Disclaimer and AN: I do not own Kingdom Hearts characters nor am I making any financial profit by writing this story.
I'm requesting feedback from this story, as a way to improve. When reading, please consider the characterization: does it work, could the characters behave this way? Also, I'd like to know your thoughts about my style as well as the tempo of the text. And basically anything you can give me. Love me, hate me, flame me, flag me. I want to hear it all.
The Bastion Hollows: The Lost Student
Leon had never cared for watching TV. All that was ever on were either cooking shows or reality shows of the most bizarre kinds – he turned his nose up at the titles in the TV guide: Looter's Call,Rate My Ride, Million Dollar Bargains: Los Angeles, Kitchen Dreams from Hell... Who watched this crap, anyway?
He skipped through the channels lazily, just for the heck of it, and was just about to turn the TV off when a title caught his eye.
The Bastion Hollows.
Straightening up on his couch a little, Loan leaned forward slightly. The title sounded like a local show; there was no way the wordplay on his home town's name could have been accidental. He clicked a button to see the program description.
The city of Hollow Bastion holds several local urban legends. Our series looks into the most recent, most perplexing cases of local ghost stories passed down in the city. Episode 8: The Lost Student: the spiriting-away of Cloud Strife.
Cloud Strife, huh? Leon had never heard the name. Nor was he exactly fond of ghost-chasing shows, either. The shows like PsychicDetectives and whatnot were so fake. He swore he had caught a glimpse of the wires moving the "ghost" in front of the camera once. Such bullshit. But this show took place in the city, so he left it on. He had to admit that he was kind of curios, and it wasn't like there was anything better on, anyway.
The show blabbered on about something general about urban legends and how they are born. Something weird happens, there is no logical explanation, people start talking, the talks turn into rumors, so on turning into legends. Leon yawned and looked at the time.
7:36 PM.
It was still a good hour and a half before he had to be getting ready to go to work. He was a bartender at a club called Heartless Angel, so he worked the nights, slept the mornings, and dragged through the afternoons. He was really looking forward to the two-day (night) break ahead of him after this last shift of the week.
The show went on to show a house – nothing out of the ordinary. A simple single-floor house with a nice porch with multiple flower pots on it, and a garage – as the reporter went on babbling about the life and family of this Cloud Strife.
Strife had been 21 years old at the time of his disappearance 15 years ago. He had gone to the Hollow Bastion Academy of Arts and Sciences, a local private university, and it seemed like he had been living with his mother at the time; no siblings, presumably deceased father. But as a tattered, old yearbook picture of a young man was displayed on the screen, Leon's eyebrows rose and a small gasp of surprise left him.
The man was... intriguing.
He had a wild golden blond hair styled into neat spikes. His features were delicate, almost feminine, and Leon swore he didn't notice a single blemish on the peach skin. Dim ocean blue eyes were half-closed and didn't look at the camera. The kid looked dreamy. Kinda odd for a yearbook picture, Leon thought. The kid kinda looked like he was high on something.
The picture was gone as the show went onto a commercial break, and Leon got up from his couch, stretched his arms up, and walked into the kitchen to make some coffee.
As the coffee maker gurgled, Leon found himself lost in thought. He couldn't get his mind off of the kid. Being originally from Radiant Garden, a city about four-hour drive north of Hollow Bastion, he hadn't heard about a man going missing in here in the 90's. Or if he had, it had been reported as minor news and he had most likely ignored it with a shrug. But now that he found out that this sleeping city had had an incident such as this, and maybe more if that stupid show had any truth to it at all, it somewhat excited his curiosity.
He just most likely ran away from home or something, Leon thought, and did a good job at it for not being found. Pro'lly changed his name later. Either that, or he had died and the body had never been found, that much was obvious to Leon. Kids ran away from home all the time, it was no big news. Shrugging, he took a mug from the cupboard and poured himself a cup of tar.
Leon inhaled deeply the scent of fresh coffee and sighed in content. He enjoyed his coffee dark and strong. Snatching a cookie, he ventured back to the living room where the show was back on from the break. He slumped back onto the couch, the humongous cookie in his mouth.
The screen again showed the picture of the house the Strife family had been living in. The neighborhood didn't look familiar to Leon.
"... the passing away of Mr. Julian Strife left the family in mourning," the reporter assured in grave voice. A woman came into view; the name tag at the bottom right corner of the screen informed the viewer that this was Mrs. Strife, presumably the widow of Julian Strife's and the mother of the kid who had gone missing.
"How would you describe your late husband, Mrs. Strife?"
An incredulous look flashed on her face before she replied in a sulky voice, "A wonderful husband and a loving father."
"How long were you married?"
"... 27 years."
"Did you ever think he had any peculiarities about him?"
"No."
The woman seemed reluctant to give the interviewer anything, and Leon was forced to think why would she agree to do an interview in person, anyway, if she was so against it. They could have easily just hired an actress, changed the name into something nonexistent and scripted a teary memorial sequence for the "loss of the dear departed Julian".
That's why Leon laughed out loud at the interviewer's next question. It seemed so scripted it wasn't even funny anymore:
"What about his widely-known fascination with the supernatural? Do you think that could have had anything to do with your son's disappearance?"
Mrs. Strife looked like she had been slapped with a fish. "No. Nothing. There was never such an influence."
"So you mean that your son's disappearance probably doesn't relate to your husband's interest?"
"No. Absolutely not. Julian never had an interest in ghost-stories."
"Never?"
"No."
Leon chuckled out loud at the sheer despise blazing in her eyes. Why had she gone along with this in the first place? The director should have hired an actress in the first place; the real Strife's reactions were far too serious to be convincing to the plot.
He was snapped out of it by the vibration against his thigh. Blinking, he gulped down the rest of the cookie crumbles in his mouth and fished out his phone. Seeing who it was, his brows furrowed a little as he picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hi man! Is this a bad time?" sounded his colleague and boss Axel's carefree voice.
"Not really," Leon muttered. "What's up?"
"I, uh... I kinda hafta ask you something. Could you come in early today? Rox's gone down with a fever, and I need help with opening the place."
Leon glanced at the TV absent-mindedly. Now the camera was on a geezer in a police uniform.
"Whatever. I'll be there in 30."
A grin in Axel's voice was audible, "Thanks, man! You're the best!"
Leon snorted and replied, "I know, right? Later!"
He hung up before Axel had time to reply. He knew the guy was used to that, had to be by now. He'd been working in Heartless Angel since the place had been established three years ago, so he figured the redhead knew his deal.
The man greedily slurped down the rest of his coffee, got off the couch and stretched his arms above his head again. Then he headed to his bedroom and went straight for the closet. He pulled out a clean plain black dress shirt for work, a new pair of boxers and dress pants. He wasted no time in pulling his home-slouching t-shirt over his head and dropped it unceremoniously. Similarly, he quickly stripped his dark gray sweatpants along with his boxers and smashed them into the laundry basket.
A small chill went down his spine as the cool air ravaged his exposed skin, and he hastily went for his clean pair of underwear.
"Shit, it's cold in here..." he muttered as his teeth chattered a little. Shivering slightly, he quickly dressed.
Glancing into the mirror, Leon made a mental note to shave before leaving – the 5 o'clock stubble just wasn't his thing. Then he rushed into the bathroom and took his toothbrush out of the small cupboard above the sink. He started brushing with a bit too much strength – a bad habit his dentist kept nagging him about – and glanced at his watch. 8:03.
As he brushed his teeth, he studied his reflection carefully. As usual, his gaze rested on the lengthy scar across his face he had "earned" himself in his late teens. It had been a motorcycle accident, one of which Leon had been lucky to escape with his life. A speeder had ran him over in the lights. Inadvertently Leon shuddered as a vivid remembrance of the incident crept into his mind. He remembered a sudden pain. Honking. Screaming. Then nothing. He woke up in a hospital the next day.
The doctors had said that he was lucky to survive with as little as a scar and a light concussion. However, the fact that he could have died had seemed miniscule at the time. To Leon, the scar had been a small scale end of the world. At first he had been disgusted by it, abhorred by his reflection. He had thought the world would hate him for the mar on his face; his friends would look at him in disgust and abandon him; he couldn't even face himself. For nearly two months he had refused to look into a mirror. Just seeing it had brought back the painful memory in excruciating detail. Accepting it had been tough.
But he had. And his friends hadn't abandoned him. If anything, they appreciated him even more than ever, knowing that he could have been a goner. It still bothered him occasionally when people would start whispering about it, pointing fingers at him like he was some creep, but he got used to it. His friends and workmates hardly paid attention to it, or if they did, they made sure to bring it up as a positive thing instead. In a way, Leon had started feeling almost proud about it.
He had cheated Death. The scar was a proof: he had lived. And he had learned to appreciate it.
Smiling a little, he finished with his teeth, spat out the excess paste and rinsed. Next he grabbed his shaving equipment and begun working on his face.
Then something caught his attention.
The faucet had been dripping. But to Leon, it had seemed, if only for an instant, like the water droplet had risen upwards, from the sink back into the faucet. Initial panic gripped his stomach, his attention now entirely fixed on the sink, he could feel – heck, hear – his heart rate increasing. With hawk's eyes he observed each painstakingly slow droplet as they fell from the faucet onto the porcelain below.
