Trapdoor (Part 19)

by anza (13.12.05)

He awoke when a draft from the wind blew in, adding new snow to the growing pile on the floor. Cloud felt sory for whoever slept below - no doubt melted snow as now dripping onto their heads. For the moment, Cloud was content to let that smug thought slip from the top of his mind, snuggling even deeper into the thick blankets -

- he touched something.

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The last time he had slept with anyone was Vincent, a frantic last joining of body and bright lights, was as if someone had yanked the windowshades down in a dance club with only the two of them in that myriad of pounding music and passion. But Cloud let that thought go too - he was remembering the last time he'd slept with anyone innocently, without the faintest hint of sexuality.

It had been Sephiroth, if he remembered correctly. He had been seven and just attempted to run away from his new foster home. Though she had been cold, Cloud's blood mother had threw him his first schoolbooks and then, like a vague afterthought, The Last Male Virgin on Earth. It was followed swiftly by A Dummies' Guide to Cross-Stitch, Love Me Forever, A Tale of Two Cities, and Twilight in Venice. Cloud suspected his closet love of romances sprung from his childhood. Denials, betrayals, passionate embraces - they were the dreams he never had, the dreams that would never come true. He felt those words more keenly than anything else in his dim childhood. They were his fantasies on paper, his imaginations running away from him. After all, who would possibly love him?

The door had opened quietly, and Cloud recalled he had been crying, but at the rasp of the door he had frozen, unable to draw breath. He and Seph had just gotten into their first fight. And now, Cloud knew his new older brother was coming to kill him.

In a way that only children could, he stilled and accepted it. Death was nothing new to him, he was well-acquainted with him, that black shroud that took away his mother. He could handle the emptiness that swallowed his heart whenever he thought about Death. He had touched it before.

"Run to the other house!" And then, "Don't forget my promise!"

Even in his dreams, Cloud closed his eyes briefly in pain.

"Cloud?" The new brother inched closer. "Cloud," came that murmur again, so jarring in the silence, "I'm sorry." Sephiroth's eyes gleamed in the moonlight streaming in.

Cloud turned. For a long time they regarded each other, until Sephiroth gingerly lifted one corner of the blanket and asked, "May I get in?"

Cloud remembered wordlessly nodding.

Once he was settled, Cloud heard Seph speak up again. "Cloud," he heard that voice rumble through the bedsprings, "do you remember your mother's promise?"

"Don't forget my promise!" How could he forget the screeching desperation in her Valkyrie shriek?

"To stay away from the Turks." Child-Cloud's voice was subdued.

"Obey her," Sephiroth instructed. Cloud could do that. Cloud knew he could instantly trust that voice of authority, smooth and certain, an anchor in his tumultous life. Timdily he reached out as he had never before, feeling, feeling - there. His little, birdlike fingers found Sephiroth's hand. In an instant his older brother gripped it, squeezed it, and then scooted closer until they were shoulder-to-shoulder, arm-to-arm, Cloud's foot pressed carefully against Sephiroth's thigh.

Still half-asleep, Cloud knew there were tears on his face. He trusted his brother, even though he knew Sephiroth had become what he had told Cloud to avoid. Still, he thought he could help keep Yazoo and Loz out of reach, at least. He could - he had to - trust the brother of his heart. His older brother in everything but blood. In a world of confusion, Sephiroth alone had taken his hand.

They had never done that again.

Tears fell freely. He could feel them stinging his cheeks with their salt. Agony filled him, welling in the barren pocket where his chest should be. They had been such good brothers. And then - it became cold, muffled, forever distant radio static when Seph became a Turk.

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Kadaj moaned and covered his head with his pillow. "Nii-saan," he moaned again. Cloud sat up straight, backed as far as he could without falling outright off the bed, and struggled to remember how to breathe. Basic body function. That's right, lungs expand while air goes in and then they collapse when you breathe out. Ah - shit, suddenly the dream hit him like a freight train. Hysteria collected in his throat and he fought not to scream, laugh as if he had nothing left for him in this world...

"What. the. HELL are you doing in my BED!" he ground out finally.

Kadaj moved his pillow aside enough to fix Cloud with one muted green eye. "Congratulations, nii-san," he drawled, "you are now ready to become the next Queen of Pop. With those octaves, I bet you'll win some hefty admirers. Now if you'd just put on a nice long blonde wig -"

"Get OUT!" Cloud gathered up whatever scrap of dignity hadn't been holepunched through with the sarcasm of Kadaj's last statement and began pushing his youngest brother off the bed. For god's sake, he wanted to rail, I asked Zack to put us in a room with two beds for a reason! Kadaj flailed sleepily, finally deciding he could continue sleeping in his enjoyably warm cocoon if he clung tight enough to the blond's arm. "Kadaj!," Cloud hissed exasperately. Zack was in the next room - he probably heard Cloud's first scream of dismay and was listening intently at the door as they struggled.

Amused, his brother gave a snort of laughter. "Why, with that whine, you'd easily pass for a girl, nii-san."

Despite his better judgement, Cloud looked down his arm to the smiling, adorable silver-haired teen hanging off of him...and huffed in defeat. It was cold, and they were warmer sleeping in one bed. He supposed he could introduce his brother's head to the floor some other time. Preferably more painfully and with more exaggerated motions. It was just he didn't know what he would say or do if Kadaj caught him during one of THOSE dreams - gallingly again. The entire prospect of fleeing an international mafia with his insanely attractive younger brother-cum-love interest seemed incredibly stupid, suddenly.

"Given up?"

"Let go of my arm. I need to close the window."

Kadaj complied. Cloud felt the sting of cold against his skin, a numbing shiver against his collarbones up to the roots of his hair. He thought about his dream. He didn't know when he knew Sephiroth had become a Turk, but he knew he had been denying it to himself for a damn long time. As casually as he could, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his temporary sleep clothes (borrowed from Zack, and three sizes larger - though he took comfort in the fact Kadaj looked even more ridiculous than he did), and stared out over the whirling snow. He wanted to lose himself into it. The impulse was sharp, jolting in its pressure, and then it was gone, with only one thought: Sephiroth, if you had told me to die back then, I would gladly done so.

"Nii-san," said Kadaj quietly from behind him, "come back to bed." Cloud smiled humorlessly at his own black thoughts.

As soon as I find a way, I'll send for Yazoo and Loz, he promised himself and Kadaj mentally.

He slipped back into bed. Kadaj's voice was still quiet when he asked, "Are you mad at me, nii-san?"

"You know it's not easy to get me mad."

Reaching up, Kadaj brushed the melted snow from his cheeks. Cloud stayed impossibly still, heart so numb from the anguish of his dream he couldn't even find strength to blush or to brush Kadaj's seeking fingers away. "Nii-san," that hushed whisper came again in the dark, "were you crying?"

"Don't be silly." Cloud even smiled, a small, defeated expression.

"You don't be scared." The voice was petulant now - petulant, but trusting. "If you're scared, then I am too." And Cloud knew he was telling the truth.

In the dark, unconsciously, his smile softened in answer. One last question came from Kadaj. "Are you cold, nii-san?" That endearment, reserved only for Cloud, slipped past those lips like the shh-shh of fine silk - like the elegance of needles and the delightful poison they injected - like the cold comfort of Vincent's red dream, never straying far from Cloud's immediate memory.

Clumsily Cloud reached into the darkness. "Not anymore," he answered, and held his brother's hand through the night.