Originally written for the Strifehart Kink Meme last year.
Prompt: "What happens when Cloud, while searching for his light/hiding himself from Tifa/any other mission of your choice, finds 16-year-old Squall instead? Feel free to fly by the seat of your pants, but I challenge you to include (not necessarily all) the drama of the age difference, slight/extreme jealous tendencies involving other teenagers eg. Seifer, Sora, Riku etc. , Aerith getting all maternal, and Yuffie finding them just too cute to leave alone for more than five seconds."
Based on The Writer's Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers. Apparently my sleep-deprived mind decided this piece was a brilliant idea... but you know what? I actually had some fun with this one. I keep thinking, maybe - just maybe - if I have the time for it, I can expand it further. It's always interesting, this "what if Squall went with Sora on his journey" concept, and I recall for weeks my head never clear from further ideas based on it. Oy...
From the ordinary world, A call to adventure.
Their first meeting is on opposite sides of crossed swords. Cloud's first realization is that the boy is strong, much stronger – or at least a better fighter – than the Keyblade Master he just dealt with a few seconds ago.
They exchange blows, and it actually amuses him how he can't seem to gain the upper hand over this one without getting serious. This actually promises to be fun, if only he did not have a purpose to fulfill. As soon as they reach another momentary deadlock, the boy's outlandish blade pushing hard against his much larger one, he looks beyond his shoulder at his original target, the kid just now rolling to his side and struggling to get up.
He hears a soft growl, and then bright ice blue orbs are burning into him with fury. His sword tremors under a sudden increase in force. It is a familiar feeling: the desperation and determination to fight for someone; to perhaps even kill for them.
I won't let you touch him.
For a faint moment, Cloud can't help but wonder if maybe the Keyblade chose the wrong Master. He briefly considers accepting the challenge, except the Keyblade Master manages to roll to his feet and rise into a clumsy kneel. And then his already huge eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.
"LOOK OUT!"
He finally notices the shadow, but by then he knows it is too late. He feels the rush of wind coming at them, so very fast and heavy. There is only time for a single action, an instinctive movement.
Half a second after he shoves the boy aside, he feels his head explode with a pain that flashes his vision to burning white.
And then there is only darkness.
)w(
When he wakes up, there's a nausea to accompany the pounding headache that keeps him occupied for the first few minutes; only after does he take notice of the fact that he's still alive and somehow fully intact. He can still see, he can still hear, his own soft groans meaning he can still talk, and when he decides to test every limb, he is certain he isn't paralyzed.
But his movements disturb something by his side, and it stirs. Then it jolts upright to reveal the boy from earlier, his face a careful blank but his eyes betraying his emotions. For a very brief second, he sees what is left of fear and relief. And then those captivating blues harden into anger and hatred.
The boy looks him over again, then tosses something onto his lap with little care. Hard glass against his gut, and he looks down to see a high potion sitting between his legs and just missing his groin.
Cloud quirks an unamused brow at the boy. "What's this about?"
"I didn't ask for you to do that."
This time Cloud glares. "Do what – save your sorry ass?"
The boy glares right back. "I don't need your help," he snaps. "I don't need anyone's help."
With a sharp jerk, the boy stands and strides out of the room that Cloud dimly recognizes as the Coliseum's lobby. Left alone and in silence, Cloud nurses irritation in his gut.
It doesn't bother him that the little punk got the last word, he's aware of that.
It does bother him that he stuck out his neck for the ungrateful little shit in the first place … and still does not really regret it.
Refusal of the call.
"Hey mister, are you alright?"
Roused from his brooding, Cloud finds the Keyblade Master standing before him; alone. Finding only sincerity in those eyes, he frowns.
"Are you sure you should be asking me that?"
"… Well, okay, I still find you kind of creepy," the boy concedes bluntly. "But you helped Squall, so you can't be all that bad."
Relenting to the kid's naivety, Cloud allows himself a smirk. "… so his name is Squall, huh?"
