Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me. Too bad. Because if it did, I would have a big party. And molest Cloud. In a hot tub. Sorry Leon.
Oh my god, guys, so many fucking reviews! I am so excited. If we could break three hundred with this next chapter, I'd pretty much freak out. And post some smut in celebration. Probably some yummy Cloud/Sephiroth. Or whatever you guys want.
Special thanks to anyone who took the time to tell me what they liked about the chapter. It makes my day.
Chapter 12
In the Heat of the Night
Sora didn't waste a moment.
He slid out of the booth, down under the table like a burrowing rabbit. With a little cry of, "Sorry, Riku!" he launched himself toward the door, shoving it outward and nearly plowing down a gaggle of middle school girls. Riku and Axel just looked at each other.
"Okay…what the fuck?"
It was hot outside, despite the fact that it was almost midnight and the sun had been down for hours. The street was crowded and for a moment Sora thought he'd lost Roxas, but then he saw a spiky mess of blonde hair streaking around the corner. He followed, damp bangs flopping in his face and necklace slapping and jingling against his chest. He had to elbow his way through a crowd of people outside the cinema, procuring himself several curses and shouts of, "Watch where you're going!"
Dammit! he thought as he reached the corner, since when did Roxas get this fucking fast?
Sora didn't bother calling out again, just put on an extra burst of speed, catching his query halfway down a wide, dumpster-lined ally. He splashed through a puddle of shiny oil, grabbing Roxas by the hood of his sweatshirt. The little blonde cussed and thrashed, trying to jerk himself out of Sora's grip.
"Roxas, what the hell?" he demanded, refusing to let go. "Why are you running away from me?"
Roxas bared his teeth. His eyes, eyes that looked so much like Sora's, were misting up, as if he was about to cry. But that was absurd. Roxas never cried.
"Because I don't want to see you!" he yelled, his voice cracking on the last word. "I don't wanna see anyone!"
"Roxas…" Sora let go of him, but he seemed to be done with running. He just stood there, panting, sweat running down the sides of his face and plastering his hair to his forehead. "Roxas, what happened? Why did you just take off like that? Roxas…Roxas, are you okay?"
They blonde stumbled a bit, catching himself on the dirty brick wall. His breath was coming fast and he was shivering, despite the heavy sweatshirt. Sora wondered how in the hell he could possibly wear that thing and not die of heat stroke. Roxas squeezed his eyes shut.
"I'm…kinda dizzy," he muttered.
Axel and Riku came around the corner just in time to watch the little blonde collapse into Sora's arms. The sounds of traffic and laughter were oddly muffled by the acoustics of the ally, plunging them into a unsettled sort of semi-silence. Axel made an angry sound, pouncing forward and jerking Roxas from his grasp.
"What the fuck did you do to him?" he demanded, brushing the hair away from his unconscious boyfriend's forehead.
"I didn't do anything!" Sora snarled. Axel took a step back, surprised by the usual calm and amiable boy's viciousness. His eyes were fierce and blazing, his face very pale.
"Christ. You look just like him," Axel breathed. He'd never noticed the resemblance before, but now that he saw them together it was unmistakable. The odd tendency for their hair to stick up at the most awkward angles, their slight build, the big friendly smile. Sora wore that one much more often that Roxas, though right now his expression was tight and angry.
"Roxas is my cousin," he said. "I would never want anything to happen to him."
"We should probably get him to a hospital," Riku said, finally stepping in. "It's a couple blocks away. I'll drive."
The hospital was just as hopping as Rita's had been. The Emergency Room was packed. They passed a man with one leg on their way in, and a group of women who were all holding each other and crying. Some people in the waiting room were no doubt there in line to be treated, and some of them looked extremely sick. A little girl with her head in her father's lap was having trouble breathing, and every few seconds she would heave a great hacking cough that shook her frail body.
Riku frowned. "I hate hospitals," he commented.
Because Roxas was unconscious, the doctors would see him immediately. Axel set him gently on the stretcher two orderlies had wheeled out, smoothing his hair back and dropping a kiss on his slightly parted lips.
