~o~ Chapter eleven in Cloud's Pov. Enjoy. :) ~o~

Hello. I'm Cloud Strife, a formal teenager who just happens to be an insufferable asshole.

I guess my sour personality comes from my childhood. I was a rather pleasant child, always laughing and playing, never insulting people like I do now or trick and bully them. I obviously didn't do any drugs or drink because, as I said, I was a child. Those came around my preteen years. As a child, I kept to myself, trying to be the model child my father wanted. Unfortunately, I wasn't. My fucking sister was.

She was always so pretty and nice to the people she wanted to impress, outshining me because I'm the bastard child of an affair my father had with one of his receptionists. I'm also the third born, fucking me over in the long run in shit the bastard fact didn't already. She also hated me because she thought I was proof that her mom could lose all her wealth in an instant if my father decided to leave her.

I lived with my own mother until I was five. She was a beautiful woman. Just so pretty. Her hair was obsidian silk and her eyes a glowing blue, like mine. But she was poor. Every day, she taught me to be formal and speak the right way to impress my father in order to win his favor. She spent what little money we had on etiquette classes and speech teachers because even at five I couldn't speak a word.

One day, after I came home from my speech class, my mother was packing the few items of clothing I had into a suitcase. All she told me was that he'd finally acknowledged me. That my father would be taking care of me from then on.

I latched onto her when the sleek black car pulled up into our run down driveway, my chubby hands twisted into the second hand cloth of her Goodwill dress. A tall man got out of the car and walked around to grab my bag and open the back door for me. Naturally, I didn't want to go. Because I couldn't speak, I couldn't voice this, so I just made these animalistic noises from my throat and cried into her dress. She pried me off eventually and kneeled down in front of me, taking my face in her hands and kissing my forehead. The words she spoke to me are still stuck in my head to this day.

"He's your father, sweetie, and he'll love you if you make him, okay?" I still remember the feeling of my hair getting soaked underneath her chin where her tears were falling onto me. "Make him love you the way I do so he won't treat you the same."

I sit up in my bed now, thirteen years later, staring into the darkness of my room. Her plan had definitely backfired, making that fucker of a father of mine hate me even more. She would cry if she saw where I was now.

I look over at my alarm clock sitting on my nightstand. It blares 2.30 PM into the black surrounding it. Well, shit. I slept too long.

I throw my legs over the side of the bed, rubbing my eyes and cradling my face into my hands. Groaning, I cringe at the piercing pain in my head. I've been waking up with headaches a lot lately, just adding to the migraines I chronically get. I let out a sleepy sigh, feeling I haven't gotten enough sleep when in reality I slept almost fourteen hours. The recommended time is eight hours, for shits sake. Before I stand up, I slap Zack on the shoulder and demand he get his lazy ass up and make me some breakfast/lunch while I'm taking a shower. He will. He always does what I tell him to do.

The warm water from the shower soothes my throbbing head a bit when it washes over my naked body. I only have ten minutes of hot water because of how shitty my water heater is, so while I wish I could stand in here all day, I have to wash off quickly and get out before it turns freezing. I hate cold water. I hate cold things.

When I got out, I dried off, brushed my hair, put on lotion, putting on some A and D ointment over the collage of tattoos on my arm so that it'll stay 'fresh' or whatever, and then I pulled on some clean clothes before spraying myself with Axe. Not too much to where people will choke when they come near me like other idiots who wear this shit, but enough so that I smell good. I pull on some socks and my pair of black DC's, too, because I hate walking around bare foot.

Zack was already making me food in the kitchen. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek before going into my shitty living room to let the dogs out. I have them sleep in the house at night but I can't let them stay in any longer than that or they'll shit everywhere, the fucking bastards. I have two tan pit bulls that I had gotten as puppies from my friend's mom who was going to throw them in the pound where they'd be put down for sure. I've always been an animal lover, so I took them in.

