Author: Beautifully Twisted
Email: enigmaticangst@aol.com
Title: Trails of Smoke
Pairing: CidxVincent
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Fucked up little piece that sprang to mind earlier today. Written in about two hours, so it's not my greatest. I wanted Vincent to somehow end up with Cid's goggles and scarf, and what originally was a fluffy piece turned into something quite fucked up. What can I say? I put Caz vibes into it, which this is dedicated to. Not my usual take on things, not my usual writing style … but anyway. Er … enjoy?
Fanart that inspired this can be found in profile.
I awakened to the cold. Shivering, I huddled into myself to conserve the warmth. It had always been like this, waking up alone and cold. I suppose I have grown used to it somewhat. After all, over time creatures learn to adapt to their environment. But there was a time not so very long ago when I felt the warmth of another beside me as I slept. Someone who was there to hold me, and tell me that everything was going to be all right, that I no longer needed to fear love, someone to warm my chilled skin with his kisses. And the morning I awakened once more to the cold, I knew I would lose this, too.
We weren't the ideal couple. We didn't make sappy proclamations of love to one another; we didn't publicly display our affection. We were simply two men who needed each other because we had nothing left in this world to cling to. A broken man with a bloodied past and a visionary who had his dreams crushed living together, trying to make up for lost time. We didn't tell each other how to live; he let me angst over Lucrecia, and I him let smoke a pack an hour. But we were there for each other when we needed that reassuring embrace, that soft 'I love you', and sex. I'd like to say we needed each other. I know I needed him, I can only speculate that he needed me.
Which brings me to that morning. The morning I awakened to the cold. It was uncommon for him to leave bed so early, and it unnerved me to know that his side of the bed was empty. Sliding from the sheets, I pulled my robe tighter trying to fight off the predawn chill, and called out his name as I opened the bedroom door.
He had made tea, the mild fragrance still hung in the air, but all traces that he had been in the kitchen had been tidied up, so unusual to see him picking up after himself. Years of living with Shera had made him dependent on the house keeping of another.
I decided to check the most obvious place for him. The backyard, where he kept his baby. Sure enough, he was there standing beside the coral plane. He was obviously checking the Tiny Bronco over for any mechanical defects. It wasn't uncommon for him to pour hours of his time into maintenance, but there was something about his mannerism that filled me with a type of unrest. He was preparing for a journey. He must have sensed my presence then, cause he turned to me and flashed me a half smile, something that said, 'Hey there, Vince. Whacha doin' up so early spyin' on me?' Concealing my insecurities, I smiled back.
'You are leaving.' Not a question, an observation.
Taking a drag on his cigarette, he replied, 'Reeve called me to Midgar.'
'Oh.' It wasn't uncommon for him to make visits to Midgar from time to time, but usually he told me at least a day in advance and even asked me to accompany him. Call it paranoia from too many of life's letdowns, but I didn't want him to go.
'Sorry I did'n tell you.' He paused for a moment as if wanting to say something more; instead he turned back to whatever he was fiddling with on the plane.
I didn't reply. I only nodded … nodded and brushed it off. He continued to talk to me whilst he made the final inspections, what he said I'm not entirely sure, something about eating properly, not staying out too late at night, petty concerns that he must have developed over those years everytime he left Shera. But I wasn't Shera. I wasn't someone who submitted to please him; I wasn't the one who had inadvertently shattered his dreams. I was Vincent Valentine, the man who he had helped piece back together, the man he shared his bed with every night, and made love to. The man whose name he screamed out in the throes of passion. Why was he treating me this way?
'Bye, Vince.'
Those words broke me out of my reverie. He was just going to leave me like this, no explanations behind this sudden departure? He must have noticed the fleeting confusion, because he crossed the yard to me, and pressed a soft kiss to my brow.
'G'bye, Vincent.' He smiled sadly, pressing another kiss to my brow before removing his goggles and scarf and arranging them on me. 'There.'
'Highwind … I can't.' Why was he giving me these? They were always with him, almost as much a part of him as his cigarettes.
'Keep 'em for me.' With another kiss and a wink, he turned from me.
'Highwind, don't go.' I don't think he heard me. If he did, he didn't acknowledge it. I force myself to believe it was the former. How could I have known as the Tiny Bronco vanished into the lightening sky that I would never again see him?
How could I have ever fathomed that he would never return and all I would have of him would be those goggles, that scarf, and the soft kiss that tasted of cigarettes. Three things that were distinctly him, lingering like trails of smoke. I had feared it, but never believed it. When I received the call from Reeve three days after he left I knew something terrible had gone awry. He was missing, vanished without a trace. And suddenly I became the focal point of everyone's concerns once more. Tifa and Cloud visited me, expressing their sympathy. Nanaki offered words of wisdom. Marlene even gave me a kitten, a precious thing for me to care for, to help me pass the lonely nights waiting for his return.
People don't simply vanish. I cannot believe that he is gone, and even stronger I cannot believe that he would leave without taking me with him. He loved me. He needed me. He could tell me anything and I would not have judged him. I loved him. I needed him.
I cannot mourn, and yet I cannot choose not to. If he were dead, then certainly there would be some sign. Even if he had crashed into one of the oceans, there would have been something. So what does that leave me?
I have fewer answers than I had when I first started trying to comprehend what had happened.
If he were alive he would return to me. Perhaps, he's injured somewhere, recovering, trying to get back to me. Perhaps, he's repairing the Tiny Bronco. Perhaps, he's on his way now to end this confusion, and make me whole again. Perhaps, he'll come back for me, and take me with him this time, for I would follow him to ends of the earth and beyond if he willed it so.
So I wait for him, for some answer to all this and watch the sky for his return.
- fin