A/N: So sorry for the long delay. I allowed myself a few weeks holiday to indulge in the World Cup and to spend time with my husband. Well, now that's all over, shall we get back to business?

On a side note, if any of you haven't heard yet, I'll be changing my pen name in the coming days. Details can be found on my profile. Thanks. xxx

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

- Saint Bernard of Clairvaux(c. 1150)

"You're a fucking asshole, you know that, Cloud?"

Chapter Ten

Cloud awoke to the sound of a soft curse and the dip of the bed as a body moved next to him. For a second he was confused and startled, before the memories of the previous evening came flitting back to him and he had to open his eyes to confirm that it was Squall.

The brunet was sat on the edge of the bed, his sleep ruffled hair sticking up at the back as he cast his eyes about for his discarded clothes.

'Hey.' Cloud called softly, reaching out to run his fingers up Squall's arm.

The young man turned, his pale face instantly colouring a soft dusty pink as he looked at Cloud stretched out on the bed behind him.

'Hey.' He replied a little coyly.

'Where are you going?' Cloud asked, looking over at his alarm clock on his bedside cabinet. 'It's 2:30 in the morning.' He commented.

'I gotta get back to my room before morning.' Squall replied.

'Do you have to go now?' Cloud asked, sitting up on his elbows.

'I really should.' Squall ducked his head, unable to trust himself to not keep staring at Cloud's broad chest.

'You can afford another half an hour.' Cloud was making a very persuasive argument and Squall barely put up a fight as the older man tugged on his arm and pulled him back on to the bed. The young man's skin prickled as he was enfolded back into Cloud's hold, his warm skin heating Squall's cheek as he lay against a firm chest. He tried to make himself relax, annoyed that his nerves were so fraught despite the things he and Cloud had shared.

'Are you okay, you know, after…' Cloud ran an absent hand through the tangles of Squall's hair enjoying the way the brunet was stroking his thumb lightly across the arch of his ribs.

'Yeah, I'm fine.' Squall replied, 'I'm great actually.' He added, blushing furiously as he remembered flashes of the night before. He couldn't help the small little smile that turned his lips at the edges. He couldn't put his finger on it, but after the things he and Cloud had done, he somehow felt… different.

'You don't regret it?' Cloud asked.

'No.' Squall answered immediately. 'Do you?' he asked just as quickly, afraid that somehow Cloud was now feeling guilty. A soft finger was placed under his chin, tilting his face up to meet Cloud's.

'No.' The older man replied gently, his tone firm. 'Not for a second.'

Squall felt a pleasant fluttering in his stomach and the hairs on his arms stood up as Cloud softly placed his lips against his, his knuckles still running backwards and forth along the brunet's jaw. The affection was tender and altogether far too intimate, and in that one single moment, Squall knew that there would never be another human being who could make him feel the way Cloud did. He wasn't sure what that was, but he knew it was unique and special and entirely private between the two of them.

Resting his cheek back against Cloud's chest, he let his fingertips wonder, brushing against the ridges of the older man's ribs and ghosting the curve of his pectoral until he came across the textured ridge of a scar – long and sleek – still purple around the edges and not yet old enough to have turned white and silvery. Remembering that forlorn look on Cloud's face only a few hours before, Squall's interest was piqued again.

'How did you get these scars, Cloud?' He asked. The question was like a stone in a still pond.

He felt the blond shift slightly, the sound of his heart speeding up loud in his ear as he pressed the flat of his palm to Cloud's sternum. He could feel it pounding away behind the cage of his ribs, the beating of it hard and fast.

'I got them when I was in SOLDIER.' Cloud replied, his voice horse.

Squall lifted his head, shifting away slightly as he propped himself up on his elbow so that he could watch Cloud's face better.

'I asked how you got them, not when.' Squall corrected, his hubris little smile fading quickly at the look on Cloud's face. He looked uncomfortable, as if pained by a mild ache that refused to dissipate and his eyes had become shadowed and dull.

'Cloud?' Squall asked, a small sliver of concern slipping its way into his gut.

'I got them in Wutai.' Cloud suddenly said, his jaw clenching slightly.

The information startled Squall, who despite spending large amounts of time with the man, could not imagine Cloud being sent away to war. He'd known he'd been in SOLDIER of course, but for some reason he'd never connected the man's military service to the war that had been raging for almost ten years.

