Woo-hoo! I like not being on a schedule. Sorry about slow updates. laughs And, I apologize for fouling up Reno's mouth so much. I guess I didn't realize it at the time, but, damn, he's a potty-mouth. Anyway...I was debating some things about Cloud's earlier experience here, and how I wanted to go about it...I decided that he at least needed something of a friend, but definitely not Zack, Reno, or anyone like that...and, of course, not Sepiroth...and I really, really hate OCs that are given overly large roles...so, I managed to come up with a sort-of friend, and he is...
...Oh, you'll see. /Devious grin/
The Unwanted, The Unattainable
Chapter 3
"There is a fatality about all physical and intellectual distinction...The ugly and the stupid have the best of it in this world. They can sit at their ease and gape at the play. If they know nothing of victory, they are at least spared the knowledge of defeat."
- Oscar Wilde; The Picture of Dorian Gray
Sometimes, a daydream could lift him and carry him off for miles. He would watch for hours, chin in his hands, as the breeze would ruffle affectionately in the greenest of leaves, raise up warm, hazy clouds of golden dirt, and turn its welcoming caress on his face with a drifting sensation as it drew out his most impossible and sweetest fantasies. The soft whisper of winds would leisurely pull his conscience past the mountains so near to his window and scatter his soul in places he'd only met in dreams, white petals falling on a distant lake.
And when he wasn't daydreaming, he'd nap to the sound of a guitar and an unpolished voice in the wavering shade of the willow tree. He didn't have any friends; he was excused often – though they were all polite lies – as far too soft to be part of any group of boys, and, when it came down to it, had one too many chromosomes to play with the girls. He got used to it, though; he realized a surprising romanticism in being alone so often, and soon was able to brush off how everyone treated him like a highly infectious disease and preferred to ignore his existence.
There were two who didn't, however; his fair-haired mother, who was somewhat of an outcaste, being the most obvious. The other, also an outcaste, was a blind man who always sat beneath that willow tree with his guitar, singing about everything and nothing at the same time.
That summer afternoon, the afternoon they'd met, the weather as agreeable, as always, as Cloud, lost for something to do, heard a gentle tune from the willow tree not too far from the village.
"What shall I, frail man, be pleading?" The man sang, not noticing as the young blonde approached silently and sat in the shade across from him. "Who for me be interceding... ...when the just are mercy needing?"
The guitar had difficulties producing sound from being so old and worn, but the man's slow, eased strumming created a marvelous, unique, and strangely heartbreaking beauty.
"What a sight for a sore soul." The guitar quieted for a moment and Cloud watched curiously as the man faced him with those clouded, unfocused blind-man's eyes.
"Why yes, I can see you, boy." The man spoke, bemused. "Not through these human eyes, but the Lady Planet shows me your face. She also tells me I mustn't ask why you have come here alone. She finds me terribly impolite."
The man chuckled quietly, strumming a single chord on his guitar. "But you couldn't mind; you will leave my company soon. Lady Planet affectionately calls me 'Wick,' if you should know, and you may call me that, as well; I am, after all, only the sustenance of that short-lived flame, and have proven myself the shortest-lived diversion alive so far. Much like a wick on a candle, and for that burning moment...this is mine, for you, and the Lady urges me to thank you for your indulgence. Now, tell me, boy; what are you called?"
"Cloud," was the whispered response.
The man grinned, his blind eyes unnervingly still as he did so. "It is a fitting name."
"Oh?" Cloud leaned forward, resting his chin on his knees and feeling strangely at ease with the blind man before him.
"Cloud..." The man started strumming again, getting a look on his face of vague concentration as he leaned his head back. He started to sing. "...Planet saw his eyes of blue... ...so 'clouded' with contempt; I knew... ...his loneliness was ever true..."
The blonde regarded Wick silently, trying to comprehend the meaning of those words as the man sang on:
"But when the wall on Cloud's heart fails... ...and then follows love's bitter trails... ...the loneliness, someday, curtails..."
