Summary: Zack keeps haunting Cloud, and Cloud is having trouble letting go and moving on. Trying the iPod prompt thing - song for this one is "Crying", by Roy Orbison. Story is in first person, Cloud's POV. One-shot. ZackxCloudxReno
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Square Enix owns FF. I own my ideas, and that's about it.
Rated T.
I was all right
For a while
I could smile, for a while
But I saw you last night
You held my hand so tight
As you stopped - to say hello
You wished me well, you couldn't tell
That I'd been crying
Over you...
"Crying" - Roy Orbison
It was another one of those nights, where Zack was on my mind - when isn't he, really? - and I wanted to go to some quiet hole in the wall to have a drink. In other words, any place but Seventh Heaven. Gaia knows, I love Tifa, but not in the way she wants. So I quietly slipped out, after completing all of my deliveries for the day, and told Tifa not to wait up for me. She knows. She knows it's not meant to be, that it never was meant to be anything more than a beautiful friendship. We both know this, yet I can't bring myself to say the words that I know will hurt her. But soon, I will.
Tonight, though - tonight I drink alone, to dull the pain, and stifle the memories that are eating me alive. I hop on to Fenrir, and let the road take me where it will. I can detach from myself a bit, when I ride. I feel free. Until I'm asleep again, or have too much time to think, and the specter of Zack haunts me again. Is it really him that's haunting me? I mean, what does he want? To torment me for all eternity? I vacillate between anger and love. Gods, I loved that man so much. He was a bright, shining thing, amidst so much darkness. And then just...gone. It's like I've had a shadow over me ever since the day he died, and I just can't shake that feeling. Maybe I never will.
I ride, and I ride. It's a nice day for it, at least. Eventually, I find myself approaching Kalm. There's a nice quiet pub there, as I remember. I park Fenrir outside the building, and go inside. It's a nice pub - dark, and quiet. Just what I was looking for. I sit at the bar, call the bartender over, and order a bottle - yes, a bottle - of single malt scotch. The bartender raises a curious eyebrow at me. "Must be something going on, this is the second full bottle I've sold to a customer this evening."
"Huh, that's interesting," I mutter, wondering who else in their right mind - since I'm clearly not in my right mind, not right now, anyway - would order an entire bottle of scotch for themselves. Then I see him. Sitting at the end of the bar, chain-smoking, face down and staring at his hands - Reno. I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should at least say hi. Then again, I want to be alone. I'm not interested in small talk.
It doesn't look like Reno's interested in small talk either, though. He looks...tired. He's not smiling. Why is he not smiling? He usually is. Well, except for those times when he was trying to kill me, I suddenly remember. And that day he dropped the plate. He wasn't smiling then.
Suddenly, Reno turns on his stool; stubbing out his cigarette, he reaches into his jacket pocket to immediately retreive another one. As he turns, he spots me sitting there; our eyes meet. Well, I can't exactly ignore him now. I give Reno a half-hearted wave in greeting. He gives me a smile in return, but it's not his usual happy smile. Looks like Reno's got something on his mind, too.
Should I join him? I wonder briefly. Maybe we should drown our sorrows together. Reno gets up from his seat, and, grabbing the bottle of scotch by the neck, makes his way over to me. Guess he's made the decision for me. Unless he's leaving? But no, the next words out of his mouth are, "Want to grab a table? It's no fun drinking alone, yo."
"Sure," I tell him, nodding. I'm not really in the mood to chat, but I'm not going to be rude about it. Then again, maybe I do need to vent to someone. Bottling it up hasn't been working very well for me lately.
We find a corner booth and table, and settle in. Reno grins as he reads the label on my bottle of whiskey. "Well, we have good taste, at least," he says, smiling. "So, Cloud. What you doing all the way out here?"
I take another chug from the bottle. It burns cleanly going down, feels so good. "Could ask you the same thing, I suppose," I tell Reno. "I just...took a ride. Needed to get away for a bit."
"Ah," Reno murmurs. "Trouble at home?"
"You could say that. Tifa...well. Things aren't working out. They never have, really. Zack always comes between us, for some reason."
Reno raises an eyebrow at this. "Really? I'm...sorry, Cloud. I know, that's something you probably...never can get over. Losing him like that, I mean."
Holy shit. Reno gets it, I think. He understands. Either that, or he's just being unusually polite and sympathetic. But still, it's more than I've gotten in my years of living with Tifa. Just...the simple understanding, that I hurt.
"Yeah," I say quietly, feeling my voice catch. Another chug of the bottle to steady my nerves before I go on. "It's...not easy. Especially when the love of my life keeps haunting me. How am I supposed to let go, and move on, when he's all I see?"
"Haunting you?" Reno inquires, cocking an eyebrow at me. "What do you mean, that Zack haunts you? Like, in your dreams?"
"No, Reno," I tell him. Oh hell, he'll think I'm crazy too, but what the hell. Why not tell him? Reno's one of the least judgemental people I've ever met, so maybe I should tell him. "Zack literally haunts me. I hear him talking to me, through the Lifestream. And sometimes, in those moments between sleep and wakefulness - I can actually see him. Like, standing at the foot of my bed, or whatever. It almost feels as if I should be able to touch him, but when I reach out my hand...he dissolves, and there's nothing there."
