'Cause
I miss you;
Body and soul so strong
That it takes my breath
away.
And I breathe you
Into my heart and pray
For the
strength to stand to today.
Because I love you,
Whether it's
wrong or right;
And though I can't be with you tonight,
My
heart is by your side.
("If You're Not the One" by Daniel Bedingfield.)
Chapter
Two
Without You
The night breeze swirled around Cloud, tickling his nostrils with the once-familiar scents of hot dumplings, day-old coffee, and human sweat. There had been a time when the whiff of any of these would have set him in a nostalgic mood, painting his heart with peace.
Zack had loved this city, mainly the upper part of Midgar which the blond had entered not even a few moments ago. Whenever Cloud and the ex-SOLDIER had been assigned leave at the same time, the man would drag him towards the closest city and coax a drink into him. It usually ended with Cloud punch-drunk and slung over the man's shoulders, giggling like an idiot.
He didn't mind the hangover so much when he had the feel of the older man's broad back pressed against his face, Zack's scent stirring up a forbidden pleasure deep in his heart and groin.
There had even been a time when the hustle and bustle of the inner city would cause Cloud's heart to beat faster in excitement, with the promise of a night spent under Zack's playful yet protective eye. He could almost feel the man still watching over him.
Tilting his chin, Cloud stepped out onto the curb. Ignoring the painful lurch of his heart, he lifted his hand, signaling for a cab.
If nothing else, he would be strong for his dead love, even if it lasted for only a brief moment of time.
Not a few moments later, a dented old yellow taxi came screeching around the corner and skidded to a halt in front of the blonde. The tires smoked, fumes pouring out from underneath the worn rubber.
The driver, having given Cloud a thorough once-over, poked his head out of the cab. Cigarette dangling safely from the corner of his mouth, the man offered Cloud an amiable grin. A thick, matted dreadlock fell in front of his nose and he puffed it back in mild annoyance. Hazel eyes sparkled with vitality, a sharp contrast against the man's dark brown, weathered skin.
"You running away, to, or near anywhere I know, my man? If so, slap a ten spot my way and we'll blow this fucking Popsicle stand," the cabby said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with humor.
Cloud nodded and stepped into the cab. He placed the Buster Sword carefully on the old leather seats and settled himself in after. It would only take a few minutes to get to Upper Midgar's inner city. It was enough time to compose himself until he was in the safety of a temporary lodging.
Laying his head against the back of the seat, Cloud shut his eyes. A slow breath exhaled from his lungs, attempting to relax his muscles. The tension he had felt since awakening on the train refused to flow out of him. It filled his bones with a deep weariness.
Gil clanked against each other with each bump of the vehicle, alerting Cloud to sparseness of his change purse. He had just enough to buy him one night at a cheap motel and the fair for the cab ride. In the morning the hunt for a job would commence.
It was the official start of his life without Zack.
Raw despair prodded at his chest, reminding the blonde of its presence, one he knew wouldn't fade away if ignored. The barbed edges stabbed at his lungs and choked his throat with unshed tears. Only a few more moments until he was safe within the confines of a motel…
"I don't think I can take this much longer," he sobbed quietly, doubling over.
Cloud felt a gaze on him and glanced up. He caught the cab driver's stare and the man looked concerned. "You know where you're headin', blondie? I got no problem driving in circles but I need to know I'm getting paid for my time."
"Any motel. Cheap. I have… gil," Cloud gasped, reaching blindly for his sword's handle. It was starting to become a reflex, reaching for Zack when he was overwhelmed. Although it was just a small piece of the ex-SOLDIER, the sword represented everything the man had held true. It was his strength.
Cloud knew his mind was unraveling. He could feel the tiny threads fray and break off into oblivion. It was becoming too difficult for him to maintain any dignity when he hurt so much. The weight of the sword's hilt offered little comfort in wake of his despair.
Never in the blonde's twenty-one years of existence had he felt such pain. Sure, there had been times when he had thought the world was ending. Those had been in his younger days, when his heart had been set on Tifa. Her rejection still hadn't hurt as much as this did.
Was this what it was like lose a loved one?
Cloud felt the cab slow down and pulled the sword closer to his chest. It had been a shorter ride than he expected. Collecting himself, he looked out the window.
