Ghost
True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about but few have seen. – Francois de La Rochefoucauld

I: question

"Vincent?"
"Yes, Yuffie?"

They were sitting on the deck of the airship, swinging their legs freely over the railings, their feet bitten by the quick wind that tore through the sky. The sun was high above their heads, in the very center of the pale blue sky, kissed with fat clouds.

She turned to him and said, "There's a bet goin' on."

"About what?"

Yuffie finished the last of her ice cream cone, throwing back her head to catch the little triangle of crisp cone. The wind blew his bangs lightly across his face and sent the pages of the book he was reading fluttering and waving back and forth.

"50 says your claw ain't nothing but decoration."

At that, Vincent had to shake his head, hanging it low in utter disappointment. It's been over two years and still, all they could focus on was the most monstrous elements of his body and soul. His voice sounded like acid when he replied, "They're right. It's just something I wear." She paused to stare up at the sky above, one hand slanted to protect her eyes from the glare of the sun. She asked, "Can I see it?"

"What?"

"Your left hand. No one ever seen it before."

Of course, he was taken back by the request and promptly shook his head no. She laughed and stood, wiping off the crumbs of her ice cream cone from her lap. And she said, without even turning to look at him, "Someday, you'll show me. Ya know, parts of you no one's seen."

She leaned forward, to brush aside a piece of his hair from his head, her fingers pausing slightly to touch the very tip of his nose. He wanted to tell her that her love for him was nothing but illusion. Soon, he'll push her hand away and say there's no reason for her to follow him, like some lovesick child hungry, a child he couldn't feed.

But for now, he was content on silently sitting there, looking up at Yuffie as her hand gently wandered over his lips, her fingers asking the question.

This time, he didn't know what to say as she leaned even closer and brushed her lips against his. It was a kiss that tasted of vanilla and of the sky, high above.

II: linger

I wonder what he wants from me.

His eyes are not Cloud's; they are of a finer blue, of the sea after it swallowed a ship and all the life in it. His hair was even longer than mine, of silver that shone even when no light was on it.

I see him watching me from the corner, darkness that wraps loving arms around his slender body. His mouth is a harsh cut, a jagged line of malice that severed the porcelain beauty of his face. All I can do is clasp my hands in prayer, closing my eyes against the temptation. I wait; he waits as well, his breaths mimicking my own.

My mother once said all things are capable of love. I don't want to know what he's thinking, watching me. If he can love, that alone will kill me.

III: belief

Every night at around eleven o'clock, Denzel falls asleep in the living room, his head bobbing lightly over his toys. He would smile and gather the sleeping boy in his arms, breathing in deep the scent of Denzel; of the grass from the backyard, of cookies he stole without Tifa knowing and the wax of the crayons he used to make pictures for Marlene.

Cloud knows, as he stares into the open canvas of Denzel's sleeping face, that he's bounded to this boy.

When Cloud can finally start believing, without a trace of doubt or fear, that things really will be okay; when that day comes, he will call Denzel his son.

His whole life once hurt, now Cloud can find peace listening to Denzel's breaths as he sleep, dreaming of places far away. Cloud leans forward and kisses Denzel lightly on the forehead. Soon, the boy will be eight, too old for kisses and cuddles.

He's already practicing being a man, carrying sticks in his fists and waving them high over his head. He turns his face away when Tifa kisses him good-night. The sudden flush of his cheeks and the swell of his little chest when he sees Marlene makes Cloud laugh.

When he is near him, Cloud forgets that he ever hated life.

"Sorta cute, isn't he?" Cloud turned to see Tifa leaning against Denzel's doorframe, her hands busy untying the apron she wore around her waist. "Little bugger gets away with everything."

"My fault, I'm spoiling him rotten." Cloud brushed aside one of Denzel's bangs and stood from his crouch near the boy's bed. He walked over to Tifa, his arm reaching out to wrap around her waist. She fit against the crook of his elbow as if she was always meant to be there.

She reached up to lay a hand lightly against Cloud's cheek. "It's okay. All fathers do."

IV: illusion

When you create something, you love it.

I destroyed his life, took away anything that was even remotely human in him. I conquered his woman, marking her with my seed and made the child that should have been his. I hear his steps, the iron striking against the staircase as he climbs up and up to meet me. Funny how he's moving up, towards the heavens even, to send me to hell. As a child, I love horror films, of winged monsters that ate away pathetic humans, of nightmares that materialized into flesh and rusty steel, hungry for blood. What I did to him was a gift.

