Author's Note: Hello, curious people who managed to stumble onto this story. I just want to explain a couple of things about this fic a bit because it is a somewhat of an AU. Not too much though…I think? Well this takes place a couple of years after DoC, just want to clear that up. And seeing how Noctis is a prominent character in this story, I am aware that this might be considered to be a crossover. Personally, I'm not sure because it's just him from Versus 13 that I intend to be in the story, no one else I believe. And let's not forget it takes place in the FFVII verse. If it comes down to it, I will put this in the crossover section. –Smiles- Ah yes, let me not forget there will be lemons and whatnot for all those that enjoy them. Parings are mostly undecided for right now but I got a couple of them in mind already because they will help shape this story. I won't say anymore about it; I need something to keep you interested. -Wink-

And that's about it really. So enjoy.

C'est La Vie

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Cruelty...vindictiveness...despair...such is life and its pleasures...

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The world...a disfigured, harmonic, saturated illustration of many bright colors.

That is...if you were relying on a disorientated young man's perception on things as his eyelids fluttered, pupils consumed by cobalt-blue iris as they shrunk at the blinding greeting of the sun's light. If the sun was such a reverend thing, why was it so intent on causing him pain? A coarse groan, rough and brittle from disuse, vibrated in the young man's throat as he struggled to regain control of his rebellious limbs, feeling as if nerve-endings had disconnected during his lapse. Now that he thought about iy...what happened to put him in this condition? Why did everything feel as if he was adrift in some nameless, never-ending sea? Was he dead? The man managed a breathy scoff, knowing that if he was dead than he wouldn't be so overcome with lethargy and confusion would haven't chosen to secure a blanket over his mind.

Where was he? Who...who was he again?

Noctis...Noctis Lucis Caelum, he thought faintly, unsure whether the name had any significance but pleased that he could at least name himself-define himself. At least he could remember his name. But anything else he tried to remember...white-hot pain laced throughout his body in grueling rivulets-godgodohthepain-his eyes rolling into his skull, body wracking with short, minute spasms as he frantically ceased trying to remember. At once the pain stopped, cold sweat staining his back as he trembled, fingers clenching aimlessly at the dirt ground till he dug irregular furrows into the earth beneath. For a moment, his consciousness teetered on the edge of blackness, threatening to succumb to the void, warning him that remembering was pain.

And pain was bad, wasn't it?

Noctis, sucked in a desperate breath as he tried to recuperate and was meet with infinitely more success, almost letting out an exclamation of joy as his legs became functional. Perhaps he wasn't destined to be a cripple. The man, with shaky, uncertain arms, pushed himself off the ground onto equally shaky legs, the aftershocks of the crushing pain licking through his body like teasing flames, hissing a promise to arise again. No, he didn't want to feel that, not if it left him as vulnerable as a child.

Now that he was on his own two feet, with the help of a nearby wall to support him, his blue eyes were able to make out his surroundings with some difficulty, the structure of the place being like a metallic, uncompleted city.

-An overcast sky, arching highways, luminous lights, and tall skyscrapers reaching triumphantly to the cloudless sea above, appreciated by concerned dark-blue eyes...-

Onyx, spiky hair fell in a hazardous mess into pained dark-blue eyes as the memory flashed away with the briefest inkling of pain, self-preservation telling him not to pursue it lest he was sent to the floor in a writhing, incoherent mess. But what he saw, that flicker of an image, was so familiar...he shuddered, taking experimental footsteps forward, his senses defocused, useless. Vision was mediocre at best as he made out the shapes of people walking at the end of the alley where he woke up, paying little attention to the man that was as confused as a newborn kitten. Was this his home? He felt no familiarity, no resonance in his heart. And if it had been, then it was certainly depressing with its grey coloring and the coldness that exuded from its metal structure.

Is this where I am to spend my days? Do these people even speak my language? Of course they should...I might actually be from here. Noctis mused as he shuffled along, glazed blue eyes squinting a bit as he looked with curiosity at the citizens walking around, some in deep thought, some alone, some just giving off an aura of not wanting to be bothered. It was like they were all suffering from some recovery period given the state of city and how desperate some of the people seemed.

But it wasn't all gloom and darkness. No, there was always the light.

The light being in a simple kindness as a shop-owner parted with a delectable looking apple to a far-off woman without any monetary compensation being requested. And like the melodious tone of a church bell, children's laughter filled the air as they amused themselves with games that were unfamiliar to the weary young man but entertaining no-less. Not too far off, the ever-so doting parents where keeping a careful eye on them but they seemed to take pleasure out of the kid's simple happiness. Pain that was unrelated to the one that tormented him earlier filled his heart with a dull ache, and he found himself looking away distantly, standing strangely amidst the flow of traffic, earning a few, odd, lingering glances. He didn't really look all that appealing with his sweat-matted hair and perspiration staining his pale skin; clothing curiously foreign with its all black likeliness; and the lost air that was about him.

