Chapter 05
Words: 9 127
Genre: Comedy/Romance (Fluff)
Pairing(s): Eventual Cloud x Leon
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
Squall felt a slight tugging at the blankets.
He swiped at it sleepily, murmuring something about five more minutes before squirming under the covers and nestling comfortably in bed. Just as he was about to drift off to sleep once again, he felt something firm and warm whisper up the blanket and rest on his forehead, sweeping away his bangs. It was a rather comforting action and the boy found himself gently nuzzling it; whatever it was.
And then there was a sharp pinch on is nose.
Irritably, Squall pried his eyes open, gaze already narrowed in a drowsy glower at the person standing over him. After momentarily allowing his vision to adjust to the dim light of the room, the blurry figure came into a focus and revealed a blond teenager, dressed in a loose shirt and baggy trousers who had on a very faint smile curling at his lips. His face was relaxed and his eyes twinkled in mirth, the scene before him obviously entertaining to a degree.
Tritely, Cloud withdrew his hand from Squall's nose and waited patiently as the boy sat up, rubbing his eyes sleepily. The boy's hair was sticking out at odd angles from sleep and he let out a small, stretched out yawn, smacking his lips together twice before looking up at Cloud in enquiry, eyes half-lidded.
"Come on, get out of bed. We're going out today."
Squall blinked.
He squinted at the clock hanging on the wall behind Cloud and felt the onslaught of a frown pull at his lips when the time displayed on the object slowly registered in his mind. Bit by bit, he noted how dark the room was, realizing that this could only mean that the Sun had just risen.
Someone was going to get hurt.
"What's with that face? Up you get," Cloud told him firmly, though his tone held a distinct touch of playfulness to it. The blond teenager pulled off the thick blanket from the bed in one fluid movement, leaving the boy to shiver on the mattress from the sudden draft.
Squall mustered as much of a glare as he could and shot it at Cloud, though the teenager paid it no attention, having had already busied himself with folding the blanket neatly, patting out the wrinkles and creases before setting it on the wooden loveseat located against the wall, by the doorway. As usual, Squall's eyes followed Cloud's every fluid motion, falling silent and gaze growing contemplative.
It was a new habit he had developed, staring quietly at the teenager; Cloud's movements were strangely alluring and almost graceful in their own right. He possessed something naturally captivating – much like his own mother, maybe it was in their genes? – and it never ceased to mesmerize Squall, who found that he had started to constantly watch Cloud whenever he had the chance to.
It was so foreign and surreal, being able to observe Cloud in the manner he had. All this while, the contempt that he had harboured for the blond before had filtered everything for him; Cloud was weak, Cloud was pathetic, Cloud was soft, Cloud was girlish, Cloud was dull, Cloud was stupid – the list went on. He had never really seen Cloud for Cloud, had never noticed how gentle Cloud was when he dressed Squall's wounds, had never understood before the gentleness behind Cloud's reason for working for the grumpiest old man in the town, had never felt the tenderness Cloud showered on his mother and children – Squall himself.
Every single damned time, to put it simply.
Squall wondered what had made him hate the blond so in the past.
He was shaken from his thoughts when Cloud picked him up and set him on the floor, Squall rubbing his eyes sleepily as his other hand fisted the material of the blond's trousers. Unaffected, Cloud pulled at the bed sheets and started to make the bed neatly and quickly in practiced motions, obviously having had a lot of experience in the past.
Once the young boy was a little more awake, he found that he probably had to get ready to go wherever it was Cloud planned on taking him. He let go of the blond's pants and trudged heavily towards the bathroom. However, mid-step, Squall was halted by two hands pressed firmly on his shoulders. He tilted his head backwards glancing up drowsily at Cloud in enquiry.
"Don't shower. It's pointless to take one now."
At that seemingly cryptic statement, Squall found himself pausing and pondering the nature of those words, only nodding hesitantly in response.
Whatever it was, he'd get to know about it once they left.
The car ride had given him enough time for a brief nap, and that alone lifted Squall's spirit by a little. As Cloud parked the car, the boy rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, glancing out the window curiously, his head tilted to the side slightly.
They were in a wide and remote meadow, having travelled off a dusty dirt-ridden road to get there, and a small cottage surrounded by plump geranium and gardenia bushes came into view, the blossoms in full bloom. The soft flowers were of a gentle pastel shade, mildly accenting the wild green of the lush leaves. Adorning the footpath leading up to the entrance of the cottage were small, rectangular pots of sweet cerulean forget-me-nots and creamy achilleas. The blue flowers were tiny; charming in their own right as they beckoned the two into the house. It was a scene straight out from a picture book.
