"It's really hot."
"Oh, shut up," Reno complained, slamming the door to Cloud's car shut after climbing out. His red ponytail was dark with sweat, and he lifted up the hem of his shirt to wipe at his forehead. "You should've grown up in Costa. This ain't nothin'."
Cloud rolled his eyes but didn't say anything else, pressing the button on his keys to lock his car. Waves of heat rolled up from the hot pavement beneath his boots. Summer in Midgar. It was hard to breathe and Cloud's eyes were squinted behind his sunglasses, but Reno was right. It could have been a lot worse. He'd been to Costa on vacation once or twice.
"Come on!" Reno had jogged ahead, out of the sun. He was hunched in a tiny bit of shade cast by a mail drop-off box. It was actually kind of pathetic. Cloud smiled and started walking, plucking at his neckline on his t-shirt. He, unfortunately, had to park in a lot quite a distance away from the History building at Midgar University. It was okay in the spring and fall, when the walk across the huge campus was actually kind of enjoyable (as enjoyable as a walk in the great city of Midgar could be, anyway). Now, though, he and Reno had to get through a sweltering parking lot and walk across the quad, a large, grassy area with no shade whatsoever.
"What do you think Rufus is wearing today?"
"I don't care, Reno."
The redhead narrowed his eyes at him. "Don't say that. I've seen the way you look at him."
At that Cloud laughed, reaching out and shoving Reno's shoulder. "Uh, no. I think you're talking about yourself."
"Sure am. Doesn't mean you can't ogle the guy too."
Cloud shook his head, fanning himself with his folder. It wasn't helping. During the summer most of the undergraduate students were gone; the campus was almost eerily empty. During the school year there would be skinny, bespectacled boys playing frisbee everywhere, girls tanning on blankets (even in the fall; Cloud would never understand that), and people rushing from building to building so they wouldn't be late for class. Now there were just a few people strolling around, and almost all of them were students like Cloud and Reno—older graduate students, here to get advanced degrees in whatever.
He actually hadn't been that fond of Midgar University at first. Cloud spent his undergraduate years in Junon, which was a hell of a lot cleaner than Midgar (if not more boring, despite being the capital city), and at first the thought of attending MU was really unappetizing. Still, it had an excellent History program, and one of his old professors, an elderly man named Cecil Harvey, knew some chairman somewhere here and had recommended him.
So, here he was, sweating like a behemoth and lugging his backpack after an annoying redhead who didn't know when to close his mouth.
They reached the correct building, both of them bounding up the stairs. The inside was air-conditioned, and Reno let out a blissful sigh, stretching his arms up at the ceiling. "I fuckin' hate this, yo."
"C'mon," Cloud said softly. The inside of the Emerald building was big and spacious; there was a domed lobby with bright marbled floors, and a staircase that split in two and circled around the top of the second floor. Cloud took the right and Reno took the left, as always, and they had a sort of race to their classroom. Tifa was always asking them when they would grow up. They never had an answer for her.
Cloud walked inside, nodded at Rufus who was leaning against his desk with his legs crossed, and made a beeline for a desk in the back of the classroom, as far away from a certain other student as he could. The room was stuffy, despite the air conditioning, and someone had opened a window, which was probably not doing any good.
Setting his folder on his desk, Cloud propped his chin up with his hand and looked around at the other grad students in the room. HIST: 534, First-Class Thesis was home to a rag-tag bunch. History nerds, the whole lot of them. There was Yuffie, obsessed with the infamous Wutaian thieves of the Godo dynasty to the point that she had actually lost friends because of how much she talked about them. There was Cid, who was banned from visiting the Continental Air and Space Museum because he had loudly lectured all the visitors about the "truth" of the history of aircrafts. Then there was Firion, who knew so much about weapons, where and when and why each kind of torture device and pointy thing imaginable was created that it was actually kind of scary. Cloud always made sure to never piss that guy off. There was Rude who loved learning about castles, and Squall, who Cloud really didn't want to think about too much right now.