He was a stranger in a city that was still on the cusps of recovery. There wasn't much room for him was there?

Feeling uncomfortable, Noctis made a move to slink unnoticed into the shadows where he could remain hidden when a force collided brutal into his chest, sending him staggering back with a gasp. Seconds later an exhalation of air from a new source filled his ears, sounding more winded than he. Curious and not even remotely bothered by the minor pain caused by the collision, Noctis looked down with brows furrowed at the young teen already on his feet, skateboard forgotten on the ground as he dusted himself off, muttering what sounded like apologies under his breath. He was slightly skinny in a boyish way, his face that of a youth who had the misfortune of experiencing life's harshness before his time, just barely experiencing the natural transition out of his boyhood, his face framed by wispy, doe-brown hair that enunciated careful blue eyes. Those orbs peered up at him with an expectance that confused Noctis, like he was waiting for something, waiting for some type of insult or curse for not paying attention.

All Noctis did in reaction was open his mouth, shut it, repeating this weird ritual once more before settling for a half-smile that took every effort of the muscles in his face, hoping that the results from his attempt didn't scare him off.

The boy blinked mildly as his eyes sharpened with scrutiny, searching this strange man's face for what seemed like forever, looking for something that was not apparent to the young man. Whatever it was, he didn't find it and those anxious blue eyes softened amicably while an answering smile shaped thin lips. Slim fingers hovered between the two of them, waiting to be grasped in a typical introduction, and Noctis almost had forgotten what the gesture meant, reaching out to take the proffered limb with his gloved one-did he always wear gloves?-his smile growing if only a little bit.

"I'm sorry for crashing into you...I wasn't paying attention." The teen flushed a little at admitting this, as if he was revealing some profound flaw of his personality, but that didn't stop him from talking. "My name is Denzel by the way. What do they call you sir...?"

-Prince Noctis! Are you okay?-

"I'm...I'm Noctis." Even to him, his voice sounded weak, a strange contrast to the strength that he felt used to deign there, but for the sake of appearances, it didn't waver.

Denzel's brow furrowed in dazzled consternation, mulling the name over as if it was an exotic specimen, but he appeared pleased. It wasn't common for a foreigner to appear in a developing, mundane city like Edge. "Are you from somewhere else Noctis? You even have an accent, but I'm not sure where from." He didn't bother to hide the blatant curiosity in his tone, curiosity and eagerness getting the best of him like it did most young people.

Am I foreigner?

"I...I don't remember."

Brown eyebrows scrunched in perplexion as he withdrew his hand, head tilted lightly to proclaim his bewilderment. "What do you mean you don't remember? Do you have…amnesia or something?" The last part had a playful inflection in the words but he had his suspicions.

Is that what you call it, this lack of knowing who I am?

"I think I do. I can only remember my name."

A flash of sympathy flickered in the boy's eyes as he gazed imploringly at the lost man, into those depthless cobalt-blues that hid so much but couldn't stand to access that information for his self, as if it was too painful, unbearable Was he running away from something? No, that couldn't be it, not when such sincerity was in that lowly accented voice. Well, if that was the case, then he needed somewhere to gather his bearings for standing here in a confused daze was not conducive to remembering. It was with a kind, empathetic grin that Denzel blinked with lazy sheepishness at Noctis, breaking their gaze only to grab his skateboard. "So…," he started conversationally, not quite sure how to go about this, "if you don't remember then I guess you don't really belong anywhere, huh?"

A flash of emotion, turbulent and terrible, lighted observant eyes as he scanned the boyish contours of the teen's face, wanting to know where the conversation was actually going as it drifted in this obscure direction. He thought it obvious that they established his lapse of identity but for the sake of keeping his first-companion? Acquaintance? Friend?-from running away from his rudeness, he nodded and answered blankly. "No, I suppose not."

That smile seemed to increase, suddenly very shy and maybe a little anxious at once, as he coughed nervously and looked down, his shoes seeming much more interesting at the moment. "Well, if you want, I have a place where you could stay until you remember. The owner of the place is really nice and she doesn't turn down people in need."

And how could he deny that silent plea and near-childish desire to help burning in those kind eyes, so intense that it was staggering, blinding, and humbling all at once. To think he was going out of his way just to help him, a complete stranger that could actually be much dangerous than he appeared. For all Denzel knew, Noctis could be a psychopathic murderer whose tongue was as charming and insidious as a cobra. But the trust in the teen's eyes was pure and unwavering and the amnesic man wandered how he had earned such a precious thing so fast. He must've appeared more pathetic than he thought.

-Will you play with me mister? I don't have any friends…-

Cobalt-blues eyes softened with acquainence and mild humor as Noctis smiled sincerely, the first true smile since his emergence into consciousness. And it seemed to make the younger male flustered-his cheeks turned a healthy, telling crimson-as he shifted a bit, wanting to not be the focal point of that all-consuming gaze. "I think…I will take you up on that offer Denzel."