Bitterly, Cloud couldn't help but murmur softly to himself about how symbolic the dainty forget-me-nots really were.
Cloud's voice had barely carried over the sweeping breeze, but Squall had heard it. The boy had already learnt how to catch even the faintest sounds Cloud made, and he had heard that remark as clear as daylight as he climbed out of the car, eyes resting on the pots of soft indigo flowers.
He couldn't help but agree.
"Oy, boys! Here already, eh?"
From the doorway, a blond middle-aged man could be seen leaning up against the wooden frame, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He had on a plain blue shirt with jeans, and around his neck dangled some dog tags. Cid's lips were pulled upwards in a roguish grin, his gaze immediately softening as they landed on Squall.
Squall gazed up at him curiously, feeling a hand loosely grip his own as the faint sound of a slamming boot echoed through the clearing. Cloud had in his other hand two bags, both of them gripped securely by the handles as the blond carefully stuck his keys into the pocket of his trousers. Cloud's grasp on Squall's hand tightened and he led the boy towards the house.
The brunet entered the place quietly, eyes straying as they took in anything and everything within his line of sight. Cid had disappeared somewhere with their things and Cloud simply stood where he was, allowing Squall to thoroughly sate his curiosity before they continued on.
The cottage was homey and cosy, spacious. The furniture was squashy and arranged comfortably, though sparse in number. A small television was placed on top of a low table in front of 4 sofas and a reclining chair. A large oak table was located to the far left of the entrance, somewhere near the door leading to the kitchen, a vase of tulips placed in the centre of it. There was a diminutive cabinet placed upright against the wall to the right, a piece of cloth with white lace hanging over it. Photographs and little notes were settled neatly on top of it, the empty cradle of a cordless house phone set up beside them.
Squall could barely believe that this small, neat house belonged to Cid Highwind.
Even more likely, it belonged to a wrinkly old woman living off her husband's pension.
He walked slowly towards the cabinet, eyes carefully scanning the photographs, hand never letting go of Cloud's. There were pictures of Cid and a younger woman with dark hair together, both of them grinning happily at the camera in various poses, all of them framed neatly.
The largest photograph that was placed in the very middle was of the two of them in front of a car, in a windy area. The woman was laughing heartily as Cid, who had on a delighted and cheeky grin, draped an arm around her waist, his other hand patting her slightly bulging stomach tentatively.
He looked so. . . happy.
"See that lady?" a soft voice caressed his ear in a whisper. "That's Cid's wife. These are pictures of them before they split up. She was still pregnant here."
Squall's gaze never faltered, his eyes still diligently trained on the photographs as he nodded in acquiescence at Cloud's elucidation. It explained many things, though those answers gave way to even more questions that had begun to overrun his thoughts like a black plague. Why had they divorced? They seemed absolutely happy together. Had Cid always been that grumpy? How old had Cid and his ex-wife been when they married? How long did their marriage last? Was he kinder, nicer before? Did that incident close him off somehow?
Cloud, on the other hand, felt thoroughly surprised that he actually bothered telling Squall all this. The boy was young – only 5 or 6 years old – and he didn't need to know all these cruel aspects of reality. Not now.
Yet Squall took everything in coolly, understanding all these complex problems and being constantly aware of his environment, of the issues surrounding him. Never once did he display confusion or uneasiness whenever the blond confided in him of these dark matters.
So mature.
Cloud didn't think he had ever met even a peer as mature as this child was. Squall possessed a sort of hidden wisdom inside him, one that he guarded carefully as he silently observed life in all its goings-on, revealing his knowledge bit by bit in appropriation to the situation. Cloud felt inexplicably drawn to the boy, try as he might to keep himself if not a little detached, and found that he wanted to be as close to Squall as he would be allowed. In the bland canvas that painted his life, Cloud found that his happening upon Squall to be that vibrant shade that outrageously smeared some life into the monotonous picture of his existence.
It would have been the greatest honour in the world to him for the 6-year-old brunet to go up to the blond and entrust to Cloud his heart and all his faith. To be so believed, to be placed upon such hope, to be cherished with shy smiles of affection and adoring little glances from the boy – he felt that nothing at all else in the world would have made him happier.
Cloud found that he was looking forward to the future, to nurturing Squall as he grew up.
He wanted to be a part of Squall's picture.
