Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters; Square Enix does.

Author's Note: again, not proof-read and lots of brooding. :( Sorry, I couldn't let Cloud get too happy just yet. There is a battle to be won, and it's never won within a day.

What They Leave Behind

Chapter 10

No Reprieve

Cloud had woken up in the morning with one thought in his head; track. So he'd dragged himself off the floor, never-minding why he was asleep on the living the room floor. Upon arriving in his bedroom for his sweats and hoodie—that was when he'd seen the camera. He wasn't sure how it'd gotten there or who had put it there, but there it had been, sitting right on Roxas's bed.

With a scowl, Cloud had tried to ignore it. He'd slipped into the bathroom to relieve himself, but when he had come back out, it had still been there. Curious by then, Cloud had shuffled closer and examined it. It was a camera, what harm could it possibly do? And that had been the moment when Cloud decided to take it to the park sometime that weekend. He'd never expected Zack to want to accompany him.

And he had never expected to enjoy it.

The morning had been fun—something he hadn't had in quite some time, he reflected as he returned home, Roxas's camera secured in his windbreaker's pockets. It was near afternoon if not already by the time he reached his house. The rain had lessened, but he'd had his own share of rain and was more or less soaked to the core.

Seifer and Basch were nowhere to be seen, and his mom was out as always. It was almost as if no one wanted to hear the screaming silence of Roxas's absence. Even Seifer, not even real family, hated staying here during the day. It was only at night when everyone was forced to return, forced to listen to Silence's dirge echoing into the night.

Cloud, having to sleep in the very room it from which it came, was nearly immune to its effect. And now Roxas's camera became his aegis, a shield that protected him from its very own silence. And he didn't feel the difference as he crossed into the house, and somehow that was nice.

He climbed the stairs, absently fingering the sleek shell of his camera and wondering how he would develop them. He had always developed his film at school, in the dark room there. But Cloud had no idea where it was, even—nor which chemicals to use or even if the teacher would allow him to use the room for his own purposes.

When he opened his bedroom door, he stood in the frame as an awkward feeling seeped into his skin. It had been so long since he'd entered his bedroom feeling completely and utterly sated—actually, aside from a few maladroit social hangouts with Basch and his friends and school, he hadn't really left the house at all. He'd only left his room, then, for food and occasionally T.V. But here he was, standing in the doorway, staring at his room, feeling satisfied and content, wondering what he should do now.

His cobalt blue eyes settled on the pile of dirty clothes taking over his desk and then on the textbooks spilled across his unused bed. With a scowl, it became quite clear what the next hour or so would be spent doing.

When his room was clean, he found he couldn't stop. It was like Zack had created a chain reaction, he felt as if he needed to constantly be doing something, immersed in some sort of active activity, moving around, producing something, no thinking involved.

He decided his room needed a makeover, the desk needed to be moved over against that wall, his bed needed to be on this wall, Roxas's needed to be moved over there. The dresser suddenly didn't seem necessary. Most of his clothes could have been hung up, those that couldn't could be stored away in the cubby-hole of his closet organizer. This no longer needed to sit on his bookshelf and suddenly found its way to the trash can. Nothing could be the same. Everything had to be moved. This had to go there, and that had to go here.

Mrs. Strife had come home early to make dinner before she went off to the festival with Mrs. Loire and stuck her head in Cloud's room when she heard bumping around in his room. He was midway pushing the desk across the cleared room when she did so, and all she could manage was blink. When her son noticed her, he stopped, huffing, and stared right back. She nodded as a silent understanding passed between them and left without a word. Cloud continued his hefty work.

Basch and Terra had come home for dinner, and he, too, heard strange noises from Cloud's room. He peeked in as Cloud was knocking books out of his bookshelf and pushing them to the floor without a care if he bent them or not. Cloud didn't bother looking over his shoulder at his gaping brother. Basch eventually withdrew without asking to assist, exactly what Cloud wanted.

His mother brought up the stew she'd made and set it on his desk just as he finished moving Roxas's bed. She smiled at him and left, still without saying anything. Cloud preferred the silence anyway.

