Note: All characters, places, ect. belong to Square Enix.
Silly Scars
By Zero9grl
It is a little hard to admit this. He wants to be gracious about this strange feeling, but it makes him very bitter. It is a hard thing to admit. He has never cried and he has bled only once and he has all these little scars, insignificant and nothing at all, and yet they stand there as reminders of what has been, what others have done, what he has done. The past is omnipresent and it is a hard thing to forget. He does not forget one single thing.
Everything he has done he has always felt was the best course at the time. He has never lived life for regrets. Regrets have always been pitiful things for idiots and fools. Every single thing he has done he believed in entirely at the time. He does not do things lightly, flippantly. He does not do things without looking at the entire chess board and thinking of every move, possible and impossible, before deciding his course.
Cold, calculating, that is what he presents. He does not do with silly displays of little affection and sugar names for things that are easily replaced. Yet he made the wrong move somewhere, he is not quite sure where, but he will find out soon and he will know and live it again and again until it becomes burned in his mind and he will never make that mistake again, the mistake that nearly cost him everything and gave him everything.
He is having a hard time admitting this feeling and it is a stupid feeling, because he does not live for regret and yet he could not see the things he sees now before having a building dropped on him and life calls in the most annoying ways. He could have done without the internal bleeding and crushed ribs. A note by his breakfast plate would have done just fine.
He runs his fingers through his hair restlessly and he has been doing this more and more lately, a strange, messy habit that he does not entirely approve of. He stares into his bathroom mirror, all the lights out, just dark and him and this feeling. His eyes are a little haunted, a little wider than normal and he is a little worn. He has to admit this thing, admit it to himself at least, if no one else. He has to say it aloud, give it voice and words and he does not want to because he does not live for regrets, silly, useless things that they are.
He can not avoid this.
"I am sorry. I tried to stay above it and I fell to the corruption anyways. I am so sorry. I tried to bring this world order and I only brought it fear. I am so, so sorry that I tried and failed to protect Midgar, the world, to clean up my company's messes, to stop all these things from happening..." And he is hissing the words like hot, sharp pain that tears out of his throat and these words are so strange, so uncharacteristic to him. They are true though and he almost hates them, but he has had enough of hate and while he's not optimistic enough for love, he believes he can do a little better than apathy. The past is little scars that run across his skin and he will never be rid of it, but he can acquire new, better scars from other things that won't make him say such silly, childish words, scars that will testify to the adult in him.
He pulls his cellphone from his pocket and flips it open, holding down the four button. A number flashes across the screen as it dials from electronic memory and presently he hears a voice saying, "Yo". "Reno!" He snaps and the voice on the phone chokes just a bit. "Erhck, yea? Mr. President?" It says, a little more respectful this time. "Bring the chopper. I'll meet you on the roof in ten minutes," he tells that voice and shuts the phone, ending the call.
He smirks just a little when Reno arrives, helicopter landing smoothly. He takes a seat, looking out the window as he murmurs, "Yo."
He is sorry for many things, but regret can't stop him, Death couldn't stop him, Geostigma never stopped him. He is so sorry, but life goes on. Time to earn some more scars.