'You were in the second Wutai war?' He asked, silently deeply impressed and humbled all at the same time. Growing up, the first and then the second war had been all anyone had ever talked about and it had been as big a part of his life as anything else. His foster father had built his career on that war, yet he had never met an actual person who'd been in it.

Cloud nodded.

'Is that where Zack died?' Squall asked, finally putting two and two together as he recalled Cloud's drunken confession all those weeks ago in his apartment above Seventh Heaven.

'Do we have to do this now?' Cloud replied, his fists unconsciously curling.

Squall was slightly taken aback by the blond's tone, that coil of concern growing bigger as he pushed deeper.

'I… I guess not.' He replied feeling admonished, realising that in truth, there wasn't a lot about Cloud's past that he knew for certain, and yet, the blond seemed to be able to pick him apart at will, shedding away his defences piece by piece. Squall could see that the memory of Zack was a painful one, and that something had happened in Wutai that had made Cloud feel like his friend's death had been his fault and despite the warning signals, Squall didn't want to leave the subject. For whatever deep seated and powerful reason, Squall felt compelled to ease the man's mind. He wanted to comfort him in any way he could – to repair his fractured heart with its wounded beat.

Cloud sighed heavily, one hand coming up to scrub at his face and push his bangs aside as he tried desperately to gather himself together. Inside of him there was that familiar warring of emotions: self-hatred and bitterness, a desperate need for forgiveness and an all-consuming feeling that he would never be worthy of it. They had been filling him up, occupying his sleepless nights and maddening dreams, haunting him with a shadowed and pervasive foreboding that he would never be free from his actions. He didn't know why, above everyone else, he was considering telling Squall. The young man had known him less than eight weeks, but there was something about the rightness of time that finally convinced Cloud to share this part of himself. Maybe it was the things he and Squall had just shared: Squall's meeting with his father, their evening together, the very fact that they were naked – stripped away of even the most tangible of layers – and the darkness and quietness of the hour. All of these things made Cloud feel worn down, his normally abrasive walls a little more transparent than they usually were. He looked at Squall, who was looking at him with apprehensive eyes and felt that if he could tell anyone, it would be this person. He didn't know why, but he hoped that even though his crimes were horrific, Squall would try to find a way to understand them.

'I… I made a mistake,' Cloud said at last, 'a stupid, stupid mistake that I should never have made because I was supposed to know better.' He stopped, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden as his throat closed over. He coughed slightly, working his jaw to loosen the muscles that had suddenly become too tight. 'Zack died trying to save me.' He ground out, not trusting himself to look at Squall, who still had his hand placed firmly over Cloud's thudding chest.

'I broke the line of advance, rushed forward without back up and isolated myself. Zack came after me. When he found me I'd already been shot in the shoulder and knee. I was half out of it, couldn't stand - couldn't hold my gun… Zack picked me up and carried me back through the jungle. We'd nearly made it when Zack was shot. He fell with me underneath him, told me to stay down. The son of a bitch actually got back up.' Cloud laughed bitterly, a light sheen of salty tears standing out along his lash line. 'Took about twenty bullets to finally kill him.' Cloud tugged a fist through his hair aggressively, clenching his jaw at his own pathetic weakness.

As a single tear finally escaped and tracked its way into Cloud's hairline, Squall leaned forward and cupped the blond's face with his hand, pressing his forehead to the man's temple. He couldn't help the hard lump that had formed in his throat at Cloud's tragic story or the way that he so obviously blamed himself for a mistake that could have happened to anyone, but all the same, the young man was compelled to try and offer some sort of meaningful consolation. He had no idea what, but the compulsion was there all the same. He had a terrifying moment when he felt as though he had inadvertently opened up a dam with no way of controlling the torrent of water that would come spilling out.

'I managed to crawl back the rest of the way. As it turns out that was the worst day for casualties in the entire war. We lost over six thousand men, my stupid fucking actions cost us one more – cost Aerith her husband.' Cloud wiped furiously at his leaking eyes, ashamed that he was crying tears for himself when it had been Zack that had died and Aerith that had been widowed. He had no right to cry, no right at all.

'I… I'm sorry, Cloud.' Squall tried to console, his young and inexperienced mind trying to find the words that would make Cloud realise that it would all be alright. Squall didn't honestly know if it was possible, but he wanted Cloud to believe it could be. 'You shouldn't blame yourself, you didn't know what was going to happen.'

