Forbidden Fantasy: Soulmates
Fantasy's Flight
By: NemesisStrife
Disclaimer: These Final Fantasy 7 characters are property of Squaresoft. This is an Alternate Universe epic saga pre-game fanfiction. As stated before, this is a Cloud and Sephiroth pairing, involving shounen-ai, and it is my take on what should have happened in the game. Respect my opinions.
NOTES: People, since the server now has a new format, please check for my story under "Sort By Update (Chaptered)". I hope you know what to do, with all the "Sort by summary", "Sort by rating" stuff up...keep on reading, and Review please. If you want the next chapter up soon, well, Leave Feedback.
Pre-chapter background/author rant/prologue thingy:
Rant: FINALLY, I get home to a computer that isn't Mac/Apple rubbish, that gives me italics properly, has a functional, regular-sized keyboard, doesn't charge $1 for 2 minutes, has DECENT spellcheck in U.K. version English, and doesn't screw over my Brit-type spelling. And has privacy, with no snoopy owners making it a complete IMPOSSIBILILTY for me to write, and no parents who hover over me 5 times a minute and don't understand what it means to write, to write knowing that you're doing this for yourself, and for and audience, and deadlines are not outside-imposed, but are promises, bonds between you and your reader, held together by honour and duty and obligation. *is still angry over that*
This is going to be very flashback-y. I figured since I've nearly forgotten the beginning, let's all refresh our memories and I can retrospectively fill in all the gaping plotholes in front.
I'm not going to put the A.N in front, because I know you'll skip it. I can hear the voices going "For crying out loud, you made us wait over a year, and you still want to delay? Where's the bloody story, already?" So, without further ado, jump straight in. As I promised.
Dedications:
For Cloud Strife, because I love him. Will always love him.
For you, because you are here and you are reading this (still), and you forgave me for all my authorial lapses and procrastination.
" " Normal speech
' ' Thoughts
italics Emphasis
~ ~ Mental speech/ Telepathy
// // Flashback
( ) NEW!! Brackets indicate present thoughts inside flashback. Confused? Just read on.
Chapter 10
Anchor My Sanity
//It was after the recruits' arrival, post President ShinRa's "Welcome-to-SOLDIER" speech that half had slept through and half had been too awestruck by the sights and sounds of the city to pay attention to. And of course, the moment they'd all been waiting for, the sole reason why every last one of the impressionable young men – boys – was there.
Sephiroth. The General. Onstage and there in full living, breathing glory, standing next to the President who had been dwarfed into insignificance besides the intimidating authority and lethal power barely kept in check by the veneer of civilization; epaulettes and badges of rank unnecessary ornamentation for one who needed no decoration. Power, strength and unimaginable power, all held under tight control; sheathed like the Masamune at his side, but always within gloved-hand-grasp range, ready to be unleashed; waiting like a coiled viper biding its time to strike.
You couldn't go within viewing distance – Mako-enhanced vision, what's more – without feeling overawed, without feeling the uncanny glowing green eyes had noticed and predicted your every move, sizing you up and dismissing you as if you were of no import – 'Which you aren't, which I'm not, no worth no value no one nothing…'
The closer you ventured, if you were brave enough, the more you felt as if invisible lasers were measuring each step, ultraviolet scopes analyzing, scanning; weapons systems locked on as if the computer had focused on that particular recruit and labeled him 'TARGET', all in flashing green light. Not only the General, but the SOLDIERs as well, calmly measuring your potential; the Turks trained to scout for possible candidates for SOLDIER, everyone passing thousands of judgments on you each minute, sizing up the latest "batch" who wanted to become heroes too.
He felt as if he always fell short.
'If only you'd tell me what you're looking for, what I'm supposed to do, so at least I know how to start trying to meet whatever criteria you have.' As such, each step he took was nervous, cautious, afraid of stepping out of line. '… …an invisible line drawn on black flooring in an unlit area at night. And I'm walking while drunk.' Tightrope walking, balancing on an unravelling piece of string over an endless abyss, even as the string looped back on itself and tied his insides into snarled tangles of anxiety, binding him with silk-steel wires at his throat.