From the faucet. Onto the porcelain. Not the other way around.
The blood thumped in Leon's ears as he for another moment stared at the water questioningly. Then reason won, and he tore his eyes away, shaking his head and finally releasing the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
He had just made a complete idiot of himself. Getting all worked up over simply thinking that he saw something he obviously couldn't have. Irritated at himself, he grit his teeth, gripped his shaver tighter and went on with it. He had work to go to.
Heartless Angel was a 20-minute buss drive away. Leon didn't own a car, so he usually took the public transit to work whenever Axel or some other colleague of his didn't pick him up. He sat on the first seat in silence, quietly gazing out of the buss's window.
"Hey... Scarface!" came an obnoxious voice from the seat on the opposite side of the aisle. A group of teenagers had gotten onto the buss a few stops back. Leon had glanced at their direction as he had felt eyes upon him, and noticed that the gansta wannabes were smirking at him wickedly before taking a seat across the aisle. He'd heard them whispering and giggling amongst themselves constantly, and he was pretty confident he knew about what.
He ignored the insult completely. He'd gotten used to it. He didn't as much as blink as the teens kept on giggling at him.
Not until a crumpled piece of paper hit his cheek. He instinctively blinked his eyes in surprise, earning himself more snorting from the kids.
"Hey, Scarface! Didn't you catch the memo, man? Pacino's Out!" the boy guffawed at his own joke, his posse accompanying him. Leon briefly turned his eyes to the paper crumb, refusing the urge to fold it open. Much to the gansta's dismay, he turned his gaze back to the outside calmly, without sparing them as much as a glance.
The trouble-maker grit his teeth in irritation at the brunet's complete dismissal, and raised his voice as he bawled, "Hey! Whatcha looking, man? Your coke?" He stomped across the aisle to stand right in front of Leon.
That ticked him. It wasn't that much the kid's annoying attitude as that he was seriously violating Leon's personal space. His eyes were like icicles as he turned to eye the other and growled in dangerously low voice,
"Why, you want some?"
Whatever the punk had been expecting, it hadn't been this. He was visibly taken aback by the brunet's freezing eyes and his menacing tone. The anger flashed in his eyes as he retorted,
"You think you're a tough guy, huh?! There won't be a tooth left of you once I'm done–"
The kid was cut off abruptly. Leon had suddenly stood up to face him, him being about a head taller than the punk. The brunet's stormy eyes had narrowed dangerously as he gazed at the kid in silent fury. The punk gasped quietly and took an unconscious step back.
"Move." Leon's voice was low and menacing. Although he didn't like it, the brat had really gotten under his skin. He was fuming, and refused the urge to punch the kid's teeth down his throat. He didn't need the mess it would get him into.
"Yo-you think I'm afraid of you, Scarface?!" the punk's voice faltered, the edge of it long gone.
"Whatever. Back off," Leon growled, taking a tentative step forward. The teen moved instantly. In a while, he hissed vehemently but slowly creeped back onto his seat, glaring at Leon. He stared back without even blinking for a few moments, then reached out to press the Stop button. He never took his eyes away from the obnoxious kid as he felt the buss slow down and finally pull to a complete stop. Still fuming, he stomped out of the buss as soon as the hydraulic hissing indicated the opening of the door.
His hands tucked as deep into the pockets of his leather jacket as possible, he sulkily trotted towards his workplace. He was still annoyed – both at the little fucker as well as himself for getting so ticked off over an obnoxious brat. As he reached the building, he turned the corner sharply to reach the staff door in the alleyway. Grunting, he jerked the door open with too much force.
The familiar mixture of alcohol and sweat greeted him as he went on to shrug his jacket off and take out his valuables – his keys, credit and buss cards, and his phone – and stuffed them into his pockets. The jacket he hung onto the coat hanger by the door. When he had started, Axel had offered him a locker, but he had refused it. Locker or no locker, he'd have still kept his stuff on himself while working, so he saw no point in it.
Leon pulled his long hair into a customary ponytail – an unfortunate necessity – straightened his shirt, and took a quick glance at the mirror. Satisfied, he nodded to himself and stepped through the staff door to the bar.
Axel was behind the counter, cutting up limes. He raised his emerald eyes at the sound of the door and grinned as he saw the man slowly walking towards him.
"Hey man, thanks for coming in early!" Axel grinned happily as he went back to murdering the fruit.
Leon shrugged silently as he too stepped behind the counter and started checking that all the beer kegs were sufficiently full. Done, he wordlessly took out an extra knife and started helping slicing the citrus. They worked in silence for quite a while.
Axel was the first to burst. "So, what's up? Everything alright? You seem kinda tense."
Not feeling like talking, he simple growled something in response and shrugged. Axel, being used to the brunet's secretive nature, and also knowing better than to pressure him, simply grinned as he snorted, "Had a rought day or something?" All he earned as a reply was another shrug.
Until Leon suddenly said,
"Hey Ax... You've been living here for your whole life, right?"
Axel's eyebrows rose as he glanced at the brunet questioningly. "Yeah, what of it?"
Leon took a moment to speak again. "I saw this stupid TV show today, called 'The Bastion Hollows' or something. You know it?" Axel shook his head wordlessly, his mane of fire swishing. "Anyway, does the name Cloud Strife say anything to you?"
"Strife..." Axel's eyes drooped in thought as he mused the name on his tongue. "Nope, doesn't ring a bell. … Wait a sec. It might have been the name of that Academy guy who went missing years ago. Yeah, actually, I think the name was Strife."
"So you know him?"
"Well, no, not really. I mean, it was in the 90's, man. I was in middle school, I didn't know anyone from the uni. I just remember there being a big fuss. You know, it was all over the news for weeks. There were 'Missing' posters posted all over the city, even in milk cans. Everyone sort of seemed to be on the edge."
Leon hmm'ed and nodded in understanding.
Axel shook his head slightly and continued, "I guess they never found him, right? After a while the whole thing sort of went cold. People forgot or something. I don't really remember." Leon nodded quietly. "Why you ask?" Axel quirked his eyebrow.
Leon shrugged. Yes, why did he? It wasn't exactly like he'd cared. Some guy he didn't know had been missing, probably dead, for 15 years. What was it to Leon? "Just curios, I suppose."
Axel nodded, looking lost.
The night had been fairly busy. For a Sunday, the bar had been crammed, and Leon and the other bartenders had barely had time to take breaks from serving the drunkards with more booze. After multiple politely refused pick-up attempts ("Don't waste your time, ladies. You'd get more cheer out of a broomstick than from him," Axel had smirked as a couple of babes had been begging Leon to join their company after his shift. Leon had kicked him into the shin behind the bar.) and innumerable pints of beer, Leon had finally turned off the washing machine for the day and swept the bar for the last time.
Resting his hands against the counter, he closed his eyes for a breather. He was so ready to go home, go to sleep. Albeit he had regretted not agreeing to spend the night with the women, he now felt that he wouldn't have had the energy for any "activities" the ladies probably had had in mind, anyway. He felt like crashing, and he felt like crashing now!
He pushed himself off the counter and yawned lightly as he strolled towards the staff door and into the dressing area. Everybody except for Axel had already left, and the said man was tying up his shoe laces on the bench of the men's locker room.
"You need a ride home again?"
"... Thanks," Leon muttered as he threw his jacket on. He briefly wondered why they repeated this small ritual almost every day. Axel was well aware that his pal (still) didn't own a car and that he (still) was happy to save himself the long walk home after missing the last buss. Yet almost every night he kept offering and Leon kept accepting.
Leon liked his job. What he didn't like as much, though, were the working hours. He knew he should get himself a car, but wasn't sure if he could afford it in the long run. It wasn't like he was struggling; his wage was enough to pay him a decent living. But the car would be costly: it would require maintenance frequently and the gas could end up costing thrice the buss card fee. So he had refused and instead relied on Axel's Taxi whenever they worked a shift together. Which was practically always, given that he wasn't off. And when he was, Leon would just walk back or pay the cab.
"You ready?" Axel's question was rhetorical. Leon had been leaning against the door frame, waiting, for a good few minutes already. The men stepped out in silence, Axel careful to lock the door good before following the silent brunet to the staff parking lot.
Axel had a tuned night-blue 2006 Pontiac GTO with lowered frame and added spoiler in the back. Leon eyed it appreciatively before sliding onto the front seat and closing his eyes. He was much too tired to talk about cars, their most common topic of discussion in addition to work stuff and occasionally women. He just wanted to sleep. Thus he didn't bother looking at the redhead as he hopped in and started up.
Axel put on some music Leon didn't recognize. He forced his eyes open as it became clear there was no point in trying to sleep. Leon resulted to gazing out of the window as the redhead jammed onto the beat, humming along. A couple of times he tried to talk to Leon about something casual, but the brunet's grunts-for-answers hinted him to keep to himself.
The car bathed in the street lamps' light as it swam under their cool glow. Leon's eyes tiredly took in the city lights as they twinkled in the darkness. Hollow Bastion was a pretty city in the night. A few months back Axel and Roxas had taken him to an overlook on the highway that gave a view over the city. It had looked like a gazillion stars on the ground or something. A faint mist had risen over the city, dimming the innumerable lights into a mesmerizing matt of beauty. It had been breath-taking.