Some more students trickled in over the next few minutes. Cloud stayed quiet in the back, avoiding Squall's gaze, flipping through his folder. Inside were various articles paperclipped together. He sat there listlessly, racking his brain. He was behind, and he knew it. Hell, Cissnei and Elena had already been doing research for a few weeks. And where was Cloud? Still floundering.
Rufus cleared his throat, and the class quieted. Rufus was only a few years older than most of them at 29. He flicked his mop of blond hair out of his eyes and opened a notebook.
"Some of you still need to schedule conferences with me," he began. "You know who you are." His blue eyes glanced Cloud's way. "If I already spoke with you, you can visit me sometime or email me your revisions. If you have questions, schedule an appointment." He flicked a manicured finger at a folder on his desk, which was filled with little grids of time where you could meet with Rufus outside of class (and not like how Reno wanted).
Cloud hadn't touched that folder.
The blond sighed gustily, drawing a few heads.
Rufus shrugged his shoulders, flicked his hair again, and eased himself onto his desk. "Some of you are still thinking, I know. It's a hard process." He gaze swept over the class, lingering on those who were still trying to come up with a good topic for their thesis.
The older blond cleared his throat, which told everyone that he was about to have a speech. "I know, and you know that you're interested and passionate about history. To reach First Class you have to take it to a new level. You're here for a reason." He tapped his fingers against his thigh, and from across the room Cloud saw Reno's eyes zero in on it. Reno.
"You have to step up your game," Rufus said, eyes narrowed. "Don't be afraid to make history. This isn't a basic research paper about a topic—you must synthesize. Discover. Think about something in a way no one else has. Shock the academic world with your discoveries!"
Rufus was a tad overdramatic, but something he said hit home in all of them. A First Class degree in academia was one of the highest degrees offered on the continent. It was not for the faint of heart, and not for those who weren't deadly serious about their subject. In Cloud's case, it was history. It wouldn't suffice to summarize a war or write a book about a famous figure—Cloud had to contribute something to this world, something new, something riveting. Like Rufus said, he had to 'make history.'
But what? What could he do? He was just some 24 year old guy. He wasn't exceptionally brilliant, just very passionate. He wasn't rich; he didn't have endless museum archives and connections at his disposal. He had his brain, his enthusiasm, and whatever resources he could somehow scrounge up at public places and through friends.
What was his thesis going to be?
Cloud wasn't sure, and he was beginning to panic.
He had all summer, though. This class spanned the whole season—and longer, if he needed more time; he would just retake the class in the fall. The idea of being important like that, of making an awesome, important addition to the world of history was really exciting—as exciting as it was daunting.
Everyone else seemed fired up by Rufus' speech. Tseng was furiously scribbling away in his notebook, and Bartz had his arms folded behind his head as he leaned back dangerously far in his seat, seemingly lost in thought. Squall was murmuring softly to Yuffie. Somehow Cloud caught the brunet's eyes. He quickly looked away, standing and strolling over to a tall bookcase in the corner.
He needed a damn topic.
A hand touched his shoulder a minute later, and Cloud looked over at Rufus. He smiled at Cloud, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "How's it going?" he asked casually, looking out the window at the campus instead of at him. Heat waves rising from the ground distorted everything, like the struggling academics high up in the emerald building viewed the world through glass that was melting from these temperatures.
"…Okay," Cloud replied. "I have a general idea of what time period I'd like to explore, but I'm still…not quite sure what I'd like to focus on."
"It's hard," Rufus offered. "Very hard. For what it's worth, think outside the box. You know that there are going to be stuffy old men in their offices talking about theories and recycling the same outdated shit. You have your youth and the most enthusiasm I've seen in a long while. You'll come up with something interesting, I'm sure."
"Thanks, Rufus," Cloud said, slightly embarrassed. Rufus was usually the kind of guy who would ask you out for drinks and then complain about his love life the entire time, not offer actual advice. Cloud was lucky the guy seemed to like him.
"Not a problem. I'm here, if you need me." Rufus touched his shoulder again and moved on to the next person. Cloud leant forward until his forehead rested against the warm glass of the window. He closed his eyes, letting everyone else's chatter wash over him.