'But it's worth it, it was all worth it, everything, just for this day, even if this is the only chance I'd ever get.' He'd seen Sephiroth, had even been within a few paces from the General himself,
- don't even think about touching distance. No one gets close to him.'
They always warned you about how encountering him made you lose your nerve, grown men known to back down in the face of that implacable authority. No one ever mentioned losing your appetite.
'Maybe it's just me,' Cloud thought, pushing chunks of something he'd rather not guess at gingerly around with his fork, watching as everyone else recovered their high spirits, morale amazingly boosted by the consumption of food, and escape from the presence of all those SOLDIERs. With the restoration of confidence, the usual boasting and one-upmanship had started again, claims circulating around the table of who would be the next Sephiroth.
"I'm going to make it to the top ten of the exam rankings."
"Yeah? Well, I'm going to graduate straight to First-Class!"
"Not if I get there first!"
And suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore, the mere thought of eating made him nauseous, so he pushed away his meal tray abruptly, brushing off the queries of fellow recruits with a plausible excuse and a smile. 'At least if I leave now I know I won't be followed. Erek's too busy stuffing his face.' Thankful for small mercies, he left, not noticing Reno's worried grey gaze lingering on him until Cloud exited the cafeteria.
"I need to clear my head," he said aloud, grateful that no one was there to watch or comment or criticize. Picking a route that led to a spot near the training grounds, he settled in to stargaze and unwind in solitude. Or so he thought.
In that relaxed frame of mind, lulled into a state of complacent security, he'd met that unknown SOLDIER (who I know now wasn't just any SOLDIER) who had been teacher, mentor, and strangely enough, friend. (I can't believe I was so clueless. You've read everything about the man, watched all the broadcasts, and when he's two feet away, completely fail to recognise him. Way to go, Cloud.) It was to be the first of a series of regular nightly meetings, in which the older man offered advice, encouragement, but never his name. (Sneaky. I can't believe you did that, Sephiroth.)
"Hello, Cloud."
"Good evening – " He deliberately paused, waiting for the other to fill in his name, but the other sidestepped the unspoken query. 'Didn't expect that to work, anyway.' He felt the answering grin, not having to open his eyes to see the "I-know-you-know-that-the-tactic-just-failed" expression, as if an experienced SOLDIER could have been caught by such an obvious trick. He was clearly outmatched in this verbal duel as much as if it had been with blades in hand, clumsy and novice swordthrust effortlessly parried, but it would be just as easy for the older man to disarm or kill. (Then why did you bother to continue this charade with me, Seph? Because that's all it could have been to you, just a game. So why did you play along?)
"Third time this week we've met. Is this habit-forming?"
"You don't enjoy my company?" Mock-hurt tone, as if he'd been wounded to the core.
"Nah, it's a change from my own thoughts," he smiled, leaning back against the tree, blond spikes flattened against the bark.
"So what are you thinking?"
"…just some stuff, I guess." He toyed with a blade of grass, tearing it into small strips methodically, shredding it in clear violation of nature-conservation principles.
"Tell me." The barest hint of a touch on his shoulder, almost too light for Cloud to feel the difference in pressure through the layer of clothing, reinforced the unconscious command which compelled him to reply.
"I'm just wondering if anyone else sees through all this, if they aren't so caught up by their dream of making it to SOLDIER to realise what's going on."
"So what is going on?"
"You know, most of them won't make it through to the SOLDIER selection, probably only fifty, or at most a hundred, out of those thousands of boys, will manage to last out the next month." Cloud abandoned that blade of grass, started on a new, untouched one. "…have you ever thought about why ShinRa recruits first, then holds the SOLDIER entrance exams? It's got nothing to do with administrative details, nothing to do with drawing up timetables and working out scheduling. Their aim is to draw candidates, not for SOLDIER, for the regular army. ShinRa doesn't need very many SOLDIERs, all they need are grunts, regular troopers to send in during the battles, the wars. All they need to do is pretend, play the Pied Piper until they get us into Midgar, with nowhere else to go…"
The blond's hands fisted, nails digging into palms before unclenching, scattering grass shreds and debris. "…they sell all the kids on the hope of being a war-hero, then shunt them aside to be … … cannon fodder. And everyone else is too blinded by the prospect of becoming the next Sephiroth to see through it. Except me, I guess. (such a little thing to proud of, but at least something he could hold on to, cling on with the desperate grasp of drowning men. One thing to be mine to set me apart to feel special to feel like an individual to feel…)
That's why they have all the publicity, and news broadcasts and honour ceremonies, - besides boosting the President's ego of course." Cloud smiled, half-bitterly, remembering, "hype up Sephiroth's profile, and in 'the ambush of his name strike home'." (Shakespeare. He's always been rather prolific in providing appropriate quotes.)