'You don't understand, Squall.' Cloud said sharply, sitting up and breaking Squall's intimate contact. He was beginning to regret revealing his story, unwilling to hear that it wasn't his fault when he knew damned well that it was. He didn't want Squall to tell him that. For some strange and masochistic reason, Cloud wanted Squall to agree with him. He wanted the young man to confirm everything he felt about himself: he'd believe nothing that came out of the brunet's mouth unless it was that.

'You can't blame yourself for a mistake.' Squall replied, knowing that was easier said than done. After all, he was a master at shouldering burdens that were never his to begin with. Squall slid closer to the blond, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder and was startled and hurt when Cloud shrugged him off.

The blond slid to the end of the bed, planting his feet on the floor and rested his elbows on his knees.

Squall watched him, feeling awkward and embarrassed, his nakedness suddenly making him feel shy and insecure. He stood, picking up his clothes quickly and slipped on his jeans.

At the sound of the young man dressing, Cloud looked up, his anger melting into guilt as he realised he had lashed out. Despite his own failures and his own bitterness at himself, the last thing he wanted was for Squall to feel responsible. His burden was no one else's but his own, and he was kicking himself over and over for putting it on the young man. He realised, he should never have told him.

'Squall, I'm sorry. I… I'm not angry with you… I just-'

'No, it's okay, I shouldn't have asked. This is…' Squall stopped as Cloud came to stand in front of him, his hands placed on the brunet's arms to stop him in his ministrations.

'It was none of my business. I've no right to pry.' Despite his words, Squall couldn't help but feel a pain in his chest. He'd only wanted to help, and yet he'd got it all wrong. He'd opened up an issue that should have been left well alone and it had ruined their night together.

'It's not that, Squall… it's just… it's complicated, okay?' Cloud tried to reassure him, feeling again that weakness – that hot embarrassment – after revealing something personal and shameful. He'd never wanted more to take it all back and start again.

'I understand. I won't ask again.' Squall replied, not entirely sure that he did, although one thing was for certain: he'd never bring this up again.

The young man's answer made Cloud's guilt worsen and he realised that by sharing his burden, he'd affected Squall.

'I'm sorry, really I am. Just… just forget I ever said anything.'

'S'okay, I should probably get going anyway.' Squall replied, trying to bite back the awful feelings he'd stirred up. He just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Cloud removed his hands and stepped back, nodding his head.

'Yeah, sure.' He replied, hating that they were parting like this after everything they had shared. It certainly hadn't been how Cloud had planned it.

Squall pulled his t-shirt over his head and bent to pick up his boots. He snapped the lock back and pulled the door open a crack, looking back over his shoulder at the older man stood in the middle of his room.

'I'll see you tonight; we've got that rehearsal dinner, remember?'

'Sure.' Cloud nodded, his eyes soft and apologetic.

With a small unsure smile, Squall left, closing the door softly behind him.

Cloud sat at his desk, his mood dark and forlorn as he toyed with a paper clip. His eyes scanned the large wall of screens in front of him, stopping at one showing the interior of the music room, Squall sat on a stool, his cello between his legs as his tutor walked slow deliberate circles around him. With the young man occupied in his lessons, Cloud had no need to be around him for the time being and he was catching up with some of his paper work that he had neglected over the past few days. Despite the opportunity, he was finding it hard to concentrate.

The sourness that had pervaded him since their early morning talk had only seemed to grow, making him snippy and irritable. For the first time in weeks, his thoughts had turned to alcohol.

'Good to see you in the office for a change, Strife.'

Cloud was jolted out of his tumultuous state as Tsung appeared at his side.

'I'm still waiting on that report of your trip to Twilight Town.' Tsung added, closing the folder he had been reading and looked down at the blond man, who straightened his posture in his chair awkwardly.

Swallowing back the quick thump of a missed heartbeat, Cloud cleared his throat and looked up at his superior.

'Twilight Town, you mean Hollow Bastion, Sir?' Cloud corrected him, fearing already that his ruse to get Squall out of the house yesterday to visit his father had already been discovered.

'Oh was it – my mistake then. We had a number of cars out yesterday; I must have mistaken the GPS on yours. Though I could have sworn your car took a diversion.'

Cloud cautiously schooled his features, calming his wildly fluttering heart as he coolly shook his head. 'No Sir,' though the sceptical look on the black haired man's face left Cloud feeling less than reassured.

'Very well then, I'll be expecting a thoroughly detailed report on my desk by five. I stopped by to inform you that your usual car will be out of service for the foreseeable. A replacement is being brought in for tonight's rehearsal. You may pick up the keys at the security desk.'

