Counterclockwise
Chapter 02
Words: 8 365
Genre: Comedy/Romance (Fluff)
Pairing(s): CL (if you want), eventual LC
Notes: AU highschool!fic. Leon will hereon be referred to as Squall. :D
Disclaimer: Inspired by Gosho Aoyama's Conan, as well as Staryday's fic, Child Again.
Warnings: A little swearing, a whole lot of... cute:D;;
Rated: R
It was warm.
He could feel the light streaming in through the windows and casting patches of warm sunrays on his face, making his brows knit a little at the intrusive light, though it was strangely comforting. Soothing. Warm. Like a sort of reassuring consolation that the world was still spinning on its axis, that birds were still soaring freely through the skies, that he and everyone close to him were still alive and well, that summer was here and that everything else was, relatively, normal.
Yes. It was consolation.
He was one usually early to rise, but thoughts of summer holiday made him feel lazier than usual, and so he decided to have a lie in. To face what horrors would await him, he'd need rest – plenty of it.
Not that he didn't get any rest the night before. In fact, he felt completely refreshed; more ignited than he did in days. Staying at Yuffie's was a downright chore, and with his new stature, he found scrapes and bruises adorning his knees and forearms with each passing day due to all his tripping over her cats. Maybe that's how he got sick.
Speaking of which, he really did feel better. His head wasn't hammering brutally as it had the day before, and his throat felt less constricted. Less dry and hoarse. He coughed lightly, his eyes peeking open to some extent, squinting as he momentarily allowed his vision to adjust. He had been awake for quite sometime already, but he was less than inclined to get up as memories of the day before returned to him.
He was in a comfortable, homey room. It wasn't very big, but it was cosy and somehow just right for one person to stay in. The walls were a watery shade of blue, the panels at the top and bottom of them a smooth white. The ceiling was painted a matching colour, though the wear and tear was apparent – the paint was cracking at the corners. A couch and some bookshelves were set up against a wall, a large window with blinds not drawn on top of the desk, beside a tall rack. Posters were taped on neatly to the walls with yellowed scotch tape, a bag and some shoes that had been messily kicked off lying at the foot of the couch. A jacket and a pair of jeans lay beside them.
Allowing his gaze to wander, he studied the photographs that had been neatly framed and hung on the walls. Quite a number of them were old – black and white. They consisted of a couple and a few children, in a large garden in front of an old Victorian house. They looked so. . . happy. Carefree. The married pair – or so he would assume – looked at peace with the world, as though all their dreams had come true. A small boy was latching onto the woman's hand, hiding behind her as he peeked shyly at the camera.
He turned to look at the bed he was currently resting in, vaguely noting that it was comfortable and much softer than the ones he remembered using at both his house and Yuffie's. They were a plain, blue colour, to match the walls, but there were a few telltale chocobos printed on the blankets. He pulled at the comforter slightly, huddling it closer to himself.
And then, he groaned softly as he noticed the small hands and the willowy legs that came into view.
Wasn't a nightmare. As usual.
Piqued, he squeezed his eyes shut, the frown already marring his face as he dove back into the bed, nestling deeper under the covers, flopping over and burying his head into the pillow. There was that nice, clean scent he liked that engulfed him as he did so, making him submerge himself deeper as a way to ignore the painful situation at hand. If there was anything else that was even vaguely consoling aside from the warm morning sun, it was how heady this smell made him feel whenever he came across it. He continued to snuggle the pillow, relaxing, until a faintly horrific thought struck him.
What if this was what Cloud smelled like?
"Morning there, tiger. Feeling up to some breakfast?"
Speak of the devil.
Squall absolutely refused to eat. He was glaring unapologetically at the blond teenager, scowling as Cloud started to do that silly 'Open up for the aeroplane!' thing with the spoon and the soup. Honestly, it didn't suit the usually stoic teen, and it made him look downright stupid. Squall had eyed the food, but he was smart enough to not trust anything that came out of Cloud's household, much less since it somehow occurred to him that Cloud had made it. Imagine the many scales of pain Squall would have been subjected to if he even dared to swallow a spoonful!
No matter how mouth-wateringly delicious it looked, there was no way in hell he was going to eat something Cloud made.
And he wasn't going to be spoon-fed either, dammit.
Squall crossed his arms, glowering at Cloud as he purposely looked away, refusing to allow the blond the satisfaction of being able to make him mellow down and sticking a spoon into his mouth. When Cloud persisted further in his efforts, Squall scooted away, lower lip jutting out and making his pout seem dangerously cute what with the way his round eyes narrowed into a would-be scathing glare.
He heard an amused snort from the teen at this sight, and he intensified his glare, though this only made Cloud clamp a hand over his mouth and look away, trying to keep himself from full-blown laughter.
