Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII. There's a reason it's called fanfiction, you know.
Warnings: None
Author's Note: I haven't been writing many fanfics lately. I'm working on an original novel for my graduation project, and that thing sucks up my time. But it's so worth it.
Ashes: We All Fall Down
"Ashes, ashes,
We all fall down."
Chills ran down his spine. It wasn't as though he was unaccustomed to the feeling. It happened only once or twice a day in the beginning, but now... It was happening all the time, whether he was alone or in the company of friends, obviously uncaring about the woes his body goes through on a daily basis.
Sometimes, he wanted to scream so badly, but he bit his tongue until it bled, determined not to let the world know about his agony.
Ignoring the symptoms, Cloud sat at the bar in the Seventh Heaven, Cid by his side, sipping a beer. Cloud had been asking for shots and liquor since four in the afternoon.
God dammit, he wanted something hard.
"The hell's up with you, Spiky?" the older man grunted, slamming his beer onto the bar's scratched wooden surface.
"Nothing much," Cloud lied, the words poisoning his tongue while he spoke. Nervously, he fiddled with the zipper on his navy blue turtleneck.
"Same thing you always say," muttered Cid with a sigh. "Didn't change, did ya?"
Cloud shrugged, eyelids drooping slightly over sapphire eyes. "Guess not."
The two sat in silence. Cloud continued to ignore the pain surging up his arm, choosing to quiet it down with a few beers instead.
It was near eleven at night when Cid decided he wanted to retire to the guest bedroom upstairs (which, really, was more like Yuffie's room). Cloud had been tossing and turning in his bed for long hours, sleep refusing to bless him. Every so often his gaze would settle on a black duffle bag and a worn out lantern, hidden in the darkness in the corner of his dusty room.
The pain would come and go, yet never completely disappeared. It was a constant reminder of his past and his quickly approaching, humiliating death. Though he had saved the planet, not even it thought that he was worth more than dirt... just like most others in his life.
Feeling his will weaken and fade, Cloud quietly pushed himself from his warm, cozy bed and crept towards the two items in the corner. Picking them up, holding them securely, he made his way to his bedroom door, which opened and shut without a single hint of protest.
It was as though even his own home wanted him gone.
He stalked down the metal staircase, socks leaving nary a sound as he trudged onward. Just as he was near the door, lacing up his boots, he heard light thuds behind him, on the very staircase on which he walked not even a few minutes prior.
"Didn't change, did ya?" muttered the man, strongly smelling of tobacco.
Cloud said nothing and resumed tying the strings on his leather boots.
"Running away won't change a damn thing," Cid continued, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes wandered up and down the numerous cracks and splinters in the wood.
"I can't stay here," Cloud protested, albeit weakly.
"Ya got a family," countered Cid, crossing his arms and glaring at the younger man (who really acted more like a teenager). "You're supposed to take care of 'em."
"I can't," Cloud repeated, the strings on his boots finally knotted together.
"More like ya won't," grunted Cid.
Cloud placed a gloved hand on the doorknob and cast a glance over at Cid.
"I didn't see a damn thing," Cid muttered with a nod.
Cloud left the warmth of the Seventh Heaven behind him, stealthily retrieving his beloved Fenrir and pushing it for an entire half a mile before he finally let the engine purr.