"He was worried about you," the boy supplies further. "Right after he got me out of there, he hit me with a Cure spell and ran right back to help you. If it weren't for me and Hercules, I think he might have taken on that huge dog by himself just to get it away from you."
"Hm…"
The Keyblade Master fidgets a little at his lapse into silence, then changes the subject. "So … what are you doing here, anyway?"
Cloud blames the Keyblade for it, because despite himself he feels this desire to trust the kid. Besides, he had been stabbed in the back; there's really no need for him to resume any secrecy.
"I'm looking for someone," he tells the kid, "and Hades promised to help. I thought I could exploit the power of darkness he offered me, but …" he huffs bitterly, "I guess I just lost sight of it."
"Of what?"
"The light."
"Oh …"
As this time the Keyblade Master falls silent, Cloud hears a scratching of boots against the earth. He knows they have picked up an eavesdropper, and he is fairly certain he knows who it is. He pretends otherwise.
"Why don't you come with us?"
He looks up at once, and his frown is back. "What?"
"I'm looking for someone, too," the Keyblade Master explains. "So is Squall. Maybe we could help each other."
Cloud wonders if it is enhanced senses that enable him to hear the sudden hitch in their eavesdropper's breath. The offer is tempting, but …
"I think I'll pass."
He can't afford to hurt either kid anymore than he already has. Not until he can do something about himself.
Even as the Keyblade Master deflates, he hears a soft sigh from behind the hiding place.
"Well, okay," the boy concedes. He extends a hand. "I'm sure you'll find your light again, so don't give up okay?"
Cloud considers the hand for a moment, then takes hold and shakes. "… What's your name?"
"Sora. What's yours?"
"Cloud." And when he takes his hand back, he leaves the present of a Gummi Block behind. "Don't lose your light."
Don't repeat my mistake.
While Sora is just noticing his gift, he decides to leave before things get too awkward. Rising to his feet, he starts to walk away … and then he stops.
"Do me a favor." And then he lowers his voice to a whisper. "Take care of Squall. Don't let him push himself too hard."
He doesn't wait for an answer before he resumes his escape. The boy, after all, is the Keyblade's chosen for a reason. If anyone can stand by that lonely boy who hides his self – both figuratively and literally – from everyone around him, it has to be Sora.
As he rounds the corner, he deliberately stops but does not turn to face the punk who is attempting to burn a hole through the back of his head.
"… I want a rematch."
This time he does turn, to properly meet Squall's intense gaze.
"When I get back here, I want to fight you properly. No giant dogs and no dark powers. Just you and me, fair and square."
Even if he still doesn't really like the kid for his attitude, he at least likes the kid's sense of honor and pride. Smiling a little more genuinely, he nods.
"I'll look forward to it."
The mentor crosses the threshold.
Squall makes good on his promise sooner than Cloud expects; before he is even fully aware of it, the two are meeting daily to spar. The more they match moves, the more Cloud sees the boy's level of experience. He's highly skilled despite his young age, but he definitely has room for improvement; Cloud is confident that as long as Squall keeps improving, the better and better he will be. Their matches become less of sparring and more of tutoring, the senior determined to fully work on the junior's repertoire until he can learn no more – it helps that the kid is a quick study.
They still aren't really friends, and they most definitely still don't really like each other, but learning to read each other's moves and constantly interpreting each other's intentions, they can't help but gain a cautious respect for one another as sparring partners.
It is at the end of one such session when they break off to catch their breath. Their individual blades stabbed into the dirt, both drop into awkward seats across from one another. And then, with nothing else to distract him for once, Cloud gets a good look at the kid in front of him.
His clothes drenched in sweat so that they cling to his body like a second skin, Squall's every line and curve above his belt is a visible sight under the translucency of his off-white shirt. The way the youth carelessly sits with his legs apart, his back hunched and his head a deadweight as he tries to take in as much air as he can with each harsh breath between lush lips, Cloud dimly acknowledges that maybe he has deprived himself of physical pleasures beyond these exercises for a little too long.
