So I suppose this is part one. Thank you so much to everyone who left reviews for the prologue, and everyone who read it. Enjoy!
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Midgar is not at all a pleasant city. Cloud knows he doesn't live in the worst sector – two blocks away from him he hears stories of families of five sharing a single bed, or girls barely classified as teenagers stalking street corners – yet without doubt it is still the most dismal place he's ever visited.
It's also odd that the world's largest city, a fact that they're not going to let you forget, is just so claustrophobic. The grey, monotonous buildings loom over him and the busy, busy people swarm all around him. It's probably due to this that he never leaves their apartment.
Zack's been working as a mercenary ever since the two arrived at the city gates, taking whatever job he is offered. This makes Cloud feel guilty in a sense; all he can do is sleep all day and night, barely lifting a finger all the while. He can remember what happened the night before, but it all seems like a dream; perhaps it was nothing more than a delusion. When he woke up Zack was not around – something he's become increasingly used to – but there was a quickly scribbled note left on the table.
"Potatoes, chicken… vodka? Peas, carrots…" he mutters to himself as he mentally checks through his shopping list. He has something of a relieved smile on his face as he realises that he's managed to remember everything on the list, without fail. Good thing too; Zack only gave him ninety-four gil to spend, and at the moment only two single gil coins clink together in his pocket.
Stopping in his tracks someone protests with colourful language, but he merely blocks them out and gazes around. They huff as they barge past him and a loaf of bread is knocked from a plastic bag, falling onto the damp street floor.
"Pleasant," he states as soon as they've turned the corner.
Crouching down Cloud picks up the bread and wipes the grit and dirt off on his sleeve. Ah yes, this is why he never goes out. People here are just so rude; nothing like the village he grew up in, where everyone had a smile for each other. As he glances up at the rusty sky of the heavenless town he suspects that is the smog that's prolonging his sickness.
It's hard to tell the time in Midgar, as the only sunlight that seeps in is recycled and dull. Glancing down at his watch with the broken second hand he becomes conscious that it's already past five o'clock, and that he has no idea where he is.
"Excuse me," an unfamiliar voice calls down to him, "are you alright?"
Still crouching on the coarse ground he tears his eyes away from his watch and looks up at the young girl who is speaking to him. At first he assumes she's one of the very few rich people in the city: her clothes are unusually bright colour for Midgar – a sort of faded pink – and a woven basket full of fresh flowers is looped over her arm.
However, as he looks closer he sees that he was very much mistaken. The bottom of her dress is darkened from dirty rain water, and she doesn't seem to be bothered by the soot smudged across her pale face and arms. She's just another girl from the slums.
"Mister?" Cloud can't quite place her accent. She's not from Midgar, even though the harshness of their pronunciation has woven with her much softer way of speaking.
"Oh-!" Cloud says as he stands back up and wipes the dirt off of himself. The flower girl smiles, still waiting for an answer.
"I'm fine," he murmurs, but quickly adds, "thank you."
"I saw you on the ground here, and thought you might have been hurt. I know how the locals treat foreigners here, but as long as you're okay!"
Cloud nods a little, slightly surprised by her upbeat attitude. Pleasant, he thinks.
"Say, would you like to buy a flower?" she smiles so much that it reaches brilliant green eyes as she gestures down to the basket she's been carrying. It's full of yellow and white flowers, and Cloud gets the feeling that they're probably the only ones grown in the city. They smell vaguely like home, and the blonde smiles awkwardly.
"Sorry," he says honestly. "I only have two gil on me."
"They're only a gil!"
"Well then…" he fumbles through his pocket and pulls out a single copper coin – Zack probably wouldn't appreciate a flower, of all things – and puts in into her open hand.
"Thanks!"
The flower girl plucks a yellow flower out of her basket for him, before slipping the coin into a small pouch. Cloud hazily wonders how she can possibly making a living out of selling something so rare for so little, especially seeing as no one here wants flowers.
"Mister," she continues, albeit a bit uneasily. "I don't mean to interfere, but are you… lost?"
Cloud blushes and rubs the back of his head as he laughs under his breath, mostly at himself. His first real trip out alone, and he's managed to get completely lost- he feels foolish and like a child again, but rather long for his mother, now he wants Zack to come and rescue him. This just makes him blush more. The slum girl seems to understand his dilemma to an extent.
"You must be new here then. Oh, we don't know each others names, do we?"
Cloud shakes his head.
"I'm Aerith Gainsborough."
"Cloud Knightsguard," he introduces himself as. For some reason, he feels bad for lying, even if it is to a stranger.
