Leon's PoV

Nothing was real. I had to be dreaming. I had to have dreamed it all. I was lying in bed, but I was too afraid to open my eyes. If it were my bed, then it would all have been a dream—but I remembered passing out in Cloud's room, and if that was where I was, then it would have to be real. Damian would have to be… No. Impossible. I slowly forced my eyes open, and my worst fears were confirmed. Brightly colored posters covered every inch of the wall and ceiling, advertising movies and TV. Shows I had never heard of, except for one wall that was covered by shelves. Cloud's room. I closed my eyes, wanting to curse, but not knowing a word bad enough. I shifted slightly and realized my fingers were wrapped around something warm—felt like someone's hand. I squeezed gently, and whoever it was squeezed back, reassuringly. I rolled over and looked up. Then down; the arm led over the bed. Cloud was leaning against the bed, fast asleep, his fingers tangled with mine. I guessed he must have brought me back to his house, but I didn't remember. One thing I did remember, all too clearly. The image was branded in my mind; Damian, lying there, covered and surrounded by his own blood. His eyes were closed as though asleep, but he would never wake. Playing about his lips was the very smallest of smiles. I shivered and closed my eyes, but the image wouldn't go away. It wouldn't go away! I didn't want to remember! I moaned. Makeitstopmakeitstop Make IT STOP. Dimly I heard something moving, felt someone shaking me. Then everything suddenly, startlingly reverted to normal. My cheek was stinging, and Cloud was bending over me, looking worried. It was funny, but the first thing I noticed was how stressed he looked, his eyes darkened to nearly navy with some emotion.

"Don't start that again." It was phrased as an exasperated demand, but it came out sounding more like a plea. It surprised me, that he would care so much.

"Why do you care?" It came out more bitter than I meant it, and Cloud looked as though I'd smacked him.

"You're my friend, you unbelievable jerk." That made me smile, the fervent expression on his face, the way he looked so silly with his hair sleep-tousled, the idea of him being my friend. I didn't have friends. Cloud looked unsure of how to react. "So… how are you doing?" I sobered instantly, and it looked like Cloud was berating himself for the question. He really was an open book sometimes. The image washed over me again, and I firmly repressed any sound, but Cloud was watching me in a way that made me guess he already knew how I felt. He confirmed it the next second by sitting beside me on the bed and pulling me into a hug. I just let him hold me, glad of the comfort. Slowly I wrapped my arms around him, and we just sat, as the afternoon sun streamed in the window. Eventually, he began to sing, very softly, though the words were not in English.

"What is that song?" I asked when he was finished. A distraction, any distraction. Cloud answered me slowly.

"It's an ancient wedding song." I shivered; it had sounded more like a dirge or a lament. Cloud noticed my shiver, and answered it.

"It is awfully dark for that, isn't it? It's from a culture where a woman who married was declared dead by her family. After she wed, she would be treated as a stranger to them."

"That's barbaric." My voice was rough but calm, merely stating an observation.

"They were barbarians, in every sense of the word." He replied. "Do you want a translation?" I nodded. Any distraction. He began to speak, his voice carrying the words like poetry, so it almost seemed he was singing. The sound was hypnotic.

"Turn, turn, the world is turning. Give our friends our love and praise.

Turn, turn, the earth is turning, wish them well this day of days."

He kept speaking, in that odd rhythmic pattern, and each phrase made the song seem stranger and more sad. Finally, he reached the end of the song, and sat staring at the mattress. It looked like he was trying to gather courage to say something.

"He—left something for you. Said you were to have it." I was puzzled, and I knew it would show on my face. Cloud continued with the one word guaranteed to get my attention. "Damian. He gave me a letter for you." With that, he rose, graceful as a cat, and came back a moment later with an envelope. I felt odd; I wasn't sure if I wanted to read it. I wasn't sure I was up to it. I held the letter and stared at it, memorizing every detail of the cheap white printer paper, lightly embossed where my name had been written in Damian's graceful handwriting, the ballpoint leaving dents all the way through. Slowly, hypnotized, I tore open the flap. It had been glued, and I tore the paper a bit trying to get it open. It seemed to take an eternity to extract the sheet of harsh white copy paper inside. It too, was handwritten. The back was covered in light ridges where the writer had pressed too hard with a ballpoint pen. I opened it and read slowly, not really taking it in, but wanting, desperately, to understand.

Leon, if you're reading this, it means that I win our bet. Cloud isn't so bad. Right now, you're blaming yourself. I know you. Don't. I made my choice; it isn't your fault, it isn't Clouds, hell, it isn't even my parents, really. I just don't know how to cope anymore. So yeh, I took the coward's way out. You couldn't have helped. No one could. Don't blame yourself, just remember that I love you.

Damian

p.s. I want my Game Cube to be cremated with me ; )

I looked up from the paper with tears in my eyes. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or not; despite his words, I still felt guilty. I couldn't help but think that there was something I could do. Cloud was watching me, a concerned, almost protective expression on his face. I didn't want him to see me like this, weak.

"Want some water?" He asked. He seemed to be trying to pretend that I had succeeded in looking tough; I knew I hadn't, but I was grateful for the pity that didn't show in his expression.

"Please." My voice was hoarse, but sounded strong enough. That would have to do. It seemed to take him a long time, but eventually Cloud came back with a glass of cold water. I drained it quickly, rubbing the tears from my eyes, as he crossed over to his desk. One side held his computer, hooked up to speakers, and he worked on it for a moment before soft music drifted out. Celtic, if I had to guess.

"I noticed that you seem to like having music around." Was all he said. I nodded, and lay back, staring at the poster-covered ceiling that was so different from my own. The music kept playing, instrumental flute. A haunting dirge for someone I would never see again.

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Ugg. Short, and not that great. Sorry, my life's been just a wee bit hectic, and this chapter just fought me the whole way. The next one should be better.

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Dyslexic Angel