There was an unnerving silence, too drawn–out to be a normal lull in conversation, and the blond had the disorientating impression that he'd been talking to himself all this while.
"Hey, you alright?"
"… …I'll be fine" (He said 'be fine' not 'am fine'… We'll all be fine in the end. Fine, or dead.)
"You sure?" Cloud craned his head to look at the quiet SOLDIER, trying to see – if anything could be seen with the hood over his face.
"You've given me much to think about." (Why should it have been a shock for you, Sephiroth, to realise how you've been exploited by ShinRa. Didn't you know this all before? I guess then in some weird way that the promises were true, that we are the same, really, General or SOLDIER or trooper… We're all used by ShinRa, all screwed over and fucked up until they get tired of their little bitches)
The older man stood, hand resting against the reassuring solidity of the tree, - (when all you've ever believed in was a lie, when everything you based yourself on falls apart) – fingers tightening imperceptibly around it so his knuckles whitened.
(when all your dreams turn to dust and you wake up to the nightmare which is reality…)
"So… so why are you still here?" (who do you turn to? When your world falls apart, where can you run?) The voice would have sounded shaken (except it was Sephiroth, it was the General and he isn't allowed to…) The unspoken, unspeakable question – 'if you know they're screwing with you why do you still let them?'
(what else is there to do?)
"The same reason as all the rest. Because of Sephiroth." Cloud looked up at the retreating back of his unknown friend, sapphire eyes glittering from reflected moonlight. "… this is the sort of subversive comments that I probably shouldn't have made. Hey, don't go report me to the General or anything, alright?" It was meant to be a jest – so why did the other falter, steps halted mid-turn?
"Don't worry. I won't." (Now I know why you wanted to hide, why you sought me out. If everyone looks at you like that, in fear and awe and treats you as if you aren't human… How could you deal with it?)
Cloud could never have seen the ironic half-smile that briefly crossed pale lips. (All it was was a chance to be anonymous, to be normal and ordinary and accepted. That's why you bothered with this game, human beings are always desperate to delude themselves until the pretence becomes the reality…)//
'It wasn't just referring to Sephiroth.' The admission followed fresh on the heels of the memory relived. 'If I know what ShinRa intends for those gullible recruits, yet walk voluntarily into the same trap knowing it's a trap…' Cloud curled up on his bunk, trying to feign the regular breathing that comes with sleep. 'Does that make me more or less blind than all the rest?' The taste of blood in his mouth came as a surprise, and he traced it back to his lower lip, unable to recall when exactly he had bitten it. The exhaustion, both physical and emotional weariness, drew him closer to the edge of unconsciousness.
Sleep beckoned.
Drowning in darkness… submerged in pain… hold fast to an anchor, before I'm swept away.
*** *** *** ***
Reno sighed as he gazed over at Cloud's bunk. The pillow was thrown carelessly in one corner, sheets and blanket tangled in a messy, snarled heap on the bed, traces of fitful sleep remaining in evidence, but no sign of its blond occupant. He swore perfunctorily, breath hissing out between teeth in a gesture meant more for the venting of frustration and self-anger than for the benefit of his non-existent audience. He considered punching the wall, but memories of his most recent outburst of temper, as well as of the throbbing pain in his knuckles which lingered for weeks, were sufficiently fresh to dissuade him from attempting such again.
At least not when the SOLDIER entrance exams were this week.