I can see his shadow, the cape that flaps in the sudden surge of wind, striking against the metal bars of the tower. His figure is one of shadows and darkness, a presence fit to bring me into an ecstasy that heralds my death.

He is my creation and belongs only to me.

V: fake

He took Vincent's head in the vise of his left arm. Overhead, the ceiling fan whirled lazily creating more sound than wind. He hiccupped, sending a plume of alcohol into Vincent's face. The beer bottles clicked against the bar as he grabbed fistfuls of Vincent's hair and yanked at them, laughing manically as he did so.

"YOU LOOK LIKE A GIRL."
"Shut your mouth, Cloud."

The bar was filled with people, mostly men who struggled to catch a glimpse (or even more than that) of Tifa as she served cold glasses of beer and tiny dishes of salted peanuts. Vincent was slowly realizing that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to go to Seventh Heaven even if Cloud invited him under the ruse that it was a business meeting of utter importance. That's what Cloud said, "utter importance". Vincent should have known; Cloud never talked like that unless he was trying to hide something.

In the two hours since they first pulled up stools at the bar, Cloud managed to down six bottles of beer and three shots of whiskey. Vincent still lingered over his first gin and tonic, served with four slices of lime. What could he say? Vincent liked his liquor like he liked his life; bitter with a sour aftertaste.

"Okay – listen!" When Cloud got drunk, his eyes glistened as if he was on the verge of tears. The way he talked, the way he slammed his fists and waved off whatever words Vincent tried to say, was reminiscent of how Cloud once was, before Aeris' death; loud, cocky and filled with energy that bordered on the edge of recklessness. "You're a goddamn fake."

He burped and leaned his head against his raised left hand. His blond head swayed back and forth as a smile spread across his face, the corners of his upturned mouth pressing hard against his cheeks. And he sang out, "Fake, fake, fake!"

Vincent gritted his teeth together, lifting his drinking glass to his lips. He took a small gulp of his drink, barely tasting the liquor and shook his head. "You're even worse than Cid."

"YOU'RE MORE WORSER THAN CID! AT LEAST HE'S GETTING MARRIED!"

Cloud jabbed a finger into the air above their heads and titled his head back to finish off his sixth beer. Vincent wanted to raise a hand as well, not to emphasis his words, but rather to signal Tifa to come rescue him from the babbling drunk rambles of Cloud. At times like this, he completely regrets that for more than a year, he devoted his life to follow the orders of this short smart-ass with a major grudge. It was frightening really, Vincent thought as he sipped at his drink, how much life can change in so short a time.

"I know," Cloud paused to let a loud belch escape his mouth, "why you and Yuffie ain't fucking like rabbits yet."

"Because I don't want to, perhaps?"

"LI-AR! It's cause you don't want nobody to think ya a pedophile." Cloud nodded even though Vincent's face read all sorts of threats and insults if he continued to speak, "She's what.. oh man, eighteen, nineteen right? Where you at? Sixty, seventy? What the hell! Hojo's a sick bitch!"

"Continue speaking, Cloud and I promise you a world of hurt –"

"But think, man, think about this. Ya can't wait for Shelke to grow up, man. That's just gross. She ain't Lucrecia." He burped again, and reached to pat Vincent on the head, "Living in the past ain't getting you nowhere."

And before Cloud passed out, sending up a shower of peanuts everywhere and empty bottles clattering onto the floor, he managed to say, "Vincent, you just scared."

Vincent polished off his drink in one sudden gulp before he stood to pull one of Cloud's limp arms around his shoulders. Just his luck; Cloud not only gets royally drunk each and every time they meet up to reminisce about old fights but he also is an existentialist with a blunt, perceptive view of things Vincent swore no one knew.

Damn.

VI: sighting

He caught them kissing over a sink piled high with dirty dishes.

He didn't know what to do, so he pulled on boots and his jacket and went outside.

She was waiting for him, by the tree, carrying her metal lunchbox with one hand. There was a gap in her front teeth when she smiled and when he reached out to take her gloved hand in his, she smiled wide.

"Hey, 'Zel."

Though he seen them kissing lots of times, it was a different thing all together to lean forward on his tiptoes and try to mush his lips against hers. "HEY!" Marlene pushed Denzel off of her, jamming her lunchbox into the pit of his stomach. "That's gross!"

For all the times he saw them kissing, it wasn't as fun as he thought it was. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and grinning, grabbed a hold of Marlene's pigtails and gave them a gentle yank.

"Now you've got my cooties!"
"YUCKY! COME BACK HERE 'ZEL!"