Disclaimer: I own everything! Sue me, I don't even care!
Hello all. Let me just say that my reviewers are magical. 43 reviews! I love all you guys for sticking with this story I really do. It's really nice to have loyal readers, who always leave me helpful comments!
Just bear with me you guys, I know that sometimes my grammars sucks and things aren't written as well as they could be. I'm trying my best to improve in my writing, and every review helps me out.
Well, seriousness aside, I wanted to recommend that all of you watch the "Cloud Song". Google it. It is hilarious, I could not stop laughing!
Also this chapter's shorter than the others, but I will make up for it by updating with lightning speed. The next one is already half done!
The animals laugh from the dark of the wilderness.
A baby cried hard in an apartment complex,
as I pass in a car buried under the influence.
The city is driving me out of my mind.
I have seen a child is caught in the sad trap of gravity.
He falls from the lowest branch of the apple tree
and lands in the grass and weeps for his dignity.
Next time he will not aim so high.
Yeah, next time, neither will I.
--Bright Eyes; Let's Not Shit Ourselves (To Love and To Be Loved)
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Porcelain plates exploded on either side of him, shrapnel flying in every direction.
The boy stood still, hands clenched, as the shards swirled around him like some vicious maelstrom.
His eyes shone, glinting specks of hate.
The barrage came to a close, and the mock bombardier collapsed on the floor, screaming and cursing.
Tangled and torn, dark hair silhouetted her face. She glared at the boy with equal eminence.
"Bastard"
The boy's hands clenched tighter, red eyes stubbornly refusing the tears that threatened.
"Bastard. Devil Spawn. Never can do anything right."
The boy was trembling.
Grinning and spitting with ecstatic vehemence, the woman's teeth glowed ominously.
"A piece of shit. You'll never be anything. You are trash and scum. No one loves you, especially not me."
The boy couldn't stand still any longer. He shrieked and in a fit of rage, seized one of the shards and hurled it at his oppressor as hard as his underdeveloped arm could.
It struck in the shoulder, ripping away at the delicate flesh.
She screamed.
Fearfully the boy backed away, and sprinted out the door. With every step the accusations echoed in his head.
"Bastard"
"No one loves you"
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Tifa wrapped her arms tighter around herself and awaited Vincent's response. There was a vapid expression on his face, as if he was lost in some sad thought from a long time ago. He remained that way a few moments, staring out into space, then whispered without even looking at her, "Who?"
Just one word. A simple everyday word, but nevertheless Tifa could feel bile rising in her throat.
"I don't know" she replied, her eyes downcast. They sat in silence and finally Tifa, deciding Vincent was waiting for an explanation, elaborated.
"I was at this party, and I had drunk a lot of beer which I found out later had been drugged. I was wasted and I think I passed out because I woke up with someone on top of me. It was really dark, so I couldn't see his face. All I remember were his pale hands, and the light reflecting off his bared teeth. I tried to stop him, but he was too strong, and he raped me over and over again."
Tifa said this in a strangely nonchalant fashion, but inside she was consumed with disgust. Vincent had no reaction to her speech, still seemingly dead to the world, and she wondered if telling him all of this had been a good idea.
His body was quaking ever so slightly, and his countenance was clouded with some indecipherable emotion. The brunette's hands were clenched so tightly to the fabric on his knees, that the his knuckles were even whiter than usual.
Feeling awkward and vulnerable, Tifa stood up saying in an overly cheery voice, "But that's all in the past! I really have to go to school now , you know, since it is Monday and I know rockers don't go to school, but I have to since I'll get kicked out. Plus I don't understand why you wouldn't go to school, since everyone should want to be smart and stuff. Not that I think you're stupid or anything. Uhh...so you can stay here or whatever…"
Her tongue always ran away with her when she was nervous, but her embarrassing ramble was interrupted when Vincent rose.
He was only a few inches away from her, and was a very imposing figure being nearly a head taller than her. Vincent still wore his bloodied, "I(heart) Revenge" shirt, which was now ripped at the shoulder exposing a tiny part of the scar on his chest.
Long, white arms lifted hesitantly, as if he wanted to hold her, but were dropped back down to his side.
Tifa fought the urge to back away, as she gazed at Vincent with uncertainty. His eyes were consumed with that same glowing, animalistic appearance as in the bar, and Tifa could almost hear his teeth grinding. He leaned towards her and a few stray strands of Vincent's hair lightly brushed Tifa's cheek.
She gulped, her face heating up from the unintentional intimacy, and found she couldn't look Vincent in the eyes. She rested her gaze on his chin as he whispered in a slightly strangled voice,
"I'll find him."
She barely had a chance to react, since Vincent abruptly turned away and said,
"I'll make breakfast…"
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Tifa scooped up a bit of pancake with her fork, and stuck it in her mouth. Her entire countenance lit up, and hurriedly she scooped up another bite and exclaimed, with a full mouth, "It's so good!"
Tears brimming in her eyes, she mumbled, "I think this is only the second time in my life someone's cooked a meal for me."