But right then his hand comes out and brushes one wet forelock from where it is getting into the teenager's eye. The boy jerks backwards, his eyes a little wider than usual.
"What are you doing?" he demands, though without the panic or even confusion that Cloud was expecting. Panic and confusion he could deal with, but anger and distrust …
Cloud takes too long to come up with a decent answer, and Squall finally tugs his blade free from its sandy sheath and stalks away. Cloud does not follow him, not while he's too busy being stumped over what exactly he's supposed to do next.
)w(
The boy isn't there for their next session, and Cloud knows that he messed up. He can't even apologize or clear things up because he can't find the elusive brunet anywhere. If it weren't for Sora still hanging around, he would have guessed the boy had up and left the Coliseum altogether. Forced to temporarily abandon his fruitless search, he accepts the Keyblade Master's offer to sit and chat.
Through their talk, it is somewhat of a relief to hear that Sora has been keeping his promise to watch over Squall, just as – he finds out – the boy tirelessly watches over him. They're a good match after all, balancing one another out with their opposite personalities. If anything, they keep each other safe. Still, their adventures with a giant space whale called Monstro and a flying boy called Peter Pan come as a surprise.
The talking is halted abruptly when the kid shows up at last. His eyes are duller than usual, and he drags himself in a state of exhaustion – Cloud guesses he probably hasn't slept since the incident two days ago. And yet even now, his eyes are hard and brittle as they stare at the blond warrior, his already tired body tensing further.
Cloud isn't exactly sure how he convinced Sora to give them a moment of privacy, but he suspects the boy is sharper than he lets on. Left alone together, Squall remains standing for a moment longer, looking like he wants to just turn around and get out of there as quickly as he can … except he is too tired to try. His surrender is in his slow haul toward his bed and collapsing on top of it with little grace.
Concluding that kids will be kids, Cloud reaches over to at least try and get the boy's rumpled jacket off. His finger barely brushes against Squall's shoulder before it tenses again.
"Don't," the boy hisses out; not even his current state stops the anger in his voice. It brings a moment of pause, and then the slightest twitch of irritation.
"I'm not going to do anything. I'm just trying to help you here," Cloud protests in a grumble. "Would it kill you to trust a little?"
"Can't …"
Right there, right in that one word, the blond suddenly understands why the kid is fighting so hard against this or what he fears it is – which, truthfully, isn't far off the mark. Cloud takes his hand back, dropping it back to his side and watching the boy curl up with his back to him, his arms hugging himself almost desperately.
"… go home."
Cloud blinks, not quite understanding at once. Then the boy tiredly continues.
"They're alive. They're waiting for you. Go home."
Before he can get a clarification, Squall is asleep.
It is only a little while after, when Yuffie shows up in the Coliseum for some fun, that he realizes what he meant.
Tests, allies and enemies at the Entrance to the innermost cave.
As they part ways a second time, Cloud follows Yuffie back to Traverse Town. It is not the home he remembers, but it is as Squall had told him in that moment of weakness.
Yuffie, Aerith and Cid are there, waiting for him. They're alive. As far as he's concerned, that's good enough for him. Especially when he realizes how much he missed Yuffie's constant harassment, Aerith's motherly pampering with her cooking and sewing and what not, and Cid's uncouth tongue.
It soon becomes routine for him to be at a noisy table during mealtimes, listening to the chatter and contributing whatever little is absolutely necessary. Sometimes he hears news from Cid about Sora and Squall, who continue to travel the worlds in order to save them from the darkness. Cid tells him Sora and Squall say hello. He tells Cid to tell them to stay out of trouble. Cid tells him Squall says to mind his own business, but thanks anyway.
It doesn't happen overnight, but he finds himself shifting from gladiator to protector, from fighting rounds in the arena to clearing Heartless off the streets. He isn't paid for any of this work, but there is something else he discovers in the place of munny and trophies: a sense of belonging. The people are glad that he is here. They want him here. It honestly feels good.
