A/N: TO GUEST- Thank you for your amazing and beautiful comment. I was having such a rough day and your comment really helped me. Thank you for your support!

ALSO: New Coverart for CSB thanks to gotitmemmorized on Tumblr. Thank you everyone for your support! Enjoy this next chapter.

Chapter Thirty-Three-

The Number Nine Looks like You

I sit on the staircase, in a fresh uniform, as my dad double checks his inventory at the door. He's dressed in a dark grey suit with the obnoxious German flag tie that I got him for Christmas as a joke. Mom helps him go over the checklist as she fixes the buttons of his shirt and brushes imaginary dust off his jacket. When completed, they gaze into each other's eyes with dreamy smiles. And I admit, I have to look away because of the sadness that creeps up my spine. Maybe a bit of jealousy. But I push the feeling to the side, there's so much more pressing matters to deal with today and I need a head clear of the fog.

Things were going to change.

Mom revealed last night, as they walked me to my room together- like they were both afraid to take their eyes off me- that she already had a short list of potential therapists for me and she was hoping to get me an appointment as soon as possible. When dad gets home for his trip next Thursday, we start therapy as a family. I knew there were more ideas floating around, but they thankfully held back. No need to overload me.

And I still needed to start my apology tour. My mind already struggling, but maybe a cigarette when I'm out of their line of sight will alleviate the pressure for a minute.

The taxi's horn filters into the home.

My dad waves at the impatient driver from the door, then looks between his wife and son. I see the crease of concern in his eyes through the strained smile on his face.

"Alright, well, you two sure you're going to be okay?" He questions with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"We got this, hun," my mom pats his cheek, "And if anything happens, I'll call you."

He leans in to give her a chaste kiss and I gag at the sight.

Then he approaches me, and I groan hoping he won't try to give me a typical dad and son punch on the shoulder. "So," he starts and I offer him a teenager eye roll.

"So..." I mock with a smirk.

A tense silence passes between the two of us...

"You know you're like grounded for the rest of your life, right?"

We both laugh. "Yeah, maybe that's a good thing."

"You know, grounding you isn't as satisfying when you're being so chill about it," he shakes his head.

"Sorry," I clear my throat, "No don't. I'm such a good kid. I didn't even do anything. Wow, you're so mean." Full sarcasm. And maybe that's part of our shared language.

He ruffles my hair like he used to when I was six and would cry when he had to leave on these trips. He would tell me to be a big boy and protect mom. This time, he avoids burdening me with the man of the house speech, rightfully leaves me in the capable hands of his wife. But whispers he's proud of me- I frown. I don't think I've done anything worthy of his praise but he follows that up quickly with. "I'll see you when I get home." Like he's locking me into a deal. A promise.

"Yeah, you will…"

For the first time in ten years, I'm sad that he has to leave.

My mother waves him off as the white and green taxi drives him to Newark Airport and I can sense the doubt even with her back to me. It's not that we haven't been alone together. But she's sober and I'm probably never allowed to leave the house again except for school. It's going to be a week of just the two of us. She turns around and forces a big bright smile. Takes in my sight.

"You're dressed and ready early," she cocks her head to the side, "Trying to earn brownie points with dad?"

"Heh," I shake my head, "I actually was wondering if you could do me a favor?"

She says okay before even hearing the favor- and I try to remind myself to try to use these new powers for good and not evil- and I let her in on the plan. I need her to drop me off at Barret's place so I can meet him before he heads to the bus to link up with Cid, and then leave so I can talk to them. She's confused, no doubt. And her brows knit as I explain I need to talk to them in private. Boy stuff. I suggest. But she continues to look unsure, biting the side of her lip. I know there's a question burning in the lanes of her mind. She didn't bring up if she really saw Reno and I in the front. Kissing under stars. Like no one else existed. I'm sure she wants to know about that scene. But I'm not prepared for that conversation.

She respects my silence. And my need to talk to my guy friends without a mother's worried ear.

And when she drops me off in front of his building, she reminds me she'll be outside of school by 2:30. Non-negotiable. And I don't bother arguing.

Barret steps out of his place at 6:25am, way earlier than I usually like to be awake. So I see the shock in his brown eyes through the glass door when he sees me. I'm standing in the fire lane, hands in my pocket, forcing a sly smile across my face. The muted morning sun casting a burnt orange glow against the budding Yoshino trees that line the front lawn of his apartment building. Some birds, feeling the heat of Spring, are already making homes in the foliage. Cooing into the gentle wind.

