"It'll be a blast Vinnie-chan! There's no way I'm letting you talk your way out of it THIS year!" The ninja's twinkle in her hazel eyes did not reassure Vincent Valentine this particular Christmas Eve. He managed in the past couple years to get out of Avalanches' inane Christmas parties, usually under the guise he was attending a WRO party, but after that was brought to Reeve's attention, he was quick to destroy Vincent's alibi unwittingly. This year, Yuffie looked ready to take him Conformer to throat if need be.
His usual attire nowhere in sight, the gunman was fit in a belt in black slacks, a nice white colored button-up, Yuffie even managed to get in a Santa hat on his head. But the offending item was quickly disposed when she skipped off latched onto Reno's arm. However the red-head managed to put up with her antic and still be in love with her, was a mystery unbeknownst to the former terrorist group.
The party was being held in Tifa's rebuilt 7th Heaven in Edge, she hired out someone to take over the drink mixing, so she could enjoy the part herself. She only made an exception if someone requested the drink made by the bartender. The bar had been expanded upon in the years stemming from the Jenova War. It encompassed even a wealthy sized area that has been deemed the dance floor or buffet area for some. Vincent had himself situated in his typical corner, watching the room's inhabitants with courteous care.
Everyone seemed in their groups, talking, their lover on arm. Cloud had Tifa, her chest presses right against his side, making sure he remembered where his loyalties (and eyes) belonged. Vincent couldn't help but feel bad for the swordsman. Cloud was barely able to get over his mourning of Aerith and Tifa was already pressing….things….in his face. But he looked happy with her now. Perhaps time can in turn make people fall in love? Vincent shook the thought out of his head, his crimson eyes wandered over to others in the room. Reeve had a young WRO scientist on his arm, but the gunman didn't recognize her. The over-worked man needed outlets, and the woman looked very modest in looks and personality. More down to earth. Just the kind of woman to keep the stressed man level to his mortal limits. Even Nanaki seemed content in the care of a little girl, Marlene, Barret's adopted daughter. Barrett himself seemed to be having the time of his life, speaking with a kind young lady, smiling. Another glance across the room he found Cid. The gunman held a certain fondness for the pilot, branching well from just comrades in the same group, but best friends.
Whereas the others never knew, Vincent cried in his sleep, even screamed if the nightmares were bad enough. There the strong pilot would be, comforting his best friend in his warm embrace. The gunman took great comfort from the rugged man; the kindness would never fade forgotten.
The remembrances of Hojo's terrible experiments on the ebony-haired man were getting worse. More vivid. Graphic. He awoke this time with a blood-thinning scream. The gentle embrace was tighter this time. His tear-stricken face was in the pilot's bare, warm chest, soft lips were at his cheeks, his eyes, his hair. Vincent could feel the stubble brush against his porcelain skin, Cid trying desperately to calm the quaking lithe man in his arms.
Said pilot had a young lady on his arm as well, an engineer he took it. Vincent had seen the lady prying about one evening in the hangar, watching the pilot go about his pleasurable work. The gunman assumed they were dating, that was a month ago. This particular woman reminded him of Cid's ex-wife, Shera. They had broken up, but managed to maintain their relationship as more brother and sister. The marriage was doomed; their personality clash was for the worst. Vincent repaid what kindness and sympathies towards the pilot he could muster, through his rough time. But the gunman felt utterly useless, unable to help his best friend. But it appeared at the present, he was happy with the young engineer. Laughing that boisterous laugh of his, smoking like a chimney, cursing worse than a sailor and drinking beer like it was water. The same old Cid Highwind that Vincent had grown to cherish, even if they were mere polar opposites. There was something in that rugged exterior that Vincent found livening, as well the soft center he knew was deep down in the pilot.
The young engineer planted a kiss on the pilot's cheek. Something flared in Vincent's chest. Consuming him, a sinking feeling. His heart began to ache without warning, the return kiss from Cid sent another wave of pain, a stronger one, his heart wrenched one way then another. He felt his body grow heavy under the sudden pressure of his heart.
'What is wrong with me? This pain is…' The words ran through his head, ninety to nothing, but his mind was clouded over, he had a hard time thinking straight. No one in the room seemed to even take note of the atmosphere change in the gunman's direction.
As the pilot's arms wrapped around the engineer's voluptuous waist, drawing her in with a smile, Vincent's heart thudded heavy like lead in his chest.
He wanted to leave.
Vincent turned inconspicuously in his corner and walked to the door, no one noticed, they were all involved with their significant others to spare another thought to the lone gunman, when he heard the voice that made his heart leap, his feet stop.
"Vin! There ya are! C'mere! Ya owe yer best friend a hug!"
Best friend….
Vincent did not glance back, he took his first step again, and did not stop until he was long gone from the Christmas party and 7th Heaven was long out of sight. Away from the merry decorations, the huge bar and dance floor. The happy couples…..and him.