'Understood.' Cloud replied simply, far too concerned that anything more would have given him away.

A small uncomfortable silence ensued, causing an almost unbearable urge for Cloud to squirm in his chair. He resisted, though barely.

'A small word to the wise thought, Strife: in matters of the heart, it is often best to keep work and our private feelings separate, especially where the senator and his family are concerned. These are tense times we are living in and the senator is a powerful man – do not give him reason to notice you.'

Feeling more certain than ever that his dangerous secrets were already discovered, and yet unable to guess which one, Cloud nodded dutifully.

'I'll remember that, Sir.'

'Very good. I'll see you at 2000 hours, the rehearsal begins at 2030.' With one last knowing look, Tsung turned on his heel and left a mildly panicking Cloud still sat at his desk, the paperclip bent beyond recognition in his sweaty palm.

'Fuck.' Cloud breathed harshly under his breath, throwing the distorted piece of metal onto his desk. With just a few precisely chosen words, his superior had managed to deepen his troubled thoughts and heighten his state of panic. If Cloud had felt dubious about his ensuing relationship with Squall before, there were certainly no bounds to how undecided he felt now. With no other way to describe how he was feeling other than that of a sinking stone – the waves closing in over his head as he slowly disappeared – Cloud was unable to fight the inevitable feeling of panic. With striking clarity he saw his position and recognised how utterly ridiculous it was. His dalliance with Squall could only get him into serious trouble –the younger man even more so.

He looked up at the screens along the back wall, finding again the one that showed him the sultry brunet sat alone now in the music room, his head rested against the neck of his cello as his face became distant and thoughtful. That stirring of affection rose in Cloud again, followed swiftly by a sense of dread.

Their early morning conversation and all its horrible connotations aside, Cloud's mind was in a state of clamorous upheaval and he was unused to it. In fact, it terrified him. Never before had he had to face these sorts of things – not sober anyway – and it was inflicting the worst sort of terror on him.

'Fuck this shit!'

Closing his computer screen down he stood, picking his jacket up from off the back of the chair and left the coms room, heading for the security desk and his new car.

There had only ever been one way that Cloud knew of to combat these treacherous emotions: only one way to quiet the things he didn't want to face. With an itch in the back of his dry throat he swallowed and headed into Hollow Bastion.

Squall stood and appraised his reflection in his bedroom mirror. Despite his clean cut dress shirt and crisp black trousers – the immaculate echo of a well-bred, respectable young man – he felt a heaviness on his shoulders. In all honestly, Squall couldn't remember a time when he hadn't felt that pressure. He had become so accustomed to it, its presence was almost familiar and safe, yet tonight for some reason, it felt a little weightier. In all honesty he had no desire to continue his charade of a life. Learning all that he had in the last twenty four hours had given him every reason to feel that way, and yet here he was, repeating motions that were so familiar to him it was automatic.

As he thought again of how much he didn't want to attend tonight's dinner, he knew immediately that there could really be no other option. If he wasn't Squall Leonhart, senator Ansem's son and protégé, who would he be? If he hadn't the money and opportunity that his life had so richly afforded him, how would he live? If he didn't carry on his empty, pathetic excuse for a life, as soulless as it was, what would he do, where would he go?

The answers to all of his questions led him to nowhere and in his heart of hearts he knew this was why he stayed. It truly was pathetic.

Squall wondered briefly if there ever would be a time when he would have the power to affect his own life. Would he ever be able to make his own decisions?

The small taste of freedom he had found in his tenuous relationship with Cloud had only fuelled that desire and although his rebellion was only small and it affected far less of his life than he'd have liked, Squall was hungry for it. Cloud was his in a way that other parts of his life weren't – in ways Ansem would never be able to reach. And yes, maybe it was pointless – reckless even – but Squall had never needed that freedom more. In all of his life – which had been shaped and moulded and controlled in every facet – his own body had been his last sanctuary; giving it to Cloud had been his one and only weapon and it had felt incredible.

The young man smiled with the remembered sensations of the night previous. The way he had felt underneath Cloud had been nothing like he'd imagined. It was the newness of it – the experience of something completely foreign – that had thrilled him so completely. Never mind his burgeoning emotions and complicated feelings, just the raw sensations of being with another body had thrilled him to such heights he wasn't sure how he had survived all these years in his world of isolation, with only a brief hand on his shoulder from a tutor or firm hand shake from a visiting dignitary to keep him sustained. The sheer thrill of being touched so intimately had ignited a roaring fire in him that he had no will to quench.