He immerses himself into the cool air of the early morning. His face blank at first as he joins me in the street.

"What brings you to these parts?" He inquires.

"Wondering if I could escort you to the bus stop?" I joke.

"Heh, I should be escorting you." Folds his arm over his chest first and doesn't move. I feel slightly judged under his glare. But I swallow the lump in my throat.

"So, I knew we talked a bit after what happened Saturday, but I think I should apologize still…"

He waves me off, "Don't apologize to me. You didn't get in my face."

"Still, I…" I huff, "I think some of my...drinking has gotten outta hand and I'm hurting people around me. So, I just wanted to say I'm sorry if I put you in a position where you felt I didn't care, or made you choose between your friends, and I'm getting help now."

His features relax, arching one eyebrow.

"Yeah," I continue, "I told my parents about Seph taking my mom's drugs, and me selling shit. Told them, I...really haven't been doing good. I've been on a spiral for a while. I'm not exactly sure when it started...everything was fine and then…" And then what? I stumble. The list neverending.

But Barret simply finishes my thought: "And then it wasn't?

I nod. A little concerned with the simplicity and truth of the statement; how quick my mind turned on me when the situation got moderately uncomfortable. And how deep the problem took root. Like a dandelion. An unassuming weed curled around any part of my brain forming logical thought and choked it out of me. And I didn't even realize-

"You know," Barret continues, snapping me from my internal dialog, "the best apology is changed behavior…" He shrugs, "Something my dad would say to me when I fucked up. Not that I fuck up alot- you know- I'm perfect in every way."

I chuckle, "Yeah. I'm working on the changed behavior part now."

"Telling your folks is a good start." Then he drops his hand on my shoulder with a gentle shake, like he did back in October when he first noticed my actions were not becoming of his friend. "Long road ahead, though…" An uncharacteristic smile snaps across his face, "I got your back, Shorty. But you pull another stunt like you did Saturday, I'll punch you in the face. And you won't recover from that, deadass."

"Wallace, if I do some dumb shit like that again, you have my permission to break my jaw."

We shake on the deal. And I feel an odd wave of relief I haven't experienced in a long time. But I knew Barret would, for this round of apologies, the easiest hurdle.

As we walked towards the bus stop, in a tense silence as I could sense he had more questions to ask, I tried to come up with something to say to Cid. A weak sorry didn't seem like enough. And when we turn the corner, and I spot his outline leaning up against the metal pole with the bus schedule, I almost lose my nerve. I'm going to have to come out to him. And he's going to second guess everything we've ever done together as jokes or friends. Our relationship forever changed.

But, there's no use delaying the inevitable.

When we make it to the stop, Cid lifts his eyes. There's not many other souls surrounding the S78 bus stop on this side of the street; a few elderly ladies clutch their purses when Barret and I approach-as if the Catholic School uniforms mean nothing to them-and a mother trying desperately to rangle two rowdy toddlers trying to make a break for it. A few New Dorp kids walk past us with their bacon egg and cheese sandwiches from the deli right next to the stop. Cid doesn't move for a moment, dragging my eyes along my entire form as if processing why I'm in his presence. He stops at my face. A frown and slight flinch of his nose when he sees the new bruises which have turned a blushing red and the cut on my head that's scabbed over.

"What's white privilege doing here?" he looks at Barret.

"Cid, you're white privilege," Barret rolls his eyes. "He wants to see how the other half lives."

"Psh," he grimaces, looking back to the busy street covered in a hazy morning glow. "You even have a metrocard, guy?"

"Yeah, I'm not that fucking incompetant." I argue with a bit more edge than I wanted. But Cid's freaking me out- he's pissed, but not the usual pissed. When he's flying in my face, and every other word out of his mouth has one syllable and ends in a hard k. He's mocking, cold, and curt. I had my chance to talk to him two days ago when he bailed on Gym. Maybe it's too late.

"Cid," I start, easing my tone, "I don't even know where to begin. I'm so fucking sorry for what happened on Saturday. I don't remember everything but I remember enough. Most of all, I remember our conversation outside-" I pause and watch him snap his eyes at me, still curved in anger. "And I know...fuckin. I shouldn't have been upset by what you told me. You were right, I shouldn't care who Tifa's with...and I don't. To an extent."