"Great! Come, I'll lead the way. I can't wait for you to meet Tifa! She can be a little dotting…but girls are like that. Oh, and Marlene too. She likes my little sister- annoying and always telling me what to do. And how could I forget Cloud…"

Blood was fluorescent, beautiful, terrible, and a symbol of life…but he saw it on the outside of his body, a myriad of crisscrossing crimson. He was dying, wasn't he?

Perhaps listening to someone else talk, someone maybe a little younger than his self-for all he knew he could've been 12-was perhaps the most strangest of comforts, finding a simple delight in listening to excited words, animation alive on that young face in a way he was sure that wasn't a common occurrence. Denzel had much to share, and he didn't all at once, sometimes biting his lip to quiet himself, to guard a secret that wasn't yet ready to touch air. Or sometimes his voice would just die down into soft breaths, eyes distant as complex emotion danced behind azure surfaces, his face easily blank. During those moments, Noctis was quiet and his steady stream of comments ceased, respectful giving into that unsaid request not to pry any further, but feeling that the younger male wished him to inquire for more, even if he himself wasn't ready. He wouldn't ask-not till the teen was comfortable with telling him, and so during those moments of tense, strained silence, he would stir the conversation with a smartly asked, innocent question. What is your favorite thing to do? Did he have any dreams?

And Noctis could hear the gratitude in that voice as he seemed to find his muse again and was brought to life once more, that smile sometimes exceeding the luminosity of the sun. But even despite this, his contentment in hearing the teen talk about himself, Noctis could still feel a prickle of cold sensation in his mind when Denzel would unintentional say something that triggered the briefest flash of memory, drifting away before he could grab it, like trying to catch smoke with his fingers. And if it weren't for his companion and not wanting him to see a possible convulsion as he tried to pursue that piece of memory, Noctis would've chased after that memory out of sheer desperation no matter the threat of pain seizing his body mercilessly. He wanted to know if he had anything worth living for. If he had anything at all…

-The room was as dark as the deepest trenches of any ocean, but a rebellious beacon of light glowed and competed with the inky black for dominance. The source of the light…was a brilliant, ethereal crystal suspended in the air by unearthly forces, calling him in a whispery voice-its protector, master. Noctis…Noctis…Noc-

"Noctis."

The glazed look in his eye vanished as he blinked in mild confusion, taking in his surroundings, taking in his smaller companion who gazed at him with concern, mouth open to relay his puzzlement, one hand dug comfortable in the pockets of his beige shorts. He realized, with the faintest trace of embarrassment, that one of his rouge, elusive memory had snagged his attention from Denzel with ease and the last bit of their conversation had been completely one-sided.

The young man glanced apologetically at Denzel, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully at his inattenvieness. "Sorry, I was just a little distracted."

Blue eyes shined with innocent curiosity, wanting to know more. "With what?"

"Maybe a memory, I'm not sure."

"Really? Of what?" He sounded more excited than Noctis himself felt, and it was with an inward laugh that he realized it was endearing.

"Actually…I can't remember." This was odd because he could still feel it drifting in his subconscious, teasing and mocking all at once, withholding the information he so desperately craved. "It probably wasn't even important."

Denzel didn't seem convinced but he wasn't one to push for information-Marlene sure was whenever the mood suited her-and he with playful coyness, tugged at the material of Noctis sleeve and pointed at an average looking building with a low, gleaming sign that said "Seventh Heaven". Was this a bar? Denzel intended for him to stay in a bar? It wasn't like he didn't trust him but a bar wasn't something he had in mind. But he wouldn't dare complain, not when he was offered such kindness. Nevertheless…Noctis had to make a comment:

"It looks like a bar."

Denzel chuckled whimsically, stifling it with one hand as he peered up through his bangs to stare at his doubtful companion. "Looks can be deceiving you know. It is a bar…and a restaurant actually. You'll like it. Come." With a sudden enthusiastic boldness that made Noctis arch a finely shaped eyebrow in inquisition, the brown-haired teen grabbed his hand and led him to the bar, only stopping to fish out a key from his pocket to open the locked door.

Click.

The door swung open and a mixture of smell hit the amnesic, rendering the pungent order of Edge-a name that spilled from Denzel's lips during his stories-unable to compete with the influx of aroma of the place. When you got past the unflattering décor, it actually seemed kind of comely in a way, and for a moment, Noctis felt that lethargy from earlier beginning to dissipate as if it had never been there in the first place. Was this the atmosphere of home? A sudden allowance to just break away at the seams and relax as if all your problems could wait just a little while longer…

-Hey Noct…don't you miss how the city looks like at night?-

"Yes…" He whispered dreamily underneath his breath, begging for some type of identification to that painfully familiar voice. Friend? Lover? Brother? Who spoke to him? Who-?

"Another memory?"

