A/N: Squeeee! Thank you for your comments. Thank you to the guest who said this reads like an edited novel because OMG #goals. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It starts off a little corny, but I couldn't help myself haha.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Wishes of the Manipulator

You can have my isolation

You can have the hate that it brings

You can have my absence of faith

You can have my everything

Reno's parents planned a trip to Disney World for Martin Luther King Jr weekend.

And also decided Reno wouldn't be joining them. Instead, he was to be sent to Rude's house for the weekend. A fact that caused him to bristle with a rage I hadn't entirely expected. One that manifested in a cussing match with his mother over the phone in the school's bathroom. And I wasn't sure if it was more because he really, really, wanted to meet Mickey Mouse or if this was another example of his parents treating him like a pariah.

But I quelled his rage when I suggested he just stay at my house for the weekend instead.

Have Rude cover for him.

My parents basically wraiths and hardly notice me- let alone Reno who has all but moved in completely. And considering Rude's dad is a corporate lawyer and his mom is a financial advisor- and tax season rapidly approaches- they wouldn't notice a certain red-head missing from their house.

His eyes lit up when the idea left my lips. "That's almost better than Disney."

And I laughed, "I'll make my parents take me to Disney for my birthday and bring you."

For extra security, however, I did run the idea past my parents over dinner. My mom lucid enough to keep up with the conversation- though I could tell her focus was more on keeping her hands steady on the table- and she actually remembered Reno from decorating the tree with us on Black Friday. My dad seemed sceptical, at first. Which flushed my cheeks and I tried to ignore the burning concern in the back of my head- the rumors Aerith had told me about. He asked a bunch of fair questions like:

"Why aren't they taking him?"

"He doesn't have anywhere else to go?"

"Are his parents okay with him staying with us?"

To which I boldly responded:

"His parents suck."

"No he doesn't- they were going to ship him back to Tennessee"

"Do you want to call and ask?"

I bluffed the last one. With a pointed stare at my father as I tapped my plate with my fork- unleashing several dings that made my mother twitch until she snapped.

"Jesus Christ, Bastian, just let the poor kid stay with us for a few days? Clearly his parents are cunts."

"Claudia, language!"

And that's all it took for the fight to start.

Part of me concerned my parents wouldn't be able to keep their toxic relationship on the downlow while Reno was over; but I know my dad rather fake a business trip for four days than fight in front of a guest. So, worst case, I lose a dad for a few days but gain a boyfriend in my bed.

Worth it.

Even when he showed up at my house at five in the morning on Friday before school, with his eyes flared with the same anger that's been fluctuating for the last two weeks. Apparently, they kicked him out when the taxi showed up to take them to the airport. Locked the doors. Took both his car keys and house keys. Left him on the stoop with instructions to walk to Rude's.

He flung his bag across the room when he walked into my bedroom and I flinched when it hit the wall. He was crossed with a madman that laughed at his own anger, and a wounded child.

"I'm going to have so much fucking sex this weekend," he growled, "and not go to fucking Church on Sunday."

I sat on my bed, still half asleep, and nodded along to whatever came out of his mouth. "I'm, like, super into everything you're saying, but, uh, we have almost two hours before we need to wake up to get to school- and my parents are probably getting ready to exist- so maybe you'll settle for laying in bed for now?"

He laid on my chest, despite being completely in his uniform already, and I ran my fingers through his hair until I felt his body relax. He asked his own valid question:

"Will your parents think it's weird that I'm sleeping in your bed?"

"Maybe if they catch us like this." he tensed again and I mentally slapped my head. "They won't, they don't come in here anymore after they caught me with my hand in my pants." He chuckled softly against my neck. "Besides," I continued despite my eyes falling shut, "all my guy friends sleep in my bed. Cid usually spoons me in his sleep."

"I swear that guy has a crush on you."

"If he was-maybe-five percent gay, we would definitely be dating."

This time, he actually whacked me on the forehead.

I understood his concern, but my parents barely made an effort to check on us the first night. And we spent the time playing video games, so even if they happened to walk past my room, all they heard were the sounds of Mario Kart, and Reno's shouts that I'm cheating at the game. And once they went to bed, they might as well have evaporated into the walls of the house.

They heard nothing.

And with Saturday, upon us, they leave the house bright and early. Dropping off 100 dollars in my hand as they walk out the door; and they won't be seen again until Sunday. My dad makes a half assed attempt to establish rules. "No orgies," he snickers like a school boy.

