If you ask for recommendations on the best nightlife spots in Midgar, anyone who has been to the city would never miss naming Cait Sith Sips as one of them.

Visiting the cocktail lounge is in every drink enthusiasts' once-in-your-lifetime list.

It runs from 3pm to 1am daily and reservations are on a limited basis.

Located on the 110th floor of the Shinra Hotel building, its dim lighting and glass walls offer customers an intimate panoramic viewing of the entire city.

Women and men dressed in refined evening wear crowd among its lofty fittings, drinking glasses of cocktails with prices that amount to a year's worth of salary for most of the city's working population.

Only the elite of all elites come here. They're the only ones who can afford to anyway.

Rumour has it that the owner used to be a fortune teller who got lucky and hit the jackpot.

Others say that he (or she) might just be a C-level executive working under Midgar's number 1 fashion house, Shinra Ltd.

Who knows?

None of it really matters as long as the business continues to offer food and drinks that serve to distract the customers enough from asking.

The time is 10.50pm on Cloud's wristwatch.

This is the third bar that he has been into since leaving the studio a couple hours ago.

To his right sits Zack. To his left the client who's responsible for dragging him and the other man from bar to bar.

The meeting was supposed to end 4 hours ago but the client turns out to be a heavy drinker and wouldn't let people go unless they hear everything that she has to say.

And you know what they say about 'the client is king'.

Zack also didn't mind being dragged around. Why would he? The client's not only a hot and sexy big-titted milf but also a (self-proclaimed) 'fashion influencer' who high street fashion brands trip themselves over to hire as their representative.

For the last 20 minutes, Cloud has been listening to the client going on a rant with her arms flailing around.

"Like I just don't get these motherfuckers. Talking about how I'm failing as a mom just because I pose in bras and undies. It's because I'm a mom that I should be allowed to model for lingerie brands! Mommies out there need to see people who look like them and feel good about their bodies. Do they really expect me to just keep on modelling for these generic brands?"

"Ridiculous," he says, sipping his glass of sweet potato bourbon.

One word answers are all that he has been doing so far.

"Right? Ridiculous, isn't it?" the client repeats before her eyes drift to his right. "You think so too, don't you Zack?"

No answer.

Cloud turns to find Zack staring at his phone.

The other man has been doing this since stepping foot into the first bar.

There's not a single moment when the phone's not in his hand. If he's not bombarding someone with texts and calls, he's just constantly checking his phone for replies or return calls.

"Zack, Priscilla's talking with you," Cloud chides.

Still no answer.

The client taps his left knee lightly, then leans forward to whisper, "What's wrong with him?"

Cloud shakes his head. "Don't mind him. He's just a bit out of it today."

"Who's out of it?"

He turns again and meets Zack's dull stare. "You are."

"Well, my apologies! I'll fix my behaviour now."

There's not a single ounce of apology in Zack's tone. It's just plain mockery.

But he doesn't harp on it. It's not really important. He just wants Zack's head back in the game.

Zack places his phone onto the wall hanging countertop where they're sitting by, readjusts his voice and starts to really speak with the client. "So Priscilla! You were talking about the harsh realities of working as a mommy influencer, no?"

The client giggles, clearly pleased that she's finally the centre of Zack's attention. "Oh! That's long past. I want to talk about what I'm expecting for the day of the photoshoot!"

Cloud blows out his breath.

Now all he has to do is tag along without saying as much as a word.

The only problem is dealing with Zack and his shifty mood later.

"Bye bye mommieeeeeeeeeeee!"

At the western side of Midgar's only scramble crossing, Zack's waving his arms to the client who's heading to the eastern side.

"I'm not your mommy!" she counters, her laugh echoing in the streets.

Cloud ducks his head slightly downward, embarrassed by the pair's behaviour as others eye them with disapproval.

"Come on, let's go," he says, tugging at Zack's arm.

"Nooooo I'm not going until Priscilla's goooone!"

"You'll see each other again soon. Come on."

Zack refuses to move and whines whenever he pulls at the man.

It's past 4am and he's losing his patience.

"Fine. Stay if that's what you want. I'm going home," he snaps and starts walking away.

A few paces afterwards, he can tell that Zack's no longer throwing a tantrum.

There are footsteps trailing behind and at some point, they quicken until he feels an arm slide across his shoulders.

His nose detects the smell of Zack's musky perfume and acrid cigarette smoke that's stuck on the man's clothes.

"What are you doing?" he asks, looking at Zack who's smiling like the world hasn't had enough problems already.

"You're sending me home."

"And why's that?"

"I'm drunk and I can't walk."

"No, you can walk."

He tries prying Zack's arm off of him but the man keeps it locked on his shoulders.

"No, you're sending me home," Zack insists.

Ah. There it is. The shift.

The façade of joy has been dropped.

Zack's actual emotions – ones that had him restless and glued to his phone are reframing his body.

Nothing will shake this man off.

Unless you don't mind having a screaming match with him in public just to get him off your back.

Cloud huffs and leads them both to where Zack's place is.

At the doorway, Cloud watches as Zack clumsily takes his boots off.

He checks the time and sees that it's nearly 4:30am.

"Hey, I'm going back-"

"Your girlfriend's a fucking whore."

His eyes widen like a hula hoop. "What?"

Zack reels around and scowls at him with lips twitching as if he's holding back all the profanities that he wants to blurt out.

"Tifa. is. a. fucking. whore."

"Stop calling her that!"

"What is she if she isn't one?"

"Zack…" he lunges forward, fists ready to smack the fuck out of the man for his filthy mouth.

No one's calling Tifa a whore. Not on his watch. Not even behind his back.

Zack doesn't get a pass. He will make the man eat his fists.

"Take back what you said," he demands.

"No, I'll not."

"Take it back!"

"She's trying to take Aerith away from me!"

He frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't even know that your girlfriend's trying to get into someone else's pants. MY girlfriend's pants!" Zack derides, forcing out a laugh.

"You're crazy… do you hear yourself? You're crazy!"

"Aerith's not answering my calls!"

"What does that have anything to do with Tifa?"

"She's with Aerith, you dumb fuck!"

That's it. He's not going to stand around and let this man continue hurling insults at him.

"Whatever man. I'm out," he mutters, all set to take his leave.

He's spinning the doorknob when he feels Zack's arms enfolding him.

"Don't go…" he hears the man pleading.

Cloud turns around, and a glance at Zack brings the other man's glazing grey blue eyes to his notice.

It's his first time seeing it.

Also the first time Zack's showing it to him.

The fear.

The fear of people walking out on him.

Cloud's heart softens.

There's an urge to comfort, so he wraps his arms around Zack's neck and pulls the man down into a hug.

He lets this go on long enough until Zack takes him further into the house.

He lets his body glide to wherever they're going and doesn't resist when they enter the bedroom.

They sink onto the bed and he lets Zack in him again.

Cloud's not thinking about anything else but making the other man feel better.

To reassure the other man that there's nothing to fear because he's here.

It's the gentlest sex he has ever had with Zack.