Suddenly, Leon's breath indeed caught into his throat as he recognized a shape in the darkness. His eyes widened and he was wide awake in an instant. Under a street light stood a figure. Leon only saw him for a couple of seconds, but the first thing that caught his attention was the golden glow. The he perceived the outline of a young man that seemed somehow familiar to him. He practically jumped on his seat as a strangled gasp escaped him when he found himself looking at the defined hair spikes, delicate features, deep ocean blue eyes of Cloud Strife.
"What the fuck...?!" Leon suddenly slammed against the car window and tried to pry into the darkness, but he couldn't see the figure any more.
"Yo! What gives, Leon?! Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack, man!" Axel's irritated nagging fell on deaf ears. "What are you doing?"
"I... thought I saw someone." Leon sounded confused.
"A friend of yours? Do you want me to turn back, ask if they need a ride?" Axel asked as he already cut the gas.
"Nah..." Leon shook his head. "Couldn't have been who I thought it was, anyway. Let's just go."
Axel looked puzzled for a second, then chuckled. "Whatever you say, man."
"That's my line."
"I know, right?" Leon punched him friendly and grinned.
Leon brushed his work clothes off of him the instant he closed the door behind him. His jacket was shrugged off and drop onto the hallway floor, his shirt flung onto his drawer. Every other piece of clothing was thrown wherever it happened to land. He fell heavily onto his bed, crawled under the bedsheets and fell asleep almost instantly.
He dreamt of a young man with blond, spiky hair. In the dream, Leon was walking on a street in the downtown. He was following the blond man who was walking a good 15 yards ahead of him. He never turned to look at him. Leon didn't know who he was or why he would want to follow him, but there was something about the strange man that intrigued him. There was a certain sense of righteousness that kept him moving.
The man led him through the downtown, never once looking at him. It was like he just knew Leon was still behind him. They walked by a public playground, a track field, the Hollow Bastion elementary school. A few times Leon decided that this was ridiculous and was already about to turn to leave, but a tug in his heart insisted on him continuing. He couldn't explain the feeling nor could he understand it, but it was like something important would have disappeared had he not followed him. He was obviously being led to somewhere, and shrugging Leon decided to go with it.
Leon didn't know when they had arrived at a park. He recognized the place: it was a public park on the university grounds. And he was being led along a park walkway edged with oak trees that ran around a pond. Suddenly, however, his guide turned off of the walkway and headed for the bushes.
He wasn't sure what to think when the man passed through the bushes seemingly without even touching them. Although he had had the hunch his strange guide was more on the spirit side, seeing him pass through the bushes sent an ill feeling into his gut. Nevertheless, he followed him, although keeping more distance to the blond.
The bushes seemed to grow thicker the further they walked, and Leon was getting seriously creeped out. As he glanced behind, he could only barely make out the university buildings amongst the thick woods. No matter what, he wouldn't take another step.
It seemed like he didn't have to. The blond man stopped the moment he did, but he still didn't turn to look at him. A bit freaked out, Leon tried to talk to him in a deep voice,
"Uh, hello?" No answer.
"...Who are you? Why did you bring me here? What do you want?" Still nothing, and Leon was getting irritated. Fuck this shit, he thought and turned to leave. But a voice stopped him dead on his tracks.
"Wait..." The voice had been deep, deeper than he had expected. Leon's gaze snapped back to the blond, who had finally turned around.
Leon's eyes widened as he realized he was definitely looking at the same young man he had seen in the TV. The golden blond spikes; the feminine features; the eyes that didn't look at him. His heart thumped harder and he took in a couple of deep breaths before speaking,
"... You're the kid who disappeared, right? Are you... Cloud Strife?" The younger man nodded silently, and Leon wasn't sure whether he was happy to know whom he was addressing or seriously freaked out. He was quite a bit of both. His heart thumped in his chest and his breathing had quickened.
"Is... this real?" No answer.
"Why am I dreaming about you? … What do you want?" Leon demanded in a voice he could still hold somewhat firm.
The apparition didn't answer nor did it look directly at Leon. It just... stood there, much to Leon's confusion. In his subconscious mind, he knew he was dreaming this. This couldn't possible be happening. He was discussing with the obvious ghost of some long gone kid he didn't even know, with the exception that there actually was hardly any discussion. Or interaction of any kind. Odd as it may be, he had expected his first encounter with a spirit to be a little more... dramatic. Seeing the motionless form of the blond simply gazing at nothing – not hovering, not rattling chains, not doing any of that ghost stuff – left Leon clueless.
Not knowing what else to do, he asked, "Why have you brought me here? What do you want from me?"
At that, the blond finally turned to look at him. Leon's breath hitched as he took in the miserable expression on the man's face. Melancholy that wasn't his own washed over Leon as he kept staring at the sorrowful eyes. He looked so sad.
Leon woke up with a gasp as he sat up on his bed. His forehead glimmered with cold sweat and his heart beat heavily. His breathing came in pants. "What the fuck was that...?" he muttered as he wiped his forehead with the blanket sheet.
As Leon merely sat there, fisting his sheets and trying to get his mind off of the dream, his breathing slowly got even as did his heart rate. He took in another deep breath before groaning reached out to pick his alarm clock up from the night table to look at the time. A mild cuss escaped under his breath as he read the ungodly time of 7:45. "Nice..." he groaned, pissed off.
Leon was that type of person who didn't get back to sleep once they're up. Albeit he did try to lay back down in hopes of getting more rest, sleep effectively avoided him, and after half and hour or so he begrudgingly surrendered to his fate, kicked off the bedsheets and got up. He stretched his arms up and bent to his sides, then briefly grabbed his ankles to stretch the legs. Feeling the refreshed blood flow, he went to grab his towel, wrapped it around his waist and dragged himself into the shower.
Once he was done, he briefly run the towel through his hair to get the excess water off, then wrapped it loosely around his waist, and went to make some breakfast. As the coffee maker gurgled, he massaged his eyes gently. This was no time to get up! "Thanks a bunch..." he muttered at nobody.
His mind went back to the dream he had had just before he woke up. The details had escaped him, all he remembered was that weird kid from the TV show... Strife... and the unexplainable feeling of horrified sorrow as he woke up.
What the hell was that about? he thought. He wasn't usually scared easily and seldom had nightmares. But for some reason this one he couldn't get out of his head. It seemed like all his trains of thought somehow seemed to return back to the unknown man and the sad expression he had worn on his face.
"Whatever..." Leon tried to shake the blond hair out of his mind by clicking the ABC Newscast app on his phone and going through some of the more interesting news headlines. But sooner than later he found himself standing stupidly the phone in his hand and thinking about the blue eyes. He shook his head in irritation at himself before went to pour his morning tar.
OK, so he was apparently semi-interested about this kid's disappearance. So what? It wasn't like anything much was usually going on in this Sleepy Hollow, so an unsolved incident from years back had caught his attention. Leon had to admit, since Axel remembered the case, it couldn't have been all bogus. Maybe he should watch the rest of the episode to know what had happened. That would put his mind to rest. So Leon clicked open an Internet search, punched in the name of the series and clicked a matching video.
He let the show run on the background as Leon went to peel an apple and make himself some cereal. The unconvincing reporter again blabbered over the creation of an urban legend. It wasn't until he started going into details about the Cloud Strife case that he truly paid attention to the program.
Yeah, Strife had been a 21-year-old university student who had disappeared 15 years ago. He had been last seen November 2, 1995. Since then, nothing. Not a phone call, not a body found, nothing. He had vanished.
He had been pronounced dead 18 months later since the investigation had lead to nothing. The camera flashed over an erected tomb stone with the kid's name on it, and Leon couldn't help but wonder what exactly had they buried.
Leon almost swallowed his coffee the wrong way as an all too familiar scenery was suddenly displayed on the screen. He recognized the university park walkway and the bushes from his dream. Sunlight speckled the concrete pavement as it was filtered through the oak trees as the camera shifted along the path. The reporter informed Leon that this had been the place where the young man was last seen. After that, no-one knew what had happened to him.
The investigation had centered around the campus on the grounds of the witnesses' statements. Every inch of the campus area, including the woods, had been turned upside down and scanned over with dogs. Nothing. As the leads grew cold, so did the case.
It took Leon a moment to realize his hand reaching for his mug had frozen halfway, and his eyes were glued onto the screen. He was seriously shaken. It had been the exact same parkway he had dreamt, he was sure of it. But how?! There was no way he could have possibly known where the kid had been last seen, right? Right?!
Ok, sure. Maybe he had read something from a newspaper as a kid, and his subconscious had fished out that tiny little detail he thought he had forgotten and supplied his dream with that piece of information. But it seemed pretty far-fetched even to Leon himself. But then how? How could he have possibly known about the walkway?
The show went on blabbering about other similar unsolved cases around the country and how they were similar to or different from the Strife incident, but Leon didn't pay attention. The cold sweat had risen to glisten his skin again as he involuntarily recalled his dream. The oak trees, the exact same spot where the blond man had suddenly turned to head into the bushes. This didn't make sense, it was absolutely insane. He tried to convince himself that it had simply been a coincidence. A pretty goddamn weird coincidence but one nonetheless. He didn't know Strife, he had never even heard about him until yesterday, and he definitely didn't have anything to do with his disappearance. It was all in his head, probably stress or something. He had dreamt vividly lately; must be work fatigue or something. Forcing himself to stop the shivers that had run down his spine, Leon made a mental note to ask Axel for a week off. It seemed like he needed a break.
