high and low

When sunlight strikes the eastern side of Edge, the angel that stands guard over the central square is basked in golden light. From atop the roof of Seventh Heaven, Cloud could see the angel now, stone wings now flooded with tints of gold, cold eyes now cast with a halo of light. He closed his eyes slowly and let out a deep breath. It's been so long since he's been able to breathe like that without his chest seizing in pain.

Sometimes, Cloud forgets that he's no longer inflicted with Geostigma, and walks slowly, as if any moment his heart would start to race and his face crumble in pain. But then, Cloud touches the scar, a tiny crooked fissure on his bicep, and remembers that he's cured. He can run around, chasing Marlene or kick a soccer ball high up in the air and screaming for Denzel to run after it. He'll play and laugh and run with the kids until the late afternoon turns into evening, every day during the long summer.

Afterwards, he'll go to the kitchen and eat whatever food Tifa would store away, covered in plastic wrap and hidden in the crooks and nannies of the cupboards, the refrigerator, the new stove. He'll make a plate for himself and bring it out to the bar, sitting behind the counter and watching Tifa make drinks or chat with the customers.

And before they all went to bed, Cloud would lock Seventh Heaven up, each of the four locks clicking once, twice in the air, sounding like bells.

Now, watching the sunset over Edge, Cloud takes a long sip of his beer, the can sweating in his grip and waits.

--

The worst thing about summer, Vincent mused, is that regardless of his own personal wishes, he was forced to show more of his skin than he would ever want to. It wasn't the sleeveless shirt, something he was positive came from Cloud's closet, or the sandals that still felt awkward on his feet as he walked down the quieting streets of Edge. Rather, it was his claw that Vincent felt he needed to hide. It was a physical reminder of his own melancholy, though Vincent wanted no one else to look at it and become frightened.

But of course, little kids ran off, darting into corners or far from his reach, the moment they saw Vincent. Some of them would point and laugh, others just ran away in quiet fear. Of course, Vincent never saw the faces of the children, his red eyes always downcast and staring at the ground.

He stood outside Seventh Heaven, fixing the collar of his shirt with one hand as he gently raked the edge of his claw up and down his jean clad thigh. Maybe he could run away, before anyone –

"Hey! Up here!"

A beer can bounced once, twice, striking the square of concrete before Vincent's eyes. He glanced up, and if he squinted hard enough, he could make out the form of Cloud, sitting on the edge of the roof.

--

"Sometimes, I forget, you know, what it meant to have Geostigma."

Cloud pulled out a can of beer from the twelve pack that sat next to him. His eyes, still disarmingly a brilliant blue even in the twilight, were kind as he watched Vincent take the beer from his hand. He swung his legs back and forth, letting his bare feet skim against the walls of the bar as he looked up at Vincent.

"-To have a monster in you."

Vincent opened the can of beer, sending a gunshot of a sound into the silence. Lifting the can to his mouth, Vincent took a big gulp of amber liquid in hopes that perhaps this would untangle the sudden twist of his throat.

"Yeah, Vincent, I just wanted to tell you something."

Cloud opened a beer for himself as Vincent, with a sigh, took of his sandals and sat next to Cloud, swinging his legs over the edge of the roof. High above their heads, Vincent could see the birds, flying in lazy circles and through the descending night clouds. Down below, children played hopscotch and jump rope, mothers held giggling babies and old men wondered the streets, their hands clutched behind their back.

The beer can in his hand was cold, colder then the dark of basements and dark closets.

"And all I wanted to say was -"

In all the time he knew him, Cloud could never remember Vincent wearing anything besides his black jumpsuit and the red cape that clung to his frame like a vampire. It was a change, and seeing Vincent dressed like that, made Cloud smile.

He lifted a hand to brush aside a stray bang and said softly, "It can be cured."

--

"It's okay, Tifa! Really! They won't mind!"

At least, Yuffie prayed, they wouldn't. She ran up the stairs, past the second floor and hollered back a greeting to Marlene who peeked her head out of the bedroom at all the noise. She ran all the way to the rooftop's door, pausing only once to catch her breath.

"Hey! –" The greeting fell flat on her lips.

This is what she saw.

Empty beer cans scattered all over the roof and Vincent's sandals lined perfectly next to each other, like soldiers. Cloud stood next to the roof's edge and offered a hand to Vincent, who still sat, staring down at the street below him.

And Cloud said, as clear and as bright as the first streetlamp that turned on at the end of the sunrise, "You can come back here, anytime."

Yuffie clamped a hand over her mouth and tried to edge her way back downstairs when Vincent's eyes turned to glance at her. Softly he said, "Hey."

Cloud smiled towards her as well as Vincent took Cloud's offered hand and stood.

"Yuffie," Vincent's eyes, in twilight, looked almost warm brown, the color of the earth, "Time for dinner already?"

--

In the dark of midnight, Vincent stood by the open window in the guest room, both hands against the window still. He leaned his body out to the night air and glanced up at the half moon. It could be cured, Cloud said.

Vincent wished he could believe him.