By the time he was completely done rearranging his room and organizing everything in some logical way that they had not been previously, he nodded to himself and sat down on his bed, contentedly. Now what?

Cloud's eyes zeroed in on the posters on his wall. Those had to come down, too. Especially the Yuna poster that no longer was half hidden behind his dresser. He stood up and padded across the carpeted floor, wondering what he'd do in replacement of his posters. He didn't have other posters, but could he stand his walls being bare? Or even with white holes in the wall where his tacks had chipped away the green paint?

His bedroom door opened. "Hey, the phone's for you."

Cloud turned and stared at Basch. "Wh-who is it?"

Basch pressed his lips in a straight line for a moment before he answered Cloud's question. "It's Squall," he finally said. He turned and jogged downstairs, leaving the door wide open.

Cloud hesitantly edged toward the door. Squall is on the phone, he told himself, wondering why his breath was caught in his throat. Another step and then another one, this time a little faster.

But before he could make it to the door, Basch had brought up the kitchen's cordless phone and waved it in front of Cloud's frozen face. "He's on hold."

Cloud warily pried it out of Basch's hand and searched the device in his hand for the "HOLD" button, which blinked an impatient red. Pressing it, he lifted it and said, "Hello?" He hated how soft his voice sounded, how breathless and weak. Squall had called.

"Hey, Cloud." It was Squall. The voice had the same timbre as it had had before he'd moved away, the same smooth words which glossed over every precisely pronounced syllable. The same perfect voice that was as smooth as his own hands. How could Cloud have walked away from that, feeling hurt and unfulfilled? Those were the hands he wanted to touch him, right?

When Cloud said nothing, Squall prompted him. "Cloud?"

Cloud blinked, "Yeah, hey, Squall. What's up?"

"Nothing really. I thought I should call you…since…it's been a while."

Squall had always hated talking on the phone. He had always said he felt awkward and offbeat, since he was never much of a talker as it was. The presence was more important than the words to Squall, Cloud had figured, but he was glad Squall called anyway. It was thoughtful of Squall. "How's Balamb? The beach?" Cloud had never been to the beach before. It was a far drive, and he'd never gone with Basch and the gang when they'd gone…for obvious reasons. He had always meant to go with Squall someday. Maybe a visit…?

He could almost hear Squall's shrug in his tone. "It's a slow city, a demure population. When summer comes around, it'll be hell, but now it's okay. The beach is…uh…okay, too."

"Okay?" Cloud forced some emotions other than disappointment into his voice. "How can it be only 'okay'? Do you go for walks on it?" The thought of running on the beach every morning, dressed in his gray sweats and running shoes, the cool wind in his face, the soft white sand underneath his feet—he might not even need shoes…well, aside from the support, he supposed…maybe a short run—brought him into pacing back and forth.

Squall knew. He always knew. He mirthlessly chuckled at Cloud's sudden excitement. "I run every once in a while on the beach, but for the most part, I just run through the streets. Nobody gets up early around here."

"How is your…new home?"

There was silence. "This isn't my home."

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Are the people better than Matron and Cid?"

"Not really. Why haven't you been talking to Lulu?"

"Have you called her?" Cloud asked, a sudden dread growing in his stomach. He stopped pacing and sat down on his bed with a thud.

"Yes, she says you've been avoiding her."

You've been keeping in touch with her and not me? he wanted to ask, but he couldn't find the words. He offered an emotionless response instead. "I haven't been in the mood to talk to anyone lately."

"What's wrong, then?"

And then a moment passed without any words being spoken. The only sound between them were the low hum of the phone connection and their audible breaths. Squall retreated. It was beyond his nature to ask a question twice. His philosophy was always resonant between us, no more necessary. If Cloud wasn't going to tell him willingly, he wasn't going to be forced into.

Had he liked that about Squall?

He waited longer. He wanted some clue, some indication, that Squall truly cared. If he cared, wouldn't he have pushed? Isn't that what love was all about, doing things that one normally didn't do?

Squall kept his silence.

Cloud resigned. "Why did you call?"

"Did you not want me to call?"

