Trapdoor (Part 5)

by anza (21.11.05)

"You don't have to go to college," he began.

It was dinner. Only him and Kadaj were home. After collectively wrestling broccoli from the refrigerator, cheese sauce from the pantry, and Kadaj somehow setting the cellophane over the thawing chicken on fire, Cloud managed to bake a casserole within the hour. They mixed fruit juice drinks together over the kitchen counter as they waited. When Cloud finally caught Kadaj red-handedly slipping a slice of orange down his shirt, he doused his brother's head with Canada Dry (the whole six-liter bottle). They tried to grapple but both ended up on their butts; the soda made the floor slippery. They laughed. They had fun. At least, Cloud did.

And then the casserole burned. It relieved him Kadaj didn't care; having a socially dysfunctional but brilliant older brother made him used to little mishaps. They snorted in unison over the state of their dinner and ate it in equally amused silence. Kadaj's hand lay on the table as he slurped warmed chicken soup still in the can. Cloud wanted to lay his own ink-stained one over it.

His brother looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

Cloud took a deep breath and continued. "You don't need to go to school. You have your Ph.D. already, Kadaj...you're far overqualified to take GE classes. You could probably teach those classes if you wanted. Just because Yazoo and Loz -"

"Yazoo and Loz went through college a second time so they wouldn't be emotionally stunted like you, nii-san." His brother's voice wasn't teasing or pitying, just pragmatic. "I'm doing it for the same reason. I want to be able to talk to others, nii-san."

Cloud smiled, faintly and almost bitterly. Here lay the difference. The trapdoor was really shifting out of sight now, melting into the ground. This was an insurmountable barrier, and Cloud wasn't even going to attempt to cross it. It wasn't worth it this time. Too much work for him...and the rewards at the end would be less than satisfying to everyone. Kadaj would be caught like a deer in headlights; Sephiroth would be disappointed; Yazoo and Loz would be horrified; he himself would be horrified. He didn't even half to think about it, the decision was made so easily.

The regrets were harder to take. But as always, he was practical enough to sense the danger.

"Yeah." He conceded the battle to common sense and the battlelines of society. "Yeah, you're right. Just..."

Kadaj looked up finally. "You don't want me to leave?" There was a hint of a smile there, in those green eyes.

Cloud conceded defeat to this one too, and smiled embarrassedly. "Yeah. Yeah. I didn't - I don't - want any of you to leave, though Yazoo and Loz have already flown the nest." A rueful laugh. "You'll be raising your own families soon, I know it. And I'll be an old codger with only pictures to hold onto." He swirled his spoon aimlessly in his own can of soup, feeling weak enough to cry but knowing he couldn't. He pushed the comforting sadness away and faced the smooth, cold wall of reality. This was the truth, and had always been, even unwillingly on his part.

There was a scrape as Kadaj got up, and a few steps brought him straight to Cloud's side. With a single, fluid motion, he was there, silver hair blinking into Cloud's eyes as he held his older brother close, head to collarbone, their shared warmth comforting yet forlorn. Loss. Separation. Abandoned for better, brighter things. Cloud put his arms around his brother, and the tears refused to come because he wouldn't let them. He must have looked really miserable for Kadaj to do this, he thought.

He hardly knew they were rocking back and forth until he noticed the chair was creaking. Kadaj was breathing softly, whuffs of air tickling Cloud's spikes, one hand clasped around the back of his arm and the other lower, fisted in his shirt. The blond felt the trimness of Kadaj's waist and loosened. They stepped back, suddenly uncomfortable. Boys shouldn't do this, not even with their beloved older brothers.

"Drink your soup," Cloud finally commanded, softly, and escaped the table quickly. Watching the rest of the soup dribble down the drain, he was reminded of his own sanity.