The way Cloud had touched him, made him shudder and tremble, the way he had made him cum had been completely beyond his own control and Squall was under no illusions: he may have been the one to instigate their newly developed physical relationship – his desire to take charge of his life even in some small way was all his own doing – but Cloud had been the one to master him that night. He doubted the older man had any idea of the effect it had had on him – how profoundly it had marked him.

With thoughts of Cloud in the forefront of his mind and feeling a little better about his own lack of hegemony despite the blond man, he left the solitary confines of his own room and made his way down the grand staircase and out of the large front doors.

Parked in front of the expansive circular lawn directly outside the main entrance was a black Mercedes; the familiar figure of Cloud stood waiting, lent against the sleek black body of the vehicle with all the languid grace that Squall had come to associate with the older man.

Seeing him again, after their day spent apart, sent a pleasant flutter through Squall's stomach and he realised he was a little nervous. He hoped that their conversation about Cloud's past had been forgotten like Cloud had promised and that for the time being they could return to enjoying the newness and clandestine nature of their tentative relationship.

As he approached the car, a small and gentle smile on his face, that hope slipped just the tiniest bit and a fraction of apprehension opened up.

Without looking at the younger man, Cloud reached out and opened the back passenger door, keeping his gaze diverted to the ground giving Squall no opportunity to address him. With an uncomfortable lump in his throat and a small frown on his face, Squall slid into the back seat and felt the first stirrings of dejection as Cloud closed the door behind him.

He watched the older man walk around the car, his gait uneven and off slightly as he opened the driver's side and got in. Within a few moments, Cloud had turned the ignition and was driving down the long driveway and out of the gates and the pervasive silence that filled the car only seemed to intensify.

Feeling unsure if he should be the first one to broche the subject or if he should keep their roles tonight as professional as he could, Squall let half of the car journey pass by before the irritating and uncomfortably tense atmosphere became too much.

'Is something wrong, Cloud?' Squall asked, figuring he should just get straight to the point. He caught sight of the older man's eyes in the rear view mirror for a fraction of a second, before Cloud snapped his gaze back onto the road.

'No.' The blond replied curtly.

Something about the way the car was swerving slightly, its forward motion affected by a gentle sway made Squall feel uneasy.

'Are you sure, you're quiet?' Squall asked again, feeling his hand tighten around the door handle.

''m fine.'

The slight yet noticeable slur of the blond's words and the subtle roll of the car ignited a sudden flash of understanding in Squall. Catching sight of Cloud in the mirror again and this time noticing his red, blood shot eyes, his gut feeling turned into a terrifying realisation.

'Are you drunk?!' Squall asked alarmed. He sat forward slightly in his seat, wanting to get a better view of his driver and was hit with the distinctive smell of alcohol.

'You're fucking drunk, Cloud!' Squall yelled, completely surprised and terrified at the same time.

'For fuck sake Squall, stop squawkin' will you? I said 'm fine.' Cloud bit, his tone harsh and alien to the young man. It took him aback slightly and after the initial shock of the rebuke, his anger came crashing over him in storming waves.

'Stop squawking? You're fucking drunk driving you asshole, what the hell do you think you're doing?'

'It's no big deal, 'm fine.' Cloud repeated, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he slipped into the outside lane and sped up, overtaking a freight truck.

Squall could hardly believe what he was hearing.

'No big deal? Have you gone completely in fucking sane, Cloud? What the fuck did you think my reaction was going to be? How... How could you even think this would be fine; what, have you finally gone off the shitting deep end or something? Is this because of last night?' Squall was hanging on tighter to the door handle now, his back pressed firmly into the leather of the seat behind him as he felt the jolt of the car make a swift turn to the left and suddenly they were off the highway and speeding down an off ramp heading for the elite upper west district of Higher Bastion.

'I just felt like a drink, okay? It's not a big deal, I can handle it!' Cloud replied sounding almost bored.

The reply made Squall angrier than if Cloud had actually admitted their secret late night encounter had been the cause of this slip up and although the blond had never expressly promised Squall that he had given up drinking for good, the young man had assumed that Cloud's apparent new leaf had been turned over for the foreseeable.

