I Wish You Were Still Here. . .
By Kris
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any part of Square Enix.
Cloud sat in the corner of the church, knees drawn up to his chest and his head buried in his arms. An eerie silence fell around him, save for the gentle whisper of the wind when it pushed itself through the cracks in the loose windows. The flowers were still there, blooming even without the presence of the gardener, but Cloud knew better.
He knew she still tended them.
It had been a year since her death and he still felt to blame for it. He should have known better, should he have not? It was Sephiroth, after all. The man whose voice had rooted itself into his thoughts and manipulated the poor boy to do its bidding. It had weakened the boy, but yet had expressed to him its every wish, want, desire. And Cloud ignored it.
Would she still be alive if he had intervened?
Cloud knew in his heart that he was being a little to harsh on himself, but his mind kept aching at the thought of what if. Was it truly his fault? Probably not, but he believed it to be so. And thus he made his home here, in the church offset by flowers. . . All of which were hers. He was throwing himself into the lion's den, so to speak, but that did not matter to him anymore. All he wanted now, all that he seemed to live for, seemed to be closer in reach than it was anywhere else.
He sought out her forgiveness.
Sighing, he stood up slowly and stretched. He had been sitting in that position for quite some time, wondering, yearning, hoping. . . His arm gave a twinge of pain and he gritted his teeth against crying out. This was his punishment, he assumed, his punishment for not being the person that he once boasted himself to be.
Which brought him to his other regret: That he could never live for the friend that he had lost.
This made his stomach tightly knot, for he knew that it was because of him that Cloud was still alive in the present. The blonde, however, also believed it to be his own fault that the young man left the world too early. Why? Why did he have to throw his life away for someone who was half dead anyway?
We're friends, right Cloud?
The geostigma was advancing and he could feel the affects of his cells fighting off the alien intruder in his body. Was he dying?
What a fitting punishment that would be.
Or was it simply just a way to escape it all?
Cloud sat down again, but this time in the middle of the flower bed. This is where her presence was the strongest. He thought he could feel her slender arms wrap around his shoulders in a loving embrace, but that could only be his imagination screaming for the past to be undone. Sometimes he spotted a wolf making its way around the ruins of Sector Five, searching for something. At least, that was what Cloud assumed it to be doing. What he could not figure out was why it would want to hang around this depressing place, but he felt closer to the animal for it.
Falling to his back, he peered up at the sky through the hole in the ceiling. The stars twinkled brightly against the velvet blackness, allowing a small amount of light to penetrate the darkness of the church. His mind began to slowly drift again to the what-ifs. What would his life be like if those two were still alive?
Hell, he believed that he would have been happy. . . Not stuck in this dismal excuse for his existence.
He closed his eyes, shifting into a better position. He soon fell into a deep slumber, oblivious of the wolf who had found its way into the church or the loving voice whispering in his ear:
"Everything will be alright, Cloud. . . I forgive you. . ."
