brown hair neatly combed back. His suit was black, fitting the colors of the dress code he made, and his watch was thick with gold. His face was flawless, except for a scar that fell across his nose. It was that one imperfection that on an ugly person would look hideous, but on him, it made him look even more handsome, as if it was a reminder to people that he was still human and not an angel that fell from the sky.

And of course, he had an earpiece in his ear, like everyone else in the building. He's not crazy. He was talking to someone over the line. Silly me.

He pointed to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit."

I obeyed.

The room was huge, almost the size of the front entrance where you meet the front desk. It had many rewards and achievements posted onto the wall. Banners sat on a bulletin board, covered up by miscellaneous Post-It notes and schedules with red circles on them. The floor was a clean, well kept, navy blue carpet, unlike the marble floors outside, and one side of the wall facing the back on him was a huge window, revealing the outside and reminding me how high up we really were.

"I never asked for that, did I," he stated into his earpiece. Only, it sounded more like a statement than an affirming question. "Then fix that." And he pressed a button on his earpiece that made it turn off.

Immediately, he dug into a pile of papers, all of them about me. He still has yet to achieve eye contact with me. "Why are you here?" he asked as he skimmed through the papers, almost sounding like he was in a hurry.

"I have a job interview with you," I reminded him. I was getting use to saying that now. "My appointment time was 20 minutes ago?"

"Well time doesn't always listen to me, does it," he mumbled, dismissing my statement. I dropped it right away. He finally pulled a certain file out of the papers and observed it, narrowing his eyes as he critically analyzed it, making his judgment on me.

"How old are you, Cloud?" he asked me. Cloud? What happened to Mr. Strife? A little disrespectful there, don't you think?

"27."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Sir," I completed.

"Why are you here?" he asked me.

"I have a-"

"No," he said, holding his hand up. Still no eye contact by the way. "Why..." he started, leaning back in his chair. "...are you here?"

"Well, uh... I'm here to get a job here, sir. So I can earn a living, and be able to supply my needs," I answered slowly. Isn't that why everybody wants a job?

His face contorted to disappointment. Shit. I wasn't doing it right.

"What's your strongest and weakest assets about you?" he asked me.

"My strength is my determination and my weakness is dealing with cocky people," I answered bluntly. He huffed out a breath of air.

He shook his head. "Cloud, you're not what I'm looking for-" He looked up at me. He stopped. He stared. In fact, he stared for a long time, examining my face, picking out my features.

I looked around, nervous. Why was he staring at me like that? And for so long? It made me worried. It's probably the hair. Aqua was right. The boss obviously likes order based on my previous observations of the place. If his workers saw my hair like this, then all of them would rebel and- Oh, I'm not gonna land the job. As usual.

He cleared his throat and looked down at his desk, staring at nothing.

"Sir?" I asked, checking to see if he was alright. Mr. Leonhart closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, his face turning a faint pink. "Sir?" I asked again.

"Mr. Strife, you said it was?" he asked quietly, still looking down at the desk.

"...yes?" I confirmed. Now he wants to give respect? What's his deal? Is he bipolar?

He looked up to me, his face back to its regular color and his character was back to normal. He folded his hands on his desk. "You can't possibly be 27."

"I am, sir."

"We don't have a minimum age here, Mr. Strife. Don't be afraid to tell the truth," he lied, flashing me a very weak smile.

"I'm 27."

"And you said you have no job, whatsoever?" he asked me.

"I don't sir."

"Why?" These questions were going to lead up to personal ones, I could tell.

"Because someone was covering all my needs already."

"Who?"

See? Personal indeed.

"I don't feel very compelled to answer that sir-"

"Answer." He took a sip of his coffee on the table.

I pursed my lips. "My... my ex."

"Ex? And who is she?" Another sip.

"He, sir."

He swallowed the coffee too quickly and started to choking, coughing heavily. I reached my hands out toward him but he stopped me with a hand gesture. He eventually stopped coughing and readjusted his tie. "You're gay, Mr. Strife." Once again, it sounded more like a statement than a question. In fact, a lot of his questions sounded like that. I had to learn to adapt.

"Yes, sir."

He stared at me, narrowing his eyes and contemplating hard on something. I adjusted my spot on the chair in uneasiness and awkwardly looked around. He continued to stare at me as he asked his questions. "Who is he?"

"I thought you said I wasn't what you were looking for," I reminded, almost preferring to not land the job than continue his persistent prying into my personal life.

He bluntly waved his hand in dismissal. He leaned forward on his desk and smirked. The face he made was incredibly sexy, and it made me even more uneasy. I bit my bottom lip as hard as I could without making it bleed. "I say a lot of things, Mr. Strife."

I gulped. "Uh, Sephi-" My breath caught at the beginning of his name. All the memories of him rushed back into my head. I winced. Oh no. Not again.

He raised an eyebrow. "Sephi?"

I let out a shaky breath. "Sephiroth, sir."

He kept his gaze. His confident aura magnified. "Never heard of him."

"He's a... he's a male stripper, sir," I said, blushing, embarrassed of my ex's profession. What would he think of me, dating a guy who was a stripper?

Yet his gaze never moved. "I see," he mumbled. "And did you love him?"

I pursed my lips.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response.

"Of course," I replied. And I still do, but he doesn't need to know that.

He glanced down at the papers. "It says here you're good at taking orders."

I was glad he changed the subject. I didn't feel like discussing my past love. "I used to be a waiter, so I'm used to the whole following orders in short time thing."

"How come you didn't give a picture of yourself in here when it told you?" Mr. Leonhart asked, searching the folder.

"I did, sir."

"Where?"

"It's right here," I stated, reaching forward to point to the picture. Instead, my arm slipped and ended up spilling his coffee all over his lap. How cliche. And unlucky. I gasped. "I'm terribly sorry, sir! Here, uh... lemme help."

"Lemme?" he lightly laughed. I ignored his comment and grabbed a couple of tissues from his desk and walked around to the other side of it. Awkwardly, I began to pat it down, the coffee bleeding through the tissue in a heartbeat.

I dryly laughed. "I guess tissue isn't the best material to clean people's laps with, huh."

He kept on gazing at me, a light smile on his face. I looked back at him, our faces extremely close. He was even better looking up and personal. And his lips looked so kissable...

"You're very cute," he mumbled quietly, our faces kissing distance.

"Oh, uh... thank you," I replied just as quietly. My hand slowly grazed over his dick, feeling a very hard lump that was large... and wet with coffee. My face contorted into confusion, looking down at his lap.

He cleared his throat and broke our eye contact, removing my hands from him. "It's fine. I have other suits to change into," he confirmed. His face went back into an unreadable expression, as it always was.

He pressed his earpiece on and got up, leaving the room without notice. I sat there, confused, not knowing what to do.

Minutes later, a woman came in, holding a binder in her arms, holding a fake smile on her face. "Mr. Strife, welcome to the Leon Tech Industries! We hope your stay here will be a pleasant one."

Yeah. I hope so too.