He'd given as good as he got though, the wall had required plaster and a fresh coat of paint to patch up the indentation, although he'd nursed an unreasonable grievance against it for weeks because it recovered much faster than his hand.
'I bet it's still gloating about that,' he thought sourly, as the remembered soreness overrode the logic that the wall was inanimate. So he pummelled the soft pillow instead.
A few minutes later, feeling less irritated and annoyed, but no more mature, Reno stopped, panting slightly from exertion, face flushed due to the exercise and also in part due to the growing sheepishness from the realisation that he really was behaving quite childishly. Grey eyes flickered nervously, guiltily, to the other side of the room, half-afraid that Cloud had witnessed this irrational outburst, but remembering his roommate's absence had precipitated the attack on the unoffending pillow…
He had to quash the urge to hit it again.
'Be honest, you're angry at yourself.' The redhead bit his lip pensively, - 'and since when did I acquire a conscience?' – an unconscious admission of the truth of that statement. 'I've absolutely no idea why he ran off like that.'
Fine, so he did have his suspicions on that score, one of which being the fact that he had been "hanging out" with the infamous Nibelheim gang, party to their crude jokes and provocative, mocking taunts, even if not an actual participant.
'It must have looked like clear betrayal.' The inner voice was back again, in full strident volume, despite his best attempts to suppress it. 'But I wasn't, not really. And he ran off before I could explain anything.' Fresh twinge of guilt hit him right between the eyes, sharp and altogether too clear for his peace of mind, the recollection of that wounded-vulnerable look in sapphire eyes, the way pale hands had jerked as he dropped the cup and fled, splash of water as it hit the floor drowned out by the ensuing mocking laughter. The redhead had bent to retrieve the fallen cup, mouth automatically making a hasty excuse for his feet, which were following the direction his eyes had taken, locked on the swiftly retreating figure of his friend. It was still there on the dresser table, the now-slightly-crumpled paper cup lying there, - 'staring at me reproachfully', Reno thought in a brief flash of paranoia.
'Listen to me, next thing I'll start suspecting the fan's plotting to kill me by dropping whilst spinning, guillotine-execution style.' Shamefaced at his overactive imagination and wild leaps of fancy from lack of sleep due to said-imagination, embarrassment colouring his face to a shade more appropriate to his hair, Reno self-consciously ran his fingers through his ponytail. After giving the fan a long, hard look, of course.
The white cup drew his eyes again, and Reno found himself thinking of Cloud drinking from it, the way his mouth closed around the edge, lips parting to reveal a flash of white teeth; and flushed again for entirely different reasons. Water still remained in small droplets inside, and he uneasily wondered whether the same moisture had gathered at the corners of aquamarine eyes, if the too-brightness was simply a reflection of ShinRa's harsh fluorescent lights, as he had assumed. When he'd come in last night, after hesitantly knocking on the door, the blond had been breathing in the regular rhythm of sleep, perhaps too regular, but Reno had given no outward indication if he had guessed that it was not the case.
'I should have just had it out with him then, instead of waiting till the morning.' And when he was ready to talk to the blond, Cloud proved maddeningly, frustratingly elusive. Their friendship was still in the awkward early stage, where each move was tentative, both engaged in an elaborate, carefully choreographed dance, alternately moving towards in experimental phases of closeness then disengaging in a retreat back to the security of privacy. And he'd been taking the lead more and more often, trying to draw the introverted blond out of his shell; venturing into, blatantly invading personal space as far as he dared, or as far as he could go before Cloud's walls slammed up again, door shut, locked, barricaded. So far, he'd been lucky.
'Don't push, don't push. At least not too far.' Feeling slightly more cheerful than when he'd first woken up, Reno leaned over to rescue the much-abused pillow from its precarious dangling-over-the-edge position on his bed, giving it a half-apologetic pat that only added to its rumpled state.
A flash of white, reflecting the glare from the harsh room light, caught his eye from atop his dresser table, for its sheer incongruity. Yellowed paper, scraps of letters, dog-eared notes and dust-layered odds-and-ends vying with favourite faded clothes for space; was the customary "décor" of his table, his entire side of the room; but pristine white? 'Looks more like something belonging to Cloud.' Hands snagged onto that smooth, clean sheet, felt the crisp texture of fresh paper and it was only after his mind stopped appreciating the aesthetics of it and finally made the connection that those artistic black patterns on it were supposed to be words that grey eyes started focussing on what it said.