It was a moment when Cloud knew that this man, however shunned by society as he was, was someone that, because of that very fact, could see straight into his soul. Whether it was really the "Lady Planet," as he claimed, Cloud wasn't quite sure, but he knew, at least, that there was a strangely sentimental connection between them. It was almost a romantic moment, one that would have been perfectly chronicled like a scene in a foreign film.
The man had gone on to sing about the bowel movements of hummingbirds.
-o-o-o-
Cloud was a nostalgic boy, and though there wasn't immediately anything that he should have been nostalgic for, he felt that those bittersweet days were yet the most beautiful moments his life would ever see. When he thought back to Wick, the abandonment of that life for the betterment of his body and to prove himself in society...
...suddenly, didn't seem so appealing a prospect.
He'd never said 'good-bye' to Wick when he'd left his hometown, hadn't even mentioned that he was thinking of leaving. He'd wanted to keep those times closer to his mind than any memory of a farewell. The many songs that had shared their company on those windswept summer afternoons would stay as memories just beyond their reach, and perhaps he would be able to keep those times just a bit closer to reality if he had no 'farewell' to finalize that they were long gone.
Cloud also came to realize that, however absurdly different Wick's songs were from the songs that were presently ringing in his ears, the latter still reminded him of home.
"I'm the color of blood that flows in a machine!" It was an ear-splitting hyena screech at best. "...Mako green, mako green...!"
Cloud's gaze nervously stole to the side at his new roommate. After some petty trifling between the fiery 'disciplinarian' Reno and just about anyone else who had the guts to reason with him, they had finally been pushed enough to realize that one of the new recruits had lost his nerve and fled from the camp with all his things, leaving one very convenient opening for Cloud.
Unfortunately, his roommate was not quite so convenient.
"Lost my SOLDIER in a mako dream!" The young man threw his head passionately and continued his abysmal singing, "...Hear his scream, hear his scream...!"
Indeed, he was neither as insightful nor as introspective as Wick. Standing awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of what to say or do, Cloud just watched as the much taller, skinny, dark-haired boy threw himself about in a frenzied song. Eventually, he decided it might do to close the door to at least save the hallway's passer-bys from the stomach-turning singing, and this apparently saved him as well; the boy finally noticed him and stopped singing, staring in wonder.
"Yo?" The young man watched him expectantly, his word coming out as more of a question than a greeting. Cloud glanced around anxiously for lack of anything better to do, and his gaze flickered over near the other boy instead of actually looking at him.
"...Hello?" The boy asked louder, stepping forward a foot, which was a considerable distance in one of the barracks' tiny rooms. Cloud suppressed a flinch and forced himself to look up. 'This is my chance,' he told himself, 'for a new beginning.'
"...Uh, yeah – I mean – hi." Cloud considered smiling but decided it might not be the best impression, considering the situation. Besides, while smiling was normally seen as a benign gesture, his experience with that had never been quite so friendly. He kept his face straight, thus, because; he at least knew there was a reason – though he didn't know it – that his smiles had been so repulsive to everyone.
"Are you my new bunkmate?" The boy shifted and folded his arms impassively. Cloud also shifted, but less out of boredom and more out of discomfort. He almost nodded, but his overactive self-consciousness red-flagged him before he did. Instead, he tightened his face in a way he assumed – rather, hoped – looked confident and dutiful. He waited a moment before speaking to be sure he wouldn't stutter.
"...Yes." He stopped himself before his face could fall in relief, and he ended up looking somewhat awkward. At least, that was what he imagined himself to look like; it could have just been his self-confidence – or lack thereof – speaking,
"Oh...okay." The dark-eyed boy stared at him, looking half disinterested and half contemplative. Cloud kept his gaze away from the boy's, instead focusing on the brownish-tan skin where it met his curly black hairline. The boy sniffed. "Hey, it doesn't matter," he finally said. "As long as you don't bother me or my friends, and stay outta my stuff." He donned a waiflike grin. "Name's Garth."