Sapphire-hued eyes drifted downwards to equally azure ones that were contemplative and curious all at once, the understanding and patience there making his heart seize with a gentle emotion that he couldn't name. Confused and spurred by the mysterious feeling, Noctis placed a grateful hand on the teen's shoulder, watching with interest as the other sucked in a hissing breath, eyes widening in pleasant surprise. Strange reaction, but the dark-haired man didn't comment on it, instead, just taking an innocent pleasure in the warmth that seeped from Denzel's hoodie. "Yea, it was. Just a flash though; I can barely recall it." But the timbre of the voice wouldn't leave him, not yet.

"I…"

Time seemed to freeze as Noctis felt his body tense with coiled, restrained energy upon hearing nimble feet descend down the stairs, spurred faster by their voices, his eyes snapping in that direction as he stepped in front of Denzel protectively. Standing on the second-to-last step was a woman with long, straight-black tresses that fell a little past her collarbone, her face first set in surprise than transitioning dangerously to alarm as she eyed him with the incinerating intensity of a thousand burning suns. She wasn't armed-which he foolishly believed at first-but one quick glance was all it took for Noctis to spot her gloves studded with little metal nodes that could probably decimate his whole facial structure with a well-placed punch. In reaction to this quick observation, out of his peripheral shimmering obscurely like glistening starlight all around himself was the presence of something that could only be described as magical, an extension of himself, a throb that continued to resonate throughout his body like the lifeblood that gave his heart purpose. This was familiar, this sensation, the humming of his body as his mind perceived the woman to be a threat, ready for action.

He stared measuredly at her, and she, with impressive equanimity stared back, her hostility combating his defensiveness. It would only be a matter of time before she pounced, a hunter confronting its prey.

The throbbing grew stronger…faster…more insistent…!

"Tifa its ok. He's a friend."

That soft voice, now filled with anxiety and a panicked assurance, distracted Noctis out of the hazy, potent fog that had roused his apparently latent battle instincts from slumber, feeling the throbbing subsiding to a faint murmur, the shimmering gone like faded moonlight. The whole process was more confusing than he would like but he kept his composure calm and unperturbed, observing keenly as the woman-Tifa was it?-did the same, the animosity still there but much more tamed. She was comparable to a lioness prepared to defend her young cub with every inch of her being, willing to sacrifice her life if she had to. The analogy brought a sense of discomfort to Noctis, reluctantly moving away so Denzel was in full sight of those piercing auburn eyes that began to shimmer down at his considerate action, the tenseness of every muscle in her body betraying this facade of calm.

He smiled gently; not knowing why the urge overcame him to do so but the action seemed to further pacify the woman and transformed that hostility into grudging curiosity.

As if sensing the invisible communication going on between them, Denzel glanced warmly at Noctis, nodding in self-confidence before turning back to Tifa and earning the full-force of that stare. Yet, it didn't seem to faze him. If anything, he looked accustomed to it, like it was common everyday thing. Noctis gleaned a sort of privacy and intimateness from it all and he suddenly felt like he was intruding on something sacred, a stranger that could only observe and never be a part of a whole.

The dull ache in his chest returned; a malicious murmur in his ears.

"This man with me is Noctis, Tifa. I bumped into him in the market place-literally-and he well...seems to have amnesia. He looked really lost...," the teen threw an apologetic glance back at the silent man for the way he described him, relieved when he received an understanding nod in return. "I couldn't just leave him there in good conscious." The way he looked at the startled woman, eyes imploring, begging to be understood as he spoke lowly, as if trying to ask for forgiveness, was all very masterfully performed. The dark-haired man wandered, with harmless amusement, how many times he used such an act to get what he wanted.

Tifa, descending from the shock of the story-amnesia, really?-and finally finished her journey down the stairs, coming to a stop in front of Noctis who remained unmoved from his position, holding her gaze with an ease that he felt was natural. It was as if she was trying to read his soul as she gazed perpetually into his passive eyes, to see how to properly judge him, to deem his worth if he had any, and it managed to make him uncomfortable. She would see nothing there for it was all hidden beneath layers of submerged memory, blocked by his traitorous mind and its painful fleshy walls. He himself didn't know anything of his personality or who he had been, like he was entering the world anew, clay that was ready to be molded into another shape. Could she see this in his eyes? His own confusion, his fear, despair, hopelessness, at not knowing who he was? Was it all visible?

Yes, yes it was. There was nothing to hide.

A soft touch, skin-on-skin, and the pads of strong fingers touched his cheek, feeling his high-cheekbones and gingerly turning his head, surveying him like how an intuitive artist would inspect his work for flaws. She pursued her lips, sighed as if the world's collective weight was upon her shoulders, and smiled with the full-force of her feminine charm. "Where not exactly a charity case you know and space is sparse as it is."

Next to him, a frightened gasp sounded from Denzel and Noctis felt his heart twinge in answer.

Tifa rolled her eyes. "But Denzel seems to like you...so I guess you don't seem all that bad. You can stay."