Reno and I exchange a look before returning our teenage, bored, glances at him. "Deal."

They are barely out of the driveway before he pins me under him.

After we finish exploring our bodies, in ways that don't just need to be sex, we unwind with our cigarettes. I'm up against the wall, my guitar over my lap while he leans over the window sill, his arm dangling out the window as he exhales smoke towards the trees that block the view of the world. Dressed in just our boxers; him getting more comfortable with relaxing without his shirt on in front of me. And I admire his body- scars and all. Lean but muscular. Sculpted arms, and toned legs that currently hide underneath a thin blanket. His abs like stone when I run my hands over them; my current obsession when I have him in any compromising position.

"Stop looking at me like that," he scolds, "I need a break; fuck."

I laugh and look away, "I could always take one for the team."

"Oh?" he smirks, "someone wants to try something new?"

I strum my guitar and it rumbles against my chest. And I have to shift myself because of this conversation. "Maybe."

"Psh," he rolls his eyes back to the outside world, "call me when that changes to a yes." He feigns frustration, but I know he's fine from the dreamy look on his face. Like he's both here, and far away, existing in two worlds at once.

I enjoy the silences we share after our intimate moments.

But I wonder how it's possible to be this in love with someone after such a short amount of time. And I know he warned me about planning our life together. But I can't help the way my mind drifts away.

I mindlessly pluck my guitar to I Walk The Line, while I think of possible futures, when I hear him softly sing.

"I find it very, very easy to be true. I find myself alone when each day is through. Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you. Because you're mine.I walk the line." And his voice is rough, his accent prominent; not a voice for singing, but for screaming. And it's possible the most beautiful sound I've ever had the pleasure of hearing.

"You like Johnny Cash?" I question as I continue to play. He flinches at my voice, as I snapped him out of his trance, and throws me a look that silently asks if I'm an idiot.

"Of course, I'm from the South," he responds. "I was surprised that you liked him when I saw you added him to the CD."

"He's awesome," I agree. He stares out the window, with his cigarette between his lips, and sun against his face. And I notice he swallows a lump in his throat; and maybe I shouldn't have alerted him to my listening. So I continue, dropping my voice to the right tune.

"As sure as night is dark and day is light, I keep you on my mind both day and night. And happiness I've known proves that it's right. Because you're mine, I walk the line," I sing. And from my peripheral, I see him smile against the Marlboro; his face red like his hair, which moves like flames against the wind. And he tries to hide behind his hand running through those strands.

"He begs me to sing," I say as I continue to play, "then gets all embarrassed when I do."

"Fuck you," he snickers.

"Later, we got two more verses." I clear my throat, "You've got a way to keep me on your side. You give me 'cause for love that I can't hide. For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide. Because you're mine, I walk the line."

I try to do the humming noise from my throat, and his laughter fills the room. Not a mocking laugh; subtle. And warm. Like the springtime. He extinguishes the cigarette in my astray. "This last part is my favorite," he admits.

"I'll try to do it justice then," I joke. I pretend to get serious and close my eyes and try to ignore the bed sinking next to me as if he's crawling closer. Focusing on the cords I create along the neck of the guitar. And the strumming. And my own voice. "I keep a close watch on this heart of mine." I feel his lips on my neck before he breathes the words in my ear along with me, "I keep my eyes wide open all the time. I keep the ends out for the tie that binds. Because you're mine. I walk the line."

He captures my lips, nearly knocking my guitar out of my arms to replace it with himself. I pull back quickly, to put the old acoustic somewhere safe, "Hey, don't hurt Sheila."

"Stupid name for a guitar," he kisses me again, cupping my face to pull me closer and climbs onto my lap. "You know, you weren't kiddin' when you said you could do more than talk shit with this mouth."

I smirk against his lips, "have I let you down, yet?"

"Not yet," he whispers. Running his fingers down my face, neck, and to the chain he bought me for Christmas. He takes it in his hand, "Has anyone asked about this?"

"No," I assure him, "No one has even said anything about it."

"Ya'll observant up here," he mocks, tracing his fingers along the barbed wire.

"Usually everyone's entirely too observant of other people's shit," I grumble, "a year ago some kids from school created a whole Myspace page callin out everyone in the class." I roll my eyes at the memory. "I think they called themselves 'Fireman O'Tool.'"

"That's a fucking stupid name."

