Cloud Strife, mercenary turned bodyguard, wondered for what seemed to be the hundredth time why he was sitting on a bed of flowers inside an abandoned Church. In his defense, he was told to wait exactly where he sat. His charge had been adamant that he stayed and wait. For what, he didn't know. Yet. Shaking his head, Cloud tried to recall the phone conversation that led him here.
"Ne, Cloud. I need to you stop by the Church for a bit when you come back. Just wait by the flowers, okay?"
Those were her instructions. He had tried to ask for more details, but she just repeated her words before hanging up.
Cloud did as he was told, of course. That woman wouldn't tell him to do something without a valid reason. And so there he was, waiting in the midst of her flowers at the Church.
'...by the flowers.'
Cloud stood up quickly, recalling the exact words of his directive. He didn't have to actually be inside the flowerbed, he could have just sat near it.
Swearing under his breath, Cloud took care not to damage any of the flowers in his wake as he walked out. He was about to sit down again when gaze landed on a single flower that stood far from the others. Seeing it brought up a memory of her smile, the same one she had given him the first time he bought a flower from her.
He touched the lone flower gently, taking care not to ruin it. Since he was already there, it wouldn't hurt to bring one back to her, would it? He plucked the isolated flower from the ground and was about to tuck it away when he heard his phone ring. He searched his pockets, but didn't find it. He must have left it back on his motorbike that was parked outside.
Thinking that it could be his charge who was calling him to ask about his whereabouts, Cloud went to pick up his phone.
He was a little ways to the exit when the ringing suddenly stopped, which was too soon when no one was there to answer it. The caller could have just decided to drop the call. But if it was her, and it mostly always was, she wouldn't stop calling him until he answered. And since the ringing didn't return as if she had re-dialled his number, it pointed to the possibility of his phone in someone else's grasp.
His hand on the hilt of his sword, Cloud slowly approached the doors and peeked outside to check for any sign of danger. He almost missed it. But there beside his bike was a boy; and in his hand was the phone.
Denzel's grip on the metal rod that was his weapon was loosening. He was weakening more and more as the days went by without getting any food or water. It didn't help that he was walking around aimlessly – not until he met her a few days ago.
Denzel was wandering again when he came across a woman selling flowers on the street. Flowers were very rare in the city; so rare that he knew only one person sold them from stories told to him. Seeing the woman and her flowers, his curiosity had been piqued. Could this woman be the one from his parents' stories?
The flower girl smiled a lot, he noticed. Denzel found that he liked to see her smiling. She reminded him of his mother who loved to smile. And so he found himself watching her a lot. Sometimes, he'd even stay near the places he knew she would pass by.
As Denzel observed her, there were times when he saw her scowling or looking downright furious. He found out later on that jerks would sometimes bother her. But she could handle them. Sometimes she had to run away from them, though.
If he was bigger, he would have liked to help her out. But he was just a kid, and the jerks were burly men who could wave him around like a stick. He knew that for sure, but it didn't mean he didn't imagine taking them on. After a while, he noticed that the flower girl had someone watching over her – she seemed clueless, however.
Denzel continued to watch her in secret. But like all secrets, he was found out.
Denzel had been waiting in the alley yet again. He thought it would be the same as usual, but he found her walking his way while she had a distracted look on her face. He did his best to keep to the shadows of the alley and was relieved to find her about to leave, but something must have given him away which gained her attention. Because she suddenly looked right at where he was.
He hunched in on himself, pressing himself against the wall as if he could somehow become one with the shadow he was hiding in and escape the woman's sight. She was soon kneeling in front of him though despite his efforts to hide.
The woman smiled at him, her head tilting to the side as she examined his ragged state. She stared at him, and he stared right back. No one said anything.
Denzel was starting to wonder if they would just continue the stare down when she nodded as if making a decision to herself.
"Here," she said. Her voice was so kind and gentle as she held out a flower to him.
"No money," he told her. He knew how pricey a flower can get since it was a rare commodity.
She shook her head and took his hand in hers. The flower was in his grasp a moment later, and then she stood up. "If you wanna pay up, come and visit the Church." With another smile aimed his way, the woman waved and walked away. She was almost out of sight when she turned back to him and added, "Oh, and answer the phone will you?"
Then, she was gone.
Denzel knew the Church the woman had talked about. It was the only one left standing in the slums; all the others had broken down or had been destroyed a long time ago.
The flower in his hand was pretty. It was the same as those his parents had brought home one day. Remembering it all brought tears to his eyes, but he held them at bay.
Boys don't cry. Boys don't cry. Boys don't cry.