Noctis didn't realize he was holding his own breath as he waited anxiously for the verdict, letting it come out in grateful sigh, trying his hardest not to grin as Denzel let out a embarrassed exclamation of "yes!" into the air. He made a move to thank her, but she held up her hand, signaling for silence and expecting to be fully obeyed. "Life is hard here in Edge so nothing comes free. You're going to have pull your own weight around here, be it maintaining the bar, doing odd jobs, something that will pay for your stay here. Agreed?"

"Agreed." He said huskily in solemn approval, finding the prospect of working to pay his stay more than fair. Maybe it might help him remember more, triggered by some type of labor.

"Good. Now Denzel here," her attention shifted to the excited young teen who froze at the shift, trying to find a way to worm out of possible trouble with that sweet apologetic expression. But Tifa wouldn't have any of that. "You overstepped your curfew. Isn't it time for bed?"

"You do realize I'm 16 right?"

"You do realize that I still take care of you right?"

Unable to refute such a fact, Denzel managed not to pout childishly like he wanted to and stubbornly clasped Noctis wrist to lead him upstairs, mumbling loud enough so that Tifa and Noctis could hear him saying he was escorting the man to his room. The whole transaction was enjoyable with Denzel's teenager-rebellion-instinct stirring to life in reaction to Tifa's motherly-worry, but inevitably losing like it should. He wandered if he was as close to his mother as Denzel was to Tifa. I might not even have known my mother, he thought darkly, unable to help himself as they walked down the narrow corridor of the second level of the restaurant/bar. Denzel paused when he reached the first door, suddenly acquiring a shyness that was becoming more familiar to Noctis the more he hung around the teen. It wasn't a bad thing, more confusing than anything because he didn't feel remotely daunting in any way. And, he got the irrefutable feeling that Denzel wasn't shy in the least. Hesitantly, not wanting to startle his young companion by speaking too loudly through the awkward silence between them, Noctis coughed politely to garner his attention and half-smiled, conveying his contentment.

It seemed to work, and the subtle fidgeting seemed to subside into nothing.

"Um...this is the guest bedroom, but now it's yours for your stay. I hope it's to your liking." Slim fingers pressed against the wooden door to reveal the modest interior: a bed, dresser, and a nightstand bereft of anything but tiny particles of dust.

Noctis thought it perfect.

"This is great, perfect even," he uttered thoughtfully, blinking quizzically at how his praise seemed to make the other beam with satisfaction, revealing that illuminating smile.

-Jubilant laughter echoed through grand corridors, whispering playfully to give chase and relinquish all princely worries: the marauders who dare attack his kingdom, the crystal under his protection...and the lovely Stella Nox Fluoret...-

"It's starting to become easy to tell you know? You always have this far away look in your eye when you're remembering something, like your reaching for something that's barely out of your reach." Denzel observed thoughtfully with a wisdom that didn't quite suit his youth, drawing Noctis surprised stare, wandering how much else he can see in his eyes. Only the Gods knew how little he can see in them himself.

"I guess that means you know me better than I do."

He meant this as a harmless joke but the teenager didn't seem to take it in that way, gazing dolefully away with an abashed look on his face as he worried the fabrics of his hoodie. "I-I didn't mean to..."

"No, its okay," the man soothed with just the texture of his voice, laughter tracing his tone as he moved to sit experimentally on the bed, finding it palpable and soft to the touch, enchanting the lethargy back into his body. "Your insight is more helpful then you realize."

Denzel flushed, stammering with crimson cheeks, "O-Oh...well your welcome. Um," he peered left, looking at the lonely clock on the wall and appeared grateful to have found his distraction. "I got to go to bed before Tifa puts me in a headlock. If you need anything, I'm right across the hall, okay?"

"Mmhh...," Noctis hummed in reply, having taken off his boots during Denzel's little ramble, his body already submitting wearily to the bed as he felt a bone-deep weariness latch onto him, stealing away his consciousness. He was only remotely aware of the teen saying something else, than a breath of his name, and receding footsteps harmonizing with the sound of a closed door.

Memories were like little snippets of data weren't they? So it only made sense that they were able to be deleted...never to return again. So what hope was there for him?

-He could taste it, the blood, hot, metallic and copious in his mouth, thick and congealing in the back of his throat, suffocating him as air wasn't permitted down or out his throat. Gods he couldn't breathe-couldn't focus, couldn't do a damn thing as he was immobilized on the floor, the cacophony around him torturing him with its harsh intensity. There was so much screaming, pain, fear, and despair that if he were able to breathe, he would be able to drink it like a tangible liquid. It wouldn't end! Gods, please put a stop to this; the fire of agony flooding his body like sweet, delicious sin as wounds made themselves known-too many to count; the sounds of the dying punctuating the air like a knife digging its blade into the defenseless belly of an unfortunate victim. He just wanted to die...and he was so close, the blackness dancing at the edges of his flickering vision, tantalizing as he tried harder to reach for it.

Come closer death...please free me from the pain...