"Oh yeah. The whole thing was stupid. They wrote a blog post for almost every person in our class. Called me out for being," I pause to cringe, "a drug dealer and a Sephiroth puppet." My stomach drops, eyes fall away from his face that seems more curious than judgmental. "Also said I cheated on Aerith- which I never did. But that was a fight." I try to recall the other blog posts. Memories clouded from entirely too many drugs. Too much alcohol. Even too many punches to my face during that time.

When Fireman O'Tool showed up, everyone became a suspect.

And for some reason, people thought I would hide behind a fake profile like a bitch.

"Did they ever find out who did it?"

I shook my head, "No. Everyone was pretty much called out. My friends, Seph's friends, even Rufus and his buddies. Fucking, poor Reeve, had a paragraph just calling him a-" I pause our eyes meet for a minute. I don't even have to say it. "Anyway. It was about two weeks and then the whole thing got shut down by the school because of the fighting. I forgot that even happened until now."

He shifts on my lap and I notice his face subtly twitches. "Sounds like a bunch of idiots with too much time on their hands."

"Welcome to Staten Island."

Reno crawls off my lap. Instead, curling next to me, his head against my shoulder as I bring my arm around him. We tangle in each others embrace, legs over legs, his hand gliding along my chest. I close my eyes to listen to his breathing- soft, even- and rest my face on top of his mess of hair. And it smells like fresh dye that stings. Howling wind grazes against the window. Almost like a ghoul threatening to shatter the perfect silence that envelops the room. And I find myself drifting back to sleep, admittingly having not slept much during the night.

His voice breaks first, "Do you ever think of leaving?"

My eyes flutter open as I weigh my answer. "All the time."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Never thought about it. Didn't...exactly plan on leaving here alive," I admit. And his body goes rigid.

He pushes himself up, arms on either side of me, and he looks at me intently. "Still have that plan?"

"No," I run my fingers across his face. I resent his concern. And I hate that it's my knee-jerk reaction. I sigh and try to avoid his eyes, looking at the ceiling. Finding something I can say. A lie. That will get him to stop giving me this eternal suspicious gaze. "Like I said, before. My brain is a bad friend that whispers negative thoughts sometimes. And I just try my hardest to ignore them. And lately it's been easier."

"Are you sure?" He practically climbs on top of me, his forehead on mine, forcing me to look directly into his eyes- where I finally notice the tiniest hints of green freckled along his iris'. And I can't help but smile at how ridiculous he looks right now. Completely forcing a stern glare.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I would tell you, I promise." I smile. "And I have, actually, been thinking about my future."

"Oh? Is that so? What does Cloud want to do when he grows up?"

"Well. First I would move to Brooklyn-"

"Wow, so far," he mumbles sarcastically.

"Do you want to hear or not?" he nods with our head still connected and I roll my eyes at him. "Okay so, Brooklyn. Maybe Williamsburg or Park Slope. And I would get a dog."

"What kind?"

"Pitbull. Gray pitbull named Fenrir. And maybe I'll start a band or write a book. But I haven't really thought about what I want to be when I grow up.."

"Maybe be a sugar baby? You got the looks." He smirks.

I laugh against his lips, "You mean get to sit home all day, looking hot, and getting paid. I can probably do that."

"You gotta put out though. That's the trade off."

"Hm," I close my eyes to think, "as long as my sugar daddy's hot, I think I'd be okay with that." I open my eyes as he pulls back, approving nod at my future. "So what do you want to do then?"

"Well now," he grins, "Find a way to make a shit ton of money to afford an apartment in Brooklyn, a dog, and my hot blonde boyfriend."

"Oh?" I muse, "I'm extremely high maintenance. You're going to have to sell your soul to make that kind of money."

"Psh, say no more." He presses a firm kiss on my lips.

My chest flutters. Like broken petals. Dancing in the wind.

He broke his own rule. Plan our entire future.

And maybe it was half hearted joking. And I'm not really intending on becoming a sugar baby. But it's hard not to find him serious when he takes my face in his hands.

And whispers how much he loves me.

For a moment, the only future I want is the one with him.

My phone falls off the nightstand. And we pull away from each other, confused. I hear it vibrating like an angry robot on my floor. I grumble as I move him away, despite the growl of protest, and go to claim the offending technology.

"You're gonna answer that shit?" he huffs, flopping on his back.