Cloud was snapped out of his musings promptly enough. He blinked, peering down at Squall who was pulling his hand, beckoning towards the open door leading towards the backyard. Cid was visible through the doorway, standing up with a hand on his hip as the other waved robustly above his head, his hoarse voice ringing through the air and telling them to hurry up.
Cloud glanced downwards, noticing how wide and enquiring Squall's eyes were, the boy's head tilted to a slight degree as though asking Cloud if the teenager was fine. A smile ghosting over his lips, the blond squeezed Squall's hand affectionately, nodding in reaffirmation.
Both pleased, they made their way through the door and walked down the path that lead to where Cid was.
There was a pause.
Cloud glanced sideways discreetly, a smug smile playing across his lips in satisfaction at the expression that had been educed from the quiet brunet.
Squall was floored.
Totally and completely floored.
Before him rolled endless waves of green, soft pastels shading in every blade of grass with gentle colours, lissom petals flowing nimbly with the quiet breeze that whispered across the surface of the wide river that crossed daintily across the plain. A few large trees scattered across the land sparsely, but Cid was resting underneath a moderate sized apple tree – something Squall himself could probably climb – and it was located not too far away from the edge of the water.
The water of the river was that of a gurgling rush, droplets skimming through the air after rapids collided with a stone or two, reflecting the sunlight and casting a dazzling shimmer of colours before it fell to the earth. Everything was so beautiful; calm and tranquil.
There was no way in hell Cid Highwind could have lived in a place like this.
"Oy, gonna stay there an' gawk all day, kid? Get yer butt over here!" the man barked with good humour, gesturing for the two of them to come over, a cheeky grin wide across his lips. Cid's eyes twinkled mischievously as he saw how disoriented Squall was, the boy staring at everything in utter disbelief as he stumbled over to Cid, Cloud gently guiding him towards the picnic site.
Too strange.
"Ey, come to Uncle Cid!"
Squall was in the man's lap again, and this time, he was accepting a sandwich from him. Cloud was across them, pouring some tea into three mugs, murmuring something in response to whatever it was Cid had said. It didn't matter; Squall paid no attention to their conversation because he was a little busy figuring some things out.
Squall always seemed to lose his train of thought around the man because Cid was just so damn quick.
Resigned, the brunet chewed hungrily on his sandwich, settling himself comfortably on the older blond's crossed legs as Cid started to chatter animatedly about the types of plants he grew, and of the variety of flowers that had flourished with the coming of summer. As usual, Squall listened on attentively, nodding every now and again to signify that he was indeed paying attention as the older man picked up a sandwich and tore it in half, offering one half to the boy who accepted it gratefully before chomping it down. Pointing some way off, Cid took a large bite of his sandwich and swallowed, singling out a particular plant.
"See that shrubbery way 'oer there, boy?" he asked gruffly. Squall nodded in response, squinting at the plant as he wiped away some crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand.
"They've got great big seeds that taste mighty good if ya cook 'em up right. Spike here knows how to do it, I'll get the runt to make some later, eh?"
Squall widened his eyes slightly, tilting his head backwards and looking up at the man before giving him a small grin and nodding.
Cid glowed.
"Yeah, heh, well," he scratched his nose a little, that grin of his widening brilliantly. Cid looked very pleased with himself. "I used to grow heaps of 'em all by myself, but geraniums and primroses tend to take up all yer time once ya start plantin' 'em. Like the flowers out front? Did them up all myself. Heh, Uncle Cid's pretty great, eh?"
Cloud snorted audibly, taking out a Tupperware from the basket Cid had brought along.
"You say sumthin', kid?" he snapped roughly at the teenager, eyes narrowing. Cloud met his gaze coolly, amusement apparent on his face as he pressed his lips firmly together, as though keeping down a laugh.
"I don't think I did."
"Yeah, well, good," Cid replied smugly, tossing Cloud a final reproachful look before leaning over – Squall having to follow his movements – and reaching for a steamed dumpling.
Cloud finally settled himself down across them, taking off his light jacket and folding it neatly, placing it beside him. He was mostly quiet, nodding now and then and murmuring something softly in response as he usually did with other people. Reaching over and tearing open a packet of crackers, he managed an artless glance upwards to find Cid looking some ways off, jabbering about a tree and pie, and that his gaze had locked with Squall's.
Getting caught staring was something Squall had not planned at all.