This obstinacy from the child continued on for about 10 more minutes before Cloud's patience wore down a little, and he set the bowl of soup down on the bedside, looking at Squall with a touch of vexation. Squall simply returned the gaze with a biting look of his own, engaging a brief staring contest between the two before Cloud let out a quiet sigh.
"I'll give it to you straight, kid. You're sick. You're body fluids are low. You haven't eaten for 2 days. I know you're sharp, so I would expect you to at least know all this and be smart enough to eat something," he stressed the last word, making it sound a little urgent.
Squall simply raised his eyebrows, though the cool exterior he had been hoping to project failed miserably as a sneeze escaped him. He sniffed a little, about to wipe his nose with the back of his hand when a handkerchief was already there, pinching it slightly and simply remaining, as though waiting for Squall to blow his nose.
Dumbly, he did, and Cloud, seemingly satisfied that the boy was at least starting to be a little less vicious, began to wipe him clean before folding the hankie into small squares and pocketing it. He noticed the boy still a little stunned by the small exchange that had transpired between them and he smilingly gave that small nose a tap before getting up and walking out of the room.
The door was still ajar, and as he watched Cloud disappear down the hallway, a scowl made its way to Squall's face. He rubbed his nose slightly, staring at his blanketed feet as he began internally to berate himself.
How could he have just given in so easily? He did not just let Cloud Strife blow his nose! He did not just let Cloud Strife baby him! Argh, what the hell was happening!
And why did he have a sudden craving for macaroni and cheese!
Feeling onslaughts of a headache already picking at his brain, Squall pinched the bridge of his nose in hopes of toning it down or warding it off, closing his eyes irritably as he slouched, realizing that his stomach was being cruel to him and rumbling loudly, screaming at him to get some macaroni and cheese. He grumbled to himself tetchily, though he was hungry and he knew that he did need to have something to eat.
He tried to ignore it, diving back under the blankets. The rumbling didn't cease, rather, it intensified, and Squall was already moaning slightly at the longing ache in his tummy. He squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to go back to sleep, but his stomach was calling out to him and he couldn't ignore it. Squall had to eat something, and it didn't matter if it was or wasn't macaroni and cheese.
He opened his eyes, staring at the door quietly as he thought about a solution. Squall could just tiptoe down into the kitchen and make himself a sandwich. Quietly, of course. Wouldn't want to gain the blond's attention and then get him to make the food for him. That's when he'd start getting worried. He could do just that, could just run to the kitchen and make himself something, but he felt weak and his stomach was empty.
Squall paused a while in his musings, eyeing the bowl of soup on the bedside.
It was just soup, wasn't it? It was probably canned; no way he'd get poisoned easily if all Cloud had to do was add water. He didn't have to eat it all, just a little bit to give him enough strength to make that sandwich. Just a spoonful or two; Cloud wouldn't have enough evidence to suggest that he had eaten any of the soup at all.
Warily, Squall leaned over to the side and took hold of the spoon, carefully scooping up some of the soup and bringing it to his lips. It was still hot, and a small moan of pleasure escaped him before he could help himself. It was creamy chicken soup, and had a very light and smooth flavour that slid down his throat easily, making him crave for more. Even his stomach gurgled in delight, begging to be filled with more of the soup. Mindlessly, Squall did so, picking up the tray and setting it on his lap so that he could eat more, and eat more quickly, without spilling any of the soup on the floor.
He closed his eyes and he spooned more of it into his mouth, licking his lips and willing the flavour to linger. It seemed like such a long time since he had last eaten anything that had tasted as good. Every additional spoonful he ate didn't seem to be enough; he wanted more.
Squall kept feeding himself more and more of the soup as his stomach was starting to fill, sating his hunger, until the spoon hit the bottom of the bowl with a slight chink. Squall blinked, looking down to find that he had completely finished the bowl. He found himself staring at it for a moment before realizing to his horror that he had finished the food Cloud had made for him.
He had just wanted a spoonful! How did he get this out of control and proceed to polish off the entire bowl!
Scowling, Squall returned the tray to the bedside and threw the sheets off of him huffily, climbing off the bed and pulling up the large, non-fitting shirt that had slid off and exposed a creamy shoulder during his sleep. He patted down his sleep-mussed hair and looked around, spotting a clean pile of familiar clothes that had been neatly folded and placed on a low stool in the corner of the room by the door.
Squall walked up to it, noticing that it had that clean smell he liked and took the topmost shirt from the stack, scrutinizing it and noticing that it had been washed, along with the other clothes. He scanned the other articles of clothing briefly before picking off a pair of trousers and, spotting a plastic bag went closer to inspect the things inside. There was that irritatingly new smell that always accompanied new clothes, so when he dug around the bag, he saw that it was chock full of undergarments for kids.
He picked one out, and, to his horror, realized that he was to wear briefs.