"Wow," Reno replies, taking a drag off of his cigarette. They smell of cloves, I suddenly realize. I like the scent...it's comforting, somehow.
"So," I say, turning to Reno. "You must think I'm a fucking nutjob now, right?"
To my surprise, Reno shakes his head. "Not at all. I have...my ghosts to deal with too," he replies, a small, sad smile on his face. "Believe it or not."
I believe it, all right. I wonder who's haunting Reno. Is it a lost love? As I'm about to ask the question, I realize how little I know about Reno's past. Turks, in general, are rather tight-lipped about their personal lives. Understandable, given the nature of their jobs. But, now I've found this unexpected...kinship, with Reno. I suddenly want to know more.
"Want to talk about it?" I ask him. Somewhat rudely, I reach for his pack of cigarettes on the table, meaning to help myself. Just as it's no fun to drink alone, it's no fun to smoke alone, either. "Mind if I have one?"
"Not at all, yo," Reno replies easily, already whipping out his lighter to give me a light. "Sorry, I should have offered before."
"No, don't worry about it, Reno," I tell him. "I should have asked for one before I started actually opening the pack." I smile at him. Never realized before, how easy it is to be myself around Reno. Like I said, he doesn't judge - he just lets me be me. Kind of a rare quality to find in someone these days.
"So tell me," I continue, steering the topic of conversation back to Reno. "Tell me about your ghosts, Reno. What's on your mind?"
It's as if storm clouds suddenly form in Reno's clear blue eyes. He sighs, and takes another chug from his bottle. "Today...today is an anniversary," he replies softly. "One I'd rather not remember, but there's no way I can ever forget, either."
"Twenty years ago today," he continues, "when I was eight years old...I lost my family. All of them. My mother, my father, my older sister...they all died in a fire. In the factory, where we all worked together."
"You worked in a factory as an eight year old?" I interrupt, disbelieving. Suddenly, my country bumpkin childhood in Nibelheim isn't sounding so bad, by comparison.
Reno frowns, and laughs bitterly. "Cloud. I'm a hood rat who grew up under the Plate. Child labor laws? Please. Nobody cared about scum like me."
"You're not scum, Reno," I retort, almost angrily. Yeah, Reno had done some shitty things as a Turk - but so hadn't I, when I was with AVALANCHE. All for a Cause, or a Job, or whatever. Neither one of us were candidates for sainthood, anyway.
"Well, I know that now, Cloud," he replies, grinning slightly. "But when you grow up thinking that way...it becomes ingrained."
"Anyway," he continues, lighting up another cigarette. "I remember that day all too well. We were going to have lunch together - we'd bring sandwiches from home, and grab a few minutes together during the day to eat together. The factory itself was hell - dimly lit, hotter than Ifrit's ballsac. Unsafe machinery everywhere, and these bastards had fucking kids like me, running the equipment. Kids," he said bitterly, as if for emphasis.
"My sister was a seamstress, and my mother was a weaver. Me, I did odd jobs on the factory floor; because my hands were so small, they used me - and other kids my age - for those jobs that required smaller hands. My father, he was a little bit higher on the food chain - he worked in the machine room, keeping an eye on the boiler and shit. That day, my father came running up to us, at our usual lunch time, but I knew something was wrong. He looked scared, frantic. Told my mother 'take the kids, get the hell out of here, this place is going to blow sky high.' Something was wrong with the boiler - he knew it, but the foreman refused to stop the production line." Reno pauses to take another drag off of his cigarette; I've never heard him talk this much about himself, and I'm fascinated. Horrified, yet fascinated. I murmur something unintelligible, encouraging him to go on.
"So," Reno says, sipping from his bottle, which by now about one-third gone. "Where was I? Oh yeah. Anyway, dad tells us all to get the fuck out. My mom freaked, ushered me and my sister toward the door. Only thing is, though - the assholes who owned the factory were so concerned about employee theft and shit, that the doors...were locked. Fucking locked. With the building about to blow up."
"They...locked the doors?" I ask him, incredulous. "That's fucking inhumane! How can they get away with something like that?"
Reno gives me a tired look. Clearly, he's asked himself the same question before.
"I know, Cloud," he replies. "Believe me, I know. Anyway...yeah. The doors were locked. There was no way out. My mother ran to my father, crying, that she couldn't get us out. Meanwhile, my dad was quietly warning people to get out before it was too late. Everyone started to panic, we got pushed up against the wall. Nearly got crushed. My mother realized that there was a small window that she could get to, if she stood on a workbench. 'Reno, get up here!' she told me. I got up on the bench with her, and before I knew what was happening, she opened the window and told me to climb out. We were on the second floor, so I had to be careful when I jumped. It happened so fast...I was outside, looking up at the window. By then, the fire trucks had appeared - somebody must have called them, to tell them the boiler was gonna blow and people were trapped. Some...fire chief, I think, grabbed me, and pulled me away from the building. 'Stand over there, young man,' he ordered me. 'This place is dangerous.' I cried and screamed at the man, told him I knew that, and please, my family is in there, please help them..."