"I'm sorry, but only two of you can come back at a time," one of the orderlies said. He'd flushed slightly when Axel had kissed Roxas, and his speech was overly-friendly in order to cover that up. Riku rolled his eyes. He was more than used to that kind of reaction whenever he showed any affection to his boyfriends in public.
"You guys go back," he said. "You both have more of a connection to him than I do."
"Thanks, Riku," Sora muttered, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Take your time," he said.
He watched as the orderlies wheeled Roxas out, already calling out stats to each other. Axel and Sora disappeared with them into that long white hallway, the doors swinging shut behind them. Riku sighed, glancing at his watch. It was a quarter of one, and it didn't look like this night on the town was going to end anytime soon.
The waiting room was crowded and noisy, and Riku definitely didn't want to spend any more time in there. He left through the front automatic doors, taking a seat on one of the benches out front. It was hot out here, but he would take it over the interior of a hospital any day. There was a girl sitting on the other end of the bench, and she gave him a weak smile as he sat down.
"Can't take it in there either, huh?" she asked in a shaky kind of voice that made it clear she had been crying a couple of minutes ago.
Riku laughed softly. "Yeah. It's awful."
"I'm Liz," she said after a moment.
"Riku," Riku answered. Anywhere else he might have thought it was odd that a complete stranger was being so friendly, but he understood. She needed someone, anyone, right now. It didn't really matter who. She was plump and very pretty, with big green eyes and short reddish gold hair. She was wearing a jeans and a homemade halter top that had "people like you are the reason people like me need medication" emblazoned across the front in bright red lettering.
"I'm not from around here," Liz said. "Is this hospital any good?"
Riku wasn't sure how to answer that. What did she mean 'good'? And what exactly classified bad? When they cut the patients up and sold their parts on the black market?
He shook his head. "Sorry, I don't really know. Nobody in my family ever really gets sick."
"That's okay."
"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"
Liz glanced at her shoes, and then back up at Riku. "Stephanie, my…" She swallowed once. "My girlfriend was in a car accident. She's banged up pretty bad. They don't know if she's gonna make it."
Riku didn't know what to say. 'I'm sorry' was just so cliché, so paltry, so meaningless. How would he be feeling right now, if that had happened to Sora?
He sidled closer to her on the bench, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. "You're very strong," he whispered.
Liz smiled, tears shining in the flashing lights of a passing ambulance. "That's what I'd like to think."
They sat there in silence for a little while, just watching the cars go by on the road beyond the parking lot. Every so often an emergency vehicle would pull up, stopping at the curb and spitting out a crowd of paramedics. Sometimes they would shout things to each other, working so quickly that the patient was moved from the ambulance to a stretcher in a few seconds. Other times they would pull up and nobody would get out for a moment, and when they did they were quiet, and the stretcher they carried inside would be covered. Riku couldn't understand how anyone could work in such close contact with death. He wouldn't have been able to handle it.
Riku's phone rang, just a moment after the blaring of one of the ambulance's sirens had been silenced. He glanced at it. It was Sora, no doubt wondering where he was.
"Be right there," he told him, not waiting for a response. He stood up.
"I hope everything works out," he said quietly, taking Liz's hand once again. "Tell you're girlfriend hi for me."
"Sure," she answered, smiling.
He ducked back into the noisy E.R, glancing around for Sora. He tracked him down over by the swinging door to the back hallway. He looked exauhsted.
"Roxas is gonna be fine," he said before Riku could open his mouth. "He hasn't woken up yet but the doctor said she doesn't expect him to until tomorrow morning."
"Where's Axel?" Riku asked.
"Sleeping on the chair in Roxas' room. Visitor hours are over and everything but he's refusing to budge. So the doctor's letting him stay."
"You want to just stay at my house tonight?" Riku asked, attempting to sound as offhand as possible.
Sora smiled tiredly. "Sure."
On the drive back home Riku slid him a glance when they'd stopped for a red light. "Are you awake enough to tell me about Roxas?"