Against his better judgment, however, he didn't turn the show off. He let it play on the background again as he quietly went to wash his dishes, then to do his morning routines (10 pull-ups; 50 sit-ups; 20 push-ups; quick stretching). The show didn't really offer him any new information. It now mainly focused on comparing Strife's disappearance to another similar case, where a woman in her 40's had disappeared without a trace. As the episode came to its end, the show once again repeated the little what was known about Cloud Strife: 21 years old, student, body or other leads never found. Considered dead for 13 years. As the end theme started to play, Leon relaxed his body to lay on the floor and idly gazed at the ceiling.
"What in the name of...?" he murmured quietly. He felt lost. A hollowness that wasn't like him seemed to loom over him, and he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. He couldn't believe the dream had got to him that much, he was no little kid. Shaking his head, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself, then got up and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
He was in sour mood as the brush scraped against his teeth. He was tired and pissed off, not to mention the weird gloom he couldn't quite place.
Fuck this, he thought. Just... fuck it. He needed to get some fresh air. So as soon as he was done with his teeth, he went to his cupboard to retrieve some underwear, a clean pair of sweatpants and a new t-shirt. He quickly dressed and pulled on his running shoes. Checking that he had his keys, he was out of the door in a flash.
Leon ran along the neighborhood streets, down one, then another, not caring where he was going. He focused on breathing steadily as his feet stomped the ground in a fast rhythm. One, two, one, two, one, two...
Leon took a turn towards the track field, but as he reached it, he didn't stop there. Instead, he let his feet take him further down the street. As he passed the elementary school, the alarms started going off in his head. Was he sure he wanted to venture that way? Wasn't this exactly what he had wanted to get his mind out of in the first place? As Leon neared the university campus, his curiosity got the best of him. He boldly crossed the street to enter the park walkway, slowed his pace down as he continued to jog along the path.
The park was carefully taken care of; he could see a couple of gardeners pulling out weeds from a flower bed amongst the trees. The morning sun shone through the tree trunks, not yet high enough to feel too hot. Leon inhaled greedily; floral scents and the crisp freshness of the woods enticed his senses. It was truly a beautiful morning. Despite where he was, Leon's mood got better on every step he took along the park path.
He slowed his jog down into agile walking as he neared the university buildings. And the oak-edged walkway that circled the pond. Now that he was here, he couldn't comprehend why he hadn't wanted to come this way all along. This was thrilling! His curiosity quickly turned into impatience as he neared the place where Cloud Strife was supposedly last seen. He nearly rushed around the last corner.
A number of students paced along the walkway. None of them paid heed to Leon as he walked briskly. Leon's eyes narrowed into scrutinizing slits as he came closer and closer to the place he had been led to in his dream. He had to force himself to keep from panting as his heart rate accelerated with the adrenaline flow.
.
.
.
Leon didn't know what he had been expecting, but clearly had forgot about "nothing". As he now stood by the spot the men had left the walkway in his dream, panting lightly, he felt mainly stupid. Disappointed, too. His eyes gazed at the carefully trimmed bushes in search of... what exactly? What did he think he'd find out by coming here? Had he somehow expected that Strife would have been there waiting for him or something? Or that there would have been some unearthly, ghostly residue left on where he went through the leaves? Footprints, what? What had he wanted to discover?
He was snapped out of it when a small group of giggling female students passed by him, casting appreciative glances in his direction and whispering conspiratorially. God, he must have looked like an idiot, standing there like a retard, staring at bushes. He quickly tried to mask his screw-up by pulling a leg into a stretch, but his mind screamed, Nice going, blockhead!
Irritated at himself for fuzzing over nothing, he dropped his leg back down, shook it to relax the muscle a little, and started jogging again. What had made him come here in the first place, he didn't know, but apparently it'd been good-for-nothing. There was simply no way his weird dream would have had anything to do with the disappearance of the kid. He'd just dreamt vividly, that's all. He didn't believe in ghosts, and wasn't planning on starting to. Pissed off at himself, he rushed along the shadowy parkways and pedestrian sidewalks until he reached the track field again. He ran for five more miles before he allowed himself rest.
"Order 68!" called out the waitress. She was wearing a salmon red waitress's dress, and her wavy dark-blond hair had been combed into a high ponytail. Her usual pink ribbon was tied into a neat bow.
Leon rose up from the seat casually. He had come to have a take-out lunch at his favored diner. He liked the classical interior decoration that mimicked the 50's spirit, but the core reason why Leon preferred the place was that they served the lunch menu all day. Waking up at irregular hours of the afternoon, a late lunch was a nice alternative to risking to burn his place up by trying to cook himself. Plus, he knew the staff.
"Mine." He walked closer to the pick-up counter, noting how the waitress's eyes lit up and a soft smirk settled onto her face.
"Here you go, sir. Thank you and welcome again!" she sang at him. Leon rolled his eyes.
"Honestly, Aerith, I think you can cut the formalities with me," he smirked.
The woman raised a hand to cover her mouth as she giggled. "Sorry, Leon. It's a second nature."
"Whatever." He shrugged and shook his head at her.
"So, how've you been?" Aerith asked and leaned her elbows against the counter after making sure no customers were around. Leon didn't answer, merely shrugged. She giggled and added, "That bad, huh?" Leon gave her a look.
"Just kidding!" she smiled apologetically, and Leon's expression softened. "But you haven't been around lately. Busy working?"
Leon shrugged again. "Same old, I suppose." He pondered about it for a second before adding, "Am definitely gonna take a break, though."
Aerith's eyebrows rose a little. "Oh? How come?" All she received as an answer was another shrug, so she went on instead. "Oh, I wish I could afford to take some time off, too! I'd love to travel around a little, you know. Maybe go to Florida or something." Her expression was dreamy.
Leon didn't have time to say anything before the diner's doorbell chimed and in stepped a family of three. Aerith cast a sorry-but-I've-gotta-go look at him and shrugged apologetically.
And at that she was gone. Leon stared in awe at her retreating back as she went to greet the new customers and directed them into a booth. He snorted lightly, took the brown paper bag that contained his lunch and left without another word.
.
.
.
The greasy smell of meatloaf and mashed potatoes lingered in Leon's kitchen as he devoured his lunch. He was reading a motorcycle magazine as he ate, only stopping to flip the page.
Leon's kitchen was small and modestly decorated. He had a small table and four chairs by the kitchen window, and only a small sink and little counter top by his stove. The fridge sat in the corner of the room.
It wasn't exactly suitable for hosting parties, but Leon enjoyed it. He only seldom invited people over, anyway, and if he did, it was only a few people. If they didn't feel like sitting in the kitchen, they went to the living room, end of story. Leon had never been one to cook, so he didn't spend any more time in the kitchen than was necessary. If some of his guests minded, well, too bad.
He was skimming through an article that rated some spare parts, mainly for tuning bikes, and stuffed another forkful of potato mash into his mouth. Suddenly, a chilly breeze tickled his neck and ran down his spine. He shivered a little but didn't raise his eyes from the article. He didn't think anything of it, considering it a draft.
But his chest grew cold and the hair in his arms stood as he felt eyes on him. It was like a sixth sense, an uncomfortable feeling that you're being watched. His heart skipped a beat and color drained from his face as he very slowly raised his head and glanced behind.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Leon jumped about a foot; his scream was terrified. His chair was knocked over; whatever was left of his meal splashed onto the table. Eyes wide, he staggered backwards blindly until, much to his dismay, his back smashed against the fridge. He pressed his back against the wall so hard he would have probably gladly gone through it. His breathing came in panicked, shuddering gasps.
The golden man's beyond disturbing form stood at his kitchen door. Leon's voice caught in his throat in horror, emitting only mindless whimpering. His heart beat so fast he feared it would explode and he didn't dare to even breathe.
This isn't possible, Leon's mind tried to reason. This simply isn't happening. You're dreaming, Leon, just like last night, remember? You must have fallen asleep after you came home. This is just a dream... Just a dream...
Leon wasn't convinced. On the contrary, he became very certain this was in fact very real and that something very bad was going to happen very, very soon if he didn't get out of here when the hollow voice of the blond man spoke,
"... me."
What?
"... come to me."
Gaping, Leon took in the form – indeed a form, he noted. Not a spirit but definitely a form – by the door, and was convinced that he had to get. The fuck. Out. Now!
The younger man didn't even blink as Leon went to snatch a kitchen knife from its stand and held it protectively in front of him. It wasn't much, but Leon figured it was better than nothing. His heart raced as an insane idea formulated in his head.
"... come to me." The apparition took a small step closer, its hand slightly risen to reach for and its unblinking eyes fixed on Leon.
Leon could feel his entire body tremble; he was scared shitless. Nevertheless, from behind his clenched teeth, he managed to growl:
"Get the hell away from me!"
Leon gasped lightly as, to his great surprise, the apparition seemed to obey. It backed away about a step or so and its hand dropped to its side. Why, Leon didn't care; he saw his opening.