It had been a casual sweep of the area at first, eyes raking in as much of the scenery as he could possibly take in before he noticed the food splayed out before him. Eyes hungrily devouring the sight of the plates of fried chicken, an assortment of sandwiches, some steamed dumplings and spring rolls before him, it was then when Squall's gaze had innocently caught a glimpse of Cloud's pale hand, reaching over for a packet of crackers.
His eyes mindlessly followed the graceful movements of the blond, the teenager carefully pulling at the center of the plastic foil and ripping the bag open, to the tips of his fingers that had tentatively grabbed the snack and brought it up to his full lips.
Squall's eyes lingered for a little while before they travelled a little higher, stealing a clearer glance of Cloud's outlandishly blue eyes. He had never admitted it before, but Cloud had the queerest, most alluring pair of eyes he had ever had the fortune of seeing.
Cloud's eyes weren't the bright blue of the sky, neither were they the deep blue of the ocean. They were nothing like the dark glitter of sapphire, they did not have the sweet innocence of forget-me-nots, and they were clearer than the faint, glistening blue of a white-hot flame. They were of a rich, ethereal shade, something that could not be described with mere words but Squall wanted to have something to compare them to, anyways.
And then, he had been caught.
The brunet barely saw the thoroughly amused expression on Cloud's face as he turned away in embarrassment, nodding meekly at Cid who had at that moment offered him some tea to drink. He tentatively received the mug with both hands, blowing at the drink in order to cool it down before Cid fished around for a napkin to clean Squall's mouth with.
It had taken a bit, but after a while, Squall had eventually come to find that Cid was a strangely tolerant and affectionate man when it came to kids. Perhaps it was just that close bond he apparently shared with Cloud that made for the snide remarks they threw at each other that made it appear that he and Cloud were always fighting, but Squall had seen that proud twinkle in Cid's eye whenever Cloud related something he did or performed well. Squall had already established that Cloud had a sorely soft spot for the old man, and so he supposed that that had to be the reason behind his marginal indifference to this newfound discovery.
Also, Cid seemed uncannily nice. He was a chain smoker, and someone who cursed with every sentence or two; these facts were well known throughout the city.
He had kept his mouth amazingly clean even through the arguments he had with Cloud, and instead of a cigarette, a long, dangling piece of straw hung from the corner of his lips.
Recalling the photographs resting on the cabinet back inside the house, Squall found himself questioning how much Cid had really lost.
The boy suddenly felt restless, fidgeting slightly and squirming on Cid who was refilling his mug with tea. Sensing the boy's discomfort, the older blond leant back, allowing Squall to readjust his position as his soft brown air tickled the mechanic's stubbly chin. A soft grin was on Cid's lips again as he gazed down fondly at the boy who had leaned far back against Cid's chest, nestling himself with a small pout on his face.
For some odd reason, he just couldn't get comfortable.
"You okay there, kiddo?"
Squall let out an irritable huff of air, lower lip jutted out in frustration at Cid's friendly, brusque voice. A quiet, entertained chortle followed the exasperated sound made by the brunet, and soon enough, he felt himself being pulled up to his feet by the armpits. The boy glanced backwards in surprise, blinking in enquiry.
"If you need the potty, it's back in the house by the kitchen. Now scoot. Don't need ya peeing all over yerself now, y'hear?"
Squall's face fell, Cid's words and their implications crashing down on him with the momentum of a fallen beam as heat rushed madly to his face at that. Edgily, he stiffly managed to turn his head by a margin, eyes hesitantly shifting to the side to see Cloud's reaction.
Cloud had on an uncharacteristic grin on his face, his lips curling upwards and spread wide, revealing a set of straight white teeth as his eyes sparkled with unrepressed mirth.
Mortified, Squall kicked it and made a mad dash back towards the cottage, face burning up with humiliation as the good-natured chuckles of the middle-aged man and the unspoken laughter of the teenager echoed amiably through the meadow, following Squall into the home. He had tripped on a loose stone some ways up the path, but had scrambled back up and ignored the throbbing burn searing under the skin of his knees, running into the house.
Panting slightly, he bent over by a degree, a hand resting on the fleshy area of his thigh as the other wiped away the sweat that clung to his forehead. The slow, numbing sensation that had dully hewed him had begun to pulsate heavily, causing him to wince when his dirt-soiled fingernails had accidentally chafed the cut slicing deeply into his flesh.
Squall straightened, calming himself down and forcing himself to take deep, easy breaths as he inspected his dirty hands and the scratches adorning his legs. Blood had begun to ooze down his knees, mingling with some grass and earth that still clung to his skin. Exhaling smoothly, he scraped the dirt off, looking around and searching for the toilet to wash the injuries.