Squall stood still for a long while, staring incredulously at the underwear in hand that he was expected to don before realizing that, no matter how much he hoped or prayed, there was no way the potion would wear off and he would suddenly turn back into a 17 year old teenager, thereby allowing him the grace of stealing some of Cloud's clothes – he wore boxers, if that clean pair in a pile by the couch was anything to go by – and then run back to his own home, cleansing his mind of any of these remotely sacrilegious memories and experiences and thus resuming his boring, everyday, normal life routines.
He let out a quiet, dismal sigh before clutching the clothes to his chest and quietly walking towards the bathroom, tiptoeing to grasp the knob before closing the door silently behind him.
Squall lowered the cover of the toilet seat, setting his things on top of it before eyeing the closet, going up to it and pulling out a fluffy blue towel that was situated in a conveniently low shelf. He undressed himself (though all he wore was only an oversized t-shirt that probably belonged to Cloud) and climbed carefully into the tub, tiptoeing again and pulling at the plastic hose connected to the shower head for a few minutes before successfully getting the object to topple from its holder and fall within arms reach.
As Squall allowed the soothing sprays of hot water wash him, he closed his eyes and collected his thoughts, reflecting on his current predicament and, for the first time, wondered if he should attempt to make the best of what he had and try to settle himself in. Get more comfortable.
He let out his breath in a frustrated huff, directing the showerhead to his visage as he rubbed his face with his other hand.
Squall? Get comfortable in Cloud Strife's house? Even the most asinine of donkeys knew better than to do that. He was being babied and fussed over as a mother hen would her chicks. It felt even more degrading what with the way Cloud teetered over him like he was some sort of retarded individual. And to think that Cloud would be the one to cook his meals and basically care for him. He wouldn't survive the week. He wouldn't.
He couldn't help the small smirk that made its way to his lips as he recalled managing a kick or two on the blond, but not receiving anything harsh or even remotely critical in return. Squall had nearly forgotten the obstinacy children possessed, and their innate talent to get away with even murder when pitted against the right people.
Cloud happened to be one of those 'right people'.
There was something that he recalled Yuffie say. . .
Oh. Right.
'Cloud always was a sucker for little kids.'
The smirk on his lips widened marginally as plans began to formulate in his mind. His expression darkened as his frustration and initial distaste seeped away, lifting the tension that had weighed down on his small body and leaving him with something light and familiarly devious, a ripple of thrill tingling down his spine. He almost rubbed his hands together in glee at the things he would be setting out to do.
After all, while he was here, he might as well make full use of his current situation and make Cloud's life a living hell.
He was not one to be babied.
And Cloud was going to learn that the hard way.
'This thing is just so damn. . . snug.'
Squall felt a little uncomfortable as he walked down the corridor, pausing to adjust his underwear for what seemed like the hundredth time before entering a large room that appeared to be the living area. There were 3 downy couches that had been arranged neatly on something of a lowered platform, the parquet floors covered with a thick rug. A small TV stood on an antique counter, a VCR and tape player set in place inside it. A diminutive glass coffee table was situated in front of the TV and in between two of the couches. Underneath it were books and magazines.
Squall noted that the house was well kept, though there was the occasional out-of-place book or sneaker here and there. The route around the house was simple enough, and after a little exploring, the layout had already been memorized, more or less.
The house was a comfy, single storey building that had been built with high ceilings and had a small front yard. The main entrance led directly to the living room, and there was an entryway without a door that led from the living room to the kitchen. He entered the kitchen, noticing a few sheets of paper fanned out across the surface wooden dining table. Squall peered at it curiously, noting numbers etched and several figures crossed out violently with a red pen.
Cloud was standing in front of the sink, pouring some hot water into a mug. He heard the tread of nimble feet and turned around slightly to notice Squall peeking out at him from behind the doorway. He gave the boy a small smile and nodded slightly, gesturing for him to come inside. Squall merely raised his eyebrows before making his way in, looking around to see what he could use to his aid his Machiavellian plot.
Now, what would kids at the age of 5 or 6 do. . .?
Make paper planes seemed to be one of them. Those papers on the table seemed a little important to the blond, what with the way the plates of food on the table were kept at some careful distance away from them. Kids also generally enjoyed making lots of unnecessary noise and liked running around at top speed, knocking down everything in their path.
Squall wrinkled his nose slightly. He wouldn't mind making paper planes, upsetting an item or two, or even drawing on the walls. Running around, babbling a mile a minute like Yuffie? He thought not.
Ah, kids also liked asking superfluous questions that would make an adult sheepish in their attempts in answering. That, he could do.
Walking into adults while they were carrying things seemed like an easy way to cause a mess and get away with it. He'd do that too.
As Squall continued to think out the various methods to set Cloud off, the blond had already walked over to him and picked him up, walking towards a kitchen counter. Squall blinked out of his thoughts as he looked at the teenager who had a hand on his forehead, checking for a temperature. Those blond brows were furrowed in concentration, lips forming a small pout before he removed his hand with a satisfied sound, giving the boy a kind look and saying, "You're much better now. Still have a slight fever, but you'll be fine by tomorrow."