Sora nodded slowly, rubbing his eyes with his fists and trying to stifle a giant yawn. "He's my cousin."
"Got that part."
"I know, shut up," Sora needled, elbowing him lightly. "I was just recapping."
"Mm hmm," Riku hummed, easing on the gas and turning toward the coast.
"Yeah, well anyway, Roxas' parents were both killed in that big derailing of the subway a year and a half ago."
"I remember hearing about that. Fuck."
"Yeah. My mom is Roxas' dad's sister, so he came to live with us." Sora stared out the window as he spoke, eyes reflecting the street lights. "He was pretty fucked up by it. He barely talked to anyone and he skipped school all the time. He didn't like my dad 'cause my he would always get on us about being gay."
"Really?" Riku asked. He'd been under the impression that Sora's parents were both fine with his sexuality.
Sora shrugged. "It wasn't like, hatred, or anything, just…intense disapproval. He's kind of got over himself, though," Sora added, glancing at his boyfriend. "Anyway, sometime about last November, Roxas disappeared. He never came home from work one night."
He swallowed. Riku could tell Sora was having a bit of trouble talking about this. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Sorry. It's just…it still feels kind of unreal, you know? Finding him here?"
"I understand," Riku said softly, running his hands through Sora's spiky hair without taking his eyes off the road.
"My parents thought he'd been kidnapped at first, but then I found the note in his room. It was addressed to me, not them, and it said not to worry about him and that he'd be fine."
"Did your parents call the police?"
"Yeah, a'course. We looked for him for a long time, but there was nothing. Then, on Christmas Day, I got a call from him. It was from a pay phone so I had no idea where he was—wasn't even sure if he was in the country. He told me he'd found a place to stay and that he was alive and not to worry about him and all that bullshit. I got really angry and yelled at him and he hung up on me."
"Did you hear from him at all after that?"
Sora shook his head. "No. It didn't make any sense. I would stay up late at night wondering what the fuck had been so awful about living with us." His eyes had widened and it looked like he was about to burst into tears. "What if it was something I did? What if I was the one who chased him away?" His bottom lip trembled, and Riku was suddenly seriously pissed he was driving, as he was filled with the overwhelming desire to tackle Sora and ravage him.
"Don't be an idiot," he said curtly. "It's not your fault and you know it."
There was silence for a few moments, as they turned onto Ocean Blvd.
"Sorry."
Riku sighed, shaking his head. "No, I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm grumpy, baby, it's really late."
"Almost two," Sora confirmed, glancing at the luminous clock on the dashboard. "You're parents won't mind me staying over, will they?"
The silver-haired boy shrugged. "There's no way they would find out, unless…" He grinned slyly. "Unless we made a hell of a lot of noise."
Sora giggled. "I thought you said you were tired."
"I need to watch what I say with you, don't I?" Riku laughed, gazing at the brunette fondly as he pulled into his long paved drive.
"Not unless you want to get in my pants," Sora answered cheerfully.
They moved through the mansion quickly and quietly. Sora was vaguely reminded of the night he'd met Riku, when wind and rain had lashed the windows and he'd crept in like a thief in the dark.
What a bizarre way to meet a future boyfriend…he thought, grinning to himself.
It was past two o'clock when they finally crawled into bed in Riku's cool, dark room. The quiet whirr of the overhead fan was oddly soothing, and Sora expected to fall asleep immediately, but he couldn't get his mind to shut down. So much had happened in the last couple of hours he was surprised he hadn't gone completely insane.
After he'd turned over for about the thirtieth time in five minutes, he felt Riku's hand on his shoulder.
"Baby, you need to relax a little. There's nothing more you can do for Roxas right now. Just calm down."
Sora felt kind of bad. He knew Riku had work tomorrow, and there was no way he would be able to get to sleep with one hundred and twenty five pounds of teenage boy tossing and turning beside him.
