Disclaimer: I don't own any part of FFVII. But I do own a very thick geometry textbook. Yep…
AN: Oi. Another Yuffentine. Couldn't help it…but I will have a different pairing next. Cloud x Aeris in the next drabble.
.:Vicissitudes:.
"Why do I have to learn math? This is supposed to be an adventure, not school!" Yuffie whines, glaring accusingly at him. He is the six-foot tall, cloak-clad gunman who is not only entirely too pale, but apparently too scholarly for her own good.
His answer is earth-flooringly pragmatic. "Because you are rude, tactless, and uneducated; therefore, you are unfit to rule Wutai in your current state."
Cid chokes on his stick of tar, also known as a cigarette, and guffaws heartily. "That would be you in a nutshell, brat!"
She is hurt inside but does not show it. Instead, she skips ahead, her step light; it is only when she is far out of sight that her vivacious gait slows and is weighted to a despondent tread. Drops of liquid fall to the sunlit grass where nothing but dandelion fluff had fallen before.
…
a equals b, b equals c, c equals d
…
"What is the answer?" Vincent asks, impassive patience in his voice. She scowls, and she wishes for once that she could stab those pointy feet of his with her shuriken. Being difficult, she turns her head away and does not answer.
Twenty seconds of silence and Cid's temper boils over. "Goddamn (&(ing idiot girl! How hard is it to learn the Transitive Property?"
Her voice is venomous. "Maybe it's because I have a bad teacher."
Vincent's eyes turn away, and his body is rigid. Then in a blindingly rapid movement, his gun flashes silver-black and the shot flies at her feet. She jerks, her fear rising despite her defiance, and she feels that ineffable horror that had caught her heart at their first meeting. But the gun is already back in his holster—he leaves wordlessly, pressing on with nothing but cold apathy.
She looks down and sees the blood of the dead snake splattered on her sneakers.
…
a?
…
Cid tries to lighten the mood. "How about this? I'll give you a nice, real life example so you can understand with your little brain, brat."
She hmphs and refuses to look at him. He, who was defying all laws of meteorology and casting a veritable gloom on the road before them.
Cid ignores both offended parties. "Say that Vincent loves Tifa." Both offended parties suddenly transformed into two disgusted parties. Trust Cid to come up with an example like that. Vincent's hand, in particular, was inching surreptitiously toward his gun.
But Cid was not finished. "And Tifa loves Cloud, who loves Yuffie. So, what do we get, brat? Other than a bunch of sick relationships that's more tangled than Cait Sith's wires?"
She looks at Vincent, at the tired gauntness of his shoulders. She knows that he is far from physical exhaustion; petty travel at human speeds does not tax his enhanced body. He only walks in that manner when he is thinking about his dead lover, Lucrecia. And suddenly, she feels something foreign in her chest—something greedy, something excruciating, something commanding. And she knows she wants to act upon it.
In a voice so soft that it was almost timid, she musters as much courage as she can and obeys her heart. "Maybe…Yuffie loves Vincent but she doesn't want to say it. Because…there are too many things in the way."
He does not react, not even to correct her. The crushing pain resides once more in her chest, just like it did when her mother died, when her father first slapped her, when he first spoke of her. She hangs her head, already inured to the empty ache. She just wants to slash into coppery warmth now—a monster's or her own, it didn't matter. She had done it before.
"No." It was just one word, so quiet in his gravelly baritone. Both she and Cid glance up in surprise, but his face is turned away.
"Vincent loves Yuffie. It is a given."
Cid sputters. "That's no giv—"
But the foul-mouthed pilot stops at the smile upon Yuffie's face, more brilliant than the sun's rays.