Until Cid informs them that the Keyblade Master has finally reached Hollow Bastion.
He and the others are en route to join them when the Kingdom Key viciously attacks Squall's heart.
The ordeal.
With every second that passes, it feels as though it is his heart that is being clawed apart by the darkness. He feels as though he is dying and being dragged through hell in the slowest, most torturous manner possible.
As he stays there, unwilling to get up and unable to persuade himself otherwise, he feels his raw emotions fester within him.
Anger: Sora's "friend" did this. The so-supposed Keyblade Master and great "savior" of the worlds is as much at fault for suspecting but not stopping it.
Grief: He couldn't stop it. He should have done something to stop it, no matter how impossible it would have been.
Fear: He can't do a thing to stop it. All he can do is watch Squall slowly die.
The second he had stolen the Kingdom Key from Sora, Riku had thrust the weapon into Squall's chest and threatened to unlock his heart. Petty revenge for Sora's crime of replacing him with a stranger; for not trying harder to find him and Kairi. The only blessing is that instead of making good on that threat, the fallen youth had apparently gotten bored and ripped the Keyblade back out before stalking off.
Squall had struggled to stay conscious and upright, taxing his battered body for as long as Sora needed his help against the Heartless. Cloud had arrived only in time to catch the boy when he at last succumbed to his heart's injury and collapsed. That boy lingers between life and death, the only evidence of breath in the thin pulse that trembles under probing fingers. All they can really do is wait, in hope that perhaps Squall can fight his way through the darkness and regain himself.
Sora is avoiding Cloud as much as he is avoiding Sora. Both are too full of guilt and too lacking in courage to face one another right now. Despite his faith in Sora – or maybe it is because of that faith – Cloud just can't bring himself to forgive the kid for failing to keep his promise right when it mattered most. He knows that's not fair, that Sora did not ask for this to happen.
But neither did Squall.
They have the Keyblade Master, Cloud rationalizes in his head, so the worlds can be saved and no one else has to die.
It's just not fair.
If Sora would just get his act together and get back to his one job in the entire universe, the worlds will be saved. His world will be saved. That should have been enough.
But now …
Cloud groans and remains where he is, one hand squeezing the boy's and his forehead pressed against the heel of his other palm.
He doesn't want a world – he doesn't want a life that can't have Squall in it.
The reward.
Cloud is instantly awake when the hand slips from his grasp with a disgruntled tug. When he looks up, icy blues glare back at him – just as he remembers them. Sitting up on the bed and clasping his wrist in a strange, vulnerable posture, Squall silently regards him and what he had just woken up to. He looks like he just finished battling a fit of pneumonia, but at least he's no longer at death's door.
With a relieved groan, Cloud sits back and rakes his hand through his mussed hair. "You dumb kid, you scared the hell out of me," he accuses in a soft growl. Then, with a laugh, "guess that makes us even."
"Why?"
"Forgotten the Coliseum already?"
"Not that," the boy protests, though strangely lacking his usual bite. "What is this?"
Cloud thinks he can guess what the boy means. He doesn't try. "What is what?"
From the added glint to those eyes, he knows the boy isn't fooled in the slightest. "Why are you here, Strife?" the boy demands quietly. "Why am I waking up to find you and only you? Just what is it you want?"
Cloud suddenly realizes for himself the weight of his actions and his feelings. It is suddenly heavier than he thought it was … it is almost too heavy.
"I need an answer, Strife."
Cloud sighs and looks away, feeling a measure of self-loathing for his own indecisiveness. "… I haven't figured it out yet. I'll need some time."
"There is no time," Squall snaps, and his voice cracks with emotion like it has never done before. "Don't you get it?"
The last keyhole. The final door.
When that one door falls shut, the paths will disconnect. The worlds will disconnect.
They may never see each other again.
"I'm going with Sora," Squall tells him. "This is my fight as much as his, and I need to see it through."
