I can't sleep. It's 3am and I'm so tired. At least my cigarettes aren't as expensive as Genesis's.

Not sure where this idea came from. It was meant to be humor then sort of…Well, I'm not really sure exactly.

…

Right Here

…

Sleep was for the weak.

Genesis was weak. He was a lump, a slug, a tired-to-the-point-of-falling-over lumpy slug that hadn't slept in days.

"Shiva's tits," he groaned, rubbing his dry eyes. It was 2am and there was nothing to do but sit on his porch, wrapped in a blanket Angeal had given him for his birthday and chain smoke ridiculously expensive cigarettes.

Speaking of cigarettes…he'd forgotten to light the one currently hanging out of his mouth. He fumbled with the lighter, clutched tight in his hand, and finally heard the satisfying click and the flame burst into life. He would usually use materia but after four days without sleep his MP was sadly lacking. He couldn't even make a spark.

A sound to his left caught his attention and he fought the urge to roll his eyes, instead ignoring it in favor of inhaling deeply.

"You should be asleep." The soft voice was calm and a moment later weight settled next to him.

Genesis didn't bother turning. He simply shrugged. He knew exactly what he would see if he did turn and saw no reason to.

A young blond man would be sitting there, his bright blue eyes filled with concern directed toward Genesis. His hair would be in complete disarray, pointing every which way and still managing to frame his face perfectly. His shirt would be a tattered version of the one Genesis wore daily, the ends frayed from too much use and too little care. The gleaming sword on his back would be the opposite, pristine and freshly tended, nestled in the center of his back, right between two snowy white wings. Genesis wouldn't look.

A hand touched his cheek, warm against his skin. "Genesis."

The word was soft and Genesis's eyes filled with tears. "What, Cloud?"

A single drop spilled over and Cloud's thumb brushed it away, the leather of his gloves grazing gently across his skin. "You should be sleeping," Cloud repeated.

"I can't," he snapped, setting down the cigarette with shaky fingers.

Cloud was quiet for a moment before he slid off the bench and onto his knees in front of Genesis. "This isn't good for you."

Genesis shook his head, swiping at his face and the water there. "You think I don't know that? You're not real, Cloud, yet I still see you, speak to you. What is wrong with me?"

"Genesis, look at me."

"No."

"Genesis." Cloud's tone remained gentle even though he knew he was being stubborn. "Please."

The single word was all it took and Genesis's eyes flicked upwards, resting on Cloud's face. He wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth from the man's skin on his own. Cloud's eyes locked with his and his mouth curved up into a soft shadow of a smile.

"I'm real," Cloud said slowly. "There is nothing, absolutely nothing, wrong with you. Do you understand?"

"I understand you're a liar," Genesis muttered.

"Maybe," Cloud admitted, "But in this case I'm not. I am real and, one day, I hope you'll believe me."

Cloud's smile faltered for a moment and he quickly replaced it, leaning up to place a kiss on Genesis's cheek. The man's hands found his back, urging him forward with a gentle pressure.

Genesis closed his eyes and leaned into the partial embrace, giving in to the need to feel Cloud. He reached a hand up to gently stroke at the silky feathers on one wing and sighed.

This was what he'd been waiting for. Cloud knew. Cloud understood.

"I'm here," Cloud whispered, burying his face in Genesis's neck. "I'm here."

…

End.