He hesitated a split second before he crossed the small room in a few giant leaps, and went to rush by the horrific sight. He was through the door in a heartbeat. He failed to notice the small turn of a blond head as the young man was left to gaze after him.
Leon didn't turn to look behind him as he flew across his apartment. He threw the door open with enough strength to make the hinges whine, and slammed it shut behind him. It faintly occurred to him that he had just locked himself out, but at the moment it didn't matter. He wasn't exactly keen on getting back any time soon. Panting like crazy, he sprinted onto the front lawn before he dared to slow his steps and turn to look around.
There was no-one there. A glance down, and he remembered he still clutched the knife so hard his knuckles turned white. With a guttural grunt he threw it onto the ground before slumping down on all fours, trying to soothes his wrecked nerves.
"What the fuck...? What in the flying fuck was that?!" he murmured to himself in between his slowly evening pants. His heart beat feverishly, but it was also calming down.
"What the hell is going on?" he yelled out as his right hand dug into the grass. "Why is this happening to me?!" His knees caved in and he slumped to sit on his knees. His head hung low, his eyes were on the ground.
He felt dull; a thick veil of mist had covered his mind. All he could think of was 'why?'. Why him? Why did this have to happen to him? What was happening to him? Leon didn't know. He didn't understand. He didn't know what to think, what to believe. It was impossible for Leon to really wrap his mind around the fact that a dead man had been just watching him, in his home.
It was absurd! He didn't believe in ghosts but... apparently this one believed in him. As Leon's pants soothed into normal although labored breathing, something occurred to him.
This whole mess had started when he had watched that stupid show on TV.
His temper flared, and he wished the entire show, its whole production team, even the whole goddamn channel into the deepest pits of hell. But still, Leon thought, and thinking actually made his head hurt, still nothing had really happened. This had been the third time he had seen the spirit of the Strife kid now, and albeit this time had been significantly creepier than those earlier incidents combined... Leon's eyes widened at the revelation:
The ghost had really done nothing to him.
All it did, all it ever did, was simply stand on the spot and stare. Stare with those deep blue eyes that, for whatever reason, seemed to hold in them all the sadness of the world. But now, Leon's heart skipped a beat, it had also... spoken. Leon was certain it had said "come to me".
Like hell he would. It was perplexing. What the hell did that... thing want from him?! Leon didn't even know him, and now for whatever reason he was stuck with this persistent, personal poltergeist.
Leon brought a hand to his face. He felt lost. The thought about returning into the house made him shiver, but what other choice did he have? He was sick and tired of this – he just wanted to get his life back!
His legs like jello, Leon picked the knife up again, got back to his feet and carefully started to wobble towards the door. He remembered he didn't have the key, but he tried the handle anyway, and was only semi-surprised when it clicked favorably, and the door cracked open. His breath hitched as he pushed the door open silently, and listened.
Nothing.
Carefully he opened the door up all the way and took a tentative step inside. He refused the urge to call a hello.
Gaining a bit more confidence, Leon stepped inside but left the door ajar. He felt his heart rate rise again as he stepped further into the house. His palm around the knife had gotten sweaty.
Extremely carefully Leon tiptoed further down the aisle, listening to any sounds and scanning for any indication of movement. As he neared the kitchen, his breath caught into his throat and eyes narrowed into slits. He was scared, but also curios. Fearing what he might see, he ever so carefully inched closer to the kitchen door, and peeked inside.
There was no sign of the blond man. Gone. The room laid in the mess he had made, but otherwise it seemed like nothing had happened. Leon blinked a couple of times and released a relieved breath.
He smacked the knife onto the kitchen counter and let his hand drop. Still a bit shaken, he slowly went to turn up the chair he had knocked over and slumped down. Resting his elbows onto the table – screw the mess – he buried his face into his hands.
What the hell was going on? He wasn't imagining this, was he? Why was this happening to him: the apparently restless spirit of a complete stranger tormenting him? And what had it meant by saying that Leon should "come to him"? No way! Leon might have been a bit easily led at times when he bet on something, but this went way beyond! Being easily led and being suicidal were two very different points of the same continuum.
Leon's jaw clenched angrily. Dammit, why him?! Why, what did that thing want from him? He didn't understand. But–, he raised his head as an idea came to him, – there was someone who might.
.
.
.
Leon scanned through the telephone book, hoping to god that he'd find what he was looking for. As he spotted the name and the number, he gasped lightly in relief. He grabbed the phone and was already about to punch in the number when he hesitated.
Was he really doing this? He bit his teeth in irritation. But not knowing what else to do, he swallowed his pride and dialed the number.
A couple of rings, then a gentle, polite,
"Hello?"
"How do you do, ma'am. My name is Squall Leonhart. Am I addressing Ms. Katherine Strife?" Leon spoke as politely as possible, calmly and with a deep voice.
"Speaking."
"Ms. Strife, this is probably going to sound intrusive but..." he paused to reconsider for half a second, "I'd like to talk about your son."
Leon caught the faint gasp at the other end of the line. The woman drew a couple of breaths before speaking, and when she did, the warmth and cheeriness had disappeared from her voice. It sounded pissed.
"I'm not giving any more interviews. I thought I'd made myself clear. Don't call here again. Good–"
"Ms. Strife, please!" Leon cut in with a hint of desperation. "I'm not a reporter, I'm not asking for an interview." He heard a quiet "oh" from the woman.
"Then who are you? How do you know my son?"
"I..." Don't say it, Leon. Don't make this awkward. "I don't." And there we go. Nice going, Leon. He could practically hear the woman's eyebrow raise.
"Then what do you want?"
"This is probably going sound crazy, ma'am, but... I think your son is haunting me."
Leon got off the buss at the stop the woman had instructed him. The woman lived practically at the other side of the city. He'd come by three buses. She had said he just needed to walk down the street from the buss stop. And soon enough, Leon saw the familiar-looking house.
It looked different from the program footage, though. It had been painted lighter since filming the episode, and the number of flower plants had about tripled. This woman's really big into gardening, Leon thought as he eyed all the flower beds and pots neatly situated onto the spacious front yard. A vine almost covered the left side of the wide porch where a swing hung from the ceiling by chains, and two humongous flower installments with tall reedy plants were situated on both sides of the stairs leading onto the porch.
Leon gulped. Was he sure he wanted to do this? No, but he hadn't traveled for 75 minutes for nothing. So he shrugged and with determined steps walked onto the porch and rang the doorbell.
The door was opened, and Katherine Strife's small smiled greeted him. She looked different from the show: calmer, and clearly more composed. Her graying ash-blonde hair was tied into a strict bun, and the eyes were gentle but alert. The woman was wearing a casual peach-colored dress with a light white shawl hanging loosely around her shoulders. All the jewelry she was wearing was a wedding ring.
Leon cleared his throat and bowed a little, "Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm Squall Leonhart. I called earlier."
She stepped further out of the door and her eyes shone as she spoke. "I know who you are, Mr. Leonhart. Please, have a seat." The woman gestured towards the swing and a small coffee table set set onto the porch.
"Thank you, ma'am. But please, call me Leon."
"And it's Katherine to you, dear," the woman smiled, dispensing with formalities. "Would you like anything to drink? Coffee or tea?" she had already turned to leave.
"Coffee, please, if it's not too much trouble," Leon agreed as he took a seat in the swing. The woman nodded quietly before disappearing back inside. While she bustled, Leon took a moment to look at the plantings. She really had worked hard on those. Leon didn't know much about gardening, but he could tell that each plant's placing had been carefully planned, and the flowers were taken good care of: they looked lush and inviting. Leon relaxed against the swing as the sweet scent teased his nose.
Katherine came back in about ten minutes with a tray with two coffee cups, milk and sugar, and some biscuits. She gestured for Leon to dig in, which he complied with a small nod. Neither of them said anything as they both sipped their drinks – Leon had his black, the lady had put some sugar in hers – in awkward silence for a moment.
It wasn't until after a moment that Leon felt eyes on him again, and he turned to look at the lady. His eyes widened a little in surprise as he noticed her gazing at him with unseeing eyes. She gazed at his direction, but it was like she had looked straight through Leon. She snapped out of it, though, as she soon realized Leon was observing her, and as she did, Leon noticed that there was moisture in her eyes.
She went to wipe them quickly.
"I'm sorry, dear..." she spoke in sensitive voice. "It's just that... all this now... It just reminds me of my son." She flashed Leon a sorrowful smile, and he could tell her eyes were still wet. "You just reminded me of him so much. He was about your age when he..." Her voice faded away.
"When he disappeared?" Leon offered to end her sentence, and she nodded with a sniffle.
Something occurred to Leon at that moment. Her son – her only son – had disappeared without a trace. For 15 years she hadn't known what had happened to him. He realized the woman probably hadn't been able to process it, to handle her grief. Maybe she'd never been able to let go and move on because of it.
"I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am, uh, Katherine." Leon didn't know if his words had any meaning for her, but he felt like he had to say that. He felt honestly sorry for her. Being unable to know if her son was even dead or alive had surely not been easy. Not knowing is the worst. You can process loss and grief. But you can't work with not knowing.
She sniffled again and nodded with a sad smile still on her lips. "Thank you."