I drop my shoulders. Shake my head. Close my eyes. "The rumors are...true. I don't want to be with her, because I don't want to be with any girl, but I care who she ends up with. I want her to be with someone great. And nice. And would treat her better than even I ever could. And I know that's you. And I'm sorry if I fucked that up. I'm sorry for swinging at you, I don't even know why I did that but I shouldn't have…

"I understand if you can't be my friend anymore. I don't deserve anyone's forgiveness. But I am getting help. And I promise it won't happen again."

I take a breath. I don't think I took an ounce of oxygen into my lungs- afraid if I paused for longer than a beat I would throw up all those words. Words that hang in the air surrounded by the smell of car fumes and garbage. Cid doesn't make any indication he heard me, taking a few breaths, but eyes remaining on me. I hate being stared at. He knows that. I drop my own worn out blues onto the ground. Try to keep my mind still; instead of allowing it to run through those destroyed highways, creating more chaos.

He picks himself up off the pole and stands over me. And I miss the days we used to be the same height. Cautiously, I look at him. Eyes the color of a kaleidoscope. He reaches for me and I flich..

But Cid shoves his hand into my messenger bag, feeling around for two seconds before grabbing the still unopened pack of cigarettes I suspected Reno gave me. He shows a hint of shock across his face that the plastic wasn't torn to pieces. Honestly, this might be a perfect time to quit, but fuck it. He eyes me as if asking permission, and I nod. His actions are slow and deliberate. Littering the plastic onto the street with the rest of the trash. Pulling out a white stick and placing it between his thin lips, then handing the pack back to me. He takes out one of my lighters- the New York Giants one- and sparks. I know the bus is making its way down the street, he's wasting my cigarettes for dramatic effect.

The old ladies at the stop look unamused when the black smoke rises from his mouth.

"So," he starts after two drags, gesturing with the cigarette, "You got like a big gay crush on me or somethin'?"

I blink at the jarring contrast between a few moments ago and now. He stands there with a knowing smirk around my cigarette. Barret mumbles a Jesus Christ. My stomach tightens, but only for a second when I notice the small blush along Cid's cheeks. He's probably the only person in this world who could get away with that comment; but it told me everything I needed to know.

"Yup," I shake my head, "I'm, like, so in love with you."

"Uh, of course you are," he throws his arms out, "I mean, look at me."

A heavy laugh from the both of us, though weighed down by the tension around the conversation. Tiptoeing around some of the bigger issues. It's hard coming back after you swing at your best friend. Not like when I attacked Sephiroth at my birthday; that was warranted and should have ended that friendship.

"You know, the only issue is your penis," he points directly to my crotch.

"It's a pretty big issue, bro."

"I know! I've seen it!"

I notice Barret takes several steps away from the two of us. And I acknowledge we're being ridiculous. But Cid's never been sentimental; the only time he shows his serious face is when the anniversary of his father's death rolls over him like a Mac truck. This? High school drama fueled by alcohol, not even worth the bulk of his anger. And while I can still see the hesitation in his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders when he grabs me and pulls me into a rough hug, I think we might be able to move past this event in our young lives. We have forever to act like assholes to each other.

He squeezes me, "Oh, if you only had a vagina, Cloud!"

The old ladies stare at us, horrified. I try ripping his arms off me since he's dangerously close to burning me with my own cigarette. "Cid, fuck off me, bro!"

"Is that a roll of quarters, or you just mad happy to see me?"

I release myself from his embrace; his smile still strained but he swallows away any other words he wants to come at me with. There's a lot left out. But this is a long road, not something that can be completely repaired after one conversation. I'm exhausted already- feeling like I depleted all my mana with just the first two apologies. I still have the entire day of school. And I still haven't gotten to Tifa. And when her name enters my head I feel like the ground shakes from underneath. The worst crime committed against her. Stacked up against the priors. The use of her female friends to cover my own insecurities. Using her to...keep rumors from igniting.

"Yo," Cid's voice cracks through the air, "Don't tell your boyfriend you got a boner huggin' me. I don't wanna have to fight him."

"I won-" I stop myself.

Cid's dusting himself off, taking a few more long inhales of toxicity. "I always thought he was kind of a pussy, but when he showed up Saturday, he was ready to fight some people. Fuckin, I ain't a bitch or anything, but that kid looks like he don't give a fuck. He'll straight up murder someone."

