AN: Hello everyone!
So this is going to be a pretty heavy fic that deals with some triggering themes and elements. I'm going to make sure I include a warning at the beginning of every applicable chapter to give you all a heads-up for what that chapter contains.
I decided a while ago to completely change my high school AU idea, so here it is. I hope you enjoy it.
This story is sponsored by SKEvans. Please direct all concerns to her.
TW/
implied/referenced suicide
referenced self-harm
To Cloud, it feels like he's been in the store for hours, staring at glittering trinkets and jewelry. There are plenty that shine brightly at him, and just as many that are plain and affordable - what he wants is to find something that strikes a balance between the two.
"Find something you like yet, sir?"
Cloud scratches the trio of earrings in his left lobe and stands up straight to look the store clerk in the eye. She stares back at him with that typical customer service smile, but it's tighter when pointed at him. She glances between him and the display case, her forefinger tapping on the glass in a steady rhythm as she awaits his answer. He notices other customers throwing quick looks his way as they come in, and he knows he sticks out in a place like this. Everyone in the store is neatly put together, with well-trimmed hair and carefully assembled outfits. He thought maybe his earrings and the eyebrow piercing above his right eye would show he has his own interest in jewelry. Perhaps it's not to their more distinguished liking.
Maybe she figures he's only here to cause trouble.
"Not yet. Thanks, though," Cloud says dismissively and watches her nod and walk away. She gives him sidelong glances as she assists a couple nearby. He tries his best to ignore her and moves on to another glass display case.
This one is full of charm bracelets. He fingers the beads around his right wrist in thought, wondering if she would like something similar. There are just so many different kinds. Silver ones, black ones, gold ones; ones with stones and gems, some with little bobbles, some with symbols and animals—
Cloud's eyes rest on a silver double bangle with twisted, interlocking bands. The single charm on it is also silver and in the shape of a chocobo no bigger than his thumb. His lips curve upward the tiniest bit, and he raises his head to find the clerk again. Luckily, she's already standing right in front of him on the other side of the case.
"How much is the one with the chocobo?" Cloud points to the bracelet in question.
She bends down and unlocks the case, delicately taking the jewelry out and holding it up for him to see. The gentle lights of the store glitter softly against the bracelet, but not so much it blinds or distracts him.
"This one is 10,000 Gil," she says in a clipped tone.
His heart thumps to the floor.
"But we're having a sale on all of our charm bracelets. It's 60% off if you buy one charm to go with it."
Cloud rubs the back of his neck. "How much is a charm?"
She waves him over to the next display. Her well-manicured nail taps the glass, bringing his attention to several similarly sized objects. They seem to be ordered by price, with the ones closest to him being smaller and less detailed—and therefore more comfortably within his price range.
"Starting here, these charms are 1,000 Gil each."
Cloud looks at a few of them, counting his money in his head. He did a lot of extra jobs over the past few weeks in order to be able to afford something nice, but he didn't know women's jewelry could be so expensive.
He scans the charms near him. Cloud spots different chocobo and moogle charms, and takes a moment to consider them. Some are cartoonish, while others have an intricate level of detail. He indicates a moogle about the same size and design as the chocobo already on the bracelet, deciding to go for consistency. Both charms lean towards cutesy, but he remembers her collection of stuffed animals and figures that would be the way to go.
"How much is that one?"
"1500 Gil."
Cloud hums and nods his head.
"I'll take them, then."
The clerk lets out a deep sigh and removes the moogle charm from the case. Cloud feels irritation at the relief that washes over her face and follows her to the register.
"Would you like for me to put the moogle charm on?"
He nods again, eyes narrow.
She snips the tags off and gently lays the bracelet in a silver box after snapping the second charm on. The box goes into a small bag, and she rings him up. He pays, counting the money out of his wallet, before shoving it in his pocket. He takes the bag from the counter.
"Thanks," he says, departing the store before she can say anything else to him. The way she spoke to him grated on his nerves.
Cloud whips his phone out as he walks to the train station and pulls up his messaging app. His heart sinks a little when he sees she still hasn't replied, but he tries not to think too hard about it. As he waits at the platform, he types a new message.
f: hey, you okay? i know you were stressed a few days ago. you know you can talk to me.
Whirring from the tunnel alerts him, and he looks up just as the train honks its approach. He chews the side of his lip as he stares at his message, then adds more.
f: i have something for you btw. where can i send it?
Cloud puts his phone away as he boards the train. He always loses service in the tunnels of this part of the city, so no point in watching for a reply. Staring at his phone on the train always made his motion sickness worse, anyway. He finds a seat and puts the jewelry bag inside his backpack before leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Out of habit, he counts the stops as he rides, massaging his right arm. It's throbbing a little, which he's come to expect when going underground.
Twenty minutes pass before his stop is announced. Cloud waits until the train comes to a complete halt before getting up, steadying himself using the poles, and walking out. As he climbs out of the station and turns toward a familiar cluster of apartment buildings, he lifts his phone out of his pocket and checks his messages.
l: im sorry.
Cloud stops and stares at the screen, brow furrowed. He reads the next message.
l: you were an amazing friend to me. thank you fenny. for everything. im sorry.
He blinks. Someone curses at him to get out of the way because he's blocking the sidewalk. Cloud scowls at them and leans against the building.
Were…?
He doesn't take his eyes off the messages as he processes them. His eyes grow wide when he sees they were sent fifteen minutes prior.
Oh no.
f: hey. are you there?