Before Cloud could even reply, the dark-haired young man turned his back and started tinkering with a long, black case of some sort. Frowning boyishly, Cloud slowly set his bag down by the empty bunk and blinked dumbly before lowering himself onto the stiff bedding.
It didn't seem so bad, though he had to wonder what Garth meant by "friends;" as far as he knew, inter- and intra-lodging socialization had been prohibited. Perhaps, he then realized, he was only being naïve for thinking that everyone followed rules in this camp.
Give a teenaged boy a rule written in glass, and watch the sledgehammers fly.
Cloud watched silently as the older boy self-righteously ignored his presence and sat back on the bunk across from the blonde. He sat a worn-out guitar on his knee and hummed along to a few chords before looking up and catching Cloud staring. The shy-eyed boy stiffened his lips and glanced away immediately, feigning innocence, though it was already too obvious he'd been looking.
"Yo..." Garth started, looking vaguely amused, "...you're a new cadet, right?"
"Mmm," Cloud hummed 'yes' and nodded his head once. Garth's amusement seemed to grow just slightly, and the dark-eyed boy lifted an eyebrow quickly before dropping it again. Cloud was curious, but only for a moment.
"Do you know your meal schedule?" The question seemed a little out-of-the-blue, but then Cloud realized what the boy was implying. He tilted his head slightly, 'no.'
"Okay then," Garth said, as if there was something obvious that Cloud was missing. "I think you might want to head down there now."
"Oh." Cloud hesitated for a moment, feeling awkward again. Not knowing exactly what to do, he just did the simplest, hardest-to-botch thing he could thing of: he got up, nodded 'thanks' to Garth, and headed out the door.
The hallways were, thankfully, quite simply arranged and easy to get around in. While they were narrow, they were straightforward and their organized block-arrangement made up for any stifled feelings of claustrophobia that Cloud might have felt otherwise. There were even mythril-plated signs on the walls that offered direction to the weak-minded.
His fierce pride disallowing him to use the signs, it took Cloud a few minutes to find the mess hall where he'd been earlier. The tall, thoroughly rusted doors stood mildly imposing before him as he considered what may or may not have been happening on the opposite them. Mostly, he was shied by the fact that it was oddly quiet on the other side, save for the unmistakable sound of clinking utensils and young bodies occasionally shifting in their seats.
Had it been a full, loud, busy hall, Cloud would have felt much better about his situation. A quiet hall where any sound other than eating and shuffling immediately drew everyone's attention wasn't anywhere near as easy to enter. Tentatively, Cloud approached the door, before he was stopped by a boy's low hiss.
"No, stop!" This boy, looking to be no older than 12 years, came out of who-knows-where and tugged Cloud back before his hand could reach the door. Cloud stared at the younger boy, gentle face tightened by a startled expression. The boy frowned back, looking surprisingly condescending, and dragged them behind an adjacent wall.
"What're you, stupid? You can't go in there now." Despite his younger age and a voice pitch higher than Cloud's, the boy had an intimidating air about him. Cloud continued to stare at him as he peeked into the next room through a wall vent. His hair was the exact same blonde colour as Cloud's, but shorter and better-kept, brushed back and shaped to his head as if someone else had decided the style for him. The blonde boy had a youthful, round face and a small, feminine nose. He might have even looked sweet, but his blue eyes – the same blue as Cloud's – and thin lips held such a strong severity that the boy came across as downright unapproachable. The boy turned and looked at Cloud.
"Come on," he ordered, and noticed what was either confusion or hesitation on Cloud's face, "...and you'll be sorry if you don't do what I say!" The strict matter-of-factness of his statement made Cloud somewhat scared, and he was far too intimidated by this younger boy to even consider doubting him. Without a word, Cloud followed the other blonde out through many hallways.