"OH man, I forgot all about that," Barret adds with a laugh and then looks at me, "When he found out Leslie sold you drugs, he almost snapped his neck- Rude had to yank him off and shove him back in the car."

My head's swimming like a cyclone. "What are you guys talking about?"

Then they fill me in- another missing puzzle piece. Apparently Reno showed up about an hour or two after I left, with Aerith, Rude, and Tseng in tow. The aftermath of the fight in the process of being sorted. Vinny, apparently still tight, but allowed everyone to stay behind to cool off- Cid in a fury of confusion and anger. Tifa locked herself in a bathroom refusing to open for anyone but Aerith- the only person who she felt knew exactly what she was going through. When the three boys rolled in everyone got immediately apprehensive. According to Barret, Rude distracted everyone in the horde with questions those in attendance felt he shouldn't be asking. But Barret, instead, kept his eyes on Reno. Who walked through the crowd of people, in silence, waiting to find the one with the most information-

And when the rumor that Leslie sold drugs to me reached his ears, he snatched the kid by his hair and dragged him to the side of the house. Threw him against the brick, hand clenched around his neck, without a word. And Barret claims he didn't look like he wanted answers to questions, just wanted to hurt someone or something. To inflict the anger onto someone who meant nothing to him- less than a roach- because he couldn't unleash his rage on the actual culprit. But no one knew where I went. They suspected I was with Sephiroth, the only other person I would have called, but the silver-haired boy wasn't answering any phone calls.

Leslie's crew wasn't exactly pleased with Reno, and caused another altercation between the New Dorp Crew and the three boys who rolled up in a BMW to a white trash neighborhood.

I'm suddenly hot under my collar. Don't exactly know from which part though.

That Cid and Barret are causally discussing Reno in the context of my boyfriend.

Or that he tried to straight up kill the guy who sold me percs. I can't believe he didn't tell me. Though I guess, we haven't had a chance to go over that night. I shift and try to think of something else because my pants are uncomfortable, now. As is the opening in my chest that throbs with all the anxiety I have; sparking like live wires.

"That's," I don't even know what to say to the two of them, "He's just a friend."

They exchange a look. And I know the rumors that circled the school included Reno's name in the same breath as mine. And they can't be stupid, and have noticed that almost as quickly as Reno appeared at the school, we came in a pair. I recall a couple of conversations before the shit hit the fan, when Cid asked are you and your bitch ass friend coming through? Like we came in a set. And at those get togethers where maybe we sat a little too close to each other. Found reasons to touch one another in passing. Or we disappeared to smoke a cigarette in the comfort of a darkened backyard. And stood in front of each other with dreamy gazes you can't really hide through the shine of blue eyes.

My stomach turns. And if the bus wasn't one stop away now, I might have lit my own cigarette to alleviate the pressure. Haven't had a cigarette in over twenty-four hours and I miss the distracting burn against my throat.

"Yo," Cid throws a playful punch in my arm, "You good there?"

I blink a few times. His blue-green eyes bared down on me. "Yeah. Uh-" Then with a hint of gloom I can not hide, "Reno's not my boyfriend….We're just friends." I repeat; and hate to admit how much saying that hurt. And I cringe when their eyes meet over my head again.

"Okay," Cid nods, still looking at Barret, who shrugs in response. "So...what happened after you left?" He changes the subject and I appreciate them both so much at this moment. "I mean, we all saw the picture Fireman O'Toole posted, but who was the guy?"

"Don't know," and that's the truth, "Didn't even get a good look at the picture. I made Aerith delete my Myspace. All I know is Sephiroth had something to do with that. He took the picture. He sent it to Ren-" I mutter a fuck, "I mean, he gave it to Rufus to out me. That's all I know."

Cid crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed and dangerous blue. "Oh? That fucking fa-" now he swallows the word with a silent apology, "That fucker did all this shit?"

"Figures," Barret adds, "He's such a pussy. I can't believe you still chill with him."

"Nah, that shit's done," I assure him, "I fucked him up yesterday. Friendship over."