"I'm sorry, Riku. I just…can't sleep. I'm all worked up, I can't…"
He trailed off as he felt warm lips descend on his neck. He stiffened automatically, but Riku's fingers began to knead the twisted muscles of his shoulders and upper back. He moaned lightly—it felt so good.
"Fuck, you're tense," the silver haired boy commented, propping himself up on an elbow to reach lower down Sora's back. His eyes were glowing slightly in the darkness and Sora's stomach swooped. Riku was practically lying on top of him.
"Nice?" he asked, smiling and leaning in to trail kisses up his jaw, his tongue flicking out to lap at the pressure point under his ear. Sora gasped and Riku chuckled, breath warm on his skin. He left off messaging Sora's back and slithered down to his chest, licking a wet trail along his collar bone. The brunette's body jerked as Riku's lips closed over a nipple. He sucked lightly and shivers lanced through Sora's body, making him writhe. Before he knew what was happening, Riku's hand had slid down under his boxers and grasped his dick.
"Riku!" he hissed, trying to seem affronted but only succeeding in sounding turned on.
"Shhh…it'll help you relax."
Sora whimpered as Riku began to stroke. He was already rock hard from the kisses and licks, and he felt every touch like fire through his veins. He gasped again as teeth nipped at his nipples, the hand giving his shaft a little squeeze.
"Just like that?" Riku asked, the speed of his strokes increasing and his grip tightening. Sora nodded but he wasn't sure if Riku had seen it. He didn't really care either way.
He began to move his hips, following the motions of the hand, little moans issuing from the corner of his mouth as much as he tried to keep quiet. It felt so good—not at all dirty like it had that first time in the hall. Riku's eyes were burning with that internal flame, blazing with something, something…
He squeezed his cock again, one finger creeping out to rub at the sensitive head. Sora moaned and jerked his hips, burying his face into Riku's sweaty neck.
"Riku…"
"Shhhh…" the silver haired boy crooned. He dug a thumbnail into the little slit, and Sora gasped. A fiery, pleasant ache was building up in his lower stomach. His hips jerked last time, before his orgasm burst through him, sending him into shivering ecstasy. He clung to Riku, riding the feeling out with his eyes glued shut.
The older boy chuckled lightly, reaching for the box of tissues on his night table. "I'm so glad I found you, Sora," he muttered in his ear.
Leon woke to the sweet smell of coffee. He groaned, wiping his eyes blearily and sitting up. For a moment, the view of the empty parking lot made no sense. Where the hell was he and why was he so goddamn stiff? It drifted to him in portions. Hospital…Cloud…diner…Cloud…beer…Cloud…couch…
"Oh yeah," he muttered, standing up slowly and stretching. He stood there in the center of the living room, scratching his balls thoughtfully.
"Morning."
Leon yanked his hand away from his crotch like it was on fire. He turned around, feeling like a total dumbass. Cloud was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, rather amused smile on his face. He looked a lot better than he had the night before.
"Coffee?" Leon grunted, his mind currently occupied with one thing.
Cloud's grin widened and he motioned him into the kitchen. Leon rejoiced as he saw the pot, pouring himself a mug and drinking it black. He heard Cloud make a disgusted noise behind him.
"I don't see how you can drink that shit like that," he commented, walking over the refrigerator and pulling it open. Leon opened his mouth to tell Cloud not to bother, that they were fresh out of everything remotely edible, but before he could vocalize the blonde had begun pulling things out. A carton of milk, a dozen eggs, a block of white cheese, and a stick of butter.
"You like scrambled eggs?"
"Yeah, sure," Leon said blankly. "But where…?"
Cloud stood back up. "Seriously, Leon. There's a market down the street from your apartment. It took me about five minutes to get all this stuff."
Leon shrugged a shoulder. "Guess I'm just lazy."
"There's rehearsal today, isn't there?" Cloud asked as he set a frying pan on the stove, clicking on the gas.
"Yeah," Leon said, taking another gulp of life-affirming coffee. "You don't have to go if you don't feel up to it."
