Author's note: Cloud POV
Going forward always meant wondering what I left behind. But, one cannot stay stagnant in the same spot forever. Sometimes I wondered what I missed out on, if I could have possessed a different life.
I guess I'm happy how life turned out after meteor. But, there's this gnawing feeling in my chest that burns and makes my chest twist into knots. Maybe, it's heartburn. I haven't been eating well, surviving on cup noodles and grape purple foam soda in a can. Probably taking ten years off my life, but that's not a big deal, is it?
Life is like a cup of tofu. You never know what you're going to get. Well, I have ten gallon of sticky tofu in the fridge. Never been one to touch the spatula and stove. Vincent isn't much of a cook either, but sometimes late at night I sneak into his room and find bits of chocolate bars hidden under folds of sully clothes scattered around the mattress and the fuzzy lint gray couch.
Two bounty hunters crawling in their own filth.
People don't seem to mind.
***************
"What's your name?" said an intoxicatingly sweet voice. A glass pressed firmly on her glossy lips.
"Cloud," said a suave, nonchalant voice. His arm loosely pressed on the wooden counter.
"Buy me a drink," she whisper, her leg brushing his jean pants.
She pressed her lips hard against his.
He shook his head, turning clumsily to the door. Stomach nauseated, tightening and coiling into tiny knots. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, until his feet stumbled into the metal doors. His ruffled head perched over the plastic seat, until he went numb and cold. Tiny trickles sticking on his face as he leaned languidly against the door. Short exasperated breaths coughing in the cold air.
************************************
Maybe, I'm sick. Vincent said it might be ulcers, but I went to see a doctor a while ago and he told me I'm imagining things. Maybe, I am.
Maybe it's the image of Vincent, in his blue checkered boxers and pale naked skin, as he strolls outside with dead hollow eyes and reaches for the wrinkled pallid newspaper, which makes me want to hurl. I doubt it. The girls across the street don't seem to mind. Quiet moans as they stare in awe at Vincent. It's hilarious, how they fantasize about him. Girls throw themselves all over him. But, he gives them an indifferent stare that pushes them back a little until there is a certain distance between them. I think fifteen feet is the usual. But, he's not a cold bastard. He's waiting for the right person. Well, maybe he already found the person who could make him sweat profusely and lift his stomach into his throat until he was nothing more than incoherent mumbles. But, that's only in memories.
Vincent and I aren't that different.
Two bounty hunters with no cash. I try to track down the bad guys and receive squat for most catches. Well, Shinra was the epitome of evil, there's not that many bad guys left, except those ones that live in our heart.
Cold beer with white socks.
Sometimes I wonder how I found myself in Junon and in this crummy apartment. Peeling wallpaper, pungent smell of old liquor, and a roof that is porous enough to be a sponge.
The apartment didn't really quite interest me much. But beyond the walls, was what really mattered.
A wooden, stone well which is kind of like the one in Nibleheim. I remember leaning on it late at night and looking up at the thousand stars which lightened up the streets of Junon. I wish I can turn back time. Sometimes I just wanted to fall into that well, back to the time when I was just short clumsy blonde kid with my heart in my head. Then, she would be next to me, holding my hand, telling me her dreams. Everything seemed possible.
But then I look over the other side of the well, and her claret eyes and wistful glowing smile are not there. Maybe if I find her, see her one more time, the pain twisting in my stomach would go away.
I'm a coward, a fucking bloody coward.
I've lost my chance. I've lost the best thing I ever had.
I was scared; I didn't know how to deal with it. I ran away from love. A love that is so painfully strong, it hurts when I think I can't be with her. I can't see her smile. A smile that she might be sharing with someone else.
You can't run away from love, you just end up regretting it every minute of your life.
Going forward always meant wondering what I left behind. But, one cannot stay stagnant in the same spot forever. Sometimes I wondered what I missed out on, if I could have possessed a different life.
I guess I'm happy how life turned out after meteor. But, there's this gnawing feeling in my chest that burns and makes my chest twist into knots. Maybe, it's heartburn. I haven't been eating well, surviving on cup noodles and grape purple foam soda in a can. Probably taking ten years off my life, but that's not a big deal, is it?
Life is like a cup of tofu. You never know what you're going to get. Well, I have ten gallon of sticky tofu in the fridge. Never been one to touch the spatula and stove. Vincent isn't much of a cook either, but sometimes late at night I sneak into his room and find bits of chocolate bars hidden under folds of sully clothes scattered around the mattress and the fuzzy lint gray couch.
Two bounty hunters crawling in their own filth.
People don't seem to mind.
***************
"What's your name?" said an intoxicatingly sweet voice. A glass pressed firmly on her glossy lips.
"Cloud," said a suave, nonchalant voice. His arm loosely pressed on the wooden counter.
"Buy me a drink," she whisper, her leg brushing his jean pants.
She pressed her lips hard against his.
He shook his head, turning clumsily to the door. Stomach nauseated, tightening and coiling into tiny knots. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, until his feet stumbled into the metal doors. His ruffled head perched over the plastic seat, until he went numb and cold. Tiny trickles sticking on his face as he leaned languidly against the door. Short exasperated breaths coughing in the cold air.
************************************
Maybe, I'm sick. Vincent said it might be ulcers, but I went to see a doctor a while ago and he told me I'm imagining things. Maybe, I am.
Maybe it's the image of Vincent, in his blue checkered boxers and pale naked skin, as he strolls outside with dead hollow eyes and reaches for the wrinkled pallid newspaper, which makes me want to hurl. I doubt it. The girls across the street don't seem to mind. Quiet moans as they stare in awe at Vincent. It's hilarious, how they fantasize about him. Girls throw themselves all over him. But, he gives them an indifferent stare that pushes them back a little until there is a certain distance between them. I think fifteen feet is the usual. But, he's not a cold bastard. He's waiting for the right person. Well, maybe he already found the person who could make him sweat profusely and lift his stomach into his throat until he was nothing more than incoherent mumbles. But, that's only in memories.
Vincent and I aren't that different.
Two bounty hunters with no cash. I try to track down the bad guys and receive squat for most catches. Well, Shinra was the epitome of evil, there's not that many bad guys left, except those ones that live in our heart.
Cold beer with white socks.
Sometimes I wonder how I found myself in Junon and in this crummy apartment. Peeling wallpaper, pungent smell of old liquor, and a roof that is porous enough to be a sponge.
The apartment didn't really quite interest me much. But beyond the walls, was what really mattered.
A wooden, stone well which is kind of like the one in Nibleheim. I remember leaning on it late at night and looking up at the thousand stars which lightened up the streets of Junon. I wish I can turn back time. Sometimes I just wanted to fall into that well, back to the time when I was just short clumsy blonde kid with my heart in my head. Then, she would be next to me, holding my hand, telling me her dreams. Everything seemed possible.
But then I look over the other side of the well, and her claret eyes and wistful glowing smile are not there. Maybe if I find her, see her one more time, the pain twisting in my stomach would go away.
I'm a coward, a fucking bloody coward.
I've lost my chance. I've lost the best thing I ever had.
I was scared; I didn't know how to deal with it. I ran away from love. A love that is so painfully strong, it hurts when I think I can't be with her. I can't see her smile. A smile that she might be sharing with someone else.
You can't run away from love, you just end up regretting it every minute of your life.