Neo, the bigger one, wiggles and drools outside the door for me to pet him. The other, Nala, glares at me from where she's sulking on the porch. She hates it when I kick her out. I scratch Neo behind his ear and motion for her to come over. When she does, I kiss her snout and pet her, too, before going back into my house.

"Get up, fucker," I say to Rufus who's sleeping on my couch. I throw a beer can at him that I had picked up from the floor. He groaned and flipped me off before rolling over and falling back to sleep. "Seriously, I'm just going to make you up a room."

My house has three bedrooms, one being mine, one being a guest room that Rufus doesn't like to go in because it's 'too frilly,' and than my work out/computer room where my computer stuff and work out shit are. I like to keep in shape, dammit. It's also where I work, taking apart and putting back together people's computers, upgrading them to windows 7 and getting rid of viruses. I'm kind of a computer god. That's how I afford living by myself, along with the financial aid I get for attending college courses at the community college after school every other day and the check my father sends me once a month.

It's not too bad, living by myself. Well, I'm really not by myself since Zack lives with me and Rufus practically stays here. We get by day to day pretty well.

I feel bad for Zack, though. He loves me so much, yet I screw him over without him even knowing it. Yeah, I'm a cheater. Bad. I'm falling for someone else, which makes it all the worse, and have several other people who love me that I just lead on.

"I might hang out with Axel tomorrow," I say over the breakfast of hash browns and eggs.

"Hmm," he grunts a response. I think he's catching on to my feelings for Axel because he's been rather weary of him the last few weeks. "Why?"

I shrug, taking my migraine and depression meds with my orange juice. "Just to hang out. What, I can't have friends over now?"

"You know that's not what I meant," he snaps at me. He gets tired of my mind games, I know. Honestly, I get tired of them, too. But I can't stop them.

"What you meant was to imply that you don't trust me." I give my my coldest glare and snarl at him, slamming my fork onto the table.

He shakes his head, cradling it in his hands. I think I broke him. Over the years, that is. With all the medications we both have to take, the drugs we're both consuming, the fights we constantly have and the people I've been sleeping with, I don't understand how we're even still together, to be honest.

I remember when I first met Zack. He was one of our servant's sons and stayed in the 'slave houses,' as my father would call them, on the opposite side of our property. He would come in occasionally to help out his mother as she cleaned the mansion floors. She would have to get on her knees every day for hours on end scrubbing every floor in the mansion by hand with a few of the other servants.

I met him a week after I had been taken there. He was sitting, talking with my fucking sister. She seemed to be flirting, the way little girls do with their little dresses and pink bows, missing teeth and faint blushes as they hold their hands behind their backs and sway back and forth. She caught sight of me and glared, causing Zack to look up onto the flight of stairs I was sitting on.

He was older then me by a few years, the same age as my sister, and was taller by a few inches. His black hair was cut short and he had on a bandana like his mother to keep it out of his face. The workers all wore the same outfits of dark blue coveralls with the Strife company logo stitched over the heart in golden threat. He stared at me a moment before smiling up at me and walking up to stairs so we could meet.

"Hi," he smiled at me. I flinched away from him and huddled closer to the fall guard. "I'm Zack Fair. What's your name?"

"He doesn't speak," my sister said as she walked up the stairs, her nose turned up to me. "My daddy calls him a bastard. He had him with a different mommy. I think he's stupid and that's why he doesn't talk. Right, Cloud?"

I just stared at her blankly, my hands gripping the railing next to me. It wasn't that I was stupid, its not like I didn't understand what they were saying. I just couldn't form the words for a reply. On the contrary, my vocabulary in my mind had be rather advanced for my age.

Zack pursed his lips at me, his blue eyes looking me over. I was considerably smaller then him, but I was also pretty chubby which had made no sense considering the fact that my mother could barley afford to buy food. I was wearing a small suit that my father insisted both I and my new found brother Rufus wear, my sister always walking around in nice dresses and shoes. My hair when I was a child was actually blonder then it is now, believe it or not, and my eyes more of a gray than a blue. My face was rather round and I had a consisted red in my cheeks, probably from high blood pressure or something with my fat ass. My mother always said it was just baby fat. I guess she was right because it disappeared when I turned seven.

