Death Penalty
One slip, and down the hole we fall
It seems to take no time at all
A momentary lapse of reason
That binds a life for life.
Pink Floyd
:
:
Cloud Strife was pointing the gun there, in the middle of His alabaster forehead, barely touching the so pale skin, which left thin blue veins in sight. Yes: it was there, between his refined silver eyebrows, shimmering locks caressing the metallic barrel - and there wasn't any concrete possibility to fail the shot.
Still, his finger actually was hesitating on the trigger.
He would have been shaking if he hadn't been somehow completely frozen by those emerald Mako-injected eyes, in contemplation of those flawless features, intimidated by the over 10 centimetres of height which divided them. Sephiroth wasn't beautiful - no. Nothing of that sort. His' was just arid, aloof, pure perfection.
Frightening perfection
That was Cloud's second chance to kill him. It had happened years ago, inside that infernal reactor. With an inhuman physical and moral strength he had managed, that time, to throw Him in that chaos of flame underneath them. But now - all was different.
That - that disconcerting creature who stood unarmed in front of him was not Sephiroth, not the General of the war in Wutai, not even the psycho of Nibelheim. He was infected by something, he was transmigrating into someone - something - else.
Unable to stand his sight anymore, Cloud fixed his eyes to the gun. Vincent's Death Penalty. "For a while I don't want to shoot this.." and with this statement the enigmatic Vincent, after having visited a cave in which visions had apparently occurred only to him, had left them two days ago. It was not the first time Vincent went away without explanation, to then re-join them after a few days. But it was the first time he entrusted his gun to Cloud.
Irony of fate, the Death Penalty appeared to Cloud one of the most suitable weapon to kill Sephiroth with. Vincent had extremely negative feelings towards Sephiroth - a sort of repulsion, probably. The son of his lost woman and the man who had stolen her from him.
But - it was difficult - impossible? - not impossible, certainly.
Because it was just his finger on the trigger. Not any particular gunslinger's ability was needed - all he needed was to pull it.
Pull it and break into pieces the man who was now offering himself to him as defenceless and vulnerable as a glass-statue.
/Why?/
Cloud didn't want to speak though his brains were a congestion of thoughts.
What - what was holding him back?
Devotion, maybe, that damned devotion he had for him, that boundless admiration he had never managed to scavenge from the depths of his ego.
Abruptly, the overgrowing sense of power that the feeble, easy trigger under his finger gave him reached the breaking point.
Cloud, in a sort of lapsus in which his wills of any kind had just disappeared - in a blankminded moment - in that moment Cloud shoot the Death Penalty.
But what followed was just a click.
An innocuous, inoffensive click.
And that innocuous, inoffensive click radically destroyed, devastated, annihilated Cloud.
In a moment their roles were reversed, and Cloud lost all his strength, all energy instantly deserted his body as if his soul had just elapsed.
The Death Penalty fell to the ground, his knees fell to the ground.
He was so weak - weak as he had always been, weak as he would always be - a weak being who struggled to survive.
But this was not the most perturbing thing.
The most perturbing thing was the unsuspected feeling which was gushing from his heart, which was tightening his throat.
/I haven't killed him/
In the blurred confusion he was now going through, Cloud saw three bullets falling from Sephiroth's white palm, then clinging briefly on the floor. He didn't know - didn't want to know - when Sephiroth had extracted them from the gun.
And maybe now his expression, his usually void eyes, looked like an open book.
- I guess you're now experimenting, Strife, that not always what we think we want - or what we think would be better for us - is what makes us happy. -Sephiroth's voice was almost ironic.
Cloud didn't dare looking up at him again. He had his eyes wide open, his voice strangled from something, his throat now burning.
/I haven't killed him/
Cloud knew it was absurd, knew perfectly that their final battle was just procrastinated.
But,while Sephiroth walked away, Cloud was finally able to discern that feeling which was suffocating him.
And it was euphoria - it was pure joy.
:
:
The End.
:
:
Author'sNotes: Ok, I don't know if this is a drabble, a one-shot, or what else. It just popped out in my mind, so here it is. I'm not a big yaoi fan, I usually try to avoid it if it's possible. This is not yaoi, and there is not supposed to be any sort of yaoi implication between the characters. Still, I have to admit that the relationship between Cloud and Sephiroth is ambiguous, and even if I don't see in it love that way, Cloud surely have strong feelings towards Sephiroth, near to idolatry.
So feel free to express your point of view on this topic, and tell me what you think about the story.
Swamp-eyes.