But it would inch no closer, the blood in his throat suddenly trickling from the corners of his mouth as he choked and sputtered, a sudden hot helix of agony birthing from his chest, driving out the rest of his pain. It burned, oh how it burned! With spasmodic fingers, twitching, dysfunctional, the tendons brutally severed, Noctis managed to rip at the shredded shirt further till it was gone from his chest, the sharpness of air grinding against open wounds, tearing a choked scream from his bloody throat. But that couldn't compare to the red glow emanating furiously from the center of his chest-consuminghothellfire-that seemed to pulsate sickeningly, each throb ripping forth a choked sob from his lips.

The crystal...the crystal was in danger.

It was screaming!

He was screaming!

They were one, wrapped in never-ending cascade of pain and agony, his soul threatening to rip apart at the seams. He was its protector, it was his duty to safeguard it and ensure its well-being for it was the lifeblood of his kingdom. But every muscle in his body refused to cooperate and he was left writhing and contorting on the bloody floor with nothing but the macabre symphony of the dying to be his lullaby as he slowly began to truly die...

Noctis...

That was his name wasn't it...?

Noctis.

Names were unimportant now and his mind simply refused to care.

Noctis!

Silence.-

The frantic hands shaking at him as he twisted about the bed, tangled dangerously in the sheets, were the first thing he felt upon returning to consciousness. The second thing was the warm, bittersweet blood that had blossomed in his mouth as if he taken a bite out of an overly ripe fruit. Oh god the dream was real! Even if he could barely remember it now, he could still experience the fresh horror and spectral pain ghosting his body, the blood still standing out-somuchhecouldn'tbreathe-with its crimson shade as it threatened to drown him. Noctis was afraid that if he screamed, he would choke, still unable to register the panicked calls of his name as nothing but the screams of the dying. When was the nightmare world going to end? Please make it stop...make it stop-!

"Noctis! Please wake up. You're having a nightmare!"

No it had been much more than that. That had been reality once upon a time, hadn't it?

Who was to say that the nightmare was over, reflexively thrashing out of the false sense security that had started to pacify him as he let out a sound between a gasp and a gurgle as he kicked with a leg, listening detachedly to the answering groan and feeling hands tighten unyieldingly on his body. Don't scream! Don't scream! Cobalt-blues darted hysterically in their sockets, uncomprehending of the frightened but more-so concerned face in front of him, soft lips forming words that was just white noise to him. But then, like a saving grace, gentle, firm hands held the sides of his head, imploring him to focus, to see the truth that was lain out so plainly before him.

That Denzel was before him, so very real, beseeching him to come out that nightmarish daze before he hurt himself, the blood in his mouth a screeching reminder. Slowly, sluggish and dull in his movements, Noctis placed his hands over trembling, smaller ones, greedily siphoning warmth from them, savoring the flesh that assured him of realism. This was real...those glistening azure orbs were real, that fair skin heated with warmth was real, everything was real. The nightmare was over and every hint of its presence was eagerly leaving existence, only leaving the barest of residue in the form of little shards of disorientated, painful images.

I'm alive. This is real, Denzel is real, and never have I felt so glad to be alive.

A bubble of hiccupping laughter left his lips as he tenderly, slowly removed those still shaking hands from his head, hearing the other's breathing hitch as he probably fearfully wandered if his nightmare had cut the threads of his sanity. Humming low in his throat a tune that was both familiar and alien but nonetheless soothing, Noctis gazed intensely into worried azures, conveying what his voice couldn't yet say for him through eye-contact alone, that he was fine, and everything would continue as such.

The teenager let out a choked sob, and unexpectedly, buried his face into the dark-haired man's chest, either uncaring or unaware of the cold sweat that had seeped into the material from his night terror. Perplexed and equally uncertain, Noctis let the emotional teenager cry silently, knowing that it was perhaps from terror. He could scarcely imagine the image he presented as he struggled and twisted on the sheets, his face home to a whole plethora of emotion, mouth agape as if to scream. This was exactly why he didn't want to go down memory lane in the younger male's presence, knowing that the resulting seizure would be fairly alarming to witness. Such an impression might even be traumatizing. And that's the least that I want to do, he confessed weakly, finding it fairly difficult to even articulate a full thought. He mind as well forget talking.

"What...what did you dream about?"

The faint voice muffled by his shirt stopped his humming and dragged him from the chaos of his thoughts, quietly meeting intent eyes that seemed interested in learning the horror that tormented him seconds ago. Noctis managed a tight-lipped smile and a small shake of the head, his vocal cords well-behind their capability to produce speech. But his eyes gleamed with the message loud and clear, laced with lingering pain.

Please don't ask of this from me.

Even as he saw it, something pressured Denzel to ask again, more desperately this time, not quite so direct, gentler as if handling a skittish animal. "I was scared. You were in so much pain-I didn't know what to do."

Denzel's sincere concern was really enthralling but Noctis couldn't bring himself to tell him-not yet-as he sighed tiredly, body aching from an obviously unsuccessful sleep, gradually finding it in his power to produce words, no longer hampered by the fear. "Maybe I'll tell you another day. Besides, I can barely remember now and I don't wish to do so soon." It displeased him to see frustration in the teenager's eyes as they narrowed but he did nothing to appease Denzel's honest eagerness to know, instead finding a topic of more interest in mind. "What I want to know is how you happened to hear me? Aren't you supposed to be in your room, in bed?"