Leon wondered if he should say this or not, but said it anyway, "I am sorry to tell you, but I believe your son is dead." Most likely has been all this time, he thought but didn't say that out loud.
Katherine sat still silently as what he had said sunk in. Then, she nodded quietly a few times. In front of his eyes, her expression brightened eerily. It was like years suddenly just shed off of her, a shadow was lifted from where it had been looming since the disappearance.
"Thank you."
He had been right. There was sorrow in her voice, but it was overpowered by relief and gratefulness. Maybe she had accepted that her son was never to return, but perhaps she still had needed, yearned for someone to tell her the truth. To release her from her insecurity and to allow her to let go.
There was a long silence. Leon's eyes never left the woman, although she didn't look at him. She needed a moment, Leon knew it, and didn't pressure her, but felt the need to make sure she was alright nonetheless.
She went to reach into her pocket, and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over to Leon. He had a pretty good hunch what it was, and as he took it, he found himself again staring at those wild spikes and flawless complexion. The blond's eyes still didn't look at him.
"You've seen him, haven't you? You've seen my son?" Katherine had turned to look at Leon in the eye. Her tone was melancholic but relieved. Hopeful, almost.
"... Yes," he nearly whispered as he handed the picture back to her.
A spark ignited in her eyes that Leon couldn't place. She lowered her head again as she embraced the picture against her chest. Leon felt his mouth run dry.
There was a hesitating pause before she demanded,
"How is he?"
Leon blinked at the question at first, then understood. He forced a little smile, wishing to god it didn't seem creepy, and said gently,
"He's fine." As a late thought, he added, "He seems content."
It wasn't true – hell, the ghost had to be the most morbid thing Leon had ever known – but he felt like the woman needed to hear it. He supposed a little white lie didn't do any harm.
If anything, it visibly soothed the lady. Her shoulders relaxed, overall posture became less tense and formal. And she smiled a smile of honest happiness.
"I see..." Her tone didn't indicate whether or not she believed him, but it didn't matter. Leon thought it was time to cut to the chase. He cleared his throat a little to get the woman's attention and said,
"But there is something I thought you could help me with. I believe that for some reason he still haunts me. I can't understand why." He held a small pause. "I was hoping that you could tell me something about him? Help me to understand."
She nodded as a sign that she was listening, and Leon continued,
"I want to know why me. I can't see anything that would link me to him. I'm not originally from Hollow Bastion, I just accidentally found out about his disappearance not two days ago. I don't know him, I don't know anything about his life nor do I know what to do." Leon took in a breath and added, "Did he ever cause you any trouble? Or have any difficulties? What was he interested in?"
"Well, I don't know if you knew this, but his father – my late husband – died in 1993." Of course! Leon felt like punching himself for forgetting that, but didn't let it show. "It was very difficult for him. He had... been very close with his father," her voice broke and she sobbed quietly. Leon waited patiently for her to gather herself.
"He was always such a hard-working boy. His father and I were so proud of him. I cannot imagine him giving anyone trouble."
Leon nodded, lost in thought.
"May I ask, what did your husband die of?" She flashed him an incredulous look, and he hastily added, "I was wondering if that could relate to what happened to your son?"
Leon gulped in shame as the woman's now irritated voice spoke in significantly harsher tone,
"Julian died of an acute lung cancer, Mr. Leonhart. It was discovered when the illness had already spread fatally, and it withered him within two months. Whatever you may believe, there was no divine judgment cast upon my husband. Nor my son."
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to... I just wish to know what is happening to me," he muttered as he turned his gaze away in shame.
Her essence softened again and she said gently, "No, I'm sorry, dear. I shouldn't have sounded so rude."
"So then, the rumors about your husband being a into supernatural or something...?"
The woman made a sign of dismissal with her hands. "All rubbish. I suppose you got that from that stupid TV show, didn't you?" She actually chuckled at Leon's expression. "I can't believe I agreed to go with it in the first place..."
"But then... your son..." Leon's sentence faded away into oblivion.
Katherine shrugged lightly and turned to gaze at her plants. "I suppose I'll never know what became of him. But at least now my heart is finally at ease. Thank you." She turned to smile to Leon, who grinned a little in return.
Leon didn't know what to make of it. He hadn't really received any answers yet. A lot of perspective into the person of Cloud Strife, yes, but not a single answer he came here for.
"He's... spoken to me," he said, again turning his head from the woman. "He's asking me to come to him."
The lady didn't say anything, just waited in silence for the man to elaborate.
"I just don't get it. What does he want with me? It seems so arbitrary."
"Well, have you asked him?" Leon snapped his eyes back to the woman at the sound of her tone. She'd been chuckling.
"I... beg your pardon?"
"Have you asked him what he wants? That's the best way to find out, after all," she chuckled. Leon stared at her in confusion. "Leon, dear, you shouldn't ask the dead 'why'. You ought to just ask them 'what they want'. Maybe it's nothing personal. Maybe you just were the first person to listen to him."
Leon's heart leaped. The first person to listen to him? He couldn't understand that. He hadn't exactly cared about Strife nor his untimely end. He hadn't...
But he had. Leon's eyes widened as it dawned to him that since he'd seen the man in the TV, he hadn't been able to get him out of his head. The first to listen to him. Was that it? Had he... listened to him? And had Cloud heard it?
Leon's mouth was dry, and he sipped his coffee to ease the itching, but it hardly helped. Now that he thought about it, the woman's words made sense. Yes, he had become interested in the younger man's fate the moment he had seen his picture. Maybe he had, in a way, listened to him, or his case. He had even went and asked about it from Axel.
But one thing he still couldn't comprehend:
"Ms. Strife, what do you think he means by asking me to come to him?"
That had become the most essential thing he wanted to know. What could the ghost possibly want with him, and if he did do as it asked... what would become of him?
The woman hmm'ed to herself, her eyes averted. "I can't think of anything... By the time he disappeared, Cloud had become a man. He didn't tell me about his life anymore, not like he used to. If there was something... left behind, I wouldn't know about it. I'm sorry."
"But what would you have me do?" Can I trust a ghost? How can I know he doesn't want to hurt me?
Katherine took a deep breath and sighed. "That's a cruel thing to ask of me, Leon. As his mother, I of course want to know what has happened to my boy, but I cannot be sure it would be safe for you. I'm sorry if you've already got yourself involved against your will, and I couldn't possibly ask anything more of you. You just simply have to do what you think is right."
Her tone carried an air of finality, and she made a move to rise from her chair. Leon made a small sound of disapproval at which she looked at him apologetically. "I'm afraid that's all I can say to you, dear. Please be careful."
Leon realized he wouldn't be getting anything more out of the woman, and his expression dropped, defeated. She got up and went to gather the coffee cups onto the tray. Leon didn't stop her; he avoided her gaze.
Before she turned to leave, she sighed, "I cannot possibly say I'd understand what you're going through. Albeit I had the hunch Cloud's spirit might not have found final rest, I would never have thought he'd haunt anyone. Perhaps myself if anyone." She came closer and laid a hand on top of Leon's; he snapped his eyes to look at her, too. "But he's not a bad person, Leon. He would never hurt you."
Would never hurt me, right? Leon thought. And true, as he thought about it, what indication had the spirit ever given him that it had any intention of hurting him? It could have, at any time, if it so wished. Instead, all it ever did was stand at the spot and mutter something unintelligent. Still, Leon was only adjusting to accept that he actually was involved with a spiritual being in any way, and he wasn't confident about trusting it blindly. A part of him still deplored him for even going along with this, but Leon had been convinced that he wasn't imagining this. One time maybe, two times no, but three incidents within not two whole days wasn't the tricks of his mind anymore. Couldn't be. So whether he liked it or not, he was about ready to accept that he would have to deal with this ghost one way or another. And since he didn't happen to have the Ghostbusters' number at the moment, he supposed it would have to be the other.
So he inhaled, made sure to look the lady in the eye and spoke as reassuringly as he could muster,
"I know. Don't worry about me, Ms. Strife. You have done enough. Thank you."
"No dear, thank you." She didn't have to specify. Leon understood, and nodded.
"I should be off..." Leon let the ending of his sentence get lost. He got up from the swing, which whined softly.
"It was nice to meet you, dear," said the lady. She smiled at him sadly, her eyes filled with unvoiced hope. Leon was lost for words, so he ended up just nodding briefly as a goodbye before he descended the few stairs off the porch and headed towards the buss stop without looking behind him. On the porch decorated with lush flora, an older woman watched his withdrawing back with tearful eyes and a content smile.
The brunet strolled forward the main street in silence, occasionally stopping to study something in the window of a shop or halted to buy a beer from a vending machine. He sure could use some. He dropped in the coins and punched the button, kicking the ground with the tip of his shoe as he waited for his can.
In the end, he had gained nothing from going to see Katherine. It had been in vain. Sure, he knew now that Cloud's family background had been solid, and that he was apparently the only one who'd seen the kid since his disappearance. However, he hadn't found out what he had hoped for. He wasn't any closer to figuring out why the ghost had happened to choose him as its subject of persecution.
