He was bred of feudal traditionalism from the day of his birth, since he was old enough to begin comprehening speech and mobility. Etiquette had been stressed to him as had beauty, spending vain hours on the cascade of silky raven hair that spilled down his back. The motives of his father and other leading figureheads in Wutai was not to be questioned. He was a son, he did what was expected of him without question. He was to inherit the name of the Valentine family and bring honor to the clan name. This had been the story of his life for seventeen years before everything suddenly turned upside down.
His father dipped a hand in many gambling rings and underground business syndicates that often left him scrambling to come up with a way to salvage what was left of his fortune and keep his dirty dealings under the table. Vincent had strolled in on many a heated debate with his father's clients but with a harsh word and an iron fist he made sure his son was sworn to secrecy. Vincent kept himself out of the way, letting his mother dote on him or perching himself on a windowsill and staring cross the glimmering sea, dreaming of a life beyond this remote isle. His dream came true all too soon, however, when his father hit a particularly bad deal with Shinra. In exchange for a small fortune to mask his debts, Vincent's father was to sell his only son to them.
Greed is a powerful sin.
The ground below him whipped by as he watched over the rail of an airship called the "Highwind" speeding across wide expanses of ocean and open plain towards the immense industrialized capital of Midgar. Vincent's elegant robes had been shed for more suitable traveling garb, a black shirt and tight matching pants that outlined every curve of his slender body. The obi of his favorite kimono that his mother had handcrafted for him on his sixteenth birthday was now tied around his forehead, pulling the long black tresses away from his face. Many times he'd contemplated jumping the rail to his death rather than allowing himself to become a pirsoner of Shinra. He hadn't the slightest inclination of what direction his life would take. Vaguely, he wondered is his life would ever be his to command or if he would spend the rest of his days as a marionette dancing to the tune of everyone else's drummer.
"Hey!" Vincent looked up at a rough drawl from the door behind him. He recognized his visitor as the pilot's son, Cid. His blonde hair was cut back close to his face and his eyes were a deep, soft shade like the bluest of oceans Vincent would stare into from his bedroom window. Heavy footseps clumped across the deck as Cid came over and leaned against the rail, puffing at a cigarette clapsed in his full lips. He eyed the other appreciatively coaxing a soft flush to Vincent's pale cheeks.
"You're Cid, yes?" his voice was surprisingly soft for a young man.
"Yeah. Yer that aristocrat's kid or whatever. Vincent, righ'?" Cid put his cigarette out on the rail and flicked the butt overboard, leaning back to let the wind whip at his hair. Vincent had met many rougher boys than himself in his days but never had he been so captivated. There something about Cid in particular that made his throat run dry and his chest clench up tight. Perhaps it was his brash attitude, gruff exterior, or just the bottomless gaze of his eyes that made Vincent's blood rush.
"See somethin' ya like?" he drawled, watching Vincent beneath half-lidded eyes.
"Mnn." he dragged a hand through his long hair. "I never got out much."
"Well yer certainly gettin' out now, ain't ya? Midgar's a big place. Maybe we'll see each other one day?"
Vincent blinked, "You aren't going back to Rocket Town, aren't you?"
"Someday," a broad smirk lit Cid's face, "I'm gonna fly to outer space. Shinra says space exploration is the wave of th' future an' I'm gonna be the first one in line to blast the hell outta here!" A soft chuckle left Vincent. Cid's eyes were bright with the enthusiasm like a young child ready to take the world by storm. They were both still rather young, Vincent couldn't imagine Cid being much older or younger than he was.
"I've never had dreams like that." Vincent confessed, "I've been bred for this and bred for that.. and now..." he shook his head, "Now my fate is in Shinra's hands."
"Dammit Vince, ya gotta be more assertive of yerself. Ya don't mind if I call ya that do ya?"
"No..."
"Good, cause I would anyway." he lit up another cigarette before he continued, "Anyway. Ya can't let every shit face around control ya forever or yer jus' gonna end up fuckin' miserable in the end." Vincent gave a soft nod, smiling in spite of himself. Cid was crude, rude, and obnoxious but oddly enough it felt welcome after a constant upbringing emphasizing sophistication.
"I guess so." He shrugged and looked out across the darkening sky. The air was beginning to chill as the minutes dragged into night hours. Suddenly the chill burned away into an awkward heat, Cid wrapping his muscled arms around Vincent's waist, pulling the supple body back against his own.
"Kinda chilly tonight, ain't it?" the boy's breath was hot in his ear, sending foreign shivers rippling through his body.
"Y-Yeah it is..." his voice shook as he replied, pressing back into the warmth. He'd never been held like this, never been embraced or cradled like this. He wanted to stay here for eternity, partaking of Cid's warmth against his as they flew over vast landscapes underneath a clear, starry sky.
"Ya wanna come back to my cabin?" Cid pulled back the loose strands of hair from Vincent's face, barely ghosting his lips over the other's. "I'll keep ya nice and warm."
Perhaps it was loneliness
The desperation for a friend
The nagging thought he may never see him again that led him to sleep with Cid that night.
Or maybe it was the promise that was left behind. A promise that somehow, someday, when Cid was a first class world famous pilot and he finally got his chance to explore the final frontier that he would come back for Vincent.
A promise neither forgot.