Except You
Final Fantasy VII: FanFic

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy or any of the characters, settings, ideas, or anything else from any of the games.

Warning: disturbing, mentions character death, implied homosexual relationships, vagueness, and insanity to the nth degree

I try to clear my head. I tried.

I go in the shower. The water can wash everything away. The blood is soaked into my hands but the water will wash it all away.

I feel the cold splash that surrounds me and forces my head down. Then I take off my blazer.

The white tub is painted red, not pink, but red. The water that pours on me is that blasting colour and as thick as the blood that ran through my fingers bare moments ago. My blazer drops and soon joining it is my shirt. There's nothing white about it anymore.

I feel a heat surrounding me as the water warms up slowly.

But not fast enough.

My belt snaps water off all around me before it too falls with a loud clank. I see the little tongue biting into skin or the leather leaving welts on a porcelain-white back. I take the flask out of my back pocket before my pants drop and blood mixes with water mixes with alcohol as I try to drown the sorrows away.

I choke and spit it all out.

It's everywhere.

It's nowhere.

The alcohol burns my torn lips.

The blood sooths them.

The water washes everything away and I take another sip.

Then the flask falls to the tub and I swear it shatters. It explodes into blood and what has been washed off me is now on me again.

I feel cold against my palms.

I close my eyes. The water is falling on me. Not pounding, not caressing, just falling. A warm embrace that heats me up and scorches my skin in moments.

The steam rising is making me nauseated.

The smell.

Like cooked meat. Warm but still raw. Bloody. Extra rare.

I heave and my eyes are closed to the blood that spills from my body to join the rest in the tub.

I need another drink. I wash out the sting and smell with the water that turns to blood when it hits my skin.

Blood.

Blood.

Everything.

Just red. Blood.

My cold palms hit my eyes and I'm leaning against the tiles. They are still cold. The steam is still rising. My body cannot take it and I heave again.

There is a heat caressing me now. My eyes hurt and sting and burn all at once. I heave and can't breathe as I cleanse my body at my feet.

The water running turns to blood and no one will notice the extra drops that run under my palms.

I don't know what's happening.

My body is shaking slowly as if shivering. But the scorching heat hurts too much for it to be ice.

Then I realize what's happening and I push my palms further into my eyes. It hurts. Oh fuck it hurts!

I take a deep breath to try and calm down but the exhale is filled with shivers and this time when I heave I can only choke and try to steal back the air that has abandoned me.

I fall to my knees.

In blood. Cloth. Intestines. And brain. I see your lifeless eyes staring up at me now.

I can't stop crying. I. Can't. Stop. Crying.

It's killing me. Slowly.

The same way I killed you.

I let it all wash away. The scorching heat turns to ice shards that pierce my broken flesh.

My palms are hot against my cold and hurting eyes.

I'm shivering now and it helps disguise the sobs. If anybody saw this what would they think?

I turn off the water when I regain some of my senses.

I get out and the first thing that greets me is blood.

It is soaked into my head, running down my face, over my shoulders and across my chest.

Before I even realize what I'm doing I storm out.

I go into the kitchen and without thinking I grab a knife.

The blood is caught in my hands. It weaves in and around them. It will never leave my fingers. Even as I cut it off and attempt to throw it away.

The red mess stays stuck to my hands, my bare body, the counters and tiles on the floor.

Everything is a mess.

Everything will stain.

You'll be pissed as fuck when you come home and see this.

Pissed. As. Fuck.

But wait.

You can't be.

I grab the bottle and drown the blood in alcohol.

I'm crying halfway through. I grab my hidden pack of smokes.

You hated it when I smoked. But I kept a pack in the kitchen.

You never entered the kitchen other than for alcohol.

You can't cook worth shit. Fuck. You burned toast the last time and the time before that the coffee tasted like shit!

Can't be perfect at everything.

Even you.

I light a smoke and go back to the bath. I step over your body as if you're not there.

The rest of the bottle is spilled to join the blood, cloth, intestines, and brain. I see the belt buckle and I start crying once more. The welts in your skin will never fade. I throw my zippo into the mess hoping it all to explode.

But it's too wet. Even with the alcohol the fire is slow in starting.

I leave. Come back. I leave. Come back.

By the time my entire closet is empty the white ceiling is scorched black from the flames.

I leave. Come back. I leave. Come back.

By the time your closet is empty I've decided to fuck it all to hell.

Then I leave.

Step over your body and leave my newest cigarette between your lips.

I smile. You fucker always got mad at me for smoking. But I've seen you steal my smokes. You knew where they were. In the kitchen. In the drawer beside the forks and knives. You smoke out in the balcony. Wearing my jacket so it doesn't stain yours.

You fucker.

You liar.

You piece of shit.

I ram the cigarette down your throat with the lit embers first.

Then I light another in the bathroom.

And another.

I leave one burning on your chest.

I get dressed.

I finish mine and finish yours.

I light two more.

I leave one burning on your chest.

I'm wearing your pyjamas because the rest of our shit is burning.

I finish mine. I finish yours.

I light two more.

I leave one burning on your chest and notice the ashes and marks on your suit.

Little fucker.

I step over your body and leave the room.

I'm covered in your blood, wearing your clothes, wearing your scent.

I still feel your hand on the small of my back as you lead me away. I see your lazy grin when you take my bottle away. I see you flick your finger my way as if it is the most natural thing in the world when no one has ever seen it before.

I am covered in your blood as I walk down the hall.

I laugh now. Not cry. People see me. Think I'm crazy. The blood on my head and hands is still falling away in thin ribbons.

I think of you now.

With my cigarette.

My bare feet leave bloody footprints in the hall. My smile must be crazed. I think I AM insane. You always said I was and now I believe it.

I laugh all the louder and light another cigarette.

Your pyjamas are now red too. Everything that touches me turns red.

Or burns.

It burns away.

Except you.

Your white suit will never catch on fire.

And unlike what you said, I have the strength to walk away.

Just needed to get this out there… sorry for anybody that doesn't get it or anything, feel free to ask questions but I cannot promise I'll answer. I just needed to get this out.
.sye