"It could be my parents-" I stop short when I see the name on the screen. Sephiroth. I let the phone rumble in my hands until "missed call" pops up. I flip it open only to be met with 5 text messages and now two missed calls. Too engrossed with Reno to notice that my hazel eyed friend has been trying to reach me. The texts range from "bitch." "homo" "Answer your phone" "asshole." and finally, "stop being a pussy." And each word causes my stomach to drop until I feel empty.

Then it begins its vicious assault once again.

"Do not answer that," Reno warns from behind me.

"He's just gonna keep calling," I mumble. And the angry sigh from his throat feels like a tragedy. I hit answer. "What?"

"What?" Sephiroth snaps on the other end, "The fuck are you doing? Jerking off?"

"No," I murmur.

"Well what the fuck are you doing? I've been calling you for a half hour."

"Just chilling."

"With who?" His tone demanding.

"Reno." And I slap myself on the head as soon as his name leaves my lips. My boyfriend moves in front of me to give me the most vexed look I've seen from him. Mouthing are you fucking insane?

"The fuck is that prick doin' over there?"

"We're just playing video games," every word feels painful. Paired with Reno's sarcastic eye rolls.

"Well let me in! I'm at the side door."

"Der," I try to find some kind of excuse to get him to leave. But nothing. Nothing comes to mind. Without being suspicious. Reno just shakes his head at me, full of disappointment.

And Sephiroth loses his patience. "You getting your dick sucked or something? Hurry up!" And he hangs up.

I flip the phone shut, biting my lip and dreading the thought of having to look at Reno. A jarring contrast from the previous few minutes, where I would give anything to stare into his eyes for eternity. But he doesn't give me a chance to hide. Coming off the bed and standing in front of me, eyes narrow into two blue slits that press directly into me, and his mouth curved into a scowl that crushes me.

"Are you fucking serious, right now?" he hisses.

I throw my hands into the air, "Babe, he would keep harassing me."

"God forbid you lie right?" And I know what he means. I didn't have to tell Sephiroth about Reno being here, at almost noon. Or that I was even home. I run through the list of lies and wonder why my brain went blank at the worst moment.

"I'm...sorry," I plead. He just shakes his head again with a bitter smile and starts putting on the rest of his clothes. "You're...not leaving, right?"

He gets his jeans and long sleeve on, sighing with a vicious tone. "No. I just didn't expect to have to deal with this fucker."

I feel the whispers in the back of my head. Again. And my eyes wilt to my hands; I can't watch him be angry at me for my weak will. It reminds me of the times he needed to drag me from a house because I was too drunk.

And my own torn voice grows louder in my mind. I try to think of something to lighten the mood. "If it makes you feel better…" I start, "Aerith had to deal with the same shit."

"Oh yes, Cloud, keep diggin' that hole," he fumes. "Hurry up before he starts asking more questions we don't have fucking answers to."

He exits my room, slamming the door behind him.

And I wish I could become the insect I know I am.

Reno already starts setting up the Xbox, never acknowledging me as I walk past him to the side entrance where Sephiroth waits.

I remember a time I would be excited to see my best friend.

Even suggesting he's a friend seems wrong these days.

I open the door and he already has a smirk on his face. "Bout time." He enters the basement, taking inventory of the scene like he's searching for something. His hazel eyes resting on Reno, now with his feet on my coffee table and controller clutched in his hand. "What took you guys so long?"

While I changed, I rehearsed all the answers I would need to all his questions:"We were playing Super Smash Brothers upstairs. I wanted to finish kicking his ass first."

"I see," he nods his head, and flops on the broken leather recliner that rests adjacent to the couch. "What are you doing now? Playing Gaylo." He chuckles at his own joke.

I roll my eyes and take a seat on the couch as far away from Reno as possible. "Yeah, you in?"

"Nah," he folds his hands onto his stomach and props his own feet on my table- and I wonder who taught these boys manners- and directs his gaze onto the red-head; who remains focused on the television. "Didn't realize you two were so close."

"Our backyards connect," I respond with the personality of an empty glass. "We play video games a lot."

"At noon?" he interrogates.

"You're here at noon," Reno bites back this time. Eyes glued to the screen.

I side-eye Sephiroth. He sits up; his smooth face curved with a sinister look. His grin alarming. Like he's a child with a magnifying glass and the power of the sun setting fire to ants.

"Well this is my second home. I can come and go as I please."

"You haven't been here in months," I counter.