---
It doesn't take the two long to get back to Cloud's temporary accommodation, and he thanks her whole-heartedly once they get to the sector two slums. She tells Cloud that it's no problem at all- why, she's the one who's grateful; you have no idea how difficult it is to sell flowers! But of course it's getting late, so Aerith pushes his flower behind his ear and quickly goes on her way.
Cloud pushes the door open and calls out. His smile fades a little when Zack doesn't call back, but he is content none the less. The light switch is as stiff as usual, but soon the apartment is alive with the subtle buzz of mako forged electricity.
Suddenly Midgar doesn't seem so bad. Back in Nibelheim, no matter how pleasant it was to the eye, Cloud never really got anything out of it. The boy had no friends- he was bullied, even. But now things look up. He's met a vibrant, good-natured person today, someone who he already thinks he can call a friend, and now the young blonde is standing over a simmering saucepan of pasta, waiting for Zack to come home.
Cloud smiles. As he holds the now boiling pasta by the handle he becomes aware of just how hungry he actually is, and for the first time in weeks he doesn't feel sick. Maybe, just maybe, he and Zack can start their new lives here after all. Maybe they ca-
The pan literally leaps from his hand as he reels back in shock, the boiling hot water splashing over his face before forming warm pools around his feet. It takes a few seconds for him to realise what made him jump so. Spinning on his heels he turns to the apartment door that's torn open with a crash, and ignoring the water that's now seeped into his boots he darts around the table.
But no, it wasn't the thud of the door that had surprised him. Rather, it was the sound of a something flying through the doorway and crashing down on his living room floor. The door swings on its hinges with a creak, and Cloud subconsciously pushes it to as he kneels down on the stone floor.
"Urgh… hey Cloud," a very bloody Zack says weakly, somehow still managing to grin.
Cloud can't find the words to reply for a while, but simply looks down at the ex-SOLDIER's body. There's a blood stain steadily growing under his torn shirt, and his bruised wrist doesn't quite appear to be twisted at a natural angle. His face too is bloody, probably from a cut in the midst of his hair.
Propping Zack up on one of his knees he wraps an arm gently around his shoulders.
"I… I thought it was you who looked after me, Zack," he eventually says, and he doesn't choke on his words.
"Heh, sorry kid."
"It's okay… where's the restore materia?"
Zack is a little hesitant, not because he doesn't trust Cloud, but because he doesn't trust Cloud's healing ability. In the end he realises that he doesn't have much choice and feebly points over to the cabinet under the sink with his one good hand. Cloud wastes no time and slips it into his wrist bangle, and in an instant his hands are humming with a soothing green glow.
"I thought you were working." His voice it a little calmer now.
"I was," Zack explains breathlessly, and Cloud's hands slip into his messy hair. "Good pay too- two hundred gil. I was on my way back… a few hours ago, and I ran into some Shin-Ra grunts by the sector eight station. Turns out one of them recognised me… took me ages to out run them."
"You actually managed to run away from Shin-Ra – how many were there, four or five? – and with no weapons?" Cloud sounds somewhat sceptical.
Zack looks up with him with a mixed expression of amusement and mock hurt, but his body jerks a little from a jolt of pain as Cloud grasps his broken wrist too tightly. He doesn't complain out loud, but Cloud briefly sees his eyes flash.
"I was First Class, remember? You think I can't out run a few over-weight guards?"
"… even if they do have clubs and firearms?"
Zack doesn't look as if he has an answer and merely pokes his tongue out. Cloud cringes at the sight; he might not be a medic, or a white mage, but he definitely knows blood dripping from someone's mouth isn't a good sight. Letting go of the injured body without warning he scurries to the cupboard, and pulls a few rolls of bandages and a bottle of potion into his arms.
"Bedroom," he states bluntly.
Just about managing to haul himself to his shaky feet the black haired boy walks through the to the adjoining room before half-throwing himself and half-falling onto his unmade bed.
He looks over to Cloud who is now sitting on the end of the bed in the middle of a balancing act. A bowl of lukewarm water is on his left knee, served in a chipped breakfast bowl, and the potion and bandages are on his other.
He wipes his bloody fingers on his trousers and in a bizarrely upbeat mood he rips open the dressings. Zack's already picked up the greenish liquid and talks between mouthfuls. "You're strangely… happy… today, Cloud."
Shrugging as if to blow it off he pushes Zack down with playful force- he's obviously more relaxed now that he knows his friend is over the worst of it. Laying back as Cloud dabs his bloody chest with a wet towel he shudders in discomfort, his feelings of uneasiness painted clearly on his face as the warm water runs down his stomach.
"Cloud…" he questions. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
The boy shakes his head.
"Damn it. We're definitely getting you home."