Reno pauses, and gives me that sad smile again. "Sorry. I must be boring you by now," he says apologetically.
"Not at all," I tell him, sitting closer to him. I've found myself hanging on his every word, really - it's anything but boring, listening to Reno tell his story. But I feel so bad for him...I had no idea he'd been through so much, and so young.
"Well. You can probably guess what happened next. The building blew to smithereens, just like dad said it was gonna. I saw my family die right in front of me, standing at that window - a huge fireball rushed right behind them, and burned them alive."
Shit. Suddenly, my moping over Zack seems so...well, trivial. Gods. I just want to...give Reno a hug, or something. Automatically, my hand reaches out, as if it has a mind of its own, and caresses Reno's face. What the hell am I doing? Reno appears...a bit surprised, but not offended. He actually leans into my hand, shuts his eyes briefly. As if he enjoys my touch. I suddenly get a mental image of myself kissing Reno. I need to stop this...before I get too carried away.
I'd better say something. "It's...it's okay, Reno. I mean, it's not really okay - gods, what you went through was...horrifying. There's no other word for it. I'm just...I don't know what to say, but I'm just really sorry. That you went through that."
Reno finally opens his eyes, and smiles at me. "You're a really good listener, Cloud. Thank you. So...that's the story of my ghosts," he says, chuckling softly. "Now what can we do about yours?"
I lower my hand, frowning a bit. "What do you mean? Nothing I can 'do' about Zack haunting me. It's like...he doesn't want me to move on."
"See, I think you're wrong about that," Reno replies. He stretches a bit in the booth, and inches a bit closer to me. I can feel his thigh directly next to mine; it feels warm, solid and comforting. Everything Zack was, and no longer is, I suddenly think. Gods, I'll never get over Zack. Never.
"I think Zack's haunting you, not because he wants you to never let go - but because he wants you to move on. Maybe...he just wants to remind you, don't forget the good times with him, and that you need to make your own happiness now."
"As if I could ever forget him," I mutter, fighting back tears. One escapes, and Reno sees it; he brushes it away with his fingertip. That does it; now I can't stop, and the tears keep coming. I'm fucking sobbing, in public, like an idiot.
"Cloud," Reno murmurs, drawing me in a hug. "I hate that you hurt so much. But what do you think Zack would want for you, man? He wouldn't want you to be mourning him for the rest of your life, would he?"
"No," I finally reply, as I try to compose myself. Gods, I feel like a fool. I've never cried over Zack, other than the day he died...in my arms. Maybe that's part of my problem; I never let myself cry over missing Zack, not like this. "When...when Zack died, his last words to me, were...he wanted me do enough living for the both of us. He wanted me...to live a life full of honor, and loyalty...and love." My voice catches at the last word, and I lean into Reno's shoulder. I can hardly believe this, I'm falling apart, and a Turk is comforting me. I feel so weak, and embarrassed.
"Well, it's time you start listening to Zack, then," Reno tells me, firmly. "Listen. I know all about loss. You heard my story...I know, it's not the same as losing the love of your life, but you can't live in the past, in any case, right?"
"No, I guess I can't," I tell Reno. Gotta admit, he does have a point. "But...my future. I know in my heart, that Tifa's not it."
"Then do what you gotta do, yo," Reno says quietly. "Tell her. She probably already knows, anyway, you know? Tell her, and then...you can move on."
"Move on," I repeat dumbly. I suddenly realize that Reno is staring at me, and his arm is wrapped around my shoulders. I can't look away from his eyes, they're just...indescribable. How did I never realize until now, what a beautiful man he is?
He's going to kiss me, I finally realize. Barret always said I was obtuse. I lean into Reno, our faces inches away from each other; I can smell cloves and whiskey on his breath. Oh Gaia, it's intoxicating to me. He's intoxictating to me. We kiss - lightly at first, but then I realize I want more. He's soft, warm, and understanding - and it seems as if he wants me. I'm pretty damned sure I want him, and certain parts of my anatomy are confirming this thought.
Am I rebounding? Hardly...Zack's been gone over seven years now. Reno's staring at me again, looking as if he wants to say something.
"Um...sorry," Reno murmurs, apologetically. "I just...I didn't mean for that to happen, it just..."
"It just did," I finish his sentence for him. "I'm glad it did. Can...we do it again?" I ask him, suddenly feeling shy. I can't believe it took me this long to kiss another man. Oddly, I don't feel like I'm betraying Zack, like I thought I'd feel.
"Yeah," Reno says, pulling me onto his lap. "We can." We kiss again, slower this time. I feel his arms around me, and it feels good. It feels right. There's no need to rush this, we take our time, just savoring each other, and the moment.
Our bottles of whiskey are still on the table - neither one of us have touched them in at least an hour.
Both of them are half full.
A/N: The whole factory fire thing, was loosely based upon the true story of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, which happened in NYC in 1911. Over a hundred people died in the fire.