These are some kind-of horror stories originally written for the prompts of the 30screams livejournal community. I'd never thought of pairing Cloud and Leon up for anything aside from maybe watching some football together on the TV or helping Aerith move some furniture, so I thought I'd give it a go just to see what would happen.

Night of the Thirty Screams II: "What the-AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

A collection of Kingdom Hearts horror stories

STARRING:

Cloud (Foamin'-Mad-Man) Strife and Leon Leonheart the Leon-Hearted

I

(A Bloody Knife | Echo)

Two Months and Twenty-Eight Days

For the first time in a while, the routine of the Hollow Bastian's labor-intensive day was broken by celebration. Months of work and sweat had paid off in a spectacular revelation that called for much feasting and music and cheers. The town square was unrecognizable from the dank pit they had originally found it in. It was now draped in colorful strips of cloth and rusting work-lights that spread a warm, comforting glow over the shops and tables. All this was to accompany the dancers that spun and reeled under the darkening sky.

They were celebrating the three whole months that had passed without somebody dying.

Leon didn't think about the last body they had found. Instead, he put on the only shirt he had that didn't smell of dry sweat or have a hole in it and let Aerith lead him away from his tools and his gunblade. He didn't think about the little child. He milled around watching people put out food and set up the streamers. He helped Cid fix up the working lights to make the square a bit brighter. He sat at a table and sometimes joined in the clapping when he heard a song he liked. He didn't think about how he was the one person other people always turned to when they found another one, another heartless, lifeless body. He didn't think about how they always came to him, arms held out like they wanted to grab him and shake him so hard he would fall apart, but they always came pleading, as if he was the only one who could tell them what to do. They wanted to know what to do with the body. He didn't think about the last one that was found lying in the street, used and worthless. Her tiny, pale hands were curled up near her inanimate face, like she might've been sleeping. Leon's gloved fist could have easily swallowed one of them up, her hands were that small.

But he wasn't thinking about that. He was dancing. It was a night for drinking and celebrating that nobody was dead, and he had let Aerith pull him into the mess of sweaty limbs and rustling fabric that crowded the tiny square. Everything was a blur of light and color, his pounding head lost track of the music, the shouting, the whispers, everything but the ringing in his ears as he bumped into other bodies and listlessly guided Aerith through a spin under his arm.

In the midst of it all, faraway, he could have sworn, for one moment, that he heard an awful, blood-curdling scream that made his whole body run through with chill and five people who expected him to be moving slam into him by mistake. That would be, he concluded, the alcohol working its way out of his system. No one else seemed to have heard the noise. He pushed his way back into the fresh, open air to sit down and nurse his aching head.

The rest of the night failed to give Leon any more pleasure. The throbbing headache refused to go away and made all of the music unbearable. More and more people continued to give him disapproving glances when he couldn't give anyone who tried to converse with him a coherent response. When Mrs. Potts finally took pity on him and had someone bring him a plate of food that he sampled and felt like retching back up after, he'd had all he could take. Leon turned in early, the sounds and lights of the festival growing dimmer as he dragged himself back to the apartment.

He must have fallen asleep for a bit. He remembered pulling his shirt off and kicking his shoes into a place where he wouldn't step on them. He didn't remember falling on the bed, but that was where he was when he woke up abruptly, blinking in the darkness of the room. Not much time had passed since he had left the square.

Leon had woken up because he had felt the presence of someone else very close by. His apartment was small. There were only two rooms, and there was barely enough wall to earn them each a label as their own separate space, so he couldn't help but noticing the sound of heavy boots dragging themselves over his floor. He scrambled towards the foot of the bed where he sat, frozen like an animal suddenly caught in a headlight, staring as Cloud's familiar shape moved out of view.

Leon's home was open to Cloud on a certain set of unspoken terms only the two of them knew. Cloud had not been at the festival. This shouldn't have been unusual, but Leon felt sick and cold as he slowly climbed off the bed and padded barefoot into the other room.

Everything had gone fuzzy, like things were in a dream. His other room was draped in blue, midnight light and dark shadows that became clearer as his eyes adjusted. His head buzzed as he found Cloud's dark shape bent over the sink, peeling gloves off and running his hands under the water. Leon hoped he was dreaming, and that none of this would have happened once he woke up.

The Buster Blade was resting against the table, glinting maliciously in what little light crept in from the windows. The thing terrified Leon like it was alive and would at any minute pick itself up and approach him, with no way to stop its advance. He was repelled by it before he could even figure out what was wrong. He was already beginning to panic, frustration welling up inside him, he wanted it out of his house, locked in a box, thrown into a pit, just put as far, far, away from him and from Cloud as he could get it because it was sitting at his kitchen table and absolutely drenched in someone's blood.

"Cloud."

Leon's voice cracked. Just like in a dream, he wouldn't be able talk loud enough to save himself. He cleared his throat over the sound of tap water beating against hands. Cloud turned his head, slowly, his blue eyes flickering in his bone pale face to look at Leon like he warranted no more interest than the wall. It only lasted a moment before Cloud calmly turned his attention back to the sink. The gaze had sent chills up Leon's body when he realized that the face looking back at him hadn't at all seemed human.

"Cloud," Leon said again, this time with more force, even though his voice was high and unsteady. Cloud gave no indication that he was even aware that Leon was in the room. He continued to wash his hands as if nothing were wrong. Leon was afraid of turning his back to the sword. It was sure to get him if he took his eyes off it.

"Where's the body?"