Reno
I went to check the exam schedules this morning, this one's yours.
Don't forget to turn up on time.
Later.
~Cloud
The corners of grey eyes crinkled in amusement as he considered the peace offering? silent apology? Aside from the terse, official missive given en masse by Heidgger's secretary, a significantly lengthier attachment containing the schedule and detailed instructions on the trials was there, faithfully copied in a neat, clear hand. It was not valuable so much for what it said (though the information was helpful, he'd forget everything otherwise), but for that fact that it meant Cloud was not mad-hurt-angry or whatever it was any longer. And that the blond was still not comfortable enough around him to come out and say it.
'Still, it's the typically sweet gesture he'd make.' Hiding the grin tugging at the curve of his mouth, threatening to overwhelm him with laughter, as he reflected on "normal" Strife-behaviour, "…and he'd kill me if I ever said that aloud. Heh." It was some sort of trademark, the unexpected, surprising acts of thoughtfulness and that quiet, shy, but absolutely devastating charm that Reno had subconsciously noticed right from the start, with which those wide azure eyes had wormed their way into his heart, irrevocably sealing Cloud's place there. If the redhead had thought about it, to find a sizable section of his heart reserved carefully with "Property of C. Strife" emblazoned on it would be... disturbing, and instantly denied, forgotten, or both.
But some things do not need to be known to be true.
*** *** *** ***
//'The sort of people they let into SOLDIER, nowadays.' That contemptuous thought was foremost on Reno's mind, as he remained apart from the horde of recent inductees to the "hero-wannabe" club. It was amazing, the number of self-delusionary boys who existed out there, on the Planet. All of whom seemed to have gathered in Midgar today. The level of excited babbling, the amount of wide-eyed gaping and gawking, wildly pointing fingers and what could uncharitably be termed as squealing; it seemed as if they had never seen a city before. Which, Reno snidely, might just be the case. He'd never heard such a conglomeration of mismatched accents, the peculiar intonations and variations of speech betrayed their out-of-town origins.
'Well, if their absolutely country-hick appearance didn't give them away first.' There did seem to be a lack of foresight, of thought, on the other new recruits' parts, most of them just jumping blindly onto the ShinRa bandwagon and letting themselves be carried straight into Midgar, with several still experiencing the after-effects of sea-sickness. 'Not many will last out the year in Midgar, to say nothing of a Wutai battlefield. And I'm not even talking about the under-Plate slums.'
Sharp, calculating grey eyes narrowed in thought, as he brushed back unruly strands of hair that had escaped the ponytail. Oh yes, he was in his element now; experienced, streetwise urbanite on his home turf, superciliously looking down on the still-wet-behind-the-ears newbies milling around the SOLDIER-in-charge; with all the cocksure arrogance of his seventeen years of age.
Which is why, due to the retributive twist of cosmic irony, Reno found himself frantically searching through the street, sans wallet, gil, and his confirmation ticket, but gaining a decidedly horrible mood in exchange after futile attempts to convince the recruiting officer to let him through without his identification card. The official had been "kind" enough to give him another half-hour to search, though, and he was engaged in doing just that at the moment. Knowing he looked absolutely ridiculous going up and down whilst retracing his steps, and resenting that fact most bitterly, his hold on his already-fraying temper snapped when this blond kid came up and stared at him.
"Fuck, do I have spectators now?" Not the most polite greeting, but anyone would snap in his shoes.
"Are you 'Kielson, Reno' ?" The voice was oddly formal, a high tenor, but the accent curiously unplaceable. Startlingly blue eyes focussed on him, the gaze direct and almost unnerving in its intensity.
"At least you didn't mangle the pronunciation half as much as the SOLDIER commanding officer back there."
Ignoring his rudeness, those – they weren't blue, he decided, "blue" didn't even begin to describe what they were – eyes glanced down, then back at his face, giving him the uneasy impression he was being scrutinized and sized up.