Zack and I were inseparable after that. We would sneak away from our duties, his cleaning and my speech classes that had continued even after I moved in with my father, and Zack gave me speech classes of my own. We'd sit under the giant oak tree on one of the far ends of the property where he'd say words to me and I'd silently mouth them back.

"You were cute when you were a kid," I sigh, coming back to the present reality that is my life. Zack grunts next to me where he's laying in my bed, that stupid Pokemon game in his hands. "Dude, the least you can do after we fucking have sex is look at me, maybe cuddle a bit. Not play a stupid fucking kids game."

He sighs and leans into me, kissing me on the nose. "Just let me battle this gym leader, love."

I sneer at him and roll over onto my side, facing the wall and pulling the soft, flower scented blankets over my mouth and nose. "Play for however fucking long you want, asshole. I'm going back to sleep." I can't help but to peak at the alarm clock that now shouts 4.47 PM back at me. I glare at it and turn back to the wall. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly but open them again, looking at Zack from the corner of my vision. "You know I love you... Right?"

He stares at me a moment before smiling lightly. His warm fingers trail down my bare back and I have to resist the urge to shiver under the touch. The familiar sting of tears assaults my eyes but I hold them back as I always do. Even through my depression, I won't let tears get the best of me.

"I know." His eyes are always so warm when he looks at me, forgiving and loving, that I don't think I can face him right now. Not while I just finished fantasizing about our friend while I was having sex with him. "I know, Cloud. I love you too..." He sets his Game Boy down by the clock and lays next to me, wrapping his arms around my bare waist and kissing my shoulder, his body pressed up against mine. His skin is just so warm and now I have to resist a moan from the wonderful heat. "I love you so much. It almost hurts."

He was the first person other then my mother to tell me that he loves me. The second person was my Nana, my father's mother. After that, numerous lovers have told me that. Zack and Nana were the only two that mattered, though.

I met my Nana the month after I moved into my father's home. She was sick when I had first gone there, locked up in an upstairs, far back room because my father was afraid of getting sick himself. I didn't know that, though. I didn't even know she existed.

My father periodically yelled at me, normally because of my inability to reply to his questions. One day he called me stupid and useless, told me that I was a mistake, that he didn't want me. Normally, his words didn't hurt. However, that day the words had a significant sting about them. I started crying as I always did and ran off, away from him. I didn't know where I was going, running through all the hallways in the three hundred room mansion, down all the spiral staircases, in rooms and then back out, through the secret passage ways- anywhere and everywhere. Then I turned into a dead end of a hallway, a single room at the end of it. A scent of roses and vanilla lured me to it, my vision blurry and making the flower wallpaper of the hallway walls and the light pink door swim in front of me. The doorknob was cold in my hand as I pushed the door open. That's when I saw her.

I couldn't help but think how beautiful she was in her old age, even when I couldn't see her clearly. I wanted to, though, so I quickly wiped at my eyes with the sleeve of my suit blazer. She was beautiful. She looked in her early seventies with pale white skin, her wrinkles that went around her mouth, under her eyes and over her forehead actually enhancing her beauty instead of bringing it down. Made her look wise, slurring. Her hair was as white as snow, pinned back into a tight bun with a large, jewel studded clip. Her eyes were a shining blue with a green outlining them, her eyelashes long and black behind her wire rimmed glasses. She was wearing a button up nightgown with a floral pattern around the pink fabric. It looked home made, like someone's skilled hands spent hours on it. She was sitting in a large, wood framed bed, the blankets pulled up to her waist and numerous pillows supporting her back. An old fashioned TV sat in front of the bed on a wooden chest, turned on but the volume turned all the way down. The window in the wall to her right was open with the curtains drawn back so that she could stare out into the garden my father was so proud of, as if it was himself who planted the assortment of the most fragrant roses to exist. The vanilla scent came from the candles she was burning all around the room.