"Oh word?" Both boys laugh. And despite both of them patting me on the back, showing their support for my retaliation, I still feel conflicted. Twelve years of friendship flushed down the toilet. And I know it was a long time coming. And I know he was never a good friend. And this isn't the first time he had a hand in my bullying over my sexuality. And I should feel liberated from the monster that pulled my strings and laughed at my pain. But my confirmation name was Jude and I always was a fan of holding on to hopeless causes. The war within me still wages on over that- and maybe the last straw would be if he lifted a hand to harm the person I love. My not boyfriend boyfriend.

The one who showed up in the later hours of the night to look for me after receiving photographic evidence of my infidelity. And who would be willing to maim a person he felt responsible for my downfall. Who put himself at risk just to steal fleeting moments with me.

My lips twitch. And I hope my friends don't see. But maybe I'll hold onto this feeling. I can't describe it. Like feathers in my body that spread like a hawk. Or a phoenix? Maybe. Been blinded for years by my own shadow thoughts- in the forms of toxic friends. I don't think I recognized those beacons of light chasing the darkness away.

The three of us get on the bus, head straight to the back where we can sit 's a few other Saint Sebastian kids on the bus with us, mostly freshmen and sophomores. They acknowledge us in the back and make it a point to avoid sitting close- a warped form of respect. The bus creeps down the congested Hylan Boulevard, the sound of horns from impatient drivers drowned out by the rising conversations. We pass New Dorp High School; and the "rocker" tree where a cluster of black clad teens congregate before, during and after school. And while I can't make out her form, I know Tifa is huddled somewhere in those mix of bodies.

I open my phone. The last text she sent me still there. How could you do this to me? A question unanswered. I did it because I'm selfish. Because people were giving me second looks. Because I knew how easy it would be. Fuck. I cringe at my own horrible admission. Tough recognizing you might be a terrible person. But I take a chance; she might not ever forgive me and that's her right. But I have to try.

Hey, i no i fucked up but can we talk? Maybe after school?

I hit send. And just try to hope for the best

The school day moved at a steady pace. Boring even. The only graffiti I found on my locker was a drawing from Aerith; and I guess no one was bold enough to deface her artwork. The whispers during class seemed few and far. Some shifted to the strange absence of Sephiroth. And I can't describe how freeing it felt not being the front page story of the gossip magazine. And I thank the lack of attention span of my classmates. I even got to talk to Reno, in the context of classwork, even though I was distracted by the worn look sewed onto his face. And the painful edge to his voice when he tried explaining the Physics problem to me. And how his eyes looked like glass when he shot me forlorn gazes in my direction. I knew my decision was for the best, but the best made me feel like shit.

Lunch spent with Aerith because I didn't think I could handle being alone- or running into him in the bathroom. We discussed her own strained relationship with Tseng, who she has in the dog house due his loyalty to Rufus. And this is probably a shitty sentiment, but it was nice to not focus on the Shakespearean tragedy that is my relationship. Before the end of the period, she promised to talk to Tifa- try to get her to meet me at my house after school since I'm on house arrest.

I survived the day- only shoved into the lockers once.

But Tifa hadn't texted me back. And the elation I felt all day began to drop. I just want everything to go back to normal. My friends back together. And me being anything else except a disappointment. Barret said it would be a long road, but fuck I'm tired.

My mom doesn't speak on the ride home- I think she saw my face and read the lines- except musing out loud a new recipe she wants to try. My phone dings. Tifa's name pops up and my heart crescendos against my chest. Her text simply reads: ill meet u at the side entrance. I exhale. Now, I need to come up with an excuse to disappear from my mom's line of sight; I swear her side glances during the ride home pierce through my skin. Already hinting her expectations through passive statements with just the pinch of aggression. Such a difference from my father.

"Are you going to do homework in the kitchen? You know I can help you with History and English."

"Maybe we should get you a Math tutor, I got a call from Mr. Gast that your grades are slipping."

"What happened to Reno? Wasn't he helping you?"

The last statement caused me to clench my teeth so hard I had to pinch my eyes shut. And she must have seen the internal war flash across my face because she staples her mouth shut and ends the conversation having received no answers from my side. Which works to my benefit, because when we walk into the house, and I suggest I want to do my work in the basement, she doesn't argue with me. And I can't help but feel a semblance of guilt when her lips fall to a frown and she goes to the kitchen herself to look at the classes she needs to take to finish her degree. And I don't know if it's the reluctance to spend time with her- or if there's a different question beating against her throat- causing the shift in temperature.