'You're a fucking asshole, you know that Cloud?' Squall bit angrily, never more hurt and disappointed and confused about a thing than he was right then. Had he been naive to think that Cloud was capable of change? And worse, was he completely stupid to have assumed that the change had been because of him?

As much as their relationship – whatever that was – had meant to Squall, it quite clearly hadn't meant that much to Cloud and that hurt deeper and bruised harder than anything had before.

With gritted teeth, Squall cut his eyes away to stare out of the window and watched the rapidly passing scenery. Holding on tightly to the door handle and hoping to God that he made it in one piece he let the interior of the car laps into silence. When finally they pulled up into the long drive way of Hallow Hall, Squall leaned forward and bit a sharp command over Cloud's shoulder.

'Pull up behind these cars, I don't want you driving up to the main doors, you stink!'

As Cloud pulled over, Squall barely waited for the car to stop before he'd snapped off his seat belt and flung the car door open, his shoes sinking into the soft grass verge as he climbed out. Stomping round the back of the vehicle he refused to acknowledge Cloud as he climbed out of the driver's side and the hand that came out to grab his arm was viciously thrown off.

'Don't fucking touch me!' Squall spat turning back to walk the last stretch of the driveway that he should have been driven down. His foster father would be pissed if he found out (which Squall knew he probably would) but there was no way he would risk Cloud being discovered by any of the security personnel at the front doors. With a heated face and barely controlled temper he started up the gravel only to be pulled back once again by a strong hand on his arm.

Letting his anger and his frustration and his utter disappointment in everyone that had ever meant something to him tear it's way to the surface, he whirled around and without thinking slammed his fist into Cloud's face, breaking the man's hold on his arm and sent him stumbling backwards into the side of the car.

The force of the blow left his knuckles throbbing and Cloud's face bleeding; a gash above his eye that would bruise and scar. The older man slumped slightly, dazed and pained by the blow that had seemingly come from nowhere – that his overconfident mind hadn't even prepared him for. In his wildest imaginings, he'd never have predicted that the shy and aloof young brunet could have swung a punch like that - let alone at him!

Sliding ungracefully to the floor, his hand covering his rapidly swelling eye and his legs slumped out drunkenly under him; Cloud blinked back his dazed and shaken vision and looked up at Squall who stood dark and ominous above him, fists curled as if ready for more.

'You can take yourself home, you're done here tonight. If anyone catches you like that you'll be fired for sure. This is the last time I cover for your pathetic ass, Cloud. The next time you fuck up, you're on your own!'

With the brunet's caustic words ringing in his ears, Cloud watched Squall turn away and walk the last remaining distance to the front doors, the large pool of light enveloping him as he stepped into the flood lit court yard and disappeared into the crowd of people.

Squall allowed the noise and the hustle of the crowd to drown out his anger and as he walked into the large hall, following the flow of bodies as they spilled out into the ballroom laden with tables, his rage was swiftly turning to bitter disappointment and a sharp stinging pain. He couldn't pinpoint why, but he could hardly deny that he felt retched about Cloud's lack of care and his apparent apathy towards their relationship. What was even worse was that he hadn't been expecting it. Had he been too much of a fool? Had he been so wrapped up in himself that he'd failed to see the bigger picture?

The very thought that he'd unintentionally invested more of himself in their fling than Cloud had was humiliating and utterly devastating and Squall had never felt more like disappearing into nothingness.

For most of his life he had felt invisible - like a grey person stood on the periphery of his foster father's magnificent world - he had been ignored and overlooked his entire life and for one moment, for the briefest of seconds he had felt like someone had finally, finally seen him. Cloud had looked through that shallow veneer and seen him and Squall had felt like a hem being unravelled a stitch at a time. Knowing Cloud had all but used him, dismissing their relationship with the swig of a bottle was a pain that even Ansem couldn't top.

Feeling hot, humiliating tears brim on his lashes, he pushed them aside as a member of his security team approached him, taking his arm and pulled him aside.

'Where's Cloud, he was meant to be with you?!' The red haired man asked, checking over Squall's head as the crowds of people passed.

'He got sick, I told him to go home.' Squall lied, trying desperately to control his stupid juvenile emotions before anyone suspected anything.

'Shit, Xemnas is going to hit the roof. Okay, kid, get in there, the senator is expecting you.' Reno replied letting go of Squall's arm.

Without another look back, Squall forced himself to walk into the ballroom, his face once again a neutral mask, his features the same stony, icy wall of indifference he had been perfecting since the day Ansem had brought him home.