She stared at me, confused for a moment, and under her eyes I broke down again. So, she smiled tenderly and held her arms out. I didn't hesitate to run to her bed and jump into her warm embrace, crying into the shoulder of her dress. She rubbed my back, saying, "It's okay, sweetie. You're smarter then he says you are. You are so smart and you are so beautiful. You have so much potential, Cloud. So much ahead of you."

She must have heard about me from the servants because my father never even talked to her. And the hallways around that place carry noise, my father's screams, so she must have heard those, too.

She comforted me for half an hour, holding me close in her lap. She ran her arthritis cursed hands through my hair, continuing with her kind words. All I could think about was how wrong she was, that I was useless, that I was stupid, that I was ugly. I didn't want to leave her arms, but a servant came into the room to help Nana take her daily bath. So, I had to leave. After that, I visited her every day. She was so kind, didn't treat me like the bastard child I was. She treated me like I was her real grandson. She loved me unconditionally and I loved her so much.

I remember when she died, how heartbroken I was. I still cry about it to this day. I didn't know how to cope with it after the fact that she was the only thing I had to go through my life up until I was ten, when it was suddenly just gone.

"What are you thinking about?" Zack asks me, stopping his kisses. I shrug and turn in his arms so that I'm holding him now and my face is buried in his chest.

"My nana," I reply simply.

We stay like that for awhile, and the whole time, I sit on that border of consciousness and sleep. I drift off a few times but find it hard to separate the sleep from the border. Zack is out cold next to me, though, sighing and talking in his sleep as he always does. I find myself running my hands through his hair, biting my lip and studying his face. He hasn't changed at all in six years, having reached his current looks at fifteen. So, I've been staring at the same face for six whole years, and I still haven't gotten tired of it.

A knock at the front door interrupts us around six. Reluctantly, I get up and pull on a pair of pants to cover my ass, neglecting a shirt, and walk out of my bedroom, through the hallway and to the living room where my neighbor was knocking on my door. Again. Fuck.

She's older with no bottom teeth and these creepy, gray bug eyes. She smells, too, and needs to shave her chin or something because that's pretty gross. In her hands is my cat, small, black and hissing at me, her yellow eyes glaring. She hates me. Like I give a fuck, Zack's the one who gave her to me, knowing I fucking hate cats. I take her with a smile and thanks, hoping that when I go to close the door, she doesn't put her hand out to stop it like she always does.

She does.

"Kitty's getting big," she observes, looking at the cat. Then she looks me up and down, almost in disgust, looking at the tattoos on my arm and the tattoo on the upper part of my opposite arm of my Nana's full name, Elizabeth Anne Strife. "Been getting' in my cat food in the garage again."

I give my best fake smile and throw the cat somewhere behind me when it sinks it's claws into my arms. "Yeah, sorry. I don't know why. I have cat food for her. I even started using the same food as you. She must just like you more." Which she does. Because my neighbor is one of those crazy cat ladies with like, forty cats.

She nods and without saying any more, leaves. I hate her and her crazy little male friend who lives with her and her fat fuck of a brother who never wears a shirt. I like her mother, though. She's ninety something and crippled, has Alzheimer's, so beautiful...

I lazily make dinner after that, throwing together some burritos with the crap from the fridge. My phone rings and I look at the caller ID, groaning. I don't need this right now. But, reluctantly, I pick up the phone and speak into it, "Hello?"

-Not dead yet, huh?- Even when he isn't mocking me, times different from now, my father's words are sneery and superior. -Well, isn't that a pleasant surprise.-

"Yeah, okay, insults. Right. What do you want? I'm busy."