"Aw, did you miss me, Cloud?"

I pause until the game loads, Sephiroth's eyes planted on me waiting for my response. "Not really."

Reno smiles next to me while Sephiroth grimaces. And while it felt good to get under his skin, my palms are sweating as if anticipating the inevitable attack. But the silver-haired boy turns his attention to Reno; bored with me, now.

"Rufus would be tight if he knew you were hanging around this one." He nods towards me. The sound of his name sets both of us on edge. Reno never mentions his friend in my presence, and I honor that with keeping my own mouth shut.

But Reno just offers a bored sigh, "Rufus has better things to worry about than who I hang out with."

"Like who his girl's spreadin' her legs for?" Seph forces a laugh like bait which neither of us take. And even with focusing on the game, I see the way his eyes move between the two of us. Examining. And I feel crushed under his glare. Like my face will betray the both of us. "Heard a rumor you tapped that over the summer."

Reno snorts, "She wishes."

"Right," he slouches in his seat, "I actually heard you're seein' Elena. Or at least you were."

"I don't fuck with bitches at that school. They're too much drama." Reno's words sound hollow. But the subtle changes in his expressions. The way his face stiffens. His tongue running over his teeth like he's trying to fix that mask of misogyny we wear to blend with the rest of the boys at our school.

"So did you come all this way just to find out who Reno's fuckin'" I snap with a little too much force and I see the double edge meaning to that statement. And Reno cringes.

And the sound from Sephiroth's mouth, a low menacing laugh, has the hairs on my neck standing. Like he's right behind me. "Didn't even know he was here. I can't come chill with my best friend anymore," he puts his hands to his heart and melts his face into a wounded frown. "I'm hurt."

"Oh, I'm your best friend again?" I roll my eyes.

"Yes and-"

"There's the AND." I try shooting at Reno's character but he manages to get away. My mind not focused.

"AND maybe you'd want to smoke. Fuck, you're being a bitch," he pulls out an eighth of weed from his jacket pocket, "See. And I'll even smoke up your b-" he lingers on that b, right as a sniper bullet rips through the air and my character's head explodes. "Bestest buddy over there."

Reno and I exchange a blank look. But I can sense the turmoil that rakes through him. He mouths boom headshot at me before turning back to the game. I shift in my seat, and look at Sephiroth who seems entirely too entertained right now, still holding the bag of green.

"So," I address Seph, "your parents are home and no one else is around for you to smoke."

"Fuck you," he barks, "Shit Cloud. Do you want to get high or not?"

"I mean, yeah," I respond.

He looks at Reno, "You in, kid."

Reno nods without offering him a look. "Yurp."

He crosses past us, to the desk on the other end of the room, to roll the blunt. And his presence makes me sick.

This basement used to be a sanctuary for us. A place to be our complete, whole selves. And I broke a rule we never verbally established. And I welcomed an interloper. An infiltrator. Watching every move we make like he already concluded what is really happening here. And I should have known. From previous lingering looks I've caught in my direction, during more turbulent times. And I wonder if memory loss, or willful ignorance, is a side effect of dropping off my medication without proper guidance.

Reno and I continue our massacre. I'm letting him get shots on me as some kind of warped penance; but he remains unsatisfied. Slouching in his seat, throwing me unhappy looks every time his character kills me. And even Sephiroth comments on the tense silence in the room.

"This is the quietest game of Halo ever. Usually Cloud punches people in the face for getting that many kills on him."

And I grip my controller like I want to snap it in half.

I run Reno's character over with the Warthog.

"You cocksucker," he growls. And Seph chuckles.

The water in my lungs, that I haven't felt in weeks, returns. And I know I'm not really drowning. But everything feels tight. A struggle. I wonder if I've always been this way around him.

I'm the one who suggests we go outside to smoke. Seph complains about the cold, but I brush him off. Put my foot down. And he begrudgingly accepts despite childish protests.

And the turbulent wind feels like snow.

But opens my chest and I can breath again.

We take our seats around a small rusted glass table. Seph and I across from each other and Reno in the middle, forced to stare at the blackened windows of his house. Sephiroth sparks the blunt, and when the weed floats into my lungs, this almost seems worth the trouble. Seph has the hook up and Reno choking on it solidifies that thought.

"So, Sinclair, heard you were thinking of playing baseball this season," Seph opens the conversation.