As expected, he flushed again, but this time it was accompanied by a huff of indignation that shielded his embarrassment. "For your information, its 4:00 in the morning and I like to get a glass of water at this time. I only heard you when I walked past so..." This was only part of the truth and Denzel hoped it was enough to satisfy the man's curiosity. The truth was he did arise this early for water, but not every day. This time he only got up to check on Noctis because of some pointless desire to see the man in his sleep, the thought sounding extremely perverse but his intentions hadn't been anything but sincere and pure. Now the problem was finding out what those intentions were precisely for he himself wasn't quite sure, only knowing that they were awfully persuasive.

"I see...hmm well I'm lucky you like to drink water in the mornings."

Noctis chuckled to himself as the teen visibly sagged with relief, noting, with much mirth, that the catalyst for the teen's impromptu venture-the glass of water-remained missing.

He knew now, the true name for pain, the only way to describe it and its terrible effects: the Obliterator. It wiped away everything and left only broken fragments in its wake.

After his little episode earlier in the bed, it was too be expected that sleeping was out of the question for the amnesic as he simply taken to staring out of his window forlornly, alone by request. There hadn't been any point in depriving his friend of sleep-no matter how much he protested-so he sent him off with a reassuring nod and tightly-bound promise to call if he needed anything. What he needed couldn't be gained so easily, the fear of experiencing a similar dream having forced his eyes open and alighting his body with flighty, nervous energy. There had been nothing to do but take in the rather melancholic sight of Edge and all its properties, the angle of his room providing an admittedly good view.

But what he saw wasn't charming and he had to turn his gaze away lest it sent him into some type of dysphoria.

Thankfully, as if some omniscient entity heard his wish, he hadn't needed to wait longer before the restaurant was filled with the sounds of people awakening. A curse here, a complaint there, and a scolding to add flavor to the mixture. It was the sounds that many didn't appreciate but Noctis did, only because he didn't have those things-or just simply couldn't recall at the moment- and it had made him feel warmer on the inside. It had encouraged him to exit his room and go downstairs where he was greeted by three sets of eyes, one of them he didn't recognize and they belonged to a pretty, brown-haired girl. An educated guess told him that it was Marlene but one couldn't ever be too sure, trying to not look as awkward as he descended downstairs under the weight of what felt like the scrutiny of the entire world.

The silence had been stifling…only broken by:

"For the love of Gaia Tifa! There's a strange man in our house!"

It had taken all his pride and courage not to turn tail and run back upstairs, and the fact that he might suffer from Denzel rightly justified teasing was in added factor. Instead, he opted to just stare blankly at the girl who glared back at him with the same intensity that Tifa had, there little face-off going on for about 60 seconds before the lady-of-the-house decided to intervene with a sigh. It took all but two minutes for the situation to be explained and once over, the girl's whole attitude and demeanor towards him changed so fast that he could barely comprehend what happened. She was so much warmer and more reciprocating with her smiles and innocent questions about himself-which he couldn't answer of course-that Noctis couldn't have helped but smile and react pleasantly in turn.

Denzel, oddly, had been quiet during the ordeal as he sat with them at a table.

Of course, Noctis had been concerned but he had little chance to voice his worry with Marlene taking his attention with her bright personality. The only time he was able to ask was when the girl went off to help Tifa serve breakfast, leaving the two alone for the moment. But he was disappointed to hear "I'm fine" and the dismissal in the tone was enough to silence any protest.

And so that's how he was led up to this point in time, with hot food placed in front of him, the variety on his plate making his head spin.

"So, had a rough night?"

The question directed at him stilled all movement from Noctis, his fork remaining buried momentarily forgotten in his eggs as he first glanced at Tifa, whom asked the question, then to Denzel. A slight agreement had passed earlier between them that what happened would remain a secret and he wandered, with distress and something else that wasn't quite so pleasant, that if Denzel had told anyway. An answering gaze, somewhat irritated, gave him his answer and a sense of guilt filled the dark-haired man as he tore his eyes away from the questionably aggravated teenager to the patiently smirking woman at his side, appearing nonchalant as she cut off a piece of sausage.

"I guess you can say that. How did you-"

"Know?" She intervened with a giggle, chewing her food a specific number of times before speaking again. "Some would call it woman's intuition but it just so happens to be written all over your face."

Somewhere, probably next to Denzel, a little pubescent girl giggled cutely, and Noctis had to fight back a chuckle as he looked down at his food, hoping that the topic wouldn't tarnish his appetite. When was the last time he had eaten anyway? "Nothing escapes you huh? Well…it's nothing to worry about really. It was just a nightmare."