I tell her I'll come up before dinner. That I'll supervise since I'm about 90 percent sure she doesn't know how to use the oven.

"Oh, like you do?" She quips with a wink.

I shrug, "You turn the knob and try not to burn the shit out of the food?"

"Language!" She scolds, "Where did you get this fucking mouth?"

"Uh, you and dad cursed like a couple of truck drivers for my entire life. I don't know what you expect of me." I gesture to myself, "I mean, I am a product of you two."

She waves me off with another more potent grimace, "Don't remind me. You're going to need so much therapy."

"I'm going to need all the therapy," I match her frown. "I'll be up soon."

She lets me disappear into the basement with no further argument. And I think about maybe telling her the truth; depending on how much this next conversation steals from me.

I sneak outside taking a seat on the ledge that leads to the basement staircase. I finally have a moment to myself to smoke a cigarette. And for some reason, maybe because the pack came from a certain lock picking red-head, these menthols taste magical. And I note the irony of finding comfort in toxic substances. And maybe I am the masochist I've been accused of. Whatever. Better than inflicting scars on my body that give away my story.

I start planning my statement through the tense drags of my cigarette. My mind stalls. Apologies too weak and overused. How many sorrys have I uttered only to continue to hurt her. My best friend. I try to have some hope. Cid seemed to brush the event to the side; ego inflated because he probably suspected I actually had a crush on him.

The gate creaks open, capturing my full attention. Tifa stands against the afternoon light, dressed like a goth school girl with her chained link skirt, knee high socks, white tank- that probably has her rocker friends salivating- and a black cardigan. Her makeup dark and dramatic, enhancing the red flakes that block her natural rich brown eyes. She looks stunning with the sun blaring down on her, illuminating her raven hair. And I can appreciate her unique beauty even with her face overrun with pained anger.

"You wanted to talk." She says as a statement rather than a question. Some memories bleed into my thoughts. The first I can remember, a static blur, of a boy screaming in pain as she chomps down on his arm.

And my most recent memory, flickering like a broken light, her fist charging for my face.

"Thanks for coming." My lips flick towards a smile, immediately extinguished when she folds her arms over her chest and taps her foot. "I wanted to talk about Saturday. I don't remember what I did. But I know I hurt you and I am so sorry."

"How can you apologize if you don't remember?" She cocks her head to the side.

"I heard…" But she rolls her eyes, "I know I brought you somewhere to talk. I know I may have...made some suggestions."

The huff from her side silences me. The wind scraping against the brick with a soft hum becomes the only noise. Her face unyielding; crossed between disgust and pity. And I am gripped with fear for the next words out of her mouth. The possibilities of what actions I committed when in the privacy of a friend's bedroom.

"You brought me into Vin's room." She starts, standing as straight as a statue of Athena. "You told me you loved me. You said you were tired of seeing me with other guys and wanted to be with me. Then you kissed me." Another pause. Another broken memory.

My first kiss, on her thirteenth birthday. No one showed up- the "the friends" she had made bailed last minute. She buried her face in my chest and cried silently while Scream played in the background. I told her I'd do anything to make her happy. A promise I know I've failed to keep in recent years. But back then, she pulled away, her eyes falling into mine, and she pressed our lips together with tentative restraint.

This time, I'm met with black. I try to remember how I may have glided my hands over her cheeks, and pulled her towards me with intent. How she may have relaxed when our mouths met. How she would have welled with anticipation. With finality. That this was happening. My words were true.

And present, she crashes her eyebrows into anger. Her mouth steady with a frown as she, herself, recalls that night. "We probably would have had sex if Cid didn't interrupt." Her words drenched in venom that I wince when they hit my ears. A hope turned to despair.

"Oh…" I drag my eyes from her form. Words fail me. And I know she's staring right at me waiting for something. Sorry's redundant at this point. I rub the back of my neck to alleviate the shooting pain from carrying all my fucking bullshit. It's the worst that I can not remember. So much worse.

"You didn't mean it, did you?" She whispers. The slightest ping of longing in her tone is tragic. Holding on to slim optimism- that maybe the picture was the lie. The rumors false. And maybe she's just as bad as me; gripping on to hopeless causes until her fingers break. Maybe I need to be the one to cut the rope. I nod my head to her question. The first true thing I ever said. Her breath hitches. "All of that was a lie then? You don't love me. You don't want to be with me?"

