disjointed
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I'm sorry, but I can't answer the phone. You can leave a message for me, if you want. Press 1 to leave a message or wait for the tone. Press 5 to leave a numeric page. beep.WHY BUY A PHONE WHEN YA DON'T EVEN USE IT? It's just wastin' your time, and mine, leaving all these messages. Erm, why doncha just call me back? I… yeah, erm, just wonderin' how things are, Vincent. Call me. beep
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Waking up as the first streaks of light were still a tender eggshell pink on the dark of the horizon, he could feel the chill of early fall set adrift in the air. There was a makeshift table he made from a door and four concrete blocks he found when exploring the ruins. On top of the table sat a vase of flowers, white bells that dropped in the darkness of his home, and a loaf of bread, dotted with poppy seeds, encased in plastic wrap. By the vase was a crayon drawing of him, so ridiculously cute that sometimes he found it hard to look at.
In a lopsided line, framing his picture was blocky letters, written in ink as black as his hair. COM VIZ IT SOON! – D & M. They miss you, Cloud had said, just a week ago when he delivered the bread and the flowers, along with a wheel of cheese and a package of sausages. Tifa misses you, too. Out of the kindness of their hearts, Cloud always managed to drive all the way to the Forgotten Capital, once a week to drop off care packages Tifa, Denzel and Marlene made for him. Even with all of Vincent's protests, and the one time he tried to give back the food, Cloud still dropped off a delivery at the start of each week, just like clockwork. Now after three months of this, Vincent actually looked forward to it; to Cloud's ready chatter and easy laugh, stories of Denzel and Marlene and photographs with written letters on the back in Tifa's long, flowing handwriting. However, last week, when Cloud handed Vincent the bouquet of flowers, laughing at how intent Marlene was to give it to him, Vincent was startled. His hands shook as he took them from Cloud, and as he held them in the crook of his arms, the scent of their loveliness was almost too much for Vincent to bear.
When everybody else came to visit him, they begged and pleaded for Vincent to move out of this place, citing all sorts of ridiculous offers (including a backroom in one of Cosmo Canyon's Alchemy Libraries, a floor on the very top of a pagoda in Wutai, a luxury apartment paid by Reeve, half of the house Barret was currently building in Edge and the most humorous offer of all, a coffin in the basement of Cid's house in Rocket Town). And to each one, Vincent just shook his head, again and again.
But Cloud just placed a hand on Vincent's shoulder and said, before he left, each and every time, Give me a call when you want me to bring the kids. The silence that fell over the ruins, and the tiny corner that Vincent called home, swelled the moment the sounds of Fenrir's engine faded into the distance. In the hours after Cloud left, Vincent slept to ward off acute sense of loneliness, and to forget Cloud's offer. Just one call, and two days later, Cloud would come with not just the kids, but Tifa as well, filling the place with voices, human voices that rose in anger, glowed with laughter and shone with warmth.
But as much as he loved Denzel and Marlene, this was no place for kids. In fact, Vincent thought as he stood up from the folded blanket he slept on, this was no place for the living.
Vincent walked over to the bucket he kept filled with cold water and crouched over it, his hands cupped. He dipped his hands into it, breaking the still surface of the water, and splashed his face over and over again, scrubbing it clean. He ran his fingers through his hair and stretching, he put on the shirt that lay crumpled near the table.
He rummaged through its pockets until he found his cell phone and flipped open the cover. 12 Missed Calls read the flashing neon of his phone and scrolling through the call list, he had to smile. 6 of them were from Yuffie. Crossing his arms, one resting over his right shoulder as his claw scratched absentmindedly at his left elbow, Vincent paused to think.
What if Cloud found out, Vincent thought, and revert back to his old self?
He turned to look at the long shadow of Yazoo asleep on the floor, in a corner far from where Vincent slept, a blanket folded around and around his body. Yazoo had been asleep for the past two days, tossing and turning, sometimes raising his arm and letting out a terrified yell as if to defend himself from his nightmares.
What would Yazoo do when he woke up? Vincent knew nothing of forgiveness or redemption. He never exercised such beliefs on himself and so, he knew he couldn't teach them to Yazoo. Perhaps the man would try to kill him, taking the vase and smashing it against the floor, grabbing a piece of its broken shard and jamming it against the tender part of Vincent's throat.
In the darkest part of Vincent's heart, he wondered why he didn't just shoot Yazoo now, two shots to the man's head and watch his blood drip across the floor like a river.
Yazoo let out another wounded cry and Vincent turned away from the sleeping man. In the end, Vincent didn't know who to call or what to do. Instead, he walked to the table and reached for the bread. It was getting to be morning already, and Vincent was hungry.