Cloud gave him a funny glance over his shoulder. "Why? There's nothing wrong with me, Leon. I'm going. I need to get those goddamn mics to stop blanking out every other second."
"Alright. We have to be there in about an hour." He watched as Cloud cracked half a dozen eggs into a bowl, adding milk and little diced blocks of cheese. "You're surprisingly…domestic."
It was the blonde's turn to shrug. "I'm home a lot more than Aeris. She's got a steady office job and I just work whenever I can find a show. I end up doing a lot of the household shit."
Cloud hid it well, but Leon could see the slight tightening of his jaw when he mentioned Aeris. Which reminded him of something.
"She called last night," he said levelly.
The fork Cloud was using to beat the eggs clanged against the edge of the bowl, slipping from his hands and clattering down on the counter.
"Really?" he asked. "What did you say?"
Leon crossed his arms. "Basically, I told her to go to hell."
Cloud looked at him, gorgeous blue eyes wide with dismay. "What?"
"She was feeding me bullshit, Cloud. Going on about you needing help. She was angry because I checked you out of the hospital." He snorted. "I don't understand how you can put up with all that garbage. Women are awful."
"Yeah?" Cloud had gone back to beating the eggs and his tone was deceptively light. "And guys are so much better?"
Leon allowed himself a slight smirk. "Definitely."
"Why?" Cloud asked, pouring the eggs into the hot frying pan. He was attempting to keep it light, but it was obvious he was interested.
"Well, for one thing, they fuck better."
Cloud picked up a spatula. "I wouldn't know."
"Maybe you should give it a try," the brunette said quietly. "But I'm serious. Women always complain that all we want is sex. Well, with two guys…"
Cloud laughed. "You both just want the same thing."
"Exactly."
"Excuse me."
"Yeah, just a minute," Cloud called down distractedly. When you're shoulders deep in a tangle of electrical wiring mounted thirty feet above the stage, you're not usually open for chatter. He braced one foot on the metal grating of the catwalk, grunting as he gave the pliers one final wrench. Disentangling himself, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was disgustingly hot up here, despite the fact he'd turned off most of the lights before he'd set to work.
He draped his shirt over his shoulders (he'd stripped it off a few minutes into the task) and grabbed the thick brown rope that dangled from the rafters. He shimmied down, feet hitting the stage with a thud.
"Alright, now how can I help…?" He trailed off to silence.
Standing beside him, nearly center stage, was one of the most stunning people Cloud had ever seen. He was tall, maybe half a foot taller than Cloud (which wasn't really saying too much) and his long silver hair reached nearly to his waist. He was dressed in a black button-down shirt open to his solar-plexus, and a pair of pale-washed and very expensive-looking jeans.
"My, my," he said with a small smile. "Aren't you sweaty?"
Cloud blushed faintly. He felt like a mess beside this man, who looked like any sweat that dared to settle on his skin would promptly be scolded and sent on its way.
"Can I help you with something?" Cloud asked again, rather curtly. He was feeling oddly flustered and he didn't know why, and it was making him testy.
"Yes," the man said slowly, though his attention was clearly focused elsewhere. His eyes, a brilliant bottle-green, were roving shamelessly over Cloud's naked torso. His lips curled into a startlingly predatory grin, before his gaze flicked back to the blonde's face. "Yes," he repeated. "I wanted to speak to the director—a certain Squall Leonhart?" His voice was rich and sensual, and would no doubt make any woman melt.
"Mr. Leonhart isn't here right now," Cloud said shakily. In contrast, his voice sounded high and nervous. "He's seeing a man about…uh, something about cucumber sandwiches."
He felt like an idiot for repeating it, but to his surprise the man laughed, a deep, penetrating chuckle.
"Yes, of course. 'The Importance of Being Earnest'. Algernon has a plate of cucumber sandwiches ready for his aunt and cousin when they arrive."
Cloud gave him a blank look.
He laughed again. "Surely you've read the play you're working on?"
Cloud shrugged, feeling more exposed than ever. "I haven't really had much free time lately."
What with being packed off to the mental ward and all.