"Tifa, I care about you-"

"Don't lie. Don't sugarcoat. Just tell me. Be honest with me for once."

"No. I don't love you. Not in that way." The vocalization singes my throat along with the dying cigarette that burns my fingers.

"Is it because...you're gay?"

The absolute devastation in her voice. Like a lightbulb exploding in her mind. The contrast of the conversation with Cid. The realization that this entire time, the perceived jealousy came from unresolved emotions I had for him. Not her. And that this whole time, she'd been holding herself back from perusing the boys she wanted for nothing. Nothing.

I nod sadly, this time looking at her. "Yeah…"

Her eyes rush with tears daring to fall. But confusion streaks her tense features. "So...why? Why did you try to fuck me then?"

I cringe at her vulgarity. Makes me wonder just how far we got before Cid kicked open the door and stumbled onto the scene. And it makes the next words out of my own mouth sound horrible. "There's been rumors going around the school about me and another guy. I didn't want people to know-"

"So you...used me? So people would stop talking about you?"

"I-"

"Because you knew I would."

And I know what she means by that statement. I exploited her affection towards me.

And I swallow down the pain like a shot of whiskey that burns my stomach. The simplicity. "Yes."

"Wow!" She exclaims, slapping her hands together, with dramatic abandon extending the owwwwww into the universe, that I swear the aliens spying on our planet heard her. "You are an unbelievable asshole. And I'm not even allowed to be mad at you!"

I knit my brows, "N-No. You absolutely should…"

Her laugh sharp enough to cut my pleads in half. "I'm already getting the guilt trip from Aerith. She said I should go easy on you because you have all this pressure from school. And I feel I have to walk on eggshells with what I say because I'm afraid you're going to hurt yourself. I'm so concerned about your feelings that I'm not able to address mine. You hurt me and you embarrassed me in front of all our friends. But I am still putting you above me, as always."

One more memory pulls my head apart.

Torn between maintaining a false image and acknowledging my authentic self. With fourteen approaching, my sexuality a sore subject in school. Where a predator with the face of my friend whispered reminders of how easy rumors have spread- as if he wasn't the ignitor. And how simple it was to turn these rumors on their head when I had a pretty girl sit on my lap, whispering her own suggestions. That I followed. Because it stitched the abusers mouths shut for once. But how disgusting it felt to use her body in such a way. How it reminded me of how I was used and thrown away just a year before, by someone who should have known better.

I should have known better. Been better.

But I went along with it then because I could.

And I repeated the process again when under the same pressure.

Because it would be easy. And that should reflect more on me than it does on her. But it doesn't; not in this society. Branded a whore, a slut. Terms that follow her around to this day. Right now.

And why are women constantly charged with protecting fragile men?

Why must they be sacrificed to raise us up?

She will be called out for her actions on Saturday-

And I will be forgiven.

Just boys being boys, you know.

"I'm so sorry, Tifa." I plead, rising up from my seated position and attempt to approach her. But she takes two steps back, up against the gate. Like my sudden towering figure offends. "I know what I did was inexcusable." And yet, I find excuses bleeding on my lips, and I swallow the metal and salt. And without the excuses, what else is there to say? Sorry that my sexuality became a weapon against me, so I used your attraction towards me as a shield. Left you out there to deal with the zombies. No, I didn't give you a second thought. Because I was too busy spiraling down a toilet filled with shit. It was supposed to be self-destruction. But it was a bomb that ate at everyone around me. Again. The mistakes you make, you'll keep on making. A tortured sigh escapes instead, "I'll do anything to make it right."

When Reno said it last night, it sounded sincere. When it falls from my lips, it sounds like another unworthy phrase with no stones to back it up.

And she shakes her head, further driving home the point. "I don't think there's anything you can do. I'm angry...and I have the right to be angry." Now the tears begin to fall and she needs to pull her red eyes away from me. Giving me time to allow my own wet regret fall down my cheek. "I-I can't." She bites her lip, pinching her eyes shut one time before opening them and staring directly at me. Like looking through the scope of a sniper, she shoots: "I don't accept your apology."

And she leaves. Out the gate, which slams shut behind her.

And my stomach forms into a giant knot threatening to burst when I hear the male voice on the other side trying to comfort her. And I try to ignore how it sounds like a certain someone's certain cousin. Because I have absolutely, zero, fucking, right, to be upset with anyone right now.