"Then this must be yours." The familiar texture of leather was pressed into his hand, the sudden appearance all the more unreal because of its solidity.
'How did you know it was mine?' he wanted to ask, but simply could not force his open mouth to comply with his mind's demands, fingers distracted by inspecting the lost-now-returned wallet's contents.
"It's all here… How?" he demanded, voice back in working order, but still not enough under his control for him to phrase the question properly. His benefactor appeared not to take offence, and the disturbing, unsettling eyes looked over him again.
"I don't believe anyone else could have that hair." Reno was subject to another one of those looks, hidden-laughter-bright eyes sparkling as they deliberately fixed upon the feature in question. Unsure whether he'd been insulted or complimented or possibly, both at once, he matched the stare with one of his own.
Shorter, lithe; gold-blond hair in unruly, careless spikes, lips that threatened every moment to quirk upwards in a full smile, and the official recruit uniform… That brought him up sharply; the educated manner of speech, the strangely untouched honesty – innocence -, and the desire to become a SOLDIER? 'Interesting.'
"So how'd you manage to find it?" He watched for a reaction, still doubting, unable to shake the instinctive mistrust of a stranger's motives that was inculcated in all Midgar residents within two years.
"I retrieved it from someone else who "found" it." The emphasis on the second last word was significant, and the slight inflection on the word spoke volumes.
"You stole it from the guy who stole it." Battling emotions, mixture of exasperation-surprise-admiration and overwhelmingly, the urge to laugh.
"I prefer the term 'restitution of an illegally-obtained object to its rightful owner'," the blond countered, but made no attempt to deny it. At Reno's eloquent snort, he continued. "Besides, you have it back, so it doesn't really count as stealing."
"Since now I know who I have to thank, who is it I should blame?" He'd meant it as a joke, quite willing now to forget the whole matter now that his possessions had been returned, but the blond took it seriously.
"Over there. The guy whose Nibelheim accent butchers the English language more than the rest of us." His shoulders had tensed, and the suppressed… something in his voice were details Reno filed away, under the guise of his casual nonchalance.
'So. Nibelheim. But you don't speak with the mountain-region accent. And there's obviously enmity between you two.' It was a conundrum, that. From his experience, Nibelheim town residents seemed to stick quite closely together, even to the extent that SOLDIER allowed them to stay in an exclusive dormitory rather than risk upsetting them by breaking the group up.
"What if he finds out about your role in this?"
"He couldn't find his backside with both hands." Caustic, acerbic retort, but layered under the sarcasm was an all-too-real wariness, the resigned bitterness so acute the redhead practically taste it. "But it doesn't matter what happens. It was the right thing to do."
And Reno had nothing to say to that, no way of arguing or countering, not when he had been struck nearly dumb. The belief underlying it, despite the hesitation lent by uncertainty in the voice, … for one, impossible moment the redhead could find himself tempted to have faith in humanity, wanting to believe in absolutes of morality, where there were principles that could not be altered, broken; ideals that would not be betrayed whatever the cost, where there was something that would not be just sold off to the highest bidder…
"I'll hate to be around when you find out different." Cynical, jaded, worldly-wise – and how he was sick of it, sick of the pretending, backstabbing and politicking that were the only rules Midgar lived by…
The younger boy just gazed back with those confusing young-old eyes, until he forced himself to break the gaze and continue walking.
They were approaching the end of the road now, almost at the train station where the SOLDIERs were herding recruits into carriages like recalcitrant sheep, ready to make the final step of commitment to ShinRa, from which there was no turning back. There really was no real need for Reno to stay at the blond's side, no reason for him to continue their conversation, it was just out of simple politeness that he remained; surely there was a rule of etiquette that stated "Be nice to the person who returned your wallet"; and it had nothing to do with the vague alarm he felt at the prospect of never seeing those – oh god if he hung around the blond any longer he'd have to check the dictionary to find a word that did justice to that colour – fascinating eyes and their equally fascinating owner again.
"All on board!" The stationmaster's call jarred, and all around, recruits were scrambling into carriages, obediently following the unspoken grouping based on hometown. The tension in the other's shoulders was almost unnoticeable, but the too-straight set of the bones and rigid set of his jaw went beyond military discipline.