-Doing what? Your boyfriend?- There's a string of hacking laughs on his side, but I stay silent so he continues, -But, really. I was just trying to make sure you didn't kill yourself or something. I am also reminding you that I will be paying you a visit tomorrow. You didn't forget, correct?-

Shit. I did forget. I forgot so fucking bad that I even made plans with my crush tomorrow instead of cleaning my pig sty of a house. I'm so fucking screwed. I am so fucking screwed. I look down at the pile of beer cans sitting by the couch, at the old pizza boxes and wrappers laying around the tables. Holy fuck. "Oh, um, no, I didn't forget. What time are you coming again?"

-Ten,- he replies. -Give or take.-

As soon as I get off of the phone, I spring into action, slapping Rufus on his ass to get him up and retrieving trash bags for the wrappers, boxes and cans.

"Why are we doing this?" Rufus moaned, still half asleep as he cleared off the coffee table. "It's too early for this shit..."

"It's six thirty, fuck tard," I roll my eyes at him. We sleep too much in this house, I know. But, its only because I'm trying to get in all the sleep I can now before winter break is over and I have to go back to school.

Rufus gawks at me, unbelieving. "Holy shit, really?" Sure enough, with a look out the window, its dark. "Fucking shit! I slept all day!" He counts the hours on his fingers. "Fifteen hours! Holy cow!"

I shrug. I've done worse. I love sleep and I can sleep at any time, for however long I want. One time I slept for two days straight, only getting up to piss and eat. It was right after my dad had kicked Zack and I out and we had to get a hotel room on his salary for a few days until he could find an apartment, then I got my little techy job with computers and we got a house. My dad didn't want me to go to the police or whatever (Like I would) and get him in trouble with the law, so he paid me off as well. Sent me a good amount of money each month just to get by, which helps a lot. But now that I'm eighteen he can easily cut me off and not get into any trouble. And he knows it.

"Seriously, why are we doing this?" Rufus asks. He ties the top of his bag into a knot and throws it next to the other full ones by the door.

I don't even look up at him because I'm too busy scrubbing down the table. "Dad's coming over tomorrow."

He panics like me and starts washing the piled up dishes in my sink after waking Zack up. While Zack cleans the dining room without question I get to the bathroom and the guest room. We stay up until three just cleaning, and by then I'm tired as all hell. So, naturally, I went back to sleep.

The next morning, I woke to a loud banging on my front door. A quick look at my clock indicated that I had overslept. I jumped out of bed, tripping on the sheets and falling flat on my face. That wakes Zack up because I end up pulling the blankets off of him and falling onto the bedside table, knocking off everything on top of it. The lamp made a loud clatter as it hit the wall and broke, the clock and cell phone charger being ripped out of the electrical socket. I groan and pull myself up on the side of the bed, realizing that I'm not wearing pants. I look frantically around for some, any pair, and the knocking gets louder, much fiercer. He's going to be pissed if I don't open it right now. The thought frightens me, so I suck up my bride and walk right out of my room in my cool ass Lakers boxer briefs, figuring my father has seen me like this plenty times before. Hell, he walked in on me after sex once.

Unfortunately, it wasn't my father at the door. It was my crazy bitch neighbor with my cat. She shrieks loudly and throws the cat. The cat hisses and bares her claws on her way to my face. I had one of those slow motion nooo-! moments as she flies at me. I try to step out of the way but I'm much slower and she lands right on my face, scratching and hissing. She falls down a bit and attaches herself to my shirt, trying to claw her way back up to attack my face again. I'm screaming now, trying to pull her off. She hisses at me and bites into my hand, scratching at my fingers. The neighbor bitch is still screaming, telling me to put on pants. I shout back, telling her to fucking leave, but she doesn't listen and takes it upon herself to cover me up with her flannel. I didn't mean to, but on reflex I kicked her in the face. She falls back onto her ass but I barley notice because I've gotten the cat off and am throwing it at the small couch. Cursing, I wipe at the dots of blood spreading across the scratches on my face, hands and arms.

She starts screaming again, calling me a woman beater. I sigh and put a hand out to help her up but she swats me away and dumpily gets up herself, shouting, "See if I'll ever do anything for you again!"