Pavement glistened under dim lamp light, slick with the freshly falling rain. The windows of the taxi were streaked with the clear liquid, distorting his view. Dark figures bustled by the now-parked vehicle, offering it nothing more than disinterested glances.
He could make out the blurred silhouette of a small, utilitarian-looking building. It was a humble establishment, nestled in Midgar. A blazing neon sign blinked off and on above the heavy iron door. A few of the lights had shorted out, leaving several letters dark. Zack would have loved it here.
'Gaia, please be my motel. I can't stop this for much longer.' Cloud's hand shook around his death-grip on the Buster sword.
It took him a few seconds to make out the words coming out of the cabby driver's mouth. His head pounded and he struggled to form any rational thoughts.
"R-repeat that, please," Cloud requested, trying to control the waver in his throat.
The driver shot him a bemused look and shook his head. "I asked if this place was cool. But from your look, kid, you'd take anything. You sure you're goin' to be okay, blondie?" The man's voice was filled with concern.
'No. If I could die right now I'd go with a smile.'
"Yeah. Ten, right?" Faking a smile, Cloud untied the change purse from around his neck.
The cabby driver hesitated before offering a reluctant nod. "Ten even. Hey, kid. I don't do this very often but… it looks like you need it. More than I do, at least. Gimme a sec."
The man popped open his glove compartment, pulling a small bundle from its depths. Dark blue ribbon was secured tightly around the solid figure. Unwrapping it with care, he offered its contents to Cloud.
A small, red stone lay nestled in the depths of the cheese cloth. Its glass surface gleamed and a wave of energy pulsed off of it. Cloud ghosted his fingers over it, startled by the rush of warmth that swept through his fingertips.
The driver grinned, the lines around his eyes deepening with humor. "In my native land, we call that a rhoka. It was once used by sailors to find their way back to land and the ones waiting for them.
"As time passed, wives used it to keep tabs on husbands that went off to fight in the War of Wutai. You see, it glows when the one you cherish the most is nearby; within a mile of ya. The brighter it burns the closer and more alive they are. Sad to say, it don't do shit for the dead.
"And it only works on the one that matters the most to ya. No one else. You got yourself someone to love?"
Cloud folded his fingers over the stone and shook his head. "No. Well, at least, I don't anymore. He… he's gone," his throat tightened on the words. Speaking them aloud would make things more real. Cloud wasn't ready to go any further than that.
Turning in his seat, the driver's eyes were filled with a nameless emotion. "Just because he's gone doesn't make your love any less real, blondie. If anything, now's the time he needs you more than ever. Love guides the dead to where they need to be. It's proof enough that they lived for the right person. Makes 'em move on with no regrets."
The cab driver cleared his throat. "That's enough serious talk outta my ass. Take the stone or toss it when ya get inside. No skin off my back, either way."
Cloud shut his eyes for a second, overwhelmed with the man's kindness. He followed the driver's suit and cleared his throat before opening his eyes again.
"Thank you for… this. I-I… thank you." He was at a loss for words. Exiting out of the cab, he turned to look back at the driver.
The man just nodded and grinned. "I hope that works out okay for ya. Take care, blondie."
With that, the cab sped off onto the busy street, the tires smoking and squealing into traffic. Cloud watched the battered vehicle, his limbs trembling with excursion. The talk had helped distract him for a few moments but now the pain returned with a vengeance.
Still grasping the stone, Cloud stumbled toward the motel doors. He fought not to clutch at his midriff, a nervous tick he had developed to alleviate the emotions coursing through him.
The woman behind the front desk barely spared him not even a glance before turning back to her romance novel. "You have gil?" She asked, gaze intent on a paragraph in the novel. Shooting him a stern look over the spine of the paperback, she reminded Cloud of a schoolmarm.
Cloud nodded, clearing his throat.
The woman slapped a keycard down onto the desk, still uninterested in the outside world. Cloud wished he could shut of reality that easily. Her ringed fingers clanked against the wood, the sound echoing in Cloud's sensitive ears.
"Your room's up the stairs on the right, first door on your left. Pay when you check out and by the Goddess, if you so much as try to stiff me on the bill, I'll hunt your skinny ass down and fuck you with it. Comprende?"
She shot him a longer look and then did a double take. Slamming her book shut, the receptionist turned a withering glare toward the blonde. "You had better not be one of those mako sluts. With eyes like yours, I wouldn't be surprised."