A little absentminded, Squall had accidentally bumped into a chair, causing an angry, red bump to swell on his forehead. Tears had already started to well up at the corner of his eyes, but he chided himself for being so childish and blinked them away, wiping the superfluous tears away with the back of his hand.
Everything was a little out of focus, no thanks to the injury, and he wobbled uncertainly, stumbling around the house like a blind drunkard. Afraid that he would cause the toppling over pf anything fragile, Squall attempted to stay still until the throbbing on his forehead receded and his eyesight returned, but his legs kept moving of their own accord, the sharp burning jolting through his kneecaps dominating his thoughts.
Precariously, he knocked headlong into the small cabinet, tumbling to the floor with a slight yelp and grabbing at the furniture instinctively as he fell.
A single tear rolled down his cheek before he could stop himself.
A quiet, choked sob was caught in his throat, Squall hastily scrubbing his eyes with his knuckles and sniffing back the tears that threatened to fall. He looked around wearily, a small ounce of relief comforting him by a small degree as he noticed that he hadn't broken or dropped anything.
However, as he had plummeted to the ground, Squall's fingers had accidentally latched onto the edges of the heavy wooden doors of the cabinet, swinging it ajar as the carpet broke his fall, and thereby causing it to smack into his face. His entire face felt red from the pain and embarrassment, but inwardly, he was glad that there was no one to bear witness to his clumsiness.
Carefully, Squall rubbed his face and cheeks, easing out the pain before he felt a small puff of air by his feet, some small objects dropping onto his lap.
Lowering his gaze, his eyes rested on a dusty packet – it appeared to have originally been an envelope – the paper old, yellowing, a little tattered around the edges. The pallid item was worn, thinning, its torn corners revealing blunt tips of what seemed like paper. Brown age spots marred the once-pallid envelope, mixed with cracked tobacco and dried tea dregs, the waspish scent faint and vague, but ever present.
A little apprehensive, Squall thought fleetingly before he turned the packet over, his fingers brushing over the paper, nimbly fingering the ragged flap of the envelope and pulling it back. He reached a petite hand inside, feeling the rough edges of papers and photographs before grasping on them and sliding them out.
There were disorganized sheets of paper scribbled on with different coloured ink, some of them sticking out a little from the pile. Photographs slipped out of his grip and fell down in between his thighs, fanning out on the floor. Quietly, carefully, Squall set the papers down, reshuffling them so that they were neat, and then collected the pictures from the ground, piling them together in a modest heap beside him.
Squall's deep grey eyes scanned the handwriting – slanted and a little loopy, curling at the ends – that was surprisingly clear, reading a few lines before realizing that he had in his hands a stack of old, worn out letters. He could picture each of them in the careful, firm grip of Cid's rough and calloused hands, paper unfolded vigilantly, the letter re-read over and over again until the ink seeped into the paper and the constant handling of the stationary caused the dried pulp to erode and fluff up.
Squall read a few of the first lines of a letter and suddenly, something clenched hard in his heart and refused to let go. A cold, unsettling feeling shot though him with the intensity of a glacial chill, a sinking feeling overwhelming him before he realized what it was:
Guilt.
He couldn't read Cid's letters; they were personal.
No matter how curious Squall was, he couldn't breach that trust that Cid had placed in him. Even if he was only now a child, his actions could certainly make the man veer off course emotionally, and perhaps the old man would start avoiding him – maybe he'd act different, awkward.
However, that overpowering urge to know made Squall's resolution waver, and he snuck a glance at the letter and caught sight of a few words that made his eyes widen in disbelief.
Hastily, the boy straightened the papers again and made to shove them into the packet. It was a slight hassle, but Squall eventually managed to squeeze them in if not a little haphazardly, much like in the condition he found them in. He rested his hand on the pile of photographs by his side, and he hesitated for a long moment, gaze lingering on the back of his small hand.
Between his fingers, he could make out the image of a very young boy – maybe 2 or 3 years old – with light coloured hair, brown – a contrast to his dark, earthen coloured tresses – and slightly tanned skin. He had dimples uplifting his expression, cheekbones set high, his clear eyes a sweet sparkle.
Slowly, Squall removed his hand, picking up the picture, eyes focusing on the photograph as he looked at it thoroughly, carefully.
Behind the boy was a teenager, eyes and hair an alluring dark shade. His skin was much darker than the smaller boy's in the photograph, and he had both hands resting on the child's shoulders. His eyes were twinkling mischievously, grin wide and almost cocky as he winked at the camera.