I snort and watch as she leaves my yard before slamming my door shut and wincing at the pain from the scratches. The cat sits on the couch, her yellow eyes watching me hatefully. She lets out a sharp hiss and I hiss back, throwing a DVD at her. Fucking cat, I hope she gets hit by a car.

It takes awhile before my dad actually shows up, three hours later then he said he'd be. It was enough time for me to shower and get dressed, but when he knocks on my front door my hair is dripping wet over my shoulders, soaking the fabric of the black Metal Mulisha shirt I'm wearing. I rush into the living room as I had before, this time sure that its my father and throwing a shoe at my brother to get him up. He sleeps more then me, I swear.

When I open my front door, my father stares at me from the other side of the screen. My dogs, who usually get excited at company, sit quietly on the porch and watch him wearily. He already has his nose up at me as he walks into my home, the door closing behind him.

My father is, in a lack of better words, good looking. He has dark black hair that is graying on the sides, the way he wanted it, that he wears slicked back. He also wears glasses with black rectangular frames and the brand name, Vogue, on the side in silver lettering. His eyes glow the same blue as mine, void of any emotion, narrowed at me as he stands in the middle of my living room expectantly with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dress pants. He's wearing a suit as he always does with his Rolex watch shining in the light from the reflection off the real diamonds, silver and gold. While he's in his late forties, maybe early fifties- I'm not sure which- his face is smooth and the only wrinkles are the slight form of crows feet at the corners of his eyes. My father. My rich, stuck up, flawless old man who also happens to be ageless and perfect.

Rufus sits at the couch, rubbing his eyes and trying to seem awake, in fear that my father will snap on him as he always does. Before he can compose himself, though, its too late and my father has already seen that he'd just woken up.

"Sleeping, as always, Rufus?" His cold eyes turn on him now, narrowing more and showing just a flash of annoyance. "I see you are still staying on your brother's couch. Why is that? Is that boyfriend of yours not supporting you anymore?"

Rufus puts on a smile and stands, smoothing out his shirt and the back of his pants. "I don't have to listen to your shit, old man. And for your information, Marluxia and I broke up. Anyway, I'm leaving." He stands up and, without another word, walks past us and right out my front door. Fuck. Now I'm all alone with this man.

Well, not completely alone. Zack is up now and messing around in the kitchen, probably listening to us, waiting for something to happen. I run a hand through my wet hair subconsciously and that catches my fathers eye.

"Do you not know how to properly dry your hair, Cloud?" He dusts off one of the couch cushions and looks at it as if its the most disgusting thing he's ever seen, insulting me because I work hard to keep my furniture nice and clean, with all the people who come and party here.

I reluctantly take a seat next to him, pressing my lips in a thin line before I answer. "I didn't have time, father. I just got out of the shower, and-."

"'Didn't have time?' I was late, and its twelve in the afternoon, Cloud. How could you not have had time? When did you get up?" His eyes stab into me, as they always do. I inwardly flinch.

"...Eleven something."

He lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes at me before meeting my own, looking at me like I'm an idiot. "You obviously do not understand that normal people get before eight, Cloud. Honestly, why do you think I am supporting you until you graduate? So that you can have a normal life, Cloud, like a normal working person. The least you can do while I am spending all this money on you is do as I ask."

I lean my head back against the couch, my hair grazing against the wall. Reaching my hands up to my face, I let out a sigh and drag them down along my skin, exasperated at the whole ordeal of speaking with my father. I hate this stupid deal I have with him; why do we have to be in a recession? I just want to get a normal job so I can support myself, dammit! Unfortunately, I need my father to pay for certain things that my side job of fixing electronics can't support. Some people would think that its fatherly love that he doesn't want me to be a drop out, but its really family pride that he has. He wouldn't be able to stand the fact that one of his children are hobos.

"Did you enjoy the party I allowed you to have?" He narrows his eyes at me, obviously indicating to the mess of alcohol and broken shit we left behind. "Happy birthday, by the way."