Cloud hated the tone void of all emotion. How could he have heard that every day and still went back for more? It grated on his nerves more than anything. And it pricked his anger. Why hadn't Squall called earlier? Why was he calling him now? "I want you to call when you want to call." It was a feeble response, really. He found that his responses swung that way whenever Squall was around, the same way that his words became breathless and ragged and quickly thrown off his tongue. He hated feeling powerless. Was this love or was this something else? Something more? Something less?

"…"

"That's not really what I meant," Cloud backtracked hesitantly. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to call me. I'm doing fine." Were you even curious as to how I was coping with this?

Squall took his time responding. At least he always thought about what he was saying, that he never said things just to say things, except when he said it's be fine. It had felt like he'd slapped Cloud across the face. He wanted nothing more than for Squall to speak frankly, he liked that about him. "I didn't call because I felt like I had to." Doggedly, exasperation. It resounded in his voice.

And Cloud felt elated by his admission, but his mood darkened with another thought. "Why didn't call earlier?"

Squall sighed. "Does it matter?"

To me it does. "No, I was just wondering." He dropped the subject, only to find more silence on both their ends.

Surprisingly, Squall broke it. "You're not talking. Do you want me to call back?"

"I'm glad you called, Squall," Cloud blurted out without acknowledging Squall query. "I missed you. A lot."

"…"

Cloud hated to broach the subject, but he wanted to know whether Squall felt the same way. He opened his mouth to ask that forbidden question, that question that corresponded to that which should have remained in his memory, that question that Squall had been, no doubt, avoiding. He had to have known it was coming, though. It was inevitable, and Squall was holding his breath. Yet he closed his mouth as soon as he opened it. Squall breathed again. Cloud could hear it.

Squall cleared his throat. "I should go."

"Someone waiting?" Cloud hated himself for asking it and feeling the teeth of jealousy that sunk into his veins.

"I'll call you again soon." Click.

At least Cloud didn't have to say goodbye again. Once was hard enough. He ended his side of the line and reluctantly allowed the phone to fall onto the bed. Why was it so hard? What was so hard about it? It was just a phone call, just a friend. He should have forgotten about Squall by now. How long had it been? A month? Two? And it had stretched on in his head to a year, maybe even a decade. That counted as enough time to heal the wounds? Right?

Even if those wounds had healed, which was still up for debate, that simple phone call had just reopened them. That was the problem. So then should he have been angry at Squall? For calling him after he'd brooded for weeks about Squall not calling him?

Cloud looked around his room with a deep sigh. Somehow his room no longer looked like his room. The books didn't belong in that order, and his dresser didn't belong against that wall. He stood up and put his hands on his hips, no longer seeing his rearrangement as an improvement. I'll be up all night arighting this, he thought to himself. But it's worth it. He wanted the comfort his room had once offered him; and now he felt as if this was a stranger's room, no longer his. He wanted to curl up in his bed, under his sheets, beside his window, against his wall. Not this. He had taken too big of a step on a whim because he'd been elated—by what? By Zack's smiling face? The pictures?

No point in thinking about it, he thought to himself. Just work on making it back.

/ - / - / - / - / - /

Author's Note: Well, it was a long wait for a short chapter. And it was a short chapter, very short, but it actually was fat with plot. If last chapter was an improvement, this was backtracking :P Cloud had been ready to move out of his rut and go beyond, he was accepting, to a degree, Zack's voiceless offer, but then Squall came and reeled him back in. Complications, complications.

There was a point to Squall's call, as well, even if Squall didn't mention it just yet and it was short and awkward and seemed pointless.

The most important thing to walk away with is that Cloud had been on the verge of changing and decided, ultimately, to screw change. The other important thing is that Cloud is extremely confused. He wanted Squall because he'd always wanted Squall, because Squall had been a constant in his life and was available, and Squall's quiet, emotionless personality never bothered him before. After spending so much time with an emotionally charged Zack, it felt odd and frustrating that Squall wasn't showing any sentiment one way or the other. And even if Cloud doesn't realize that he is comparing Squall to Zack, he is. He was looking for Zack in Squall. Cute, in a way. ;)

Tell me what you think!