In another photo, that same teenager was holding up the camera, evident from its tilted angle and the raven-haired boy's disappeared hand, his other arm casually curled around the nape of an older man's neck. Beside him was Cid, grinning widely at the camera, an arm draped around the boy's neck as well. He looked a little younger, stronger, happier.
He wasn't wearing his usual dirty shirt and goggles, Cid this time sporting a clean dress shirt, his scruffy hair combed back precariously. His bangs hung over his eyes, making him appear even more youthful than he was, though his stubble was ever-present.
In the background, behind them, the back of another teenager was visible.
He had spiky blond hair.
There was nothing else to indicate that the person was Cloud, but how many people in the town had that hairstyle? Granted, it could have been imitated by anyone, but the brunet honestly doubted that anyone would go through all that trouble. Besides, the person's posture and the simple fact that he looked the way he did just somehow made the boy feel that it was, an albeit younger version of, Cloud.
Squall stared at the photograph, eyeing every detail and raking in everything on the faded picture. It appeared to have been taken in the exact same house, but it seemed less empty. More life. Without realizing it, a small frown had begun to pull at his lips, gaze lowering by a margin before he suddenly felt the presence of another person before him.
Squall was certain that he should have at least felt a little panic at getting caught red-handed, but he was completely calm as the figure squatted down in front of him.
It unnerved him a little.
No matter what, he just did not have any control over his emotions and reactions. Everything just happened. Maybe it was the other person's aura – tender and cool – that relaxed him, soothed him, reassured him that he wasn't in trouble.
When a warm hand briefly touched his face – his cheek – he had taken in a smooth breath and slowly raised his eyes, eventually finding himself gazing deeply into a pair of smouldering blue eyes. His confidence left him, and inside, a fine tremble had begun to shake Squall.
Those eyes were deep, intoxicating, hypnotizing; so fraught with emotions that it was difficult to tell what Cloud was feeling. That gaze of his felt unbearably accusing all of a sudden, and Squall had the sudden urge to bow his head and look away, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to look away from Cloud.
Silently, the blond teenager lowered his hand, grasping Squall's and gently prying the photographs from his now-limp grip. Cloud's gaze flickered downwards, a haze of something unmistakably like nostalgia filming thinly over his eyes before his lips twitched a little, the curl at its edges bitter, fleeting.
Squall raised his head, staring at Cloud solemn expression with deathlike pensiveness, waiting patiently like a prisoner in anticipation of his sentence.
A few lingering minutes passed before Cloud eventually spoke, his tone mild and his expression softened at the brunet's grave, almost frightened, disposition.
"Cid looks really young here, doesn't he?"
Squall didn't answer.
"He must've been in his thirties. He was married here, you can see his ring," Cloud stated pointedly, trying to calm Squall down, but the boy was still tense. Exhaling smoothly, a faint smile pulled at his lips before he lowered his head and bopped his forehead against Squall's good-naturedly.
"Though I don't condone your snooping through other people's things," he paused, raising a fine brow. "It's normal that you want to know more about the people around you. And Cid doesn't really tell you what you'd really like to know, so I'll let you off this time," Cloud chided softly, pulling away and running his hand through the boy's soft hair. Squall's eyes drooped a little and he leaned up into Cloud's touch, savouring the forgiveness in his pampering before he returned his attention to the pictures.
"How did you find these, anyway?" the blond asked noncommittally, gaze on the photographs as he pulled the top photo off and slid it to the bottom of the pile in his hands. Squall nodded briefly before pointing to the open cabinet, Cloud's eyes sliding from the photographs in his hand to the small, wooden furniture.
Gingerly, he gave the photos a final, lingering gaze before dropping them neatly into the packet – eyeing the letters suspiciously – sliding them into place on its proper shelf before closing the heavy wooden doors firmly.
He got to his feet, pulling Squall up in the process before finally taking a good look at the boy.
"Did you fall over on the way here? It doesn't look like you've gone to the toilet already."
At that, Squall felt his face aflame. He immediately lowered his head, looking away in embarrassment. There was a soft chuckle, hearty and light, and Squall felt Cloud grasp his hand before pulling the boy towards the kitchen. His small fingers automatically curled around Cloud's pinkie, lacing their fingers together as firmly as was possible as he followed the teenager faithfully until they reached a white, sterile bathroom.