Cloud set Squall down on the countertop, moving away to take a jar of sugar to spoon into the mug of hot chocolate he had been making earlier, Squall only eyeing him warily as he did so.
"Did you take a shower by yourself?" Cloud asked conversationally, stirring the contents of the drink. Squall didn't answer, and when Cloud looked up to meet his eye, an expression of resignation crossed his features.
"Not much of a talker, are you?"
Squall raised his eyebrows sardonically.
Cloud chuckled, "My bad."
He taste-tested the drink with the teaspoon and made sure that it wasn't too hot before setting it down beside the boy, putting the jar back into the cabinet and washing his hands. The house phone rang and he darted to the kitchenette, pulling the phone off its hook and answering the call.
"Yeah, yeah. I've been expecting you. No, it's fine. . ."
Cloud left the sentence hanging and engaged in a lingering silence, nodding his head and making occasional reassuring sounds to show that he was listening or agreeing with the speaker on the other end. The other person was probably giving him a long-winded explanation of sorts, and Squall only caught fractions of what Cloud was saying as he kept his gaze trained on the teenager, lifting the mug to his lips and sipping the hot chocolate absentmindedly.
"But we've already paid off the loan, there shouldn't be anything left over. . ." Cloud said, a little alarm tingeing his tone as his eyes widened at the answer the speaker on the other end gave him. "But we don't have enough money!" he exclaimed, quickly realizing how loud he had been, his eyes darting to Squall and giving him an apologetic look as he brought both hands to cup the mouth of the receiver, speaking in an undertone.
Squall downed the drink in thirsty gulps, pausing when Cloud had made that exclamation, looking – hard – at the teenager and lowering his mug, quietening in order to listen in on the conversation.
"Look," Cloud began in a controlled voice, much like the one he had used when he spoke to the brunet on that final day of school. "We don't need anymore debts. We didn't ask for that guy's help, so how can we be expected to pay additional service charges? We still have the car loan to pay as it is, and with the extra bills. . ."
There was a pause.
"What do you mean you didn't receive any money?"
Squall found that he had strained his ears to hear what else Cloud said, but the teenager had been reduced to nods and grunts as the speaker began to talk again, the blond eventually heaving a heavy sigh and muttering a dismal, "Goodbye," before hanging up.
Cloud walked over to the sink again, switching on the tap and retrieving the now-empty cup from Squall's grip to wash. He let out a quiet breath as he began to scrub the inside of the crockery with soap, frowning thoughtfully. Only when Squall began to mindlessly swing his legs in his childish boredom did Cloud realize he wasn't alone, looking up at the boy and smiling at him half-heartedly.
"You're really quiet," he said gently, expression softening almost immediately. "I nearly forget you're there sometimes. You must be your parents' golden boy."
For some odd reason, Squall felt his defensive demeanour assuage with Cloud's words. He was being honest; sincere – unlike how he usually acted whenever he was in school or with others. Squall found himself wondering vaguely if Cloud was always this open with children, if Yuffie's revelation unwittingly held astute truth.
At the boy's silence, Cloud eased, smilingly giving Squall a tap on the nose before picking him up again and setting him on the ground. Cloud lightly ruffled his hair before murmuring about his mother and some remaining chores that he had to complete. He ran a hand through his unmanageable spikes and briefly scanned Squall.
"You need to sit still in a clean place while I work. Do you like books?"
Squall didn't say anything, merely shifting his weight to his other foot. Cloud grinned in response, bending over and scooping him up, walking down the corridor quietly. Squall had struggled a little initially, but after remembering that he wanted to make Cloud's life more difficult, he consoled himself with the thought that he was saving energy and making the blond more tired by allowing himself to be carried by Cloud.
They entered an area that Squall had never seen before, and he eyed the place curiously as Cloud opened a small white door, ducking slightly so that he wouldn't bang his forehead against the low doorway. Inside, the boy found himself struck with awe.
Though Squall hadn't answered Cloud's question regarding his interest in reading, it was an unwritten fact that his lifestyle was reigned by books. In his home, every corner was piled with magazines, novels, paperbacks, and other forms of reading material. It was difficult to find anything else aside from books due to his father's sloppiness in organizing the household, and the pure magnitude of books he owned.
However, as Squall was set down onto the ground by the blond teenager, he couldn't help but gape in wonder at the sheer size of the study – as he assumed the room to be – taking into consideration how small the house seemed to be from outside.
"You like it?" Cloud asked quietly, smiling softly as Squall was rooted to the ground, gawking at the room, completely enthralled. "It belonged to my dad. He collected all this when he was still around."