Where it rests over his knee, Cloud's fist squeezes so tight his knuckles turn white. "I can't stop you."
"Then tell me why you'd want to."
He was never good with words before. He can't find any now, none that can give to this moment without selling it short. He was always better when it came to actions, anyway. And so where he can't speak for himself, he acts.
Cloud's hand reaches up to cup Squall's ear, his thumb stroking against the boy's cheekbone. This time Squall doesn't back away, waiting for whatever he has in mind. Encouraged, Cloud moves the hand to stroke hair out of the way and then he's leaning forward. When he kisses the boy's forehead, he draws back to see what could be disappointment.
With a soft chuckle, Cloud finishes running his hand through the soft bronze hair and pulls back. "Would you blame me for starting what I can't finish?"
"I would have if you lied," the boy answers. With a soft hum of acknowledgment, a new question surfaces:
"Why didn't you want this before?"
"The same reason I changed my mind." The hand that grabs the front of his shirt is tight and fisting in cloth. "I know I may never find you again. I'd rather my memory of you be a good one."
Cloud returns the boy's gaze with equal solemnity, with sincerity. He brings his hand up to envelope the fist in his shirt.
"I won't forget you either."
The fist slackens, then releases him. Squall turns away and pushes the sheets aside to get off the bed. Cloud senses he doesn't want an audience, but he doesn't leave. He doesn't watch, either. He hears instead the rustle of Squall's jacket as he pulls it back on, the chime of his blade as he picks it up.
And then wood knocks again wood as Squall disappears.
And then there is only the silence.
The road back.
It has been a year that he's been at it, but he's not a part of it. He's constantly at loggerheads with the Restoration Committee, because he can't agree with Cid's leadership of it but neither does he want to get himself involved any further than that. While Cid Highwind may be a shitty leader by his books, Cloud knows he is a worse one – he's just so much more suited to clearing out the Heartless and those new gray monsters than delegating chores from the soft seat behind a desk.
Yet even with Cid's lousy leadership and the endless numbers of monsters swarming about Hollow Bastion and the Committee's constant bickering, they somehow make it work, and they do it as a team.
Then it happens: no grand show, no sudden clap of thunder banging and ringing in their ears. One second, life is the way he has always known it.
The next, he suddenly remembers a name.
Every memory tumbles after it before it can even get off its feet, enough to nearly floor him quite literally.
The Keyblade Master.
The worlds beyond this world.
The Coliseum.
Traverse Town.
The witch and the madman.
The doors.
The locks.
The reasons.
Squall.
)w(
Cloud discovers later that everyone else in the Committee had recovered their memories as well, but it irritates him that they remember one boy more than the other. He knows they're not really meaning it, and he has a bias of his own, but he becomes sick of hearing Sora's name more quickly than he'd prefer.
Leaving the headquarters, he takes to the rooftops for a better view of the home he protects. With Cid's new claymores doing most of the work for him, it really is not as necessary for him to be everywhere at once – it's safer, but dreadfully boring.
While he watches lazily as one of the white husks is whacked off the castle wall by a sphere of light, something else catches his eye. Half a guess is all he needs to start running and clearing rooftops as quickly as he can. He comes a stop just where he can watch the visitors enter the city proper.
Squall has changed with the passage of time, not as much the kid he once knew. His once short hair is now brushing his shoulders. His clothes are different, fitting his longer, more muscular frame better than the old ones would have, and the grip of his sword seems more relaxed and confident. He has always walked with the careful grace of a trained fighter before, but now his silent steps are like those of a feline predator.
In the span of a year, the boy has grown up.
But as he watches, Cloud sees the youth turn to Sora. Their words are just out of his earshot, but the Keyblade Master – also taller, also stronger, also more assured of himself – is grinning with confidence and clearly excited about something in those huge blue eyes. And as he listens to those excited hopeful words, quite unexpectedly the taller brunet's lips curl upward almost fondly, then part for a soft laugh.