Nodding, I answer, "Yeah, it was great. I think I'm close to getting a deal. Thank you, father."

It wasn't a real birthday party, considering my birthday was a few weeks earlier, but in my father's eyes it was because that was the present he gave me for turning eighteen. Considering how big that age was, he gave me a big present.

I force a smile, looking at him. Zack walks into the room now with two cups of steaming, sugarless tea as he always does, handing one to me and one to my father. My father's eyes watch him, utterly disgusted. Zack shifts uncomfortably before nodding greeting to him and turning to leave, but my father stops him.

"Hello, Zachary. How are you?"

Zack bites his lip and shrugs, saying, "Pretty good, I guess... Um, what about yourself?"

"Rather well, thank you." He sips from his tea and motions for Zack to take a seat on the other couch. Zack sighs before sitting in it, openly wanting to be somewhere else. For support, I set my hand on his knee and smile at him, feeling his hand squeeze over mine. My father glares at our hands, though, so I pull away a moment later. "I see you two are still together. How is that going?"

I turn my smile on him now, the master of fake smiles. "Very well."

He lets out a dignified snort and turns his nose up at us, no doubt disgusted by our relationship. I don't care; he can be as disgusted as he wants. My personal life is none of his business. However, I can't help but think back to the day he kicked me out because he walked in on us.

Zack and I shared our first kiss in seventh grade, officially going out in eighth. Then, in ninth, we had sex for the first time. It was awkward and in the rose garden behind the mansion I was sill living in, but it felt good. Then we started doing it regularly in his bedroom in the slave houses in tenth. Unsurprisingly, one of the workers figured out what we were doing and went to tell my father. He decided to catch us in the act, and during an after sex glow, he just walked right in. At first, he was calm and I got dressed quickly, being pulled out by him, but when we were back in the mansion, he exploded.

Broken lamps, statues and vases followed his wake as he stormed through the hallways, shouting at me the whole time. If I tried to reply, he'd back hand me, so I stay relatively quiet. He still had a firm grip on my forearm when he got to my room and he threw me in, making me stumble slightly, with a simple command. "Pack your stuff and get out."

I have to resist the urge to shiver at the remembrance of the cold words. My father has always been homophobic, which really screwed him over when Rufus came out as being completely gay, opposed to me who has only liked two guys in his life and very much enjoys the female body. Now, while this is going to make me sound like a whore, I am a whore so it doesn't matter. For a while, though, I had been messing around with Leon. What made it so bad was that I was still with Zack at the time, I had also been sucking Axel off, and I didn't even like Leon that way. I think he's sprung on me, poor guy. I don't understand why; even if Sora is a rude, immature prick, and even if they are brothers, they're perfect for each other. I think he should just stick in his cute little incestuous relationship.

My father brings me out of my thoughts when he speaks, "You do understand that I have been thinking about cutting you off, correct?"

I smile and nod lightly, replying with, "Of course. But you won't do that, right? Considering the fact that I am acknowledged by the news as your son. It would look bad for the founder of a big company like Strife Co. to let his son, whom he had denied for the first five years of his life, be a drop out."

The look on my fathers face shows that he is stuck between a rock and a hard place. The time for trying to win his favor is over; this is like a business trade. He knows that no matter what he agrees too, he's still screwed. However, he also knows that he is better off just paying for my living expenses which is nothing for his salary, being a billionaire and all, then he would be letting this get to CNN and Fox News where they will skewer him and his company.

My father sips tentatively from his tea cup, the fine, milky china catching in the light. The engraved golden roses on the sides remind me of my childhood when Zack and I would run through the garden and play games like hide and go seek or tag. When he sets the delicate cup down on its saucer, it lets out a very light clank that seems too loud in the deafening silence of the room. You could cut the tension with a knife, as the saying goes.

Finally, my father makes his decision. "Alright, then, Cloud. You have won me over. For now. I will continue to support you until your graduation. But after you get that diploma, I am cutting you off, understand?"