Cloud allowed the boy some modesty and allowed Squall to use the 'potty' on his own first, entering the toilet once he heard a flush. Squall stood and looked up at him expectantly, Cloud squatting over once again and this time scanning the boy's soiled knees. He lowered the lid of the toilet seat and made Squall sit on it, grabbing a small washcloth and soaking it with warm water from a nearby tap before gently dabbing Squall's injuries.
He wiped away the mud and grass, firm in his gentleness, and whenever Squall winced when he pressed deeply into a particularly sharp cut, Cloud would look up at him and smile that ghost of a smile of his in reassurance.
Squall would quieten faster than usual.
Cloud cleaned him up without incident, Squall remaining that good, silent child as he usually did throughout that moment in time. When they were done, Cloud had gingerly pressed some waterproof bandaids to his cuts and bruises, gently ruffling his hair. He took Squall by the hand and they walked out into the sun, back towards Cid, who had at that moment taken it upon himself to unveil dessert.
The aged man caught a glimpse of them on the path and gave them a jovial wave.
Gazing at the mechanic from some ways away on the dirt path that lead to their shade beneath the apple tree, Squall felt something melancholic grip his heart at the sight of the man – alone, under a fruit tree in full bloom – pottering about for the people around him when he did not receive anything in return.
Squall's grasp on Cloud's hand tightened, and he leaned into the teenager, briefly burying his head into Cloud's calf before Cloud's quiet enquiries of his health made him stand a little straighter, shaking his head in response and murmuring a soft, "I'm fine."
Cloud remained still, and warily, Squall looked up, eyes locked in the blond's gentile gaze. He stayed that way for a moment before, slowly, eventually, he nodded his head at Cloud, reaffirming that he was fine. Convinced, Cloud smiled at him before giving his small hand a tight squeeze and setting down the path once again.
As they walked towards Cid, Squall found that he didn't want to let go of Cloud's warm hand.
"No."
The expressions and airs that hung and lingered over the three of them were amusing, to say the least. The usually pleased and entertained mirth that constantly filled one blond had been replaced by frustration and exasperation to near despondency, his normally content temperament now exhibited clearly on the other blond, who was grinning toothily at everything, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
It was all so absurd.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, Squall. . ."
"No."
His reply was stubborn and firm, unyielding. Arms crossed, he pouted angrily at the pair, his glower dangerously trained on Cloud.
A quiet sigh.
"Really, it's completely fine. It's warm and sha-"
"No."
The response this time was indignant and a touch incredulous, as though disbelieving of Cloud's persistence. He was not going to give in. He was not going to listen to Cloud. He had his principles, and damn it all to hell if he didn't stand by them resolutely even with this body. Nobody told him what to do.
Not even Cloud.
Never mind the fact that he had been obediently following all of Cloud's orders for the past week but. . .
No. Never mind. Ignore that.
Nobody told him what to do, period.
"Why not?" Cloud eventually asked after a long silence, sighing dejectedly, his expression a tad worn at the child's obstinacy.
"I don't want to."
There, simple and easy.
"Don't you even want to try?"
There was a slight pause, but the answer was as clear as daylight.
"No."
Defeated, Cloud sighed, eyeing the small brunet briefly before he nodded in understanding and proceeded to pull his shirt off over his head, flinging it at the boy's face. Squall quickly pulled it off him and glared sharply at the teenager, but Cloud had already turned around and so he was unable to see it.
Frowning, Squall grasped the shirt in his hands and slowly began to fold it, patting out the creases before letting it drop on top of Cloud' jacket on the ground. He looked around, feeling a little bored before he settled on watching Cloud as he did whatever it was he did.
A gruff clearing of the throat.
Rolling his eyes, Squall turned to eye Cid, who had on a very interesting expression though the sight of it made the boy feel even more tired than he already was. He exhaled huffily, raising his eyebrows at the man in hopes that he would quickly say whatever it was he wanted to say.
"You don't know how to or something?"
Squall's glare intensified.
Cid could only smirk wickedly.
"You should learn from Spike over there. He's pretty damn good at it, if I do say so myself."
With grace that Squall did not know Cid could possess, the aged blond man swiftly got to his feet and had already had both hands gripping the boy firmly, one arm curling around Squall's stomach and raising him up horizontally on his side so that he was completely lopsided.
An expression of pure terror crossed Squall's features.
"No," he started incredulously, wanting nothing more than to whisper, 'You wouldn't.'
But Cid would. And then some.
Everything happened in a matter of a few seconds. And then it was all over. Or, more appropriately, that's when it really began.