Getting out of her chair, she slapped both of her hands down on the counter and leaned forward. "Don't expect me to supply rooms for all of your druggie friends," she said, her voice lowering dangerously.
Clutching the Buster Sword nervously, Cloud shook his head. Grabbing the keycard from the counter top, he backed up slightly. 'Good Gaia, this woman could classify as one of Hojo's monsters. No one would even blink an eye!' He thought, sweat beading down his brow.
"I-I'm not into… that. I just need to…" Fall apart. "Lay down for a while. Sorry to have bothered you."
He cursed inwardly at the waver of hesitation in his voice. 'I'm so fucking weak. If even this she-hemoth can scare me, I was never cut out to be SOLDIER material in the first place. It was my weakness that got Zack killed.'
Cloud's heart sank as the dark thought threatened to consume him. It was the belief of his soul; a litany he'd keep with him until he joined the Lifestream: Zack was dead because he had lived. He, a pathetic excuse for a man, had lived in place of hero.
The receptionist gave him one last look before shrugging. "I still don't think you're right in the head but gil's gil. Take you and your weird ass eyes, and get out of my sight."
She sat back down on her chair and picked up her book. "By the way, your rock thing is glowing."
It took him a moment before he grasped her meaning. As if in response to his attention, the rhoka pulsed in his hand. Its glassy surface radiated a burning red glow, momentarily blinding Cloud. The entire surface of the stone was almost overpowered with the deep ruby light. Did this mean… Zack?
He gasped and watched dumbly as it tumbled toward the carpet. 'It's not possible,' Cloud thought, his heart in his throat. 'It can't be.'
But the stone and his heart told him otherwise. The only way for the rhoka to be glowing was if the one he cherished the most was alive and within a mile of his person, right? The ex-SOLDIER was the only one he had sworn his heart to; the only one he would ever love.
'This can't be. Zack's… gone.' He winced, unable to even think the word in his head.
The rhoka burned brighter, and if possible, hotter against the drab gray of the carpet, belying Cloud's thoughts. How was any of this possible?
Bending down, he reached for the stone with trembling hands. It beckoned to him seductively, calling to his soul, willing him to believe it as something more than a lie made up by a cruel man. The subtle energy hummed against his mind and whispered impossible promises.
Believe.
'Never.'
Why not?
'I don't want to hurt anymore.'
He's not dead.
'You lie.'
You'll see.
Cloud's breath hitched in his throat, escaping as a sob. Could it be… true? He stared down at the innocent-looking stone, trying to control the violent trembling of his fingers. He was going to fall apart. This wishful thinking wasn't helping.
'Stop it,' Cloud berated himself, shaking his head. 'Thoughts like that are why you're weak in the first place. Zack's d—gone and you need to keep it together. What would he say if he could see you sniveling like some superstitious child?'
A memory of the fallen man assaulted his mind just then; one that had been forgotten in the trenches of time. It had been the day Angeal, Zack's mentor, had died.
Zack had showed up at Cloud's place, his clothes torn and bloodied. His eyes had been red-rimmed and filled with a nameless emotion, causing the blonde to nearly seize with worry.
Cloud remembered falling on his knees next to the dark-haired man and not a moment later, his best friend's emotions came to a head. Zack had laid his head on Cloud's knees and lost himself in his misery. It was the first time Cloud had seen the man weep.
"SOLDIERs aren't supposed to cry. We're supposed to stay strong and protect the weak. We aren't children. We die with dignity so that others can live without it. But please. Let me have this moment to be childish. Let me be weak for a little while longer."
If at all possible, Cloud had fallen even farther in love with the ex SOLDIER that day. According to him, it was okay to cry. Okay to fall apart…
It was too much. The dam broke deep inside of Cloud and he could feel the tears flooding his cheeks. The blonde felt the receptionist's confused stare on him as he slapped the stone on the counter and fled for the stairs. Sobs choked him, cutting off the air to his throat. All of the pain and rage he had kept bottled inside of him exploded, blinding him with their intensity.
The emotions ripped at his mind and heart, tearing at the delicate layers with clawed fingers. It drew blood and when it had drawn its fill, it dug deeper.
'No more! Please make it stop make it stop make it stop. Hurts, hurts… Oh Gaia…' His knees gave out just feet from his door. Uncaring, he curled into a small ball, arms wrapped tightly around the Buster sword.