He kept on repeating the mantra in his head until he was sure no tear would escape. He couldn't go to that Church. Seeing the woman again would just remind him of her flowers, and her flowers would just remind him of the heartache of loss. It was better to stay away.
Decision made, he pocketed the flower carefully. It was the only one he'd get for a long, long time.
The flower had wilted a few days after which made him feel guilty. He hadn't paid for it, hadn't been able to take care of it. He had to apologize, so he went to the Church the woman had told him to go to even if it went against his earlier decision.
And so there he was – trying to stay upright as he walked toward his destination, his weapon in his hand. The top of the Church was in his view. Just a few more steps and he'll be there.
Denzel had been too focused on the Church that he didn't notice the bike until he was right beside it. Curious as to why it was there, he took a look around the bike. That was when he saw a phone dangling from one of the handles and got it.
Seeing it made him think of the phone in his old home. He still knew the number, so he dialled it. He didn't know what he was expecting, but the familiar line that told him of the number's disconnection reminded him that his home was gone.
Frustrated, he almost threw it on the ground. But the phone wasn't his. And the owner might still come back for his things. He was about to return it to its former place when it suddenly rang in his hand.
Panic had him looking at the entrance to the Church, certain someone was going to come barrelling out and discover he was there.
When no one came, he relaxed a bit. Maybe the phone and the bike had been left behind. Or maybe the owner had gone away and would be back later, much later.
The phone just kept on ringing. Then the woman's parting words suddenly came to mind.
"...answer the phone, will you?"
Denzel checked his surroundings, making sure no one was around to see him. With shaking hands, Denzel pressed the button to answer the call as he was bid.
"Hello?" he whispered.
"Looks like you did come for a visit," a female voice said, delight clear in her tone. It was her, the woman – the flower girl he met on the street.
"Mm." He found that he could say nothing else. He was supposed to apologize. He wanted to, but the words wouldn't come.
Silence filled the air. She didn't speak, so neither did he. She must have been waiting for him to say something. Maybe she knew the precious flower she gave him was gone.
"I..." he started to say. He was embarrassed to find himself tearing up. "I couldn't protect it," he confessed with a sniff.
"That's fine." She didn't sound angry, which made Denzel want to cry all the more.
"You shouldn't have given it to me." He wiped the tears away with an arm.
"Mm."
"I couldn't protect the flower," he went on brokenly. He again thought of the flower his parents liked. "I couldn't protect them."
"What's your name?"
"Denzel." He gave another sniff. "I don't know what to do anymore."
She didn't reply for a while. He was about to drop the call when she said, "You did your best, Denzel. Isn't it time you let someone else do the protecting?"
He was about to ask he what she meant when a wave of dizziness swept through him. His knees gave out and he fell, catching himself with a hand to the ground in the last second.
"Denzel?" he heard the woman say. He realized that he had dropped the phone.
He tried to reach for the phone, but he was so weak with hunger that holding himself up was taking too much on him.
"Denzel, what's wrong?" She sounded so worried.
He tried to answer her, but he was starting to lose consciousness. His vision was blurry, darkening around the edges.
"Help me." It was a whispered plea.
"Hold on, Denzel. He's coming."
Who was 'he'?
Denzel struggled to stay awake, but darkness closed over him. He thought he heard the sound of running footsteps. He managed to open his eyes for a bit and saw someone, a man, was bent beside him.
Why did he seem familiar to Denzel?
"Are you all right?"
The man reached out a hand towards him, and then the world went dark.
Cloud started running the moment he saw the kid collapse but couldn't reach him in time to break his fall.
"Are you all right?" he asked the boy. No answer.
"Cloud, are you there?" That was her, and it was coming from his phone that lay inches away from the unconscious kid.
He grabbed the phone and said, "I'm here."
"Cloud? What happened? Where's Denzel?"
So the kid must be 'Denzel'. Putting the phone between his shoulder and ear, he checked the boy over for any injuries. He must have been only 9 or 10, but it looked like he had already been worn out by the harshness of life.
"The kid fainted," he informed the worried woman. "Do you know him?"
"I saw him out on his own in the streets once," she replied. "Can you bring him home, please?" He could hear her moving on the other end of the line. Knowing her, she must have started preparations for accommodating the kid.
"Okay." Receiving her request, he ended the call and carried the boy to his bike. He didn't need to question it. He knew she had her reasons.
Revving up the engines, Cloud tightened his hold on the boy's hand Cloud had wrapped around his waist. The kid was so out of it, Cloud wasn't sure the kid wouldn't let go during the ride home. He would just have to make sure they reached their destination in one piece.
"Hold on, kid," Cloud murmured to the boy. Then he hit the throttle.