It is the first time Cloud sees Squall smile, but he is smiling for someone else.
He didn't think it could hurt this much.
The resurrection (of what was thought lost).
It digs at him like an insult when Yuffie thoughtlessly – and constantly – comments about how adorable she thinks Squall and Sora are as a couple. Aerith shushes her, gently scolding her that while assuming isn't so bad, such a thing is taking it a little too far. He doesn't miss the way her eyes still soften when she watches over them, taking care to accommodate them to the point of agreeing to let them share a room.
Cloud stays in the back of the kitchen with Cid – who remains blissfully uncaring for any of it – with the excuse that he wants more of the coffee the crusty old engineer has going. From his vantage point and hidden behind his warm mug, he can see the two of them seated at the table and exchanging notes about the Heartless situation with Aerith and Merlin over a hot dinner.
They aren't holding hands like a pair of fresh honeymooners, but their seats have been dragged closer together than to the rest of the table's occupants. They swap bits of food between their bowls without so much as a verbal confirmation or protest, each seeming to know what the other likes. They share glances more often than necessary, and when Sora brings up a hand to whisper something in Squall's ear, he is of the belief that the sharp youth really doesn't need to lean in that close just to catch it.
Only a blind man could miss what is going on here.
"G'dammit," Cid suddenly curses irritably before conveniently yanking his coffee pot out of Cloud's hand, "quit wasting my good crap and go sulk somewhere else."
Cloud blinks down at his empty hand, then curls it into a loose fist as he glares at the elder. To protest feels beneath him, so instead he raises his full mug and takes a sip.
Just as he lowers the mug and the table comes back into view, Squall suddenly reaches forward and helps himself to the tray of lobsters swimming in a creamy rich Mornay sauce. It is the chef's specialty from a new restaurant, gifted to them as much a token of appreciation as it is a self-promotion marketing ploy. Without looking away from the conversation he is currently a silent part of, the youth breaks the grilled crustacean apart.
The thick milky sauce trickles smoothly over those long, dexterous fingers as the soft meat wrapped in thin shell is separated methodically. Setting half of his bounty down over his plate, Squall lifts his now free hand to his mouth and delicately takes his thumb between his lips. The digit slides in partway as he gently sucks, then his tongue slips out and licks the oily skin, cleaning the sauce from it with the care of a preening cat.
There is a traitorous wave of heat warming his ears which Cloud blames on the alcohol Cid is prone to sneaking into the coffee whenever it's his turn at the pot. As Squall moves on to another finger, he starts up a silent mantra to keep himself from dumping the entire precious cupful into his lap by accident.
But then the youth he is watching turns and drops the lobster's carefully shelled tail over Sora's plate, reminding him that he has to eat – because he's a pain in the neck to deal with when he gets hungry – and Cloud feels a twinge of something dark and unpleasant stirring in his gut. Cid snorts in amusement next to him before, finally, contributing his two cents.
"If it makes you feel any better, Spiky, at least the punk ain't jailbait anymore."
Unwilling to comment, Cloud chugs the rest of his coffee and dumps the mug in the sink. He leaves the house quickly; just not quickly enough to miss the ice blue eyes that watch his escape.
The "final" battle/confrontation.
For days afterward, Squall and Sora spend more time trying to get to as many of the other worlds' Gates as they can, in order to keep at what they do. Cloud didn't realize until now how relieved he is – for as long as the brunet isn't there, he has time to think. He is able to rationalize that the boy who is five years his junior had been pretty damned sure they would never meet again and so moved on; he remembers the boy, while acknowledging him, never really reciprocating those budding feelings even then.
But rationality was never Cloud's strong suit; every time he sees Squall come back, he finds himself helplessly falling and breaking, and then painfully piecing himself back together only to repeat the cycle over and over again. The only time he is able to look that boy in the eye is when he makes him promise to never let Sephiroth catch either him or Sora alone.