"Hey," Reno said softly, as quietly and non-threateningly as possible, hand reaching out to skim across the blond's back, before curving around his upper arm. The shorter recruit turned to face him, some of the stiffness leaving him, the hardness which did not belong in sky-ocean-depthless flickering blue eyes fading somewhat. In that moment, Reno made up his mind, and characteristically, acted as soon as, if not before, he thought.
"Come with me." Snagging the other boy's wrist, without pausing for a reply, he pulled the unprotesting blond into the adjacent carriage, neatly avoiding the rest of the Nibelheim bunch. Darting a quick glance at him, Reno observed with satisfaction that pale lips had dropped open in a small "o" of pleased surprise. Some part of his mind wondered what it would be like if those lips curved in happiness, and with a confidence that was completely unfounded, accompanied by a secondary distant, but acute tinge of curiosity-longing, he knew it would be a beautiful smile. While he shifted in his seat in the crowded train, one arm automatically going around the blond to steady him, noting the way it fit, close and smooth and natural, no resistance, no hesitation, no awkwardness, perfect; that portion of his mind detachedly contemplated ways of coaxing out that beautiful – he was sure of it – smile.
"Call me Reno," he said, suddenly, causing the other to twist in surprise, as he tried to put it in context. "What's yours?"
Now it was his turn to be tense, taut-coil of anticipation inside him, trying to be casual but unable to cover the urgency that shaded his voice, the sense that this was important, that it was absolutely necessary for him to know.
"I'm Cloud. Cloud Strife." And yes, so strangely appropriate, like sunlight-dawn-breaking; there is was, finally there, so much more than he had imagined, warm and unforced and so heartbreakingly…
"Damn," Reno whispered reverentially, prayerfully, not profane, turning his head aside.
No one warned him he would spend the rest of his life just living for that smile.
*** *** *** ***
It took five complete heartbeats for him to slide his fingers down the length, three-and-a-half for the breadth. Not that the paper was particularly large, but his pulse was racing, so as he pinched the edge lightly between thumb and forefinger, running them along the no longer sharp corners of the document, aware of the pounding of his heart as it echoed, blood rush too loud in the oppressive stillness of the room.
One-two-three-four-and-five.
Pause.
Navigate the corner through touch alone, feeling for the turn while turquoise blue stared sightlessly at the white rectangle in front of him. He'd given up trying to time using his breathing, it was far too irregular for that, coming in short, rapid pants, rhythmless inhale-exhale frenetic gasps too short for the oxygen to diffuse into his bloodstream, he figured.
The way his head felt, light, dizzy, it seemed he had taken in quite enough air already; breathing more for formality's sake and out of that awful suspicion that if he stopped he would not remember how to start again.
//"If you knew it would be like this…"//
//"You have your University scholarship! You could have gone to Cosmo Canyon, or even just enter Midgar without joining SOLDIER! Why did you throw all that away to go with the ShinRa?"// Guilt always accompanied those images, the tears in those eyes which were so similar to his own, blond hair escaping her bun in her distress.
//"…just a ShinRa ploy…"//
//"…so why are you still here?"// 'Because of my dream, my impossible, impossible dream… because even though I know I'm not likely to qualify, that it's all but impossible, unimaginable… I have to try. There is no other alternative, I have no other option, no choice but to be here, to struggle, to try, inevitably, to fail; just because…'
//"…of Sephiroth."// 'Ironic, considering who you were, when at that time I had no idea… But you didn't mock me, you never laughed, never put down my ambitions, scorned my ideas, didn't shatter my dreams, when it'd have been so easy for you to reveal yourself, crush all those futile, ephemeral hopes…'
//"Don't worry. I won't."// 'You… encouraged me. Said I had potential, that if sheer will could determine anything, I'd get what I tried for; even though you must have been secretly laughing at my ignorance – obliviousness of whom I was talking about, talking to…'
Thank you. For everything.