Images of the ex-Soldier flashed in his mind and he fought for breath.
"So, you wanna be in SOLDIER? Good luck. Believe in yourself and your dreams. You'll do just fine."
Some SOLDIER he would have made. How many would have died because of him? How many would have died because he was too much of a fucking coward to risk his own life for them?
Zack brushed back a strand of Cloud's matted hair, smiling down at him. "Regardless of popular belief, dirty blondes are no fun. Let's get all this mud cleaned off of you, Cloudy," he teased gently.
He turned himself over in time to be sick on the carpet. Gasping for air around his dry heaves, he felt the sword clatter to the ground.
"Clouuuuud," Zack wailed, wrapping his arms around the smaller blonde. "My uniform shrunk!" The SOLDIER gave a mock sniffle and spun his best friend around to face him.
True to his word, the ends of the knit SOLDIER uniform barely reached to the man's navel. The pants clung uncomfortably to every contour of Zack's body, emphasizing the blessing of good genes.
"See?!"
"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. Oh Gaia, Zack."
Cloud grappled at the carpet underneath, his body frozen in shock. He nails bled from clawing blindly at the rough fabric but he remained oblivious. Even when his neighbor's door flew open and the sound of drunken voices filtered over him, he stayed in his own world; even when the voices paused in their slurred splendor and abruptly took on a lecherous tone; even when he knew this could not possibly end well.
He felt, rather than heard, the heavy thwunk of a boot connecting with his head. Brain swimming with black dots, Cloud let his mind drift between the dreamy wakefulness of reality and a concussion. A piercing hot ache fired through him as the same boot was brought down again and again all over his aching limbs.
Pain was good. Cowards deserved pain.
Several figures stood over Cloud's prone body. "Little blonde here is swooned over at your door, Rex. He must want you bad," a nasally voice joked. Two strong sets of hands grabbed at Cloud's ankles and dragged him toward the ajar entryway. Was he going to die?
Death… Why didn't that thought sound as pleasant as it should? Something in the back of Cloud's mind screamed for him to struggle, to fight. It wailed a single reason for him to live over and over again, as if on repeat.
A promise to live.
Another man wheezed in pleasure, his voice coming in delighted gasps. "I call that tight-lookin' mouth o' his. I know a pretty-boy like him won't mind gettin' a mouthful o' Uncle Steve's Grade A jerky."
They chuckled at "Steve's" words, and another man, positioned somewhere behind Cloud's head slammed the door shut behind them. It was funny how the only thing that seemed to register in his mind was that the door hadn't shut all the way.
"You get the mouth, and I s'ppose I'll wait for that hot ass of his. Right after you, Rex, of course," Doorman replied.
Cloud heard the pull of a zipper and attempted to lift his hand in protest. It was knocked back down and someone laughed.
'When did I become so weak?' Cloud thought, trying not to vomit again. The scent of alcohol in this room was overpowering. Another time and place, and these men would have been flat on their asses, faces broken in. Had those days died along with everything else?
"Someone get him ready. We don't want to leave the Chocobo-head waiting," presumably "Rex" said. Fingers, grappling at his hips, tore at the waistband of his pants. They caressed his skin, defiling him.
A blinding rage filled Cloud just then; the likes of which overpowered his other emotions and swept them to the back of his mind.
Chocobo-head?! He seethed, kicking his legs out. The only one allowed to call him that had been Zack. They defiled a great man's memory. These bastards would know what it was like to make a fucking "Chocobo" angry.
The sense of helplessness rushed out of Cloud in a violent energy and he rammed his head back, taking a sick pleasure in the resulting crack. Pushing himself off of the ground, he clambered to his feet, swaying slightly. The world spun around him.
"That's not good,' he thought, trying to steady himself. He couldn't kick ass and take names when he looked like a drunk at happy hour. He looked up in time to make out a fist connecting with his face.
"You want to play, we'll play," "Rex" said, wiping his bloody fist on the blonde's shirt.
Cloud grunted. He fell toward the ground, his blue eyes gazing unfocusedly toward the door. Maybe he really was going to die. After all, only Heaven would have a pissed-off Zack standing in the entryway, twirling Cloud's Buster Sword.
"Hallelujah," Cloud mumbled before the world went black.