'Ask him what he wants.' That had been the only piece of advice Leon had received, so excuse him for being a little disappointed. He had hoped that the mother could have enlightened his situation at least a little. Given him something. But all he had been given were inconspicuous advice that Leon was less than agreeable to heed.
He dug out the can as it clanged into the tray, and immediately folded it open. The man took a long, heartfelt gulp, ignoring the few malevolent looks he received from passers-by, and only lowered the can to catch his breath again. He started walking down the street again, every now and the sipping his drink.
"Ugh..." Leon brought a hand to massage his temples. This mess was giving him a headache, which did little to improve his already sour mood. His jaw clenched into a small snarl as the edges of his vision got a crimson hue. The frontal lobe was throbbing with each pump of blood. Dying to numb the ache, he emptied what was left of his beer with one go and kicked the empty can to roll down the street. Some parents with small children and an elderly lady walking her dog gave him reprimanding looks, but they were quick to turn their eyes away as the steely eyes glared at them dangerously.
Leon took a glance at his watch: 7:20 PM.
At that his stomach growled in protest, and Leon realized he was kind of hungry. He hadn't finished his lunch – thanks to a certain something! – and it had been a while since he last ate. He didn't stop, but occasionally glanced about in search of a restaurant.
He spotted an Italian place called Mi Casa and thought that it'd do for tonight. The chime above the door jingled melodically as he stepped in.
The restaurant was a vast, dimly lit room with multiple booths; the area was sectioned with thin walls decorated as windows giving a view over night-time Rome. The furniture was dark wood with deep crimson cushioning, and each table had a mood candle lit. Plastic grape vines tangled all over the ceiling, giving the feel of an indoor garden. Leon had never been to this place before, and eyed the interior in awe.
The waiter came to guide him into a small table by the kitchen, Leon facing the front window. He took Leon's jacket and hung it onto the nearby coathanger.
"What would you like to drink, sir?"
"Beer. Anything you have on your keg'll be fine," Leon grumbled lowly, perfectly aware that he was being an impolite ass but didn't care. The waiter gave him a look before left to get Leon his drink.
As the waiter left, Leon buried his face into his hands and tried to massage his temples for some comfort. He was so tired. And hungry. He hadn't realized for how long he had gone without eating until he came here. Right now all he really wanted was a big burger or whatever and to get wasted. The thought sounded more than appealing, and groaning quietly Leon forced himself to study the menu. He paid special attention to the drink list. After a short consideration he gestured the waiter to come back and ordered a Cardinale drink for starters ("Make it double.") and a bottle of the house wine, a Tuscan brand called Luce Della Vite Lucente. The waiter raised his eyebrows a little ("A bottle, sir? Shall I bring a second glass?") but left quickly as he glanced into Leon's angry pools of storm.
Idly the brunet flipped through the menu, not really paying attention. He chose the first dish that caught his eye – warm-smoked salmon pasta with herbs and garlic – and slammed the menu shut. He relaxed himself against his seat and closed his eyes tiredly. His foreboding headache had subsided slightly, but his vision was getting hazy due to fatigue. He just wanted a moment's grace.
Leon tried not to, but soon he realized that his thoughts involuntarily returned to the on-going ghost busting he had somehow got himself into. And the central question his mind revolved around of was: now what? Technically, he had received detailed orders as for what to do about the situation; practically he had gained nothing. 'Do what you think is right.' Frankly, Leon thought that shooting himself in the head was what he thought was right at the moment. It'd get rid of the headache at least, he thought and grinned sarcastically at himself.
His train of thought crashed into a brick wall as the waiter came back with his drinks. He set down the beer pint and the appetizer drink, but Leon gestured him to leave it when he went to pour the wine.
"I'll do that myself."
"Very well... Do you want to order the food, or do you need some time?"
"I'll have the salmon pasta. Leave it al dente."
"And anything else for you, sir?"
"I'm good. Thanks."
The waiter left, and Leon took a generous sip of the Cardinale. He gasped at the bitterness of the drink and inhaled deep the aroma before taking another, smaller sip. Not too shabby, he thought. He had sometimes made this particular drink himself, but it was by no means his specialty (although he made a mental note to perk up on that). The most common drinks ordered from him were the near-cliche Sex on the Beach; Margarita; and to his eternal cause of wonder, Bloody Mary. Leon couldn't think of any reason why anyone in their right mind would want tomato juice into their drinks, but he never voiced his doubts.
Leon had devoured the appetizer and was half-way done with his beer when his food arrived, but Leon only nibbled at his meal. His mind was racing ten miles a minute into the all too familiar golden hue. What would he do now? For real? He had nothing, no leads, no clues, nothing. If he were to do as the phantom had asked him to, and went to look for it, what guaranteed that he didn't end up as one himself? And where was he supposed to start, anyway? All that he knew was that the kid had presumably disappeared from the campus. Leon had went there – his cheeks heated up and he quickly took a long swig of his beer – with embarrassing results. He wasn't keen on repeating that screw-up any time soon.
Leon let his hand slop onto the table as a gesture of making a decision. He would wait and see. Until now, all the times he had encountered the spirit had been unforeseen. Leon believed that if – if – he was to follow through this, the spirit would highly likely appear yet again. It wanted something, so it'd have to come and ask Leon nicely.
What a bizarre thought that was.
The aromas of malt and smoke lingered in his mouth as he now with increased awareness swallowed a forkful after forkful and a gulp after gulp. It's good, were his only thoughts. His initial hunger had subsided, but he still ate rapidly, voraciously. He was horrible at taking his time; when he was hungry, he ate, period. He opened the wine and poured himself a glass. He made sure to swirl and smell the wine carefully before tasting – force of habit, I'm afraid.
The wine nearly burned his tongue with the aroma. He tasted the tannin and the rich combination of fruit flavors. The wine was definitely full-bodied and well rounded, and Leon's mind was wiped blank for a moment. I've gotta keep this one in mind, he thought as he set the glass down to fish out his phone. He sent Axel a text stating that he wanted to add this to the bar's wine menu. Before he went back to his meal, he got up and left for the men's room.
.
.
.
Leon turned the faucet on and let the scalding water rinse his hands. He glanced about for soap, and snorted disapprovingly when his eyes landed on vanilla-scented pump bottle on the left side of the sink. For the gents, he thought sarcastically, but pumped the soap onto his hand nonetheless.
A small draft tickled the back of his neck, but Leon hardly paid attention to it. He went to wash off the soap, studying his hand and the water splashing over them. Then he caught a glimpse of something in his peripheral vision, and raised his head.
A scream of terror tore out of his lungs as he stumbled backwards. Leon's eyes widened in horror as what he saw sunk in; suddenly his stomach turned and the taste of bile rose into his mouth.
Onto the mirror had appeared a messy text "Remember 1995". It was darkening crimson and dripping; a drop of sweat slid down Leon's cheek as his nose picked up the faint smell of blood. His heart raced, he was sweating and his breathing was shaky. He fought the urge to vomit.
The temperature had dropped, and Leon was shivering. Breathing became harder and his breath evaporated. What the hell...? He hugged himself for warmth and took a bit shaky step towards the door. He was stopped dead on his tracks by the sight of Cloud leaning against the wall by the exit. Leon's jaw tightened in fear and he backed away subconsciously.
The ghost was staring at him silently with those unnerving eyes; Leon felt the hair in his arms stand under that unblinking gaze.
"... come to me," it said. The voice was raspy and low, almost... sad.
"Wha-what do you mean?" Leon wasn't able to keep his voice from faltering.
"..."
"Why are you doing this to me? What do you want?!"
"... come to me!"
Leon's heart skipped a beat. There was desperation in that voice, it was drenched in it. The apparition had taken a step closer, its eyes never leaving Leon's, never blinking, never straying.
"Stop it! Stay away from me!"
The blond man didn't listen. It took a few tentative steps closer to Leon – it was only a couple of yards away. Leon's back was pressed tightly against the wall as his nerves flared. Fear rushed through him uncontrollably; he couldn't breathe. The ghost raised it's hand to grab him–
"... come to me!"
– and Leon squeezed his eyes shut as he braced himself.
Nothing came. He panted quietly, cowering, his eyes squeezed shut. Waited. Waited. After a small eternity, Leon's curiosity got the better of his fear, and he creaked his eye open.
There was no-one. The restroom was back to normal. Leon found himself shivering, but not from cold. There was no blood on the mirror, the little frost had vanished from the floor. He released his breath.
"Holy shit..."
The after shock came, and Leon's stomach turned and he gagged. He rushed fore the nearest toilet and retched the contents of his stomach into the bowl. Shivering like crazy, he finally wiped his mouth and with shaky legs went to wash himself. He approached the sink with excessive caution.
As water splashed against his face, dripped from his hair, Leon panted heavily. That had been... horrible. Leon shuddered at the recollection. The memory of the blood tugged his stomach again, but he willed away the nausea.
Shit, that kid's gonna be the death of me, he thought and ran a hand through his hair as he observed his reflection.
He looked ragged. The lack of sleep had given him heavy, dark bags under his eyes, his skin shone with perspiration, and his gaze was lost and fearful. And a new stubble had grown since his last shave. Leon tickled it with his finger in thought. He looked like he had been boozing non-stop for a week. Even if the ghost wasn't going to kill him, if he didn't figure out a way out of this nerve wreck, in the long run his lack of rest surely would. Groaning, Leon tore himself off of the sink and stomped out of the restroom.