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Cloud uncrossed his legs and looked at the school in front of him. He placed one hand against the stone, backless bench he sat on and marveled at how cool it was to the touch. He smiled to himself, thinking of Denzel and how utterly angry he looked this morning, running down the stairs and dragging his backpack behind him, saying School! Summer just started! Over Denzel's loud protests, Tifa still managed to tell Cloud about a recent phone call from Reeve and Yuffie, give Cloud a list of deliveries that he needed to make by the end of the week, force a bottle of yogurt and an apple into Denzel's hands and get both of them out of the bar and into the haze of early morning.
Denzel had stood there, blinking as Cloud mounted Fenrir, casually swinging one leg over the motorcycle with a smile on his face. Tifa's insane! Denzel said in a mocking half whisper. And Cloud only laughed, nodding in agreement as Denzel scampered up the back of the bike and clung to Cloud with both arms crossed tight.
Now, it was three in the afternoon and Fenrir sat parked near the playground. Cloud ran a hand through his hair, noticing how long his bangs have gotten, how tan his hand was. Contrary to what Denzel said, summer was more than just one fleeting day, golden, bright and then fading away. This summer, for Cloud, was filled with bright mornings and afternoons speeding around on Fenrir, playing soccer and tag with Denzel and Marlene in the cool of the evening, nights on the roof drinking with Barret and Tifa, and that one particularly pleasing 4 day delivery trip to Cosmo Canyon accompanied by of all people, Cid who managed to get one of the head monks to play a bout of poker and smoke a cigarette.
This summer, for Cloud, was full of life and moments of such profound peace that sometimes, he wondered how he could have felt any other feeling than this. Sometimes when Cloud was by himself, like now, sitting on a bench and waiting for Denzel, he wondered truly if anything else existed outside the bar with its seven windows and filled with the happy chirping voices of Denzel, Marlene and Tifa.
Peace, mused Cloud, was what she wanted.
He held one hand up, past his head and against the afternoon sun. The skin between his fingers glowed in the light, turning almost translucent.
It was May 3rd of this spring, Tifa's birthday, when Cloud held a defeated Kadaj in his arms and felt the healing touch of rain falling over his body, as if in blessing. In the months that followed, Cloud thought of Aeris with a new feeling of tenderness. Gone were the leaden chains of regret and pain. Instead, he chose to fill his heart, every corner of it, with the present and the sensation of living and knew, somewhere deep inside of him, that this was, finally, the right way.
His thoughts were interrupted with the sight of Denzel emerging from school, his backpack pounding against his back as he ran to where Cloud sat.
"HEY CLOUD!" Denzel screamed that greeting over and over again, and Cloud gently lowered his hand to let it rest, once more against the cold stone of the bench.
"Zel, my man! How was school?"
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When it was bad, really bad, he would sit, with his arms crossed over his head as his fingernails dig, deep and deep, into the soft flesh of his scalp. He would feel the skin give way under sharp nails and the blood pulsing underneath.
Some nights, he would claw and scratch at his chest, beating at it with his fist and still, the thing inside of him screamed and screamed.
Not feeling anything, ripping skin and drawing blood, he would throw back his head and let out one animal howl. He would wiggle back and forth, tearing and biting at his arms, his fingers and slam his forehead against the floor.
One, two, three.
When his forehead slammed against the cold concrete for the third time, his heart ceased to pound, the thing inside of him pausing for just a few moments to rest. And his hands would fall limply against his sides, his nails flecked with crimson blood and he would lie still, very still, to count each breath.
It always came in threes.
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When his eyes opened, the first thing he saw was red light. For some reason, he thought the sun was exploding, and he tried to get up to see. But to ease himself up on both elbows proved to cause blades of pain to pierce against his sides and in exhaustion, he let his head fall back, his face upturned to the shafts of filtered light.
And the light he saw wasn't from the sun, at least not directly. It was from a cape, torn and frayed at the edges, flying against the humid breeze that drifted from the open window. Catching the late evening sun, standing by the window, the cape seemed to float on it's own.
He stared almost lovingly at the glowing red light and then noticed that there was a very tall, slender man watching him, shoulders hugged by the cape. And something in his ear buzzed and a hot, metallic taste filled his mouth
"DON'T!" He screamed just once before everything went black.
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They hugged each other, so tight, in the darkness because that's all they knew; each other.
They were, after all, brothers.
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It was the same pain that tore at Vincent. When Yazoo screamed, Vincent remembered a coffin that felt hotter than hell itself and shadows that stung like ice. As he crouched over the unconscious man, Vincent could see the tears that clung to the corner of Yazoo's eyes. Deep scars embroidered his cheeks and laced themselves down his neck like latticework.
There was a demon in him.
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Hey, hey, hey! This is Marlene! And DENZEL the man! AND YOU GOT…. CLOUD'S VOICEMAIL! Yipee! YAY! Press 1 to leave a message or wait for the tone. Press 5 to leave a numeric page. beep. Cloud, it's Vincent. We need to talk. beep