A/N: Reaaaally really short, but it just popped into my head and wouldn't get out, so I couldn't focus on my philosophy book (Foucault and Anselmus are rather difficult, anyway). Those of you who know me on LJ; Yes, I'm still on hiatus, but like I said, it just popped into my head. I wrote this in like ten minutes. MS Word says 453 words.

Warnings: Slightly angsty, un-beta'd.

Late at night, lying in his bunk, 15 year old Cloud Strife dreamed of things that could be.

Could be if he didn't have such a low self-esteem. Could be if he were more sure of himself and the case at hand. Could be if he didn't have anything to lose by admitting what he felt.

But he did have something to lose. His best friend.

And more than anything, he cherished that friendship. Zack had been the first person besides his ma to look at him and not turn away or ignore him.

Instead, Zack gave warm smiles and friendly noogies. Slung an arm around his shoulder and ruffled his hair. Shared his apartment and – which was one of the things Cloud appreciated most – his skills. Zack taught him how to properly hold a sword, how to swing it, how to slash and parry, and oh god, Zack taught him hand-to-hand combat.

Being fifteen meant being hormone-induced like crazy, which meant to not-so-convenient reactions of his body to Zack grappling him and pinning him down. Add that to the fact that Zack was the first person to care about him since his ma, and you got one completely smitten little trooper.

But Zack would hate him if he knew. He would be disgusted by Cloud – a guy, his friend – having a crush on him. And Cloud didn't want to lose his best friend to something he could – and would, dammit! – overcome.

So Cloud told himself that he was just starved for affection, for touch, and that his body reacted to that lack of contact by making his mind think he was in love with Zack. That was his most convincing theory, anyway.

Still, Cloud really, really couldn't deny the way his heart fluttered at the mere sound of Zack calling his name, at the mere touch of Zack's hand to his shoulder or the mere sight of Zack's – brilliant, oh so brilliant – smile.

And he certainly couldn't deny the way his body reacted to the thought of Zack tackling and tickling him with the excuse of showing him a new move, or Zack hoisting him up to show off his strength, or, if he let his mind wander – which Gaia forbid, he did much too often – to the thought of Zack running his hand up Cloud's thigh, Zack in the shower, Zack in bed thinking of him, or Zack pinning him down for entirely other purposes…

No, Cloud told himself, it was just a silly little thing, something much less important to him that Zack's friendship, which he wouldn't risk for anything. Cloud Strife kept his mouth shut.

......

Seven years later, Cloud Strife could only dream of things that could have been.