Cloud walked towards a book case, bending over and taking out a book, running a hand along the cover before flipping through the first few pages. "A lot of the story books are on the lower shelves. My dad put them there so I could read them easily without bothering him to fetch any of them for me," he said, squatting down and setting the book he held on the ground. He scanned the book titles briefly before taking one out, standing up. He walked to Squall and squatted down, pressing the book in his hands.
"This is my favourite. I made my mum read it to me every night before I went to bed. I'm not sure if you'll like it," he paused hesitantly, gaze averting, "But it's here if you want to read it. You keep yourself busy, I'll be doing chores. If you want anything, just call me, okay?"
Cloud gave Squall's nose a tap, to which the boy wrinkled his nose glaringly, and chuckled as he got to his feet, brushing off imaginary dust from his knees before walking out, leaving the door only somewhat ajar.
Squall's eyes narrowed as they followed Cloud's lithe figure out the room, scowling at the way he had been so childishly treated before allowing his gaze to trail to the book in his hands. It was a worn hardback, the colours of the cover faded, yellowing. There was a picture of an illustrated lion and a wolf on the cover, along with a star-shaped fruit sitting on a rock between them. He gave the book a once over before tossing it to the side, grumbling about his undermined treatment as he stalked towards a bookshelf.
Read a book Cloud had asked him to?
Fat chance.
Cloud's father, on the other hand, had fine taste when it came to reading. His collection of novels spanned the works of many famous authors, and, as Squall amusedly flicked through a thick paperback, covered many different genres though. . . scandalous in nature. He had a feeling that, if Cloud were to walk in while Squall was scanning the 'book', the teenager would throw a hysterical fit.
Entertained by the notion, Squall read through the preface before setting it back in place, scanning the other titles before pulling out a few books to his liking and setting them on the ground. With this newfound discovery of a discerning library that would help him remain reasonably sane and dignified, Squall settled in a corner and immersed himself, firm on spending the bulk of his time as a child in the study and away from Cloud.
"You left him with Cloud!"
"Not so loud, Aerith!"
"You left him with the person he hates the most, Yuffie! I'm panicking right now!"
"I wouldn't worry too much, if I were you. . ."
". . . what do you mean by that?"
"Well. . . Cloud doesn't exactly. . . know?"
". . ."
"Come on, Cloud's a sucker for kids! He melts completely whenever he sees a cute kid! And you know how adorable Leon is as a little boy. Put two and two together and, poof! Instant win."
". . ."
"Okay, not melt per se, but he goes gaga over children. And he's really good at taking care of them, too. Really! He's always so different with children, you won't think he's Cloud anymore. He smiles and jokes and plays with them! And, he can actually cook! Why do you think little Marlene and Denzel are completely in love with him?"
". . ."
"It'll be fine! He took care of me when we were younger and look at what a good job he did!"
". . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ."
"Hello? You still there, Aerith?"
"This is a dream. I'm dreaming right now. I will put the phone down and lie on the couch. And then, I will close my eyes and go back to sleep. When I wake up, everything will have blown over and this would have all been a dream."
"Err, Aerith?"
"After all, Leon did not turn into a little boy. And then, little boy Leon was not left with Cloud. Because, as common sense will allow, Leon and Cloud living together would have caused Armageddon."
". . . Aerith?"
"In fact, if such a thing were to have even been suggested, our whole town would no longer exist and would be just a hole in the ground."
"Umm, yoo-hoo? Aerith?"
". . . Yuffie."
"Yeah?"
"Please tell me that I'm dreaming."
"Ah, crap. Reminds me, I have to drop off more kiddie clothes at Cloud's house after this. Oh, hey, I called them up last night and Cloud's absolutely crazy over Squall, even if the kid's a little annoying. Squall is Leon, by the way. Silly of us not to have come up with a name, eh?"
"But. . ."
"He says the brat's disagreeable, but okay on the whole. Thinks the kid needs to go out and make friends or get to do something he likes or something like that. Cloud knows best, so I'm leaving all of that to him. Cloud thinks the kid needs to be comfortable or some crap like that, so he's been asking me if he has any favourite food and I've been giving him a list of everything Leon likes to eat. I'm busy today, so I'll try and visit them tomorrow or this weekend or something, you know? Check on Squall and see if anything's wrong. Hey, my dad's home. I'll call you later, okay?"
"Yuffie. . ."
"Everything'll be fine! Trust me!"
A sigh.
"I hope you know what you're doing, Yuffie."
"I do! Everything is gonna be A-okay!"
"Oh, all right. Goodbye, Yuffie."
"See ya. Have fun at the beach!"
The first thing that graced Cloud's face as he poked his head into the study was a smile.
He had been working diligently at his chores as usual, spending a few good hours doing nothing else but housework after ushering Squall into his father's study. After that, Cloud had taken a brief rest and was already pouring over papers and research documents at the dining table. He had been completely engrossed in his work that the sky had already started to darken by the time he began. His mother had long ago set out for the graveyard shift at the hospital where she worked, but Cloud had sat her down before she left and talked to her about Squall and his intentions in housing the boy until Aerith returned. Thankfully, she had understood and allowed Squall to stay.