Right then, as Squall nods in solemn understanding, he sees that shine in those intense, determined eyes – that urge of protectiveness he dedicates to the Keyblade Master alone – and he shatters once more.
He doesn't hate Squall for finding someone else in his life. He can't hate Sora for stealing the youth from him; especially when he was the one who asked the Keyblade Master to take care of Squall in the first place.
Instead, Cloud hates how it never seems to get any easier with time's passing.
In the end, unable to fight it and unable to accept it – not even able to tolerate it – he simply runs from it.
The only problem with that plan, it turns out, is that the space he runs in is not endless. Eventually, his own path of escape will lead him right to the one point he was trying to get so far from. It's a shame that it takes an urgent situation of life and death for them to properly talk to each other, where any time of peace beforehand has failed.
In this case, it is a good-sized crowd of a thousand Heartless Cloud finds himself in the center of when a loud, familiar war cry and a clash of metal rings through the air.
"… Hey," Squall greets lightly from where he has just downed a tight clump of Armored Knights. "Fancy meeting you here."
Cloud is momentarily distracted by a Surveillance Robot before he can continue the conversation. "Why aren't you with Sora?"
"Dumb kid left me behind," Squall growls in indignation. Apparently having already met and heard from the others, he adds in a grumble, "I knew I should've taught him to check for a pulse…"
Worry flares in his gut. "You're not concussed, are you?"
"I'm fine." The way the boy growls it out is a pretty good sign he has also been asked questions along that line too many times before. "Did you see him?"
"You just missed him – he's with the King, further down the Ravine." In all honesty, he expects it to end there. But when he continues to hear the ringing song from Squall's blade, Cloud chances looking behind him. "What are you doing? Go after him!"
"And what, you're thinking you can handle this many by yourself?"
About to retort the insult to his prowess, Cloud hesitates and looks back at the dark numbers that are closing in from two directions. He concedes: "Might be tough … if one more shows up."
"Okay," and he hears the eagerness creep into that boy's tone, "then that one's mine."
Feeling the boy's back against his – noticing one more time how much height the kid he once tutored has gained – Cloud knows the argument is a lost cause. And when they snap apart to tackle each side of enemies, he honestly doesn't care.
)w(
They could have taken anywhere from a couple of hours to half the day, but it hardly matters to him. All he knows is that when the last one disappears from sight, he and his current comrade are utterly spent.
As he bends forward while driving his blade into the earth, he hears an echo that means Squall is doing the same. The feeling of déjà vu hits him, reminding him of a history that seems so far away from the present. Both are too distracted by their own heaving breaths to do much about it. This time, though, Squall is the first to straighten – reminding his senior of how fast he has developed physically – and then he is digging in his jacket. Something sparkles in the setting sun and he reaches up.
A high potion lands in his waiting hands. He stares openly at Squall, and the boy smirks back.
"Now we're even."
Cloud blinks stupidly for a second, and then he lets himself laugh. He sees it more strongly than ever: the Keyblade Master has been a terrible influence on the older teenager to cause such behavior in the once stubbornly unsociable youth. It's yet another strike against him, one more achievement that he wouldn't have been able to come close to even with double the amount of time.
It is a hand at his shoulder that rouses him from his thoughts. When he looks up, that strange self-assurance has left the boy's face. There is still a good measure of confidence, but not enough to balance the nervousness and sudden timid hesitation in even his breathing. It's a look Cloud hasn't seen since the boy faced him for their first proper spar in the Coliseum.
His only warning is a tongue barely peeking out long enough to lick dry, cracked lips, and then Squall quite suddenly bends forward to press them against his. It's clumsy even for a chaste kiss, confirming for him that the boy is still a virgin with too little in the ways of experience for this sort of thing. He is aware of it, but his lungs decide that now is a perfectly good time to stop breathing for a second.
Too soon Squall pauses, not entirely sure what to do next, and Cloud takes that chance to push against him so they separate again. He guesses that the kid is tempted to reassess the taste still lingering on his lips but doesn't know if it's considered within proper etiquette. He licks his own, tasting a hint of the potion's standard flavor mingling with something he can't really identify.