"That's the plan," Reno responds. And I know how important baseball is to him. How he's missed playing; and that it's second only to me, which is flattering. But I also know how viciously Sephiroth tries to protect his status on the team.

"What position?" He continues to interrogate.

"Short stop."

"What was your batting average last year?"

Reno pauses. I notice the flash of pain in his blues. "I didn't play last year….car accident. Broke my arm in two places."

Sephiroth spills a vicious laugh from his throat. "Think you can play after being out an entire season?"

"Well I started varsity in Freshman year," Reno counters with minimal effort, not even looking at the silver-haired boy.

"Bullshit."

"Don't gotta prove anything to you," he shrugs, "Just gotta show my stuff to the coach."

"Genesis is the captain. Gotta show your stuff to him too."

I interject, "Since when?" Knowing full well the coach has the final say in anything involving the sport.

"Since Genesis uncle is the coach." Seph smirks.

I roll my eyes, "Of fucking course. Genesis can't hit his way out of a fucking paper bag."

"Big talk for someone who freaks out when a ball comes flying at his face," he mocks and my cheeks burn. He turns back to Reno, "this pussy can't even hit a Tee ball."

Reno tried playing baseball with me- I successfully embarrassed myself plenty in front of him and he laughed at my poor attempt at the sport. But with Seph's comment he merely shrugs boredly and comes to my defense. "Some people ain't into sports."

And I try to hide the smile with the blunt. But I notice Sephiroth lips pull into a grin, looking like a shark circling prey. "Oh, that's adorable."

"What?" I ask

He shifts to me, eyes bold and amused. "How he defends his boyfriend."

I'm back underwater. All sound disappears. But I remain locked on Sephiroth. Eyes tense. Trying to see if he's fucking with me or serious with that statement. The thing about our group, it's not uncommon to call each other boyfriends- followed by a laugh. Cid calls me his boyfriend. I've been called Sephiroth's boy toy for years. It's brushed off as quickly as it appears.

But he doesn't laugh.

And I know this is too long of a pause to be acceptable.

"Aww," to my surprise, Reno breaks the tension and runs his foot over Sephiroth's leg, "Someone a little jealous?" He winks at him and laughs as if he's in on the joke.

"Easy there, fucker." Seph flinches. His eyebrows knit together, now looking between us confused.

I follow Reno's lead, "Don't worry Seph, you're still my number one gal." And lean over to touch his knee.

He jumps back, causing both the red-head and I to erupt in a mocking laughter that breaks down his mask and he's flustered. I see the crimson look in his eyes. And I know him. He brims with rage for us not playing along with his game: getting under our skin like a fly.

Sephiroth tries to regain his control, shifting in his seat and taking the blunt I pass to him- my lips curved into a smirk. "Hn." he takes a hit and his skin returns to snow. "You know there's a party tonight." He nods over to Reno, eyes planted on me. "Did your boy mention that yet?"

I look over at Reno, not dropping my own guard. Reno takes the blunt from Sephiroth and narrows his own baby blues at him. "Yeah, I've been informed that Angeal is having a party. Not my scene."

"Oh? Lots of chicks go there." .

"Yeah, to get dumb high on xannie sticks and pass out in their drinks," Reno denounces, "I'm good. I want my girls conscious when I give them the D."

I would have chuckled at Reno's almost pathetic attempt of acting like a douchebag, if a lightbulb hadn't exploded in my head. I lose the smile. I narrow my eyes. I start to realize what's actually going on from the devilish look on the boy's face who occupies the seat across from me- who suddenly, and without provocation, appeared on my side door on a random Saturday afternoon. We haven't spoken since New Years when I called him out. Our rides to school don't count; silence envelops the car everytime I enter. The music the only sound. Stiff stares towards the destination.

Then I return home with my boyfriend and he never appears in my thoughts for the rest of the day. And I'm sure the feeling is mutual.

I should have listened to Reno and not answer the fucking phone.

Sephiroth has the upper hand, and the smirk. "Hey, buddy. I'm a bit parched. Could you get me something to drink?"

I pause for a second. Scraping my brain for any kind of plan to get him out. But I'm seized by this other sensation. Curiosity? Or stupidity? "Yeah, sure, buddy," I turn to Reno- who hasn't caught on, and now stares at his phone with his auburn eyebrows knit together, "You want anything."

He darts his eyes for a second and mumbles, "Water's fine."