It was only when his stomach began to growl did Cloud take a break from his work, setting down the pen and calculator and cleaning up the documents to work on later. As he prepared some snacks to eat, he remembered suddenly that they had had a new addition to the household and that he was to prepare food for two instead of one as of present time.
Cheerfully, he started making tea, hot chocolate and cakes, setting the table for two before he walked over to the study to fetch his charge.
And Cloud honestly couldn't help that smile.
Lying curled up on the floor, books scattered around him with one opened up to a certain page and acting as his pillow was Squall, fast asleep beside a book shelf. Sound asleep, Squall was like a little angel, his face tranquil and undisturbed; no longer hardened to reveal that defensive, overly-mature exterior.
When Cloud had first spoken to Squall, he had been thoroughly surprised with that quiet and closed-off demeanour that usually only older, jaded individuals possessed. He had been impressed with the maturity Squall displayed, but at the same time felt as though it didn't suit him at all – didn't suit anyone at all – felt that he had been forced to grow up far too fast.
Then again, his conduct could easily be explained by the fact that he had been a street child Aerith had picked up, and that he had probably lived a very hard life prior to this. Nevertheless, Cloud would have half-expected an orphan – an urchin, no less – to be at least happy that he was in a home with other people and a safe place to stay.
He supposed it was hypocritical on his behalf, but Cloud believed that he saw himself in the boy, and decided that it wasn't something that he wanted to see in anyone at all.
After marking the page of the book the boy had been using as a pillow, Cloud had gently gathered Squall in his arms, carrying him to the living room and setting him down on a sofa. The boy had roused about a half hour later to find a thin blanket draped across his small figure and some food set on the coffee table in front of him, the blond teenager busying himself with the few messes Squall had left behind in his wake.
As he nibbled on a teacake, Squall fully recovered from his nap and remembered his ploy to make Cloud's life difficult. Frowning, he mentally chided himself for drinking most of the hot chocolate in the process of waking up and made up for that little slip by upsetting the mug and allowing the remnants of his drink to stain the rug carpeting the parquet floor. As messily as he could, he finished off the food and left crumbs all over the furniture and floor, smearing the coffee table with chocolate-covered fingers.
Squall felt almost proud of the uncharacteristic clutter he had created, that ounce of pride he felt rapidly swelling into smugness as Cloud returned to the living room to find the new mess he was to clean.
Giving the coffee table and the carpet a once over, the blond shot Squall a cross, reproachful look before striding over to him and picking him up tritely, carefully avoiding his dirty hands. Wearily, he half-dragged the boy to the bathroom before stripping him down, dumping him into the empty tub. His caution in evading Squall's sticky fingers proved fruitless as they were immediately pulling at his hair and shirt as he held the boy down with one hand, switching the taps on with the other.
Once the tub was filled, he successfully managed to get Squall to settle down and scrubbed out the chocolate until the boy resorted to splashing the water. Specifically in his direction.
Washing Squall was a downright challenge, and he wondered how on earth he had managed to get the boy clean without incident the day before.
Cloud was getting worn out, and it showed. He wondered vaguely if the boy was getting a kick out of all this, but merely shrugged away the thought, setting back to work and eventually getting Squall clean even if it meant getting himself thoroughly drenched.
Squall was getting a huge kick out of fighting with Cloud. Sure, he had gotten into a few full-fledged brawls with the blond back when he was about the same size as the teenager, but the satisfaction he was getting out of these uncanny and childish tussles was unmatched. In fact, he felt almost gleeful as he pulled at Cloud's hair and swiped at him, giving him a few scratches, knowing that he wouldn't get hit back.
As a form of revenge, Cloud dunked the boy under the water briefly and proceeded to shampoo his hair, to which the boy started struggling and whining for him to stop. Smugly, Cloud ignored his pleas and kept on with the washing as Squall sulked, stubbornly refusing to let the blond do anything else. A little frustrated by Squall's obstinacy, Cloud managed to finally finish with the boy and wrapped him with a towel as he drained the water in the tub, wiping him dry and changing him into a pair of pyjamas Yuffie had brought earlier with much difficulty and a few more scratches.
At last, after tucking Squall in for bed, he had to face a final, sleepy struggle from the boy as he managed to sneak in a peck on the forehead and lulled him to sleep, quietly making his way back to the living room to clean up the mess left behind.
It had taken Cloud a good hour and a half to get the hot chocolate out from the carpet and the glass of the coffee table back to its original brilliance. After he had dumped the wash rag into the sink, he had forced himself to the bathroom to wash out the chocolate from his hair and to take a long shower. Laundry followed soon after, and before he was about ready to collapse in bed by Squall, he received another phone call, and that had forced him to take out the documents he had been working on earlier and review them.