"Of course. Well, it's wonderful to make your acquaintance, Mr….?"
"Strife," Cloud said, accepting the proffered hand. "Cloud Strife."
"Cloud," the man repeated thoughtfully. Slipping his hand into his pocket he offered Cloud a business card.
The blonde glanced at it. "Sephiroth," he read aloud. "Artistic and emotive photographer." He looked up. "Cool."
Sephiroth smiled at him again, raising a hand to brush back a stray piece of hair. His face was all angles; a sharp chin and prominent cheekbones, though it made him look aristocratic rather than bony.
"Mention to Mr. Leonhart that I came by, would you?" he asked. Cloud nodded and Sephiroth turned to leave.
"Out of curiosity, before I go…" Sephiroth's eyes flicked back down Cloud's body. "Have you ever done any modeling?"
Cloud's mouth worked for a moment while his brain tried to process the question. "No," he finally managed to get out.
"Well, give me a call sometime. I'd love to use you for my next shoot. You have an exquisite body, Mr. Strife."
Cloud sure as hell had no way to respond to that, so he just stood there as Sephiroth crossed the stage and let himself out through the double doors.
Yuffie was nearly bouncing off the walls.
An 87! An eighty-fucking-seven percent! On a history test! She hadn't even had to cheat! She'd just sat down, the conversation she'd had with Vincent the night before about the Industrial Revolution swirling around in her brain, and…everything had just come. She'd answered almost all of the multiple choice questions correctly, though the essay had still given her a shitload of trouble. Reading the directions and question always took a long time, and organizing took even longer. And even after that, her spelling was absolutely atrocious.
As she climbed the stairs to Vincent's apartment, her mind went back to what he'd said after their last tutoring session.
Have you ever considered you might have dyslexia?
Dyslexia. Sounded like an STD. Yuffie had looked it up on the internet, and the more she read on it the more she had started to think he could be right. It was a condition in the brain that made letters and words all jumbled when you looked at them. Turned them backwards and shit. Might explain why she hated to read, and why it had always been so difficult for her.
Maybe I'm not as stupid as I thought, she mused, raising a hand and knocking on Vincent's door. There was no answer, so she knocked again, louder. After another minute or two she tried the knob, surprised to find it unlocked.
What kind of dumbass would leave their door open in a building like this? she wondered, glancing around for homicidal maniacs out of habit.
She was only two steps into the living room, when she froze.
The place had been ransacked.
The couch cushions were slashed and torn, spilling their feather entrails out onto the carpet. The two little cactus plants kept on the mantel had been ripped out of their pots and flung against the wall. Worst of all, in Yuffie's opinion, "The Persistence of Memory" had been decimated, leaving nothing but scraps. She took a step forward and something cracked under her tennis shoes. Fragments of glass littered the floor, thousands of them, and for a moment Yuffie puzzled at what they could be, until she remembered the glass coffee table. It's metal legs had been kicked into the corner, and the surface was now nothing more than tiny pieces.
"Fuck," she breathed, a hand moving up to cover her mouth as she tried to keep calm. "Vincent! Vincent, where the fuck are you?"
Yuffie could scarcely hear anything over the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears, but she thought she caught the tail end of a tiny moan.
Her feet suddenly developed a mind of their own. She all but flew across the remains of the living room, skidding into the kitchen. There was nothing there, nothing out of place. It was a jarring comparison. Turning around, she tried the last door in the apartment, the one she'd through before.
It was dim, dark blackout curtains covering the wide window. The room was fairly sparse, dominated by a big bed with sheets and blankets partially ripped away. There was a shape curled up in the center, body contorted into what for a moment looked like intense ecstasy, but when Yuffie inched closer she saw the blood speckling the sheets. She shrieked, fear twisting her stomach before she realized that the man on the bed wasn't Vincent. His hair was almost the same color, but his face was older, gaunter. His eyes, glazed and open, weren't red.
But he was unmistakably dead.
"Oh fuck," Yuffie groaned. She could feel the bile burning at the back of her throat.