Tifa tsked, and he silently mused if he was about to be scolded. "I don't think so. I know a bad nightmare when I see one," and she glanced at Marlene who pouted and proceeded to viciously stab her pancakes in indignation, "and you look you just had a particularly nasty one. If you don't mind sharing, I might be able to offer advice." She said this with such compassion in her voice that Noctis was almost bewildered how this was the same woman last night that looked ready to mercilessly beat him into the ground.

Feeling oddly compelled to tell her, something inexplicable telling him to bare his fragmented soul to this understanding person, the man was about to open his mouth to speak but hesitated upon feeling a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. He glanced briefly to his right and had immediately wished he hadn't, inevitably closing up and merely shaking his head politely in denial at Tifa's offer.

Denzel…why did he look at me that way?

The betrayal harbored in those smoldering eyes was as prominent as heat exuding off a burning furnace, threatening to melt skin from bone. What did he do to earn such a look, to see the jealousy and betrayal intermingling with each other as they swam in pools of perfect blue? Or rather…what had he been going to say to make the teenager react in such a way? It dawned on him seconds later why his actions had such a profound effect on his friend, and it made him bite his tongue in order to prevent him from sighing, finding it to be ridiculously confusing and complicated for no reason. Just because he didn't tell Denzel himself and was going to tell Tifa instead, didn't give him a right to be so angry…right? He probably would've told Denzel if the dream hadn't been so fresh and potent in mind or if he didn't want it haunting his younger friend's conscious. The blood…the screaming…Noctis breathed heavily through his nose, only eating because he daren't waste any food lest he incur womanly wrath, but his appetite was non-existent. He hadn't intended to tell Tifa the whole story-not that he could remember it all anyway-just small tidbits and maybe give her the synopsis of it, nothing more. That wasn't a lot was it? No, Denzel must've just been overreacting.

Then why was it he saw pain underneath all those negative emotions, so raw and so conflicted as if he himself had barely understood what he was feeling?

I shouldn't think on this much longer. I'm starting to look weird, Noctis thought uneasily, trying to fix the grimace on his face. And it was the truth. He had been very quiet those last few minutes as Marlene chattered about something called a chocobo-what the hell was that?-while Tifa remarked about how Cloud's hair resembled one and drew a reluctant sounding laugh from Denzel. All the while he could feel curious glances from Tifa and Marlene for there were many openings for him to get involved in the conversation.

Denzel…didn't look at him at all.

For now, he didn't let Denzel's disharmony with him unsettle his calm, even if on the inside it did, and started to talk a bit more, the enthusiasm lacking from his accented voice as he did his best to appear okay. A voice, somewhat questionable in its origins whispered illogical and almost unreasonable things in the back of his mind, things that made him uncomfortable as he refused to acknowledge them. That for one thing, the reason why Denzel was acting way he was might have been that he had some type of crush on him, possible deeper feelings if you wanted to look more closely at. And he didn't because it was nonsense. They just met; there was no time for anything to develop in such a short span of time.

-Be careful sire. The crystal has limitless effects and power and we've barely touched what it could truly do. To be so intimately bounded with it like you are is…it might have significant and varying effects on the people you come in contact with. We call it Crystallus…-

Wait, what?

The sound of screeching reached his ears as something created friction with the asphalt outside, drawing his attention away from the fading memory as he glanced in the direction of the door. Out of his peripheral, he saw Denzel stare him at for moment, desiring to say something for he saw the familiar lapse into memory, but he was suddenly indifferent as he hastily followed Tifa to the door, Marlene mimicking his footsteps with substantially more excitement. What was happening? Was there to be danger? He felt the throb return, a slow languid pulse like it was rousing itself from slumber, the air around him flickering with what looked to be celestial dust and something else. A gleam of silver, the shaft of a spear, the razor edge of a blade. Where there weapons around him? He reached in their general direction and they were gone like they never existed, leaving him frustrated and listening to nothing but that maddening throb that wouldn't stop.

My chest burns…

It was reminiscent to the burning inferno that had swept through him in his dream, but to a lesser, bearable degree and minus the luminous glow, flaring a bit when he was met with the hardened gaze of oceanic-blue eyes swirling with unnatural flecks of forest green. With an ardency that astounded him, Noctis returned the gaze as he stood up slowly, devoid of expression, taking in the challenging sight of a shock of gold hair and a handsome face, matched with a slender, muscled body. Everything about the man screamed warrior and something inside him screamed back defiantly with challenge.

Cloud Strife. This was Cloud Strife, the one that brought the light to Tifa's eyes; the adoration and happiness to Marlene; and the respect and awe from Denzel.

The throbbing escalated to a steady pulse and he tilted his head as Cloud spoke:

"Who are you?"

Somewhere in his soul was a response, but it forever eluded him and he was left remiss of an answer.

Author's Note: Well, if you made it this far you either like it or hate it. Either way, tell me why because I'm most anxious about my first fan fiction and I would like to hear your opinions. If it's deemed good enough, I'll continue it for all those that enjoy it. Even though, it's not likely to turn out to be a long story.