Cloud turned away from the sink and reached for a towel even though he didn't turn the tap off. Leon's chest tightened when he saw the sink shimmering with something that wasn't metal or water. There was so much of it being washed down his drain. Leon's hands rose to pull at his hair. It was getting harder to breathe.

"I heard someone scream earlier. Who was it, Cloud?"

Cloud finally turned around and Leon saw the front of him for the first time that night. His worst nightmares conjured up Cloud standing before him with blood smeared all down his front, approaching him slowly like he was going to console a small child. Leon held his ground.

Cloud put his bare, clean hand on Leon's shoulder.

"It was no one important," he said, giving Leon's shoulder a pat that was not reassuring.

Staring into Cloud's eyes was unnerving. The putrid color and the wretchedness behind the passive face, Leon couldn't begin to guess where it had come from, that brought back memories of the darkness and bodies strewn in the road, all the while keeping his concentration locked on Cloud and not on the treacherous blade giggling silently behind his back. It was sitting there, dripping on his floor, waiting to plunge itself into his back.

Leon gave a jerk of his head, something that was meant to be a nod but didn't quite have the thought behind it. Cloud simply turned around and went to wash the rest of the blood from his face. The thought that Cloud was lying to him, that he was hiding something terrible, made Leon furious.

"Was it because he looked at you the wrong way or something?" Leon asked.

A sharp pain ran up his right arm. He looked down and saw a tear in his skin that was shining red but not bleeding. The Buster Blade hadn't moved. Or at least Leon hadn't seen it move.

"Was it because he threatened your honor?" Leon hissed as another gash appeared on the same arm closer to his shoulder.

He was right, he realized, panic swelling in his throat as he began to shiver. It was his fault. He had looked away.

"Did he say something that upset youaaaaah." Leon wasn't prepared for the rip that tore the skin over his stomach.

He noticed Cloud turn his head slightly, but not enough to look properly over his shoulder.

Nothing, Leon told himself, this was nothing compared to what would happen if Cloud didn't come to his senses.

"Were you bored?"

The Buster Blade picked itself up and began to dot Leon's back with small cuts like it was communicating with him in code. He could hear it saying things in glee as it marked his body.

One cut here, one cut there, whoops, that's a little messy, let me fix it for you.

Leon's knuckles burst open as he tried to defend himself, twisting and writhing as his bare back was suddenly laced with pain. The giggling rang in his ears.

Leon felt himself fall to the ground and he made a desperate lunge for the bedroom, where his gunblade was, but the blade came down hard on his spine and he had to stiffle his scream by biting on his tongue. His hand closed around the closest thing, the leg of a wooden chair, and he swung, splinters flying as it hit the sword. Cloud's heavy footsteps signaled his approach, as Leon struggled vainly to climb to his feet. When Leon no longer felt the sword cutting his skin he dared to look up to find Cloud looking back down at him with a curious expression, the bloody sword in hand.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They listened to the sound of Leon's strained breathing.

"Cloud, drop it," Leon ordered.

Cloud cocked his head. "Why?"

"It's dangerous, Cloud," Leon ran his hand over the cuts in his arm, unmarked and clean, not one drop of blood spilling over his skin. "Please. Get rid of that thing."

Cloud lifted the tip of the blade. "This thing is my only weapon against the darkness. It's my friend, sorry to break your heart."

"You think my body's worth less than that? My skin?"

"I think you're stupid."

"I think you're mad."

Cloud said nothing.

"I think you're a killer."

Still, Cloud said nothing.

"So, who's it going to be next time?" Leon asked, near panic, fighting the pain and clutching his stomach as he crawled to his knees. "Some kid who steals your wallet? The next man who blows cigarette smoke in your face? Maybe you'll find something pretty about the thought of Aerith's body lying under one of the flower beds."

Cloud stuck out his boot to catch a drop of blood that fell from the blade's tip before it could stain the floor. "I wouldn't talk, it could be you I go after next."

Leon barked a laugh. "Oh, don't give yourself so much credit."

Cloud suddenly brought the Buster Blade up over his head and Leon cringed, holding out a hand to shield himself. The blue eyes burned poisonously as a murderous expression twisted Cloud's face.

Cloud relaxed and let the sword slowly fall back to his side. Leon's body slumped, his heart wrenching in his chest.

"I know what I'm doing."

Cloud lunged and shoved the blade right through Leon's stomach. Leon's mouth opened as he felt the tip penetrate, running all the way through and out his back. His hands shot out and clutched the edges, gripping tightly as the metal cut his hands. His fingers hopelessly slid over the metal, slick with the blood that he wasn't sure if he was actually bleeding. Cloud's head was bowed, and he slowly tilted his head back up to reveal his face, bit by bit, taken by the same hideous glare. Leon felt his muscles give out and he slumped over the sword against his will, his forehead nearly touching the steel. Cloud's hand parted the shaggy hair to touch his neck and then Leon was lying in bed, staring at the digital numbers of his alarm clock.

He sat up, touching his body. There were no cuts, no blood on his hands. He rubbed his sweaty, aching head. He had gotten more drunk than he thought. It was amazing that he had even made it home.

Leon wandered into the Other room, where Cloud was sitting on the loveseat, putting the finishing polishes on the gleaming Buster Blade stretched innocently over his knees.

There was a bucket at his feet, filled to the top with blood.

Cloud looked up, and attempted something like a smile that Leon never wanted to see on his face again. Cloud nudged the grimy bucket with a toe.

"Don't worry there won't be any trace of this by morning."

End