Another little gasp sounded from somewhere to her right, and she became aware of the sound of running water. Yuffie picked her way through the blood on the carpet over to the bathroom door, pushing it back.
The sight before her was one that would stay with her for the rest of her life.
The shower curtain had been torn down, revealing a crimson stained bathtub. And Vincent. He was naked, hair plastered to his sickeningly pale face by the constant stream of water pouring from the shower head. The white expanse of his muscled body was decorated with red, jagged slashes that zigzagged over his abdomen. His body was quaking and shivering, and his chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, accompanied with harsh breaths that were so quick and shallow it was frightening. He appeared to be taking in almost as much water as air.
Yuffie was barely able to stifle her sobs as she threw herself across the tiny room and turned off water. It was icy cold. Vincent shuddered, coughing up bloody liquid. His eyelids fluttered and Yuffie heard a tiny click echo through the room.
There was a gun clutched in Vincent's hand, a gun that was pointed straight at her.
Panic flowed over her like a waterfall. "Vincent, it's me!" she sobbed. "It's Yuffie! I'm gonna help you, just calm down!"
A little flash of recognition showed in the man's eyes, and they focused a little.
"Yuffie…" he managed to choke out, and the emotion in that one word sent chills spiraling down her spine. It was like he was saying goodbye.
"Vincent! Listen to me, you bastard! Don't you dare die! Just let me call the fucking hospital!"
She fumbled through her pockets for her phone, finding it at last and dialing three numbers with numb, clumsy fingers. It only rang once before an operator picked up.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"There's a guy, he's bleeding, he's…" Yuffie took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. "My friend—I came into his house, and he's in the bathtub. There's all these…slashes over his chest and I think he's really cold."
"Is there anyone else there?"
Yuffie's eyes flicked back to the bedroom. "There's a man…on the bed, but I think…I don't know…he's dead."
"Alright. What's the address?"
Yuffie spent a few precious seconds trying to remember. "I'm not sure, it's a big apartment building on the corner of Market and Third, third floor, apartment 308—."
"That's fine," the operator said. "I'll send an emergency team, they'll be there in four minutes. Try to stay calm and don't move your friend at all."
She hung up. Yuffie hit end on her phone and took a breath, slipping it back into her pocket and turning slowly to Vincent. His scarlet eyes were unfocused and he seemed to be having even more trouble breathing. He was wheezing, little coughs racking his body. The gun had dropped from his clutching fingers. He was limp with pain and exhaustion.
Shit, all the water…he's fucking drowning!
She dropped to her knees beside the tub. What should she do? The operator had said not to move him at all, that it would make him worse, but if there was a shitload of water in his lungs…
What should she do?
Yuffie really didn't want to touch him, didn't want to feel that cold, shaking body. She wanted to crawl into a corner and wait for the paramedics, wait for the people who knew what they were doing, shunt the responsibility on someone else's shoulders…
But he was drowning.
That was it. She tossed her jacket on the floor and reached tentatively forward, touching Vincent's shoulders. His eyes flickered but they didn' focus. Slowly, painfully, she lifted him into a sitting position, trying to ignore the way the slices on his stomach oozed blood. As soon as he was vertical, his body jerked, convulsing and expelling the water from his lungs. There was a hell of a lot of it, a lot more than Yuffie would have thought could be in there without him completely passing out.
Did he have hidden gills or something?
Not knowing what else to do, she sat there, holding him up until she heard the sound of the paramedics clattering in through the front door. Vincent managed to raise his head a bit, and she could see the recognition flash through his eyes. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
The paramedics came into the bathroom, bearing respirators and a stretcher. One of them cursed loudly when he saw the dead man on the bed, but all three of them went methodically about their work, checking Vincent's pulse, fitting him with an oxygen mask, and lifting him gently onto the stretcher. One of them, a woman with short blonde hair, knelt down beside Yuffie.
"What's your name, honey?"
Yuffie blinked. "Yuffie Kisaragi," she answered hoarsely.
