Author's Note: I do not, nor will I ever, own rights to these characters. I'm just a fangirl with soul crushing angst.


I come here when I think of you. I come here all the time.

If only he knew the ache that came with the loss, maybe he would fight his way back to the living and stop it altogether. A convoluted fantasy that couldn't possibly be tangible, but the yearning was intense. Cloud wiped his cheek of the warmth spilled from blue, pained orbs. His heart thudded and he knew not why it persisted time and time again, but this was substantial loss.

The deliverance came and gone, followed by the pure and agonizing suffering that was still so hauntingly potent, it nearly strangled those in the wake. Maybe this was an exaggeration, all in his hazy brain.

If that were the case, then exaggeration tended to fade away – but this was not going anywhere.

Cloud's fingers curled inwards, while nails bit into skin to leave sore indentions for the near future. His lips were dry, unlike his eyes, but he was alone. Therefor he was less ashamed of the weakness he emitted quite loudly in solitude.

How comparable had physical pain been to emotional pain? It was pale, and it was cold. Evil, but pure in some angles. Nonetheless, it wasn't a consequence that Cloud would ever understand.

My hero was my best friend.

Was this selfishness? Feeling this way? As he stood there, as he dwelled on a happier past, a happy life, Cloud wanted to banish all human emotion for good. That was the coward's way out, because pain is meant to be felt, no matter the magnitude of which it comes. The waves of fear, the intake of salty water that filled up his lungs and made him want to empty the contents of his empty stomach.

And what of being angry toward the person who passed? How viable was that, and how valid of an anger could speak so ill of the dead? Cloud felt the wind push against his back and threaten to bring him down to his knees, knowing how weak of a state he was in.

I only come here when I think about you…

There was no fulfillment that could stitch the wound, at least not for long. There was no remedy to clear the mind of such anger, or such sadness. If time was his healer, then time was a cruel one – because it was slow, it was patient, unlike Cloud.

Although, there was a part of Cloud that spoke the truth that it would get easier, in some way, in some form. For the time being, there would be the mourning. For the time being there would be wishing that he could just wake up.

I only come here… all the time.