"… so now what?"
His eyes find the boy's again, fixing a steady gaze on him as he waits for an explanation. Considering him for a moment longer, Squall finally gives one:
"You started it. I think we should finish it." He pauses, curiously searching for something in his expression. "Except considering how you've been acting around me, I wasn't sure if you still want to."
"… You seemed occupied," Cloud admits vaguely. It comes as a relief that he doesn't have to further explain his own implications.
"Sora and I aren't that way," Squall answers, his tone dead serious, "but that doesn't mean there's nothing either. He's fought for me as much as I've fought for him. In all this time when all we had was one another, we've seen each other at our strongest and weakest moments. He's saved me from falling into the darkness as many times as I've hauled him from his stupidity. We've seen each other nearly die, and we're never certain about those little miracles that keep us both around to do it again. I do love him – I don't think I could ever stop loving him …" and then that small, rare smile is back on his face. "… and I know he loves me."
"Besides," the youth adds with a soft chuckle, "he's already made a promise to Riku and Kairi."
Even now, Cloud doesn't dare to hope – not with the history of disappointments he is still trying to get over. So, carefully, he asks, "And what about you?"
This time when the boy hesitates again, he does so without his earlier nervousness; in its place is deep thought, as he weighs out his options in his head. Then, instead of moving in for a second kiss that he would have preferred if he only knew how to do it right, his hand is what he uses to reach forward. His fist curls in the front of Cloud's shirt, and then presses forward into the center of the older man's chest. It is something familiar, something they both know that needs no further explanation.
"… See you soon."
The hand releases, and Squall turns and hurries away to catch up with the Keyblade Master. Left behind once again, Cloud fingers the rumpled cloth in front of him delicately.
He wasn't expecting the ending to this chapter … but for once in too long, he feels, he can fully look forward to the turn of the next page.
)w(
When bright light appears out of nowhere to engulf the Castle, the present Committee members' reactions vary.
Yuffie jumps a foot in the air with a startled squawk.
Aerith gasps with such fear in her that her hands shake in their place over her heart.
Cid nearly swallows the toothpick he is chewing on and invents a new curse word in commemoration.
Cloud doesn't do a thing, only watching that light for what he knows it really is.
He has faith that they're alright … that they'll be back. Those kids aren't going down that easily – not when Squall is there to keep Sora from too many stupid mistakes; and not when Sora is there to keep Squall from falling too far out of reach.
The Keyblade's chosen one … he muses, remembering those honest words he heard moments ago. He's a lucky kid.
Return with the elixir.
As far as he's concerned, Radiant Garden promises to be completely safe and twice as boring one day – an ideal that he will never stop working toward if only to ensure there's a future here.
Lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling, Cloud isn't able to let go of the sleeping brunet he is hugging to his chest just yet. The both of them had worked too hard and given up far too much just to reach this moment for it to end that easily or quickly.
He is still angry at the kid for going against him and confronting Sephiroth, even if it had been Sora's idea. He is still a little upset that the boy didn't say goodbye before he followed that same brain-dead "savior" moron headfirst into the equivalent of a suicide mission. Even if it was to find Sora's friends, even if it was to confront Organization XIII and put an end to the Nobodies once and for all … it came too close. He wasn't ready to lose the kid all over again, especially not now when they both know each other's hearts.
But in the end, none of it matters when he revisits the Bailey and finds Squall there waiting for him. None of it seems to even exist when Squall tells him that the King gave him a lift from the Destiny Islands so that he could come home.
Squall chose him. At the end of the day, Squall had the option of staying with the other boy he loved but instead chose him.
Heartless and all else be damned, he wants it to last.
In a sluggish move, Squall's hand curls into a loose fist at his chest, pushing just once as a subtle reminder.
Stay here for me, it reminds him. And I'll always come find you.
I promise.