"Alright, Yuffie. What's your friend's name."
"Vincent Valentine."
"Are you related to Mr. Valentine?"
Yuffie shook her head.
"Do you live here?"
She shook her head again.
"Then I'm going to have to ask you to leave. This is a crime scene. It needs to remain undisturbed."
She nodded dumbly, climbing shakily to her feet. "Is he gonna live?" she asked quietly.
The blonde paramedic shook her head. "I don't know. We won't be able to tell until we get him to the hospital. Come in a few hours from now, and we'll know."
Yuffie nodded once again, knowing without a doubt those would be the longest hours of her life.
When Sora woke up Sunday morning Riku was already gone. There was a note beside the bed, scribbled quickly and almost illegibly.
Hey babe,
Had to run. Rehearsal starts at ten and Leon, my director, will eat me for breakfast if I don't show. Lunch break is at two-thirty. Why don't you swing by the theatre and we'll get something? Feel free to help yourself from anything in the kitchen. Don't worry—my parents will be gone by the time you wake up.
Love ya.
--Riku
He glanced at the clock beside the bed. Eleven-twenty five. Perfect, he had some time to visit Roxas before he had to meet Riku.
He dressed quickly (in the same thing he'd worn the day before, unfortunately) and left the house, striking out toward the hospital. It was an exceptionally nice day; the sky was a pure, periwinkle blue and the temperature had dropped from yesterday, making it slightly more bearable.
He asked the mustached woman (at least, he was pretty sure it was a woman) behind the security desk in the hospital for Roxas' room. Once he obtained said information, he detoured into the café for a fairly awful cup of coffee, before heading upstairs to visit his cousin.
Room 203 was just beside the elevator. He knocked once before letting himself inside.
Everything inside was very white and very clean-looking. It smelled like bleach and turpentine, and the shade drawn over the window cast everything in a rather sickly glow. In the center of the bed was a small bed and a drip I.V. A shock of blonde hair stuck up from the head of the bed.
"Hey, Rox," Sora muttered, sinking into the only unoccupied chair in the room.
Roxas rolled over, opening a dark blue eye that was a mirror of Sora's own.
"Hey, Sora. Welcome to my villa. Enjoy your stay."
Sora chuckled. "Glad to see you still have a sense of humor."
"Yeah, that hasn't been sucked out yet."
Sora smiled sadly. Roxas looked fine, tired but fine. Now that he was here, he was struggling with what to say. He hadn't seen his cousin for a year and a half. Who the hell knew if they even had anything in common anymore? Well, he knew at least one thing.
"So…you got a boyfriend." They both glanced over to the padded bench under the window, the one Axel was currently sprawled over, one pale hand dangling down to the floor. His hair was like a shock to the senses, bright and brilliant against the drab whites and grays of the hospital room.
"Yeah," Roxas said, a little grin stealing over his face. "I guess I do."
The grin was infectious. This was the Roxas Sora remembered. A little reserved, a little melancholy, but still content. The caged, vicious animal that had run from him the night before was gone, and he had his family back.
"What happened, Roxas?" he asked after a moment. "Why'd you take off like that?"
Roxas didn't answer right away, but he didn't actively avoid the question either. His eyes had settled on Axel's sleeping form, as if the sight gave him comfort. No matter what he said, no matter what happened, Axel would be there. Everything would be okay.
"I lost it for a little while…but…I think I'm finally beginning it back." He smiled as Axel twitched a bit in his sleep, muttering something incoherent. "I think I'm okay."
And that's the end of chapter 12!!!! Christ, they sure spend a lot of time in goddamn hospitals, don't they? Everyone is always falling ill! Oh well. Vincent and Yuffie were in this one, everyone! Though Vincent was bleeding in the bathtub! Anyone who can guess who that dead guy on the bed was gets a cookie!
And Sephiroth! Sephiroth has entered! At first I was going to make him a porn star (cause, come on, look at him) but I settled on photographer to go along with the plot.
Please review guys!
Till next time, then.