When they reached a secured door that read, "Authorized Personnel Only," Cloud was ready to turn back and call it a night, but the younger boy went straight up to it, pushed an absurdly long sequence into the keypad, and dragged Cloud through the opened metal door. Cloud stared at the boy and the door in amazement, only just beginning to wonder just who he was associating with.
The boy led him up a long, narrow flight of stairs until they came to a long row of doors, and they went into the second door. Instruments and security screens with views of indistinctive spots in the building took up most of the space in the nearly dark room. The boy touched a finger to his thin lips and gave Cloud a glance, warning him to remain silent. He then pushed open another, smaller door and crawled into a crevice in the side wall.
Cloud followed reluctantly, crawling up beside the boy and looking down from where he sat. They were nearly at the top of a huge, extremely deep library. It was round and went down almost farther than Cloud's eyes could see. The walls entertained various platforms and ladders and, frankly, made him feel like he would tip over and fall down any moment. Breaking his stupor, the boy hissed quietly to himself, hopping onto the first platform and beginning his descent. Cloud followed him down until they stopped halfway.
"Uhm..." he mumbled meekly, touching the boy's shoulder. The boy glanced at him.
"What?" he whispered impatiently. Cloud shrugged slowly and gently cleared his throat.
"What...are we doing?" He asked. The boy huffed, barely annoyed, and turned to stare down the centre of the tall room.
Cloud's gaze followed and he stopped moving for a moment; his breath then jumped straight out of his lungs when he saw who was sitting at the bottom, reading silently to himself:
Sepiroth.
He looked over anxiously and noticed the younger boy's eyes shining in determination. Confused, Cloud sighed and stared down at the crown of the extremely fair-haired general.
"Do you know who that is, or are you even stupider than you look?" The boy glanced at him with a not-quite-there smirk. Cloud didn't necessarily mind the insulting and patronizing tone the boy was taking with him. In fact, in a twisted way, it was comforting; it reminded him of home.
"...I know him."
"Of course you do." The other blonde boy smirked again, strongly this time. "I bet he's your idol, too. All you stupid teenagers and your stupid hero worship." His voice took on a cruel tone and his thin brows furrowed in something of annoyance. Cloud lifted his brows innocently, but was far from brave enough to reply to that comment.
"Sepiroth...he'll be done in someday...soon." The corners of the boy's eyes turned up as he smiled maliciously. Cloud stared at him, eyes wide.
"What?" He asked with stifled concern. Unfortunately, Cloud was a boy who was far too easily convinced of things, and that sometimes led his logical reasoning to be fogged over.
"Hey, just shut up," the boy breathed, obviously lacking any sense of discretion. Cloud shrugged half-heartedly and tried to keep his breathing – and body – steady as the other blonde hopped down toward the ground floor.
Cloud stopped following the boy at only a few metres above the ground, crouched behind a large pile of books. His gaze followed the other blonde as the boy silently slipped down and snuck up near Sepiroth's back, brandishing some kind of short throwing knife.
Cloud's head was throbbing with the unnecessary adrenaline, eyes following the slow, stealthily moving figure of the other boy as it neared the general. Suddenly, Cloud felt a flurry of anxieties pile up on his mind as he considered what, however unlikely, might be going on.
The boy didn't look about to throw the knife, though; he was holding it as if to stab. He crept with agonizing slowness and drew his hand back, poised to hit. The synthetic candlelight cast a low glow and was making Sepiroth's hair a soft yellow colour, barely showing up in the reflection of the finely polished knife.
Cloud wondered if he should have fled and considered doing so at that point. He realized, however, that his gaze would not tear away from the frighteningly strange boy and pristine general. He winced as the boy's hand – and the knife – flew down at Sepiroth...
...and, in a blur of shadows and silver, was caught in a sturdy hand before it could make contact.