Vincent sat across the table, still wearing a frilly pink apron, looking very pleased with himself. He fiddled with its ribboned tasslesthen just folded his arms across his chest, and didn't reply as Tifa devoured the rest of the meal.
She patted her full belly and sighed in fulfillment.
"How did you learn to cook so good?"
"All I can cook… is pancakes."
Tifa laughed out loud. Yet despite the delicious meal she couldn't help but notice how different Vincent was acting. Last night he had opened up so much to her, but it seemed he had reverted back to his anti-social self.
'I hope I didn't freak him out by telling him the truth.'
Whilst Vincent was cooking she had hastily changed into her school uniform. The skirt had always been a little shorter than she would have liked, and Tifa was uncomfortable with Vincent seeing her in it.
Pulling down the skirt's hem, she glanced at the clock and said, "Well I think I should be going to school now…" It was had to hide the regret in her voice. It felt nice having a meal cooked by someone else, like she was taken care of.
For a split second Tifa wondered, 'Maybe he knew this would make me feel better. Maybe, in his own way, he's trying to cheer me up." But quickly dismissed it. Vincent just wanted to make something to eat, and that was it.
"What should I do?" Vincent asked, eyes never leaving her face.
'Alright, his staring is getting a bit unnerving'
"Um…go home? Oh right your shirt's all bloody… You can borrow one of mine, thought they might be a little small but I have some bigger ones."
Vincent arched his eyebrow in disbelief, "One of your shirts?" He repeated skeptically.
Ten minutes later he emerged from the bathroom. Ringing his wet hair out from the shower with a towel, he went to Tifa's mirror to inspect his appearance, while Tifa watched and giggled.
It turned out Tifa's only 'big' shirt was bright yellow, and barely went past Vincent's belly button. The sleeves clung tightly at the shoulders, since his were of a much wider breadth than the slim girl's. If that wasnt humiliating enough, the shirt also happened to depict a cartoonish sun wearing sunglasses, with text underneath reading, "Hot Stuff!" For good measure he was also wearing a pair of Tifa's jeans, in which the hem didn't even reach his ankles.
He scrutinized his appearance then turned to Tifa with a calm look on his face.
"I look like an inept hooker."
Tifa snorted, "Hey, my pants are only a little tighter than you wear yours."
"…"
"That shirt looks cute on you! Very…erm…punk…"
"…"
"I mean, I bought that a long time ago when I weighed a little more, and besides the sun is...nonconformist?"
"Come on, you can't wear that bloody shirt."
"…"
Vincent was just about to rip the shirt off entirely, when Tifa hastily ran to her closet and pulled out a black blazer. He put it on, and it cover up the exposed skin, and concealed the fact that the shirt was embarrassingly small.
The pants were still a little short, but it was definitely an improvement. Tifa glanced at the clock, as Vincent frowned in the mirror and cried, "Oh my god, I am so late!"
She ran out the door, with Vincent trailing behind. She leapt down the stairs and flung the apartment building's double doors open. Suddenly Tifa came to an abrupt stop at the entrance and turned to see if Vincent was following.
He had indeed been following, a little closer than she expected, and slammed into her.
They crashed on the ground in a tangle of limbs. She almost gasped at the feel of his warm body on top of hers. Somehow his hands had ended up on her bare legs, lingering on the soft skin as Vincent slowly pulled them away. Tifa blushed profusely in remembrance of the night before, and Vincent remained on top of her, taking his sweet time in getting up.
A bright flash caused them both to look up. Standing only a few feet away was a mob of photographers, who were franticly snapping as many pictures as they could. Tifa tried to shield her eyes from the blinding light, but Vincent roughly grabbed her with his good arm and yanked her up.
"Shit." he growled menacingly, "How did they find me here?"
The paparazzi swarmed around Tifa, screaming things like "Don't cover your face beautiful!" and "How's it feel to be with pop idol, Vincent Valentine?"
Tifa could feel her mind shutting down, and started to breath in short panicky breaths. Vincent shoved a photographer down on the ground, and dragged Tifa to her car, nearly pulling the arm out of her socket. He pushed her in the front seat, then jumped in the passenger one yelling, "Drive away now!"
Tifa didn't need a second urging. She peeled out of the driveway, leaving the few trailing photographers in the dust. When they were a safe distance away she turned to Vincent and said, "What the HELL was that?"
He ran his hands through his hair and replied indifferently, "The perks of being famous."
He lifted his legs, and crossed them on the dashboard. Tifa still stared at him, her eyes clouded in confusion. He turned toward her, a frown still gracing his features.
"I'm sorry that happened. Let's just say you're going to get yourfifteen minutes of fame whether you like it or not."
Wow it's even shorter than I thought! I dunno, this chapter kind of felt rushed and wrong... I like it when Vincent wears Tifa's clothes though...hahahaha.
Let's have a little contest! I want everyone to guess who raped Tifa, and if you are right I will give you and invisible cookie since I can't give away the answer. It can be anyone, and I mean ANYONE from FFVII. I will also give a majorly awesome gigantic trophy to whoever comes up with the weirdest character.
Read and Review! I love you all!
p.s. urg...the chapter sucks...