He had completely lost his appetite, and angrily signaled the waiter to bring his check. The man did, with a perplexed expression to say the least. The customer hadn't finished his pasta, and had barely touched the wine. Leon didn't even look at the total before thrusting the man his credit card angrily. The waiter looked like he was about to say something, but decided to leave it and went to charge the card. He took his time to get back with the receipt, and Leon tapped the table with his fingers in irritation.
He was pissed. Downright and wholeheartedly pissed. He vaguely realized that he was taking his anger out on the waiter, but he didn't care. The man would have to deal with it. Dealing with customers was his job. Leon snarled to himself and pinched the bridge of his nose.
The waiter came back with his card and receipt, and Leon signed sloppily and hastily. He just wanted to get out. One thing had become crystal-clear in his mind, and he was eager on acting upon instinct. He would go back to the campus. It was the only clue he had, and he had the gut feeling that this time he wouldn't end up empty-handed. For better or for worse, he'd had enough. He'd take the battle to the ghost. He nearly ran out of the restaurant.
.
.
.
The buss door hissed closed behind him, and Leon cherished the puff of warm, pressurized air that ruffled his hair as the buss took off. With a determined intake of breath, he headed straight towards the campus.
The dusk had matured into full-bodied night and the campus bathed in lamp light. Leon paid no heed to students who strolled around the area with the friends; hurried to do their chores; eagerly typed on their laptops on a park bench. He had a destination. And a hunch. He wasn't sure this was safe, nor was it sane, but he ignored the little voice in his mind that tried to tempt his reason. Leon had had it. If he was stuck with this obnoxious apparition, he might as well grab the bull by the horns and take care of it. He wanted answers. If the ghost was unwilling to provide them, he'd have to find his own.
The park walkway looked dreamy. The light filtered through the trees and cast tiny speckles of luminescence onto the concrete. A light mist had arisen from the pond, covering the ground with a thin layer of white. Leon chuckled darkly at the eerie scene. Ironic...
He strolled down the parkway casually until he came to the bushes. His eyebrows rose in mild surprise as he noted the faint silvery tinge glimmering on the leaves of the bush Cloud had went through in his dream that now seemed like eons ago. He reached out to touch it, and the cool, moist feeling in his fingers felt surprisingly nice. Leon took a deep breath before determinedly pushed through the bushes onto the small path leading deeper into the thicket.
Leon noted that as he walked, the air turned crispier and crispier, and he suppressed a shiver. He ignored it, however. But as his breath begun to evaporate, his resolve was really tested. It was creepy and Leon's pulse had quickened, but he didn't waver. If he was to face the ghost eventually, why not make it sooner and be done with it? He stuffed his clenched fists deep into his pockets and kept walking.
Leon was certain he had already walked multiple times the distance he had in his dream. He didn't dare risk a glance behind, for he feared that his courage might crumble if he turned and didn't see the outline of the university buildings behind him. He needed every ounce of his determination he could muster.
Once or twice his foot slipped on the frost that had gathered onto the ground. The air was wintry and the flora around him had frosted over. He knew he was getting closer. And as he pushed a bush's thick branches out of his way, he saw the man.
Cloud stood on a small clearing in the midst of the flora; the ground under his feet was frozen over, and Leon was certain the flora had died. The man again had his back towards him and didn't seem to even flinch as Leon approached him cautiously. He definitely knows I'm here, Leon thought. That's the only reason I'm seeing him.
Leon stopped a safe ten yards away from him, not exactly eager to get any closer to the apparition. He didn't say anything at first but instead just observed him.
The apparition looked fuzzy from its torso downwards, but the facial features and that wild hair were HD clear. Leon could tell it stood on two feet (instead of just floating above the ground like he had anticipated) and it had its head lowered. After a few moments, however, he was getting awkward and blurted,
"What do you want?"
"..."
"You asked me to come here. Now I have. So what do you want? Answer me!"
"..."
The blond turned his head enough to look at Leon over his shoulder with one eye.
"You shouldn't have come here."
An involuntary shiver ran through Leon as he noticed that the frost under the man's feet was slowly spreading further. It was still a good few yards from him, so he didn't pay much attention to it. But it was getting damn cold and Leon's teeth chattered lightly.
"What the hell do you mean? You asked me to come to you, didn't you? Multiple times."
"Don't come to me."
"Huh?"
Suddenly, the ghost clutched its head as if in pain and staggered a little. If Leon hadn't been so confused, he would have stopped to wonder why a ghost would stagger. But right now all his processing capacity tried to wrap itself around the fact that the spirit in front of him appeared to be in severe pain.
"Are you... are you OK..?" Leon took a step closer and reach his hand towards the blond man. In front of his eyes, however, the man stopped struggling and stood to his full height, seemingly unaffected. It took a deep breath, and for some reason Leon felt cold. Colder. It sounded like the creature in front of him tried to inhale something more than just air.
"You shouldn't have come to me," said the blond. His back was still turned towards Leon, but those words unleashed his panic. The voice had been menacingly delighted with an eerie echo Leon had never heard in it before. The air stood dead-still. Anxious. Waiting.
"What do you mean? What is it that you want?!" Leon's angry and somewhat scared voice demanded, but he unconsciously took a couple of steps back. Something was off, he sensed it. He had the feeling he shouldn't be here.
The man slowly turned around, and Leon's heart skipped a beat. He definitely shouldn't be here. Leon gulped as he looked at the man's face. Where the usually dreamy blue eyes had been were now two gleaming, yellow cat's eyes, and its wide mouth had spread into a devilish grin. Its teeth were like tiny fangs, sharp and inhumane. And it eyed him like prey.
Horror flushed into Leon, and he stumbled backwards blindly, nearly slipping on the ice. Shit, when had that spread this far?! The creature's smile widened even more as it started slowly stalking closer.
"'Don't come to me.' Didn't I tell you, human?" Its long, thin tongue came to lick its lips as it creeped closer like a predator.
"What...?" Leon muttered more to himself than anyone else as he still tried to stagger away from the unholy sight. Then what the thing had said sunk in, and his eyes widened in horrified understanding.
Don't come to me. Remember 1995, don't come to me.
It hadn't been asking him. It had tried to warn him. And at the restaurant, the blond hadn't tried to grab him. Maybe it had meant to push him away. It had been trying to chase him away, to help him. It had been a trap, and like an idiot Leon had walked right into it.
The blond chuckled darkly as understanding reached the brunet's eyes. "Yes... You humans are lovely. You only see what you want to see. Cloud Strife, the bleeding heart he is, tried to shoo you away from him. From me. But since you're here now..." It took another step closer to Leon, and Leon saw how its nails grew into claws. Into ravaging talons. "We might as well have some fun, wouldn't we?" it slithered as it dashed.
Leon's instincts kicked in before his comprehension, and with one suave movement he turned to dash for the walkway. And after that, as fucking far away form this place as humanely possible! His heart beat thumped in his ears erratically, and from somewhere behind him he heard the creature's sadistic chuckling. The thing was amused! Panic rushed through him like a fire, it strangled his throat. He ran. God, he ran.
"Run, my cornered little rabbit! There's no hole for you to hide in," it chuckled, and Leon could swear the sound came from right next to his ear but he didn't dare to turn to look. To his horror, the path ahead seemed to disappear; it blurred and bent like he'd been under water, and then it simply faded away, leaving in its wake nothing. The frost crept closer to him, surrounding him from all sides.
No! No... help me. Somebody, help me...
Leon's eyes burned with tears of terror, but he kept running towards where he still could see some flora and an imitation of a path. Please... somebody, anybody...
It was all over when Leon slipped. He had barely time to yelp before his chest collided heavily with the icy ground.
It was on top of him in seconds. The brunet let out an agonized, strangled scream as it latched its ruthless talons deep into his shoulder. The other clawed hand gripped his hair painfully. It flashed Leon a satanic smirk before it sunk its needle-sharp teeth into his neck. All Leon heard was his own screaming.
.
.
.
When Leon didn't show up for work on Wednesday, Axel called the police after he couldn't get a hold of the brunet. A grand-scale search operation was initiated, and everyone who had had any contact with the man after his last shift were questioned. Katherine Strife reported herself to the police voluntarily and explained how Leonhart had contacted him. However, she couldn't tell where he might have gone. Also the waiter at Mi Casa identified Leon as the customer he had served on that day, and he had seen the man hop on to the line 34 buss.
For a few weeks, the local newspaper and major TV channels repeatedly flashed the picture of a stoic-looking brunet man with a large scar on his forehead who had been reported missing, and informed the viewers that any clues of his whereabouts were to be reported to the police. But eventually, as the leads grew cold, so did the case.
Just like 15 years ago.
The brunet was never seen again. But he wasn't forgotten. People had started talking about the mysterious disappearance, and some even remembered the similar case from years back. In time, talks turned into hearsay, hearsay into rumors. Rumors became whispers, whispers became legends. Legends telling of a young man who had vanished without a trace...
End note:
I was actually afraid to go to the bathroom after writing this. :P
For the longest time I considered whether I'd make the ending nice or, well, not so nice. But it's not a ghost story if no-one dies, right?