"Rufus...what a pleasant surprise." Sepiroth remarked coolly, his book set neatly on the table and his built hand gripping the blonde boy's slender wrist. The general's thin, handsome lips quirked up in a dry, humourless smile as the boy snarled menacingly at him.
"Rghh!" The boy, Rufus, tugged his wrist back furiously but could not move it from Sepiroth's fierce grip. The man's grip tightened and the boy's fingers lost a little colour, slowly uncurling and letting the knife fall harmlessly to the floor, glinting reproachfully under the dim light before letting out a loud clang against the marble tile.
"Let go!" The boy whined angrily. "Rrr...let go!" He tugged harder and Sepiroth lifted a brow, surveying him silently, and then he turned to look directly at the stack of books behind which Cloud was kneeling.
"Don't feel the need to hide," he remarked dryly. It took a few moments, but when Cloud realized that the fierce general was addressing him, he whispered a meek 'oh' and stood up perhaps a bit too quickly, slipping on an open book and falling down against the side of the stack. Two or three books were thrown in a low arc and tumbled onto the stairs, and one particularly large encyclopedia came off a stack and onto the back of his head as he went forward.
He squinted and smiled weakly despite himself. Rubbing his head with a chagrined blush, he stole a glance upward and saw the other two staring at him: Sepiroth with barely concealed confusion, and Rufus with complete irritation.
"Sorry," was the first thing he said on instinct, but neither of the others seemed to pay him much mind. The general and the boy's attention had returned to one another as Sepiroth stared down, fiery aqua-green eyes set in an impassive stare to volley Rufus' stormy, boyish scowl.
"Let go!" The boy insisted again after a small silence, tugging his wrist again. "Let go, let go, letgoletgo!" His voice had risen to an irate screech, and he seemed not to have noticed – or cared – that Sepiroth's grip was getting no looser, and his resolve was growing no weaker.
"As much as I enjoy our conversations, I won't have time or patience for this sort of foolishness again," Sepiroth stated matter-of-factly, only succeeding in irking the struggling blonde further. "Now you have a playmate, so you can have your little game of 'Guerilla Warfare' with him."
Ignoring the enraged hiss that the boy ground out, Sepiroth curtly released his wrist and strode out of the room, promptly taking the respect-demanding air away and leaving only the bitter feeling of an awkward defeat.
"Asshole!" Rufus yelled after him, but Cloud had a feeling that if Sepiroth heard the comment – which was likely, as shown from his remarkable hearing – he wouldn't have cared.
The younger boy then turned to glare at Cloud. Rufus' blue eyes, which might have even looked very pleasant on other terms, were ablaze with permanent annoyance as he shot figurative daggers at Cloud for his lack of participation.
"We'll get him," the young boy spoke in a low, tenacious voice. "Someday, we'll get him!"
The moment the young Rufus' sharp stare met Cloud's meek one, he knew there would be no getting out and no getting away. Judging by his words, the other blonde intended for Cloud to stay, and, even had Cloud been brave enough to, he wouldn't have known how to disentangle himself from his situation.
Cloud sighed inwardly and only blinked his tired acknowledgement at Rufus. With vague, sarcastic amusement, Cloud thought to himself on how this sort of situation might have constituted one of them saying something about "the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
"Hey, move it!" Rufus kicked his shin and gestured Cloud to leave the library behind him. "Are you always this spacey?"
Cloud shrugged apologetically and followed the loud, demanding boy out and to gods-know-where-else. Perhaps it wasn't a "beautiful" friendship, but...at least it was something.
Never mind that a certain something had "bad news" written all over it.
-o-o-o-
sigh Well, that's all for now...sorry it's so crappy. Xx I was...omg. I'm too tired to even finish this A/N without sounded totally retarded. yawn Goodnight...
(Hey. It's morning now. I wrote the last half of this story at 2 am while being very tired, and that usually is the time that I start writing really WEIRD. So don't mind it, please. I'll write the next one faster – and when I'm fully awake. xD)