A gray circle indicates she's offline. She has been since her last message was sent.
No no no.
He gulps, typing quickly.
f: what're you sorry for? what happened?
He waits. His message from before he got on the train remains the last one read.
Keeping his phone in hand, Cloud pushes away from the wall and trudges home. He glances at the screen every few seconds, but nothing changes.
It doesn't take long before he arrives at the apartment he shares with his mom. He takes his keys out and unlocks the door, eyes still on his phone. As he kicks his shoes off, he scrolls up through the messages, not sure what he's looking for.
l: fenny, if someone asked you to do something you didnt want to do, but you need something from them in return… would you do it?
f: depends. how bad do i need it?
l: pretty bad.
f: idk. i try not to rely on others if i can help it.
l: i know but…
f: can i get what i need without them?
l: …no
f: is something wrong?
That was several days ago. She'd never responded, and he'd been worried but hadn't wanted to press it. Now he wishes he had.
"Cloud, honey? That you?"
Claudia Strife appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her long blonde hair is up in a bun, and she's dressed in her scrubs. He sets his lips in a firm line to hide his worry. She watches him for a moment, a question on her lips.
"I was beginning to wonder when you would be home from physical therapy. How was it?"
"Fine."
Cloud closes the door to his room behind him, careful not to let it slam, cutting off the conversation. He can't talk to her right now, his mind preoccupied with what could possibly be happening on the other side of his screen. He can't explain to his mother what was going on - she didn't know he spoke to anyone online. Not extensively, anyway. It would take too much to try and explain the nature of this relationship, and Cloud isn't sure he has the patience to. So, he doesn't say anything, deciding Claudia wouldn't understand. This is an issue he has to figure out on his own.
Plopping down on his bed, Cloud scrolls even further up the message thread. He settles on a conversation from two weeks before.
l: i did it again… i freaked out for no fucking reason. i hate this.
f: why didnt you message me? you know im here.
l: i know i just… i didnt want to bother you. im sorry.
f: dont apologize. and youre never bothering me. i just want you to be okay.
l: i know. im trying.
What could she be apologizing for now?
His mind races with so many possibilities, it makes the room spin. The phone becomes unfocused, the words and images blurred. His forearm throbs in time with his heart along the recently healed fracture, and he feels like it's too fast. He doesn't know how much time passes before his mother knocks on his door.
"Cloud?"
He quickly sits up on one elbow, massaging his arm as his mother opens the door and eyes him.
"Dinner is in the oven. I'm on my way to work, okay?"
Cloud only nods, a lump in his throat.
"Your arm okay?"
"Y-yeah." He stops rubbing it. "I'm fine."
She watches him for a minute longer, concern swimming in her eyes. With a sigh, she goes to shut the door behind her.
"Be safe mom."
She turns back with a soft smile. "Love you too."
A moment later, the front door closes. Silence settles over the apartment. Cloud stares at the ceiling, his phone next to him, his head buzzing.
Why is she sorry?
He recounts conversation after conversation, his chest tightening from fear. He breathes in; his eyes sting as he brings the phone up to his face.
f: hey, talk to me. why are you sorry? did something happen?
That fucking gray circle is still next to her name. He holds the device against his chest and watches the ceiling as if it has the answers.
Please say something. Anything. Let me know you're alright. Please don't—
A shrill beeping breaks him out of his spiral. Cloud lets out a shuddering breath and sits up, slowly blinking in confusion as he tries to determine what it is. He throws his legs over the side of the bed and ambles up, clutching his desk. The room tilts, but he grabs on to the doorknob to steady himself. His eyes go back to the screen as he lurches the door open.
Nothing. No response, no indication that she's even seen his messages.
From the living room, he can tell the noise comes from the kitchen. Cloud lumbers toward it, turning the corner to see numbers on the microwave flashing in time with the beeping. His mom must have set a timer; she either realized he was distracted by something, or knew him well enough to expect he'd forget.
Cloud shuffles over and turns the timer off. He shakes his head, trying to clear it as he grabs two dish towels and opens the oven. A glass dish with a casserole sits inside. His stomach rumbles at the sight, the scent of peppers and spices filling his nose, but he can't bring himself to take it out. He can only stare.
He closes the oven door and turns it off so the food won't burn.
What if she…?
He growls, shaking his head to dislodge the thought, but instead, a flood of them come through.
Is she hurting herself?
She's gonna drown herself.
Is she jumping off a cliff?
She's gonna slit her wrists.
He grabs his phone and slides down against the counter as he unlocks it and focuses on the screen.
Silence.
f: please get back online. talk to me. come back, please.
The sinking feeling that there's nothing—absolutely nothing—he can do grows in his stomach until it becomes a bottomless pit. He hunches over the device in his hand, his only path to her, and wonders what he should have done differently. His thoughts descend into darkness as he sinks further into his fears, and he can hear himself wheezing.
She can't be dead, can she?
He stands on the edge of despair at the thought of losing one of his only friends, then chastises himself for being so selfish.
Is she dead? She can't be dead. Please don't be dead.
For years he's tried to be there for her, listening whenever she needed to talk about anything at all. He'd tried to be enough, but there was only so much he could offer behind a screen.
He couldn't truly help her.
Cloud drops his phone into his lap and holds his face in his hands. His next breath comes out in a shudder, his body trembling all over. He gulps down hard and picks his phone back up, but it blurs with everything else, becoming an indistinct shape.
He can't help. He can't help. He can't—