I enter my kitchen through the sliding glass door, slamming it shut with such force, the glass portraits rattle. Fitting. I notice my hand slightly trembles when I open the door to the fridge- try to rationalize it's the lack of food in my stomach. But I feel claws digging in my brain, re-opening those cuts I'm cemented shut. And the headache hits first. Like a sword through my forehead. I curse myself. That any logical thread I've sewed within me through years of therapy are now torn and frayed. And I'm left unraveling. And I can't decide if it's the implications coming from Sephiroth's eyes when he looks between Reno and I, or announcement of a party that has me gripped with panic.

I grab three bottles of water, and kick the door shut.

And jump when Sephiroth appears behind the door, still with that smile and insidious glint in his hazel eyes.

"Thought you could use some help."

"I'm fine." I respond and try to move around him, but he places his hand on my shoulder and I freeze in my spot.

"You're coming tonight, right?"

"Do I have to?" I ask. And I hear how pathetic I sound. Like when I was thirteen. He and his camp buddies made me go into the "haunted cabin" and locked me in there- all night.

"Tifa and her low life friends are coming." His voice bristles like his words are covered by spikes.

"They're your friends too, asshole," I snap back, "Cid and Barret."

He doesn't seem phased, and all but confirms his animosity towards them which I've noticed brewing for months. "Heh. I guess," he's dismissive and continues, "And Aerith, I heard. Surprise you didn't."

I know it looks bad that the girl I'm supposed to be pining for, if the rumors are true, attends a party and I have no interest in going. Electing to stay behind with a boy. But I shrug, "Aerith can do whatever she wants."

He props his arm against the fridge to lean into me; his eyes set on my small form like two green lasers. And I hate that I'll never be as tall as him. Forced to spend my life being looked down on. All I have going for me is the bored look in my eyes. The stone face. My lips as neutral as possible to not give away the alarms that are triggered when he gives me that glare.

Like he's already won this fight. "So, you got anything to contribute to the festivities?" He's already decided I'm going. And he's already decided why. And he knows entirely too much.

So I laugh at him. "Now I get why you're here."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he scowls.

"Where's my medication?" I accuse trying to latch on to whatever control I have in this.

He scowls, "What medication?"

"I had a half bottle of xanax in my room. It's gone now."

"Why do you care? I thought you didn't need that anymore?" He stands straight, shoulders back, looking like the Golitah to my David. "Right? That's what you told me. That you weren't fucking crazy anymore."

A memory hits me over the head like a metal bat. When he found the first batch of medication. Shook the pills. Smirking. You some pussy? The laugh. Why do you need these? You crazy or something? Gonna shoot up a school? Every word a match against gasoline. And I hadn't felt that inadequate since I left the hospital. With two white bandages.

Bile lurches from my stomach.

He cocks his head to the side, "Or not? Still crying in corners over nothing, Cloud?"

I swallow back the venom that burns my throat and muster up the most vicious tone I can, "Fuck you. I know you took it."

And he shrugs, never losing the smile, but swerves the conversation. "How's your mom by the way?"

I recoil, "Why?"

"I can't ask about my second mom?"

I pause, the dew from the bottles of water soaking through my hoodie, and I wonder why Reno hasn't come in to check. But I notice that the blinds are now closed. And the door probably locked. Because Sephiroth had this planned from the moment he called me the first time, and like hell he would tolerate an interruption. I huff, "She's good."

"Good to hear," he nods, "So she doesn't need her xanax any more?"

And I feel the boiling of rage that he would drag my mother into this. Stealing my shit never enough. I tense, "I'm not doing this. I'm done." .

He draws out a rigid Oh? Like a dare.

And I rage, unhinged, in a voice alien to myself. "I'm not selling for you anymore. I'm not taking my mother's medication for you. I'm not doing shit for you anymore. You fucking asshole."

And I don't even have the time to relish in my counterattack. Before the last word finishes leaving my lips, Sephiroth slammed me against the refrigerator. The waters crashing down around us. His face inches from mine. His eyes glow under the white light. Rupturing with a rage I've seen as a child when I've attempted to stand my ground. He grips my shoulders and I feel his fingertips deep in my skin, through the hoodie and shirt, as if trying to break my flesh.

And despite the bubbling rage, his tone is low, even, like the first rumble from a dormant Volcano. "I protect you. Do you know that? The amount of people who want to kick your ass for running that fucking mouth of yours is quite impressive for such a pathetic shit stain." I beg my body not to betray, but I flinch at his words, and the trembling smile on his face looks satisfied, "And the rumors? I'm the one that stops them. No one would dare cross me. Without me, you are nothing. I want you to understand that."