A genuine smile cracks on my face and I nod, standing with my father to shake his hand. "Thank you, father. You won't regret it."

His eyes narrow at me for a moment. "I had better not, Cloud. Anyway, I am leaving now. Tell your brother I said goodbye, or something."

He walks over to my door and practically kicks my dogs out of his way. I follow him out and close the door behind us, petting their heads on my way past as I see my father out. I have to squint my eyes against the sun as my dad walks out my front gate, stopping on the other side as I close it. Its broken, so it has to be shut a certain way.

He knows what I want. He watches me expectantly, his hands in the pockets of his slacks. I cross my arms against myself because of the chill dancing in the air, my eyes still squinted and unfocused on something to my fathers right.

"Have you found out anything?" I ask hopefully. "About her?"

He's silent for a moment before he shakes his head, making my heart sink. "I have not. I cannot even remember her last name."

The thought that my father doesn't even know my mom's last name disgusts me in so many ways.

I walk calmly back up my yard to the door, but as soon as my door is closed I sit on the floor and lean against it, my face turned upward but my hands cupped over it. I let out a dry sob, trying to calm down my racing heart.

He doesn't know my mother's last name yet? How long has he been looking for her? Fuck, knowing him, he hasn't tried at all! He's probably just lying to keep me in line, to humor me. It honestly wouldn't surprise me. I see my father's face in the darkness behind my eyelids, feeling the sudden urge to punch the wall.

"Okay, I am seriously fucking tired of your dad. If he fucking- are you okay?" Zack had come around the corner from the kitchen and is now kneeling down next to me. I remove my hands from my face and sigh, shaking my head. "Do you want something, sweetie? Are you gonna cry?"

"I don't cry," I say automatically. And I don't. When I'm drinking, yes, but otherwise, I don't cry. I reach my hand out, motioning for him to pick me up, which he does. I'm only standing for a moment when my phone vibrates with a text in my pocket. I can't help but smile at the screen when it says Axel with a little less than three heart next to the name. When I open it, though, the smile automatically leaves my face.

Cant mak it 2morrow. Roxy is sick. :(

Well, fucking hell.

I groan and push past Zack, throwing my phone on the couch and walking quickly to the bathroom. I slam the door, locking it, before turning to the giant rectangular mirror above the sink. The white walls of the room sting my eyes a bit, the tile clacking underneath my shoes as I pace back and forth. I stop and look into the mirror again, glaring at my reflection. Then I let out a very loud scream and knock everything off the counters, including the blow dryer, toothpaste, mouth wash and body care products. The mouth wash busts open, bleeding a minty green pool on the ground.

I turn on the sink and lean down, washing my face with cold water to cool me off. It doesn't work much, but it has me trying to regulate my breathing and keep my anger down, my breaths coming shallow and aggravated from my lungs. I look up and glare at my reflection once again, still breathing hard.

I only have a few things in this world that I care about. My dogs are one of them. Then there is Zack, but I don't know how much longer that can last. I honestly don't think we can stay together for much longer and I know that my feelings aren't the same as they were before. Then there is Axel, my closest friend and the guy I think I am falling for. Anyone can have anything else of mine and I wouldn't care. I could be homeless as long as I have my three things, maybe even two because I wouldn't die without my dogs, and there is no way in hell I am letting some prissy little know-it-all child like that fucking Roxas come in here and ruin it.

If I have to, I will scare him off to make sure that he never even thinks about messing with my Axel. I will do whatever it takes to keep him away from my man. I do not like Roxas, I don't like how close he's getting to Axel, I don't like that Axel likes him and I do not like the fact that Roxas might be liking him back.

I am Cloud Strife and I am going to ruin my best friend's love life.

~o~

A/N

So, I've been trying to make my chapters longer, as you can see. Just for you guys because I love my readers so much. :)

Oh, crap! A shit storm is coming! Hope you guys brought an umbrella because it ain't gonna be pretty. :/

Hope you guys liked. See you soon. Review, please! :D