He wouldn't stress. He had time to think about it. All summer, even. All summer.
He'd think of something. He'd discover something, somehow, that no one else had. …Right?
"Let's get the hell outta here," Reno told him later, after a long session of bouncing ideas off of each other. "I need a shower, yo."
Cloud nodded vigorously, grabbing his backpack. He waggled his fingers at Firion and Yuffie and left. He noticed Squall exiting directly after him and he held the door open behind him after a moment's hesitation. He kept his head down, so they wouldn't make eye contact. Squall muttered a soft thanks and continued on his way. Reno winced sympathetically, and after that painful moment the two men left the Emerald building, beginning the long trek back to Cloud's car, which was by now probably melting all over its tires.
A wave of hot air hit them both as they walked out, and Cloud let out a miserable groan. "I wish I had a pool," he said sullenly. "I wish my building had a pool, even."
"Doesn't Rude's have one?"
"I…think?"
"We should ask him if we can go swim sometime."
"You just want to check out the girls there," Cloud snickered.
"Do not," Reno protested, making a face as he nearly stepped in what at one point was a dropped sandwich and now was a hot, thriving mass of flies, "I have eyes for only one person right now, and he wants me to make history. Heh."
"I'm kind of worried," Cloud confessed softly, taking a swig from his lukewarm water bottle, "about this whole thesis thing. It just seems so hard."
"I know, right? You've got to come up with somethin' totally unique—which is like, impossible, yo—and then do all this fuckin' research and then defend the damn thing in front of all these judges. I hate wearing suits."
At that, Cloud laughed. "I know you do. You'll be fine."
"And so will you," Reno replied, glancing his way, striking green eyes probing. "You always come up with something, Cloud."
"…You're right. Thanks."
"No problem. Race you to the car!"
Reno ended up tripping halfway to the car and fell hard, spilling his papers everywhere. A family passing by, most likely on a college visit for the teenager with them, gawked at the 25 year old man lying on the pavement and moaning in pain.
Cloud laughed, hand over his mouth, and opened all the doors to his car, airing out the inside. Reno eventually got up, nursing a scraped elbow, and got into the car with a pout.
"Ow! Fuck, the seatbelt's hot. This sucks, yo."
"I thought you said it wasn't bad, compared to Costa?"
"Shut up."
That night, surrounded by blankets, old field notes and a tub of caramel ice cream, Cloud called his mom.
"I think I'll drop by tomorrow," he said, smiling. "Is that okay?"
His mom said yes, of course, and after talking for a few minutes he hung up, promising to talk longer the next day.
Cloud was stuck in a rut. He didn't know what he was going to do with himself. He had a shitty job, working as a delivery boy for a Midgar-based company. The headquarters reeked of hamster food, and his boss was a dick. There was so much more out there waiting for Cloud Strife, but he wasn't sure what.
Was getting this First Class degree what he really wanted? All Cloud's life he had loved history, ever since a fateful unit in elementary school. To get what he wanted he had to breathe history this summer, to feel it in his heart and mind and soul. He couldn't live in the current year, Midgar City—he had to exist in a different place, a different time. He had to understand completely his topic, whatever it was, and come up with something just… ground-breaking.
It was stressful, all of it: his job, his love life, his future. Cloud hadn't visited his mom in over a month, so it would be good for him to get away for a while. He deserved it, and with luck he would be able to come closer to some sort of conclusion there.
Tomorrow, though. Cloud washed some dishes, took a shower and climbed into bed. He looked at his poster on the back of his door, the famous headshot of Sephiroth Crescent, the ShinRa General in the Gaian Civil War. He had always been Cloud's hero, ever since grade school. There was something about him, the way his eyes—green—sternly looked out of the painting the poster was a picture of, that really spoke to Cloud, somehow. That was why he studied history—people like Sephiroth, who he, in the modern day, could identify with. Everyone had a story, and he wanted to know theirs.
But again, he'd think about that tomorrow. For now, Cloud shut his eyes and rolled over in bed, tucking a curled hand by his head.