He releases me. Takes exactly one step back to wait for my rebuttal. But I have none. The water that plagues my lungs, whether in my mind or something tangible, drowns me. And I try to remain a brick fortress. And hide the small spasms in my eyes that remain narrowed at the taller boy. But I feel entirely too small. Too frail.

And he knows this. "Remember Camp? 2001?" he continues, "That could have ended very differently for you. Remember that." He bends down and picks up one of the fallen waters, "I wonder how Zack is doing these days? I also recall you two being close." He moves his eyes towards the back door.

My harsh breaths answers the unasked question.

Betrayed, once again, by my own mind that collapses into itself,

Like a dying star. And there's nothing I can say; my lips sewed shut.

My eyes burn; and I can see myself reflected in the black's of his own.

Pathetic.

Sephiroth allows a chuckle rumble low in his throat. "You know. I think I'm going to let you off the hook for tonight. You seem real wound up. Maybe smoke a bit more. It'll calm you down." He slams his hand on my shoulder and shakes me gently. And I feel myself fall apart as he heads upstairs to raid the bathrooms.

And I'm too much of a coward to stop him.

I make a b-line for the bathroom. Slam the door and grip the sink to steady myself as the world seems to move around me. Close my eyes and try to count to ten. Try to find a thread to grip onto. To yank my brain back together. Stitch it shut like an open wound.

And the hot tears press against my eyelids.

And I fucking hate myself in this moment.

With such much veracity.

That a flash of Cid's switchblade in my room appears behind my eyes.

They fly open.

Focus. I whisper. I stare at the black drain. Of the white porcelain sink. In the bathroom on the first floor of my house that smells like baby power and glows with a pink hue.

Remember to breathe. There's nothing in my lungs except the black tar from smoking too many cigarettes; and I'll deal with that when I'm older. Right now, I'm sixteen. I'm in control of my body. And my mind.

My hands drenched with sweat,

And I slip off the sink and nearly crack my head on it; but I manage to gain my balance with the fire of my frustration. And my anger at my own shortcomings. And why can't I just be fucking normal like every

Other

Boy.

I yell Fuck until my throat bleeds.

And punch the bathroom door like it's the face of the villain that mocks me.

Scratch up my knuckles on splintering wood.

And the hole I make looks like me.

And just when I think of breaking down, the door swings open and Reno emerges into the bathroom. He takes one look at me. Closes the door and looks at the hole.

"Why are you attacking the door for, babe?" He questions. Looking back with his eyes gripped with concern.

"It was talking shit," I force a smile that evaporates when he approaches me. Taking his thumb and running it along my cheeks.

"Yeah, I'm sure that was the door. What did he say?"

"Nothing," I lie. I don't even consider telling him. Not the threats or implications. But my voice so low it cracks, he knows I'm not giving him the whole story. And maybe that's strike two for me. I shift my eyes towards the floor and whisper, "But, maybe we shouldn't be in here together."

He drops his hand to the side, nodding his head. A toss between disappointed and furious. "Right." he enunciates each letter. Letting them past through his teeth, sharpening them. He takes a breath,"Do you want me to kill him? Because I have no problem doing that."

I dart my eyes. And his are playful. Bloodshot from the weed, but shine even in the muted daylight that leaks into the bathroom. And he looks amused so I drop my guard and smile. "Maybe."

"Psh," he rolls his eyes, "call me when that's a yes."

We both laugh, and I forget about Sephiroth's footsteps creaking upstairs and reach out to take his hand. Reno pauses for a second before tightening his grip and running his thumb over my bruised knuckles. He knows what happened. And it was that easy for the facade to disappear.

Even if Sephiroth received no vocal confirmation. There's still the rumors.

And rumors are like flint. One spark and it can set the whole forest on fire.

"We have to go to that party." I acknowledge.

"I know," he nods without a hint of aggravation. And I'm shocked at the lack of push back. He sighs, "Rufus called. Wants to know why I haven't been chillin' and Elena's been complaining that I don't call."

There's nothing more to say. Everyone on this island too damn observant.

And I'm sick of all these familiar streets and the people that know too much.

"What are we going to do?" I ask.

"What we've always done," he releases my hand, "play it straight."