This one has a little yaoi / slash / m/m / whatever you wanna call it. So just go ahead and skedaddle if you don't wanna deal with all that, cos I don't wanna hear about it.

I was feeling more emo than usual when I wrote this.
I wanted more to come out of me.
I want it to be sadder : (

Also, wtf with "unrepaid" not being a word?

I'm adding it to the list of words that I now deem legitimate:

Shople.
Snuck.
Glew. (As in..."glow in the dark." Except past tense.)
Majorally.
Unrepaid.
Easilier.

I'll make sure to keep you updated, yo

(I don't own the FFVII characters.)
(The thoughts. They look like this)

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Wrong Way, Right Way, Bad Luck, You've Got To Be Kidding Me.

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"You're being quieter than usual," he points out.

"Mmm..." I try to hide further in the corner.

"Gonna tell me what's wrong?" he asks.

"I...It's nothing. I'm alright," I should have put more effort into my excuse.

"You really expect me to believe that?" he cocks his eyebrow.

I look at him and reluctantly reveal my secret. "Today is my birthday," I smile sadly. I immediately regret my admission.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because it's not important," I state obviously.

"Yes it is! Especially if it's got ya so bummed out."

I give no response, just turn my head away.

"What do you want to do? There has to be something you want. Some sort of birthday present I can getcha," he offers.

No, I'm not worth even the smallest amount of gil or time.

"I have my clothes. I have my gun and its ammunition. I have no use for further material possessions," I explain.

My refusal of his offer is met with a discouraged frown. "You're no fun." His expression brightens a little. "Could I at least buy ya a drink or somethin'?"

Maybe I should accept

I turn my head again, glancing out the window.

It may do some good to drown my sorrows tonight

"No, thank you." So much for accepting.

I'm sure I am given the same disenchanted look from just a moment before.

"It'd be a lot easier to hear ya if you sat over here insteada' hidin' in the corner," he tells me. "Y'know, I don't really get you sometimes."

I turn toward him again, waiting for him to continue.

"It's just that, one day, you're pretty much ignoring me. Then the next day, you seem to be opening up. Then you go back to bein' all antisocial." He's trying to make me feel guiltier, isn't he?

I sigh, stand, and sit down on the bed closest to me.

He smiles, stands, and jumps onto my bed.

I wince as he lands on his knees in front of me. "Now we're gettin' somewhere," he grins.

"I had no idea we were going anywhere." It isn't meant to be witty, or even a weak attempt at a joke. Simply an un-amused, emotionless statement. Apparently, he finds it worthy enough to laugh at.

I can't imagine why.

"I apologize for treating you so coldly," I mean it, though I don't think it shows.

"Yeah, well, it's no big deal," he isn't entirely convincing. He shrugs it off. "So, think. You have to tell me something you want for your birthday."

I sigh once more. Not this again

"I do not have to," I insist.

"Says who?" he charges.

And I'm torn.

I know for a fact that I do not deserve a gift, or any kind of recognition, for a birthday of all things. I am not worthy of this kindness, from him or anyone else.

The demons that tolerate me. They were the ones that said so.

Before them, it was the Professor who said so.

And I'd had a good, long while to dwell on it.

Though I could not find any way around it, it was difficult to accept at times.

Such as this particular moment.

There is no possible way I could be convinced that I should be allowed such privileges as love or kindness.

But I am a weak creature.

Sometimes I ache for a loving embrace, sometimes a simple touch on my shoulder. Any sort of affection would do.

And he tries to give it to me. It's as if he knows of my uncertain moments. I usually resist, and he respects my space.

But sometimes, I give in to those unnecessary wants. I feel guiltier about it every time, yet I still slip. I am not as strong as I seem to come off. It makes me sick to think that I could possibly need something as petty as his fingers tracing soft lines down my cheek.

I almost give in, but I catch myself. I take his hand and move it from my face. I have to let go.

His hand is warm... I hold it for just a moment longer than I initially intended.

But I have to let go, or I could get carried away. It's no good for either of us when that happens. In the morning, when he tries to get close, I have to shut myself off from him, and it upsets him. So I don't let it happen often, because we end up hurting afterwards. That's alright for me because I'm supposed to hurt. But I don't like hurting others; especially him.

I slowly take my hand back, setting it in my lap with the other. He looks sad, as if disallowing him to touch this monster is a disappointment. I can't look at him like that.

"Please," he says. "I want to give you something."

Why? Why does he always seem to care for me? Why does it always sting so badly when I turn him away? Why can't I just say no to this?

Which decision would be worse?

I could deny myself of kindness and feel guilty for not allowing him something he seems to want.

I could accept his offer and feel guilty for indulging in something I do not deserve. That always feels like stealing.

I hate myself.

I cannot yield to this. The demons had said so. It would be wrong.

"If it would so please you," I dare to glance up to him. "I can think of one thing you could give me." No, no, no! That goes against everything I know to be true.

He smiles though. He looks happy again. "Anything you want. I'll do my best to get it."