He realised how his hands were shaking, looked at them dispassionately, as if through the eyes of a stranger, noted dully how pale they looked, stretching out his right; extended and examined it, white and long, tapered fingers, with their smooth half-shell of cream-pink, trembling beyond control. He really needed to cut his nails, he decided, looking at them. At them and at anything other than the paper. He forced himself to still, to stop shaking, motions exaggeratedly careful and over-restrained. His hands closed firmly around the white, insubstantial slip of paper which held the key to his future.
'As such exists.'
C. Strife. 0930 hours at Hall L2-15A. Report to 2nd Lt. Mason.
'So. It begins.'
*** *** *** ***
Authors notes:
1)I'm still not satisfied with the way this is going. I mean, I can get odd bits of smoothness, where writing is a joy and it flows and everything just snaps into place and character-author lines merge so I can tell what he's/they're feeling and it just goes.
Then the other times where it's struggle and fight and uphill all the way. Rusty skills. Haven't picked up a pen in a year, to write, properly write, not essays or assignments or equations. But at least I think it's getting there, getting somewhat there, and as long as we all hang on for the ride… Not going to be smooth-going.
I hope I haven't raised anyone's expectations, only to let them all fall when you read this. I'm hoping no one goes: "This is it? I was waiting for this?"
*prayerfully* I don't want to disappoint. Didn't mean to.
2) Reno. Reno. I hope no one else has redhead overdose. He's even making me change parts of my writing style to suit his character, it's kinda humorous-deadpan-sarcastic whenever he gets a scene of his own. (Whereas Cloud's bits are loosely metaphorical, very literary and, I've been told, starkly lyrical.) I *swear* he's got a mind of his own. And he's got that mind set on Cloud, right now. ^^;;
This is just what I need, another self-willed muse/character/personality.
Who wants to have madsex. This is not good.
3) Christmas is coming. Which means I should probably drag out another chapter of that Xmas thingy. Will just go and meditate somewhere until inspiration (or lightning) strikes. Too many plotbunnies, too little time.
4) Forgive my Rant upfront. I'm just *sick* of having my mom tell me: "Why are you wasting your money? I thought you were doing homework, but it's just some (quote) stupid story (unquote) for (quote) weird people you don't know (unquote)." I think I'll go scream on my LJ some more. *fuming*
5) I think I need to rewrite the other chapters. Maybe. I'll see where it goes and when I have more time (or make more time), take it down in a leisurely fashion and try to sound a little less immature for the (especially) the first few chapters. *cringes*
6)Quotes. The Shakespeare one is from "Measure for Measure", lovely piece with subtexts of quote "repressed sexuality, sado-masochism and erotic self-flagellation". Good stuff. It's all about control, sex is control, power is control, wealth is control, reputation is control. *thumbs up*
And the last line was ripped off FFX.
Self-pimping #1: I have a blog! www.livejournal.com/~nemesisstrife Just started within the last month, but I think it's going to be a ficblog/place for drabbles and rambling. I think for convenience sake I'm going to stick all the fic-related bits under "Memories". Go there! Friend me! ^__^
Dina, especially for you, go see what I did to Zack's wet noodle! (innuendo innuendo) *cackles* Or what Cloud did, rather. *ear-to-ear grin* I think you'll like it.
Self-pimping #2: Part of the reasons why I delayed so long on this:
1) I'm indulging in a brief Pirates of the Caribbean flirtation right now. *sheepish* Wrote a drabble for Commodore Norrington/Jack Sparrow. *loves military men, naval, army, or otherwise* *purr*
2) The more important/relevant reason – 27th Dec, 2003, otherwise known as next Saturday, I cosplay KH Cloud. *wicked smirk* I have a yaoi partner(s). Will corrupt/seduce/utterly ruin my hapless Sephiroth (and Leon) into full-blown Y-A-O-I. Looking now at all the nice fanart and the lovely poses I could pull off. Anyone wants to suggest something? *winks* (*sings to theme song of Moulin Rogue* Now come on and share all your deep fantasies…) I'll put up photos if anyone wants to see. *smirking*
Thanks all. Thank ~you~, for bothering to read to here.
Read and Review, please. This is my first fic, so be kind! Comments and criticism welcomed.