As he toiled late into the night, he had taken a quick break and was thinking about the extra bed he would have to pull out soon for Squall. Cloud mused to himself, wondering if he had acted as Squall did when he himself was a child.
Having a kid in the house was refreshing. Even though it meant a little extra work for him, and a whole lot of attitude from Squall, Cloud felt a little less lonely in the house. His mother worked late night shifts and was always resting up in the morning for her second job at the public library. Cloud himself held some part time jobs to earn some extra money on the side in order to help pay off their debts. Otherwise, he was always usually at home, balancing out the family accounts and finishing up his own chores.
Cloud didn't have time to hang out with friends like his other classmates did. Most of the socializing he did was at school or at Cid's garage, where he worked. Even then, he had to quit the swim team to help his mum out, and that action cost him quite a few friendships, seeing as his resigning led the team to lose the last competition he was to participate in. They had been disappointed in him, and even the teachers who usually had him in their favour spoke to him less. His classmates were trying their hardest not to be bitter about his indifference with the loss their school faced, though the rest of the swim team had no diffidence in displaying their displeasure in him.
But he didn't have the time to care about what others thought of him. To Cloud, his mother, the only family he had left, was most important. He wanted to protect his mother, keep her safe and happy. Everything he did, it was for that sake, for her sake. And now that Squall was apart of his family, his name had joined that list of people he wished to protect, no matter how much trouble Squall was planning on giving him.
And that was all that mattered.
Squall awoke with a jolt.
His eyes were wide open, adjusting to the darkness of the room as he stared up at the whitewash ceiling, feeling sweat drench his clothes as he felt his chest tighten, slowly evening out his breaths and inhaling deeply. He closed his eyes, trying to resume his sleep, but an indescribable trepidation was garrotting him, making it feel as though he had a blade at his neck and a pillow over his face, smothering him.
Squall felt himself shake a little, and a quiet whimper escaped his lips, causing a hand to shoot up and clamp over his mouth. He gripped at the blanket, squeezing his eyes shut and trying his best to ignore the unsettling feeling that was haunting him as the long shadows cast throughout the room loomed eerily, accompanied by the grave creaks that sounded now and again.
He wasn't scared. He wasn't scared. This was all in his head. He had never been scared before, and he wasn't going to start now.
Curse this damn body.
This child he was forced to pretend to be, this body that was caging him, it was starting to affect his mind. It was bad enough that Squall had to comply with the juvenile fodder this body demanded, and it was equally as undermining to have to take intermittent naps throughout the day simply because this body had the irregular energy levels of a child, but in no way whatsoever was he going to let this inexperienced body's instinct take over and make him hide under the covers in hopes that whatever was residing underneath the bed wouldn't come out and eat him.
'Think,' he told himself. 'Think; there's nothing there. This is all in your head. This is merely insomnia. You're tired – your body feels tired. You need to drink something – something warm and sleep-inducing.'
That did the trick.
Immediately, the boy kicked the covers off and climbed off the bed, hurriedly making his way out of the creepily dark room and tiptoeing down the corridor, though the reason behind his tiptoeing, he never knew. As he started towards the kitchen, he noticed that the lights inside were still on, there being some muffled noises. Curious, Squall sneaked towards the doorway that linked the living room and the kitchen and peeked inside.
Cloud was slumped over the dining table, resting his head on his folded arms that had numerous papers sticking out from underneath them. He was breathing softly, and his eyes were fluttering every now and then. A sheet or two of those papers had fallen to the ground and were resting by his feet, displaying how his neat handwriting had gradually become languorously illegible before striking towards the right, running off the paper in what had probably been a drowsy stupor.
Squall found himself pausing.
Cloud looked rather cherubic when he was asleep; less like the demon he often made himself out to be on a regular basis. His lips were slightly parted, revealing a hint of pearly white teeth, and his untrimmed, blond spikes were in his eyes, irritating him a little. His head was inclined to one side, so his cheeks had flattened and become slightly puffed up against his face, causing his mouth to open a tad more.
Yes, he certainly looked less like that idiot who paraded around school.
Maybe it was because his piercing blue eyes couldn't be seen. They constantly held anger and arrogance whenever he looked into them. They were accusing and smouldering, as though they could read the very fabrics interweaving your heart and your mind. It could also possibly be due to the absence of the frown that often marred his face. His eyebrows were no longer furrowed, either, and this caused the hard lines that were usually seen on his face to disappear. He looked unguarded, almost angelic.
It was rather nice to see Cloud this vulnerable.
It had taken him a while, but it was then did he notice a petite figure leaning over the teenager. The woman, if her long, blonde braids and bosom were anything to go by, had her hands resting on Cloud's shoulders, squeezing affectionately, her lips near his ears, whispering soothing murmurs for him to wake up.
Cloud had groaned softly at first, slurring something unintelligible before the woman smiled and shook him lightly.