Zack kicked open the door, stepping into the tiny, trashy room. The scent of alcohol and unwashed gym socks burned his keen sense of smell.
Swinging the Buster Sword that he had found lying conspicuously outside of the door, he knew he made an impressive sight. Having only just caught up with the small blonde, his stomach knotted at the thought of what he would find behind the door.
Three large men stared back at him, momentarily frozen with matching looks of belief on their faces. They stood over the fragile form of his best friend, one's unsightly hand still clutching at Cloud's pants.
Rage coursed through the ex-SOLDIER, boiling into something he knew wasn't going to be pleasant. These men had caused his cover to blow. If that wasn't bad enough, they had dared to lay a hand on his baby. One way or another, these bitches were about to pay.
One of them—a towering, muscle head with a mullet—shook himself of the surprise "visit" and straightened up. "What the fu-"
"So, you boys wanted to play?" Zack interrupted, twirling the Buster sword casually in one hand. His voice was dangerously neutral, something that had taken months to perfect in SOLDIER training.
'Lesson One: When surrounded by enemies, never give away your true intent.'
The 80s wannabe glared. "Get the fuck outta here before me an' my boys fuck you up."
Zack had to give him props. The idiot's voice only trembled SLIGHTLY and his beady eyes only ogled the Buster sword… the entire time. The man's buddies hide behind him.
Equal cowards.
Zack gave the blade one last lethal swipe inches away from the cowering men before sheathing it on his back. "Oh, but I love games. Don't take away my fun now. Just let me make it a little more fair."
Bending down, he reached into his boots and started removing their contents. Blade after blade was placed in a neat row, spreading out across the floor.
Working his way up from his feet, he unsheathed the machete strapped to his ankles and placed that next to the growing line. He removed a pistol from the small of his back, grinning sheepishly at the men. "That one wasn't actually mine. Just holding it for a… friend."
The men's eyes widened at the rapidly growing pile of weapons.
Straightening up, Zack clenched his fists. "So, who's first? Or are we having ourselves a three on one? Although, I gotta warn you, that whole 'orgy' scenario just isn't my thing. Looking at you ugly bitches makes me want to claw my eyes out."
He shrugged.
"But I guess you can't help it if you were all born that ugly. Right?" He smirked and scratched the back of his head.
Dropping his hand, he let the grin spread demonically across his features. The smile didn't reach his eyes.
'Ladies and Gentleman, Zack-fucking-Fair is a puppy no longer; at least not when you take his potential favorite "chew toy". Rabid Beast vs. Ugly Bitches, round one. Ring the bell.'
The 80s man, the obvious ring leader, stepped forward, his words belying the fear on his face. "You some sorta faggot?"
Zack's face turned wicked as the sinister smirk spread wider. He gave a mock bow before turning his burning gaze onto the three men.
"Live and in living color. You are about to get schooled by a queer, you bunch of bitches. Now, come at me. I have places to be and asses to ream," the ex-SOLDIER taunted, his mako-enhanced eyes gleaming.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cloud groan. Not good. He needed to get this trash taken out before the blonde came around.
The distraction was enough time for 80s man to lunge at Zack and plant a solid right hook against his cheek. It split his skin and he felt the blood trickling down his cheek. Oh hells no.
Running forward, Zack slammed the heel of his palm into the mullet man's nose, driving the cartilage up into the man's skull. It broke against his hand with a satisfying crunch, not quite enough to kill him, though it wasn't like the creep didn't deserve it.
The ex-Soldier planted his size eleven boots into the man's crotch for good measure. Nobody fucking touched his soul mate. 80s fell to the ground, clutching at his family jewels. The "lackeys" watched in disbelief.
'Too easy,' Zack thought in disappointment.
Turning mako-enhanced eyes onto the two dip shits, he cracked his knuckles and grinned. They both took a cautious step backward. Foregoing all façades of bravery, they simultaneously fled for the door.
Zack's body thrummed with the anticipation of the "hunt." Adrenalin surged through his body, settling in his cock. Mini-Zack perked up and smiled. The thrill of a good chase had always turned him on, not a type of foreplay he prided himself on liking. This was going to be fun.
Just about to give chase, a tiny whimper stopped him in his tracks. He looked over Cloud, his blood freezing in his veins.
'Oh, fuck me stupid.'
"Zack?!"
"Heya, Cloudy."
TBC