I take his hand once more and move it back to it's previous position. I close my eyes, pressing my cheek gently against his palm. There is no way for me to back out of this.

"I want...I just want..." I am so ashamed of myself. "...for you to hold me. I want to feel protected...I want to pretend for just a little while that I don't need to be punished anymore...that I could actually be needed...just for tonight...I want to know what it's like to be loved..."

I'm acting like a right fool. Selfish bastard. It's embarrassing. But once I'd begun, I couldn't stop myself. I wish I could say he started it, but I know full well it was my fault.

It always is my fault.

I shouldn't be surprised.

His arms had wrapped themselves around me long ago, but I keep rambling on. I'm unable to quiet myself, grasping pathetically at his jacket, crying like a child. And lying. The lies keep falling out so easily. I can't stop begging them.

"I want to feel safe and just forget...everything...I need to trust you...someone...just, please, can you pretend for a few minutes that you could love me...?"

His patience amazes me. Why hasn't he struck me yet? Why hasn't he told me to shut up? He just sits there, holding me in his arms, against his chest, stroking my hair, telling me that everything is alright.

"I don't need to pretend. Please don't be so hard on yourself," he rocks back and forth gently as he speaks.

Why can I lie so freely?

I know this is wrong, this isn't allowed. I don't need any of this.

I am meant to be alone.

I was not made for love.

I am so confused.

I feel so ashamed for letting this silly human emotion take over. I know I'll suffer the consequences for it. It will not be easy to have this sin forgiven.

How is it that such an immoral act seems good?

It's wrong. I knew that before, and I know it now.

I am not allowed to feel anything but sadness, pain, and guilt.

I am not allowed to have anything other than sins, regret, and unhappiness.

Over and over, I keep reminding myself, but...

This has to stop.

"I'm so sorry...I'm acting unreasonably..." I try to pull away, but I'm unable to escape. He only holds me tighter.

"No. I won't let you go," he kisses my forehead.

He kissed me, though there's nothing in it for him.

Or is there? Does he expect this to go further?

I'm not so sure I could manage that. My will may not be strong enough to overcome these damned human emotions. I am so goddamn weak. After all this time, I still could not learn to ignore them.

But this kindness cannot go unrepaid. That would be yet another selfish sin added to my never ending list.

I try to compose myself so I can look at him.

Raising my head, I awkwardly press my lips to his. He doesn't close his eyes, and doesn't push further. More tears begin to fall. I know I have done something wrong again.

I want to apologize, but the words are hard to find. I will never be forgiven for this. I lower my head in shame. I desperately work to find a way out of the mess I created.

My name on his voice draws my attention.

"We don't need to do anything more than this," he tells me.

"I could never expect you to tolerate my foolish behaviour without giving you something in return," I explain.

But he argues. He wants to convince me otherwise.

He keeps telling me no. The only thing he wants is for me to not change my mind; to keep letting him take care of me.

What I want is to stab myself in the face. These words are not fit for me. If anything, I deserve vicious, hateful words. The kind that would further remind me that I have yet again sinned.

I worry that I will never learn my lesson.

I will never be forgiven.

He leans back against the pillows, taking me with him. I have fallen too far into my mistake to try and fix it tonight. So I stop trying to fight him, and just listen to what he says.

Anything he can think of that might comfort me.

He says he doesn't care what I think, he loves me no matter what I tell him.

No, please don't say that

I feel a strong compulsion to tell him the same.

"I..."

If you want to do one thing right, do not let yourself say anything stupid

I feel his fingers tangle through my hair. "Please say it..." It was so quiet, I could barely hear him, despite our being so close.

I wouldn't do it. That was it.

I care for him. I do admit that. But I can never let myself love him. It would only end up hurting him. I've already hurt too many people. I need to do all I can to protect him.

I shut my mouth and I keep it so.

All this mess I'd created, simply because I'd come into existence. It's old and commonplace, but I wish, every dragging day, that I had not been born. My mother should have had the foresight to end my life before it even began.

Though I certainly can't blame her. She anticipated having a good son. But that's a whole different emotional rant.

An indeterminate amount of time passes. My tears finally stop. His words of comfort slowly fade to mumbling as he drifts into sleep. I try to move away from him, but he won't allow me to. His brow furrows and he whimpers quietly. Even in sleep, he keeps me close in his protective embrace.

I should try harder. I should go outside and let the cold night air help clear my mind.

Against my better judgment, I stay put.

I have no idea what time it is, though I'm fairly sure I have plenty of time to think about what to do when morning comes. Hopefully I'll be able to leave the room before he wakes up.

Either way, this will have to be treated the same as our more intimate nights. I will stay distant and I will do my best to never mention it. Though I think it bothers him, he'll hopefully do the same. I wish he'd come to understand that this is far less painful than what could happen if I didn't close myself up from him.

I almost look forward to when I'll be able to hide again. Away from anyone I could cause harm to. I'll miss him the most, but I know we weren't meant for each other. While I should be given nothing, he deserves to have everything.