She was very beautiful, Squall found himself thinking. She had kind, green eyes that were gentle and deep. Her skin was white, a stark contrast of how tan Cloud was, and her lips were upturned sweetly, pressed together in a tender smile. Her face was delicate and oval-shaped, and Squall wondered how Cloud's messily spiky hairstyle that made him look more pronounced as a moron could make this woman look so. . . pleasant. Her blonde tresses were certainly much longer than the teenager's, and they had been loosely tied together in a large braid that had been pulled to the left, allowed to hang from her shoulder down her front. She was dressed in a long, black overcoat that was covering what seemed like a nurse's uniform.
Squall heard her whisper Cloud's name, giving his nose a playful pinch before rubbing his back in coaxing circles, trying to get him to stir. He had grunted, but resumed his rest, causing his mother to smile at his demeanour before she stood up straight wistfully at his hopelessness, catching a glance of the boy who was peeking at her from the doorway.
Squall hadn't quite expected being found by the woman, but he himself felt curious as she approached him quietly, stopping before him and squatting down so that they were at eye level.
There was no doubt in his mind that this was Cloud's mum, if he had even harboured skepticism prior to this unprecedented exchange. She looked tired, though, but still that sweet smile on her face didn't falter, and her eyes seemed to twinkle with delight as she looked at the young boy.
"Hey there," she said softly. "Are you Squall?"
Squall felt a little out of place as he dumbly nodded to her question. Her smile widened at that, and she asked kindly, "Can't sleep?"
He nodded again, eyeing Cloud's mother, completely enamoured.
She stood up, offering a hand for him to take – which he had – and she led him towards the kitchen, picking him up gently and pulling out a chair for him to sit on. He was sitting to Cloud's left, thereby allowing him closer scrutiny of the teenager if he so wished, but his eyes were glued to the woman as she approached the stove and poured some milk into a pot.
She simply beguiled him. He had never had a mother before, never had a mother to dote on him or tend to him. As she allowed the milk to boil, she had walked to him and smiled again in something that made him feel reassured, made him even enjoy it when she ran her fingers through his hair affectionately.
Squall. . . liked it.
He didn't like that constrained feeling of being fussed over that Yuffie and Aerith constantly made him feel, neither did he enjoy the way his teachers would callously treat him and make him feel like a hat stand. This kind of mothering. . . he liked it. It felt nice, like someone really cared for him and. . . genuinely. . . loved. . . him.
It was like how Cloud treated him, but even though he knew it was completely different, that strange feeling was still there, though he casually waved it away.
Perhaps this was what it was like to have a mother.
"Drink this and you'll be able to sleep better," she told him smilingly as he looked up at her with his big eyes. He had never taken his eyes off of her, and she found herself feeling flattered as she tapped his nose – much in the way Cloud usually did – and pushed a glass of warm milk towards him.
He tentatively received the glass with both hands, eyeing it briefly before bringing it to his lips and draining the contents. A nice, bubbling sensation slid smoothly down his throat and into his stomach, spreading all he way to the tip of his toes as a serene and lazy feeling slowly overcame him.
Cloud's mother had already returned to her son's side, rubbing his back and gently getting him to rouse.
Cloud did, eventually, and as he stood up drowsily, he stared at her with half-lidded eyes, trying to make his mind process the image before him. After a while, it seemed he realized that he was not dreaming, and murmured a sleepy, "Hi, Mum," as he rubbed his eyes.
"Go to bed, Cloud. We can work on the bills tomorrow, okay? You need rest now," she said soothingly, patting his back and giving him a gentle push in the direction of his room. He trudged off blindly, legs heavy and back slouched.
His mother sat beside Squall, looking at him tenderly as he finished his drink, wiping away the milk moustache that was left behind with a tissue before setting the glass in the sink and picking him up, bouncing him briefly before switching off the lights and walking back to his room. She continued to rock him to sleep, and Squall found that the milk and the warmth that was engulfing him lulling him to rest.
She set him on the bed, pulling up the blankets and tucking him in. She sat by him, stroking his forehead and pushing his hair out of his eyes as she sang a soft lullaby, waiting until he finally dozed off before giving him a light peck on the nose and closing the door quietly behind her.
Squall now somehow understood why Cloud was so enraptured by his mother.
xxx
A/N: First of all, I must thank my darling wonderful bread/cockroach, Archy, for tirelessly copying and pasting each Counterclockwise chapter from my Livejournal, logging into my account, and then pasting it in - therein replacing the three asterisks that change each scene with a horizontal line. Without her, you read this not.
On that note, I think I was a little unclear on my mentioning my LJ.
THERE ARE A GAJILLION FICS ON THAT DAMN THING. GO TO MY LJ SO YOU CAN READ MORE.
Cheerily, I shall mention that I am working on chapter 6 now.
Review, please. 8D