The sky and earth were spinning, rolling around in his line of sight as a startled cry left his lips, mingling with dread and panic. He flailed his arms and kicked roughly, forgetting to brace his body for the impact as he managed the briefest glimpse of a horror-struck Cloud, his blue eyes widened in shocked worry.
And then he plunged in.
A garbled sound caught in his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut, air draining his lungs and making him flail even more desperately than ever as his clothes grew heavier and pulled him down deeper. Squall was being pulled away, farther and farther away, until he couldn't see Cid anymore. He kept struggling, kept fighting until his limbs began to tire and sear with a numb ache, lids fluttering open by a margin as he felt the tears well up in his eyes.
An instant later, it was all over.
Squall broke the surface and choked, greedily sucking in air in harsh pants as his small, shaking arms curled tightly around Cloud's neck with a vice grip, the boy pressing his cheek against the teenager's ear as he trembled, a small whimper escaping him.
Cloud had both muscular arms wrapped securely around Squall's petite body, holding him close and rocking him back and forth, whispering reassurance gently as he patted Squall's back in an attempt to calm him down.
The water was deep where the currents had managed to pull Squall, and it sloshed around them with the rushing rapids at Cloud's shoulder-level.
The blond teenager was barking something or the other hotly at the man on the riverbank, but anything that he heard barely registered in his mind as Squall clung tighter to Cloud, body still shaking and heart still hammering violently in his chest. Try as he might, he could not calm himself down, couldn't tell himself that he was being scared for nothing, because his body was still shaking, and all he could do was tighten his arms around Cloud's neck and pray that he wouldn't be let go.
Soothingly, Cloud hoisted Squall up a little, nuzzling his nose in the boy's now-wet hair as he continued to whisper over and over again that he was there and nothing would happen to the boy.
Squall forced himself to listen and obey Cloud's voice, told himself to stop worrying and to calm down. The smooth, warm breath that caressed his skin made him shiver a little, the wispy scent of soap washing over him coaxingly, gradually relaxing him. His quickened breathing had soon slowed, becoming drawn out, and eventually, Squall's eyes slipped closed, the boy leaning his head forward by a little a leaning against Cloud, his arms still tightly wound around the blond.
". . . can you swim?" Cloud asked him softly, his voice a sweeping whisper, barely carrying over the breeze, nursing him gently.
Slowly, very slowly, Squall shook his head, face still buried in the crook of Cloud's neck. The blond allowed a small smile to spread across his lips as he looked down affectionately at the boy.
"Do you want me to teach you how?" he asked kindly, raising a hand and resting it in Squall's hair. Squall shook his head again, shivering a little from the cold. He shifted a little, pulling himself closer to the blond.
Musing, Cloud hummed softly, rocking the boy gently back and forth.
"I used to be part of my school's swim team, you know," Cloud's soft voice appeased him. "I represented the state and won quite a few trophies."
Squall couldn't miss that swell of pride in Cloud's even if he tried. It resonated with his entire being – the molten blue of his eyes, the healthy tan of his skin, the golden lustre of his spikes, the firmly toned muscles framing his body.
Even so, Squall couldn't help but notice the bitter resentment that tinged the teenager's voice, reflected clearly in his eyes as he pulled away slightly, chin on the blond's shoulder, but eyes darting upwards to look at Cloud. He had expected to meet Cloud's gaze and to maybe receive a soft smile in return, but Cloud's eyes had taken on that hazy, glazed over look once again, the teenager staring off into the distance, buried deeply in his thoughts and recollections. A long moment passed before he finally parted his lips to speak.
"After we moved here from Wutai. . . I didn't have any friends and I had gotten a little sick. Believe it or not, I used to be much scrawnier than you are when I was your age."
Cloud had smiled briefly at that, glancing at Squall with more than a little affection before his gaze returned to that point faraway in the distance, lost somewhere in his past.
"I was really quiet, so I got picked on a lot when I started to go to school. Come to think of it, I still am."
Squall felt a flicker of hurt and regret overwhelm him for a split second.
"One of the teacher's took pity on me and made me join the swimming club. I was left out a lot, though. I couldn't do anything right, couldn't even float properly," Cloud chortled quietly at that, the image in his mind so emblazoned into his memory. "No one wanted to teach me, and I just didn't know how to swim."
His voice was so quiet, Cloud had barely heard it at first. But he did.
And his gaze slid downwards, resting on the boy, a full smile on his lips again.
"What was that?"
Squall felt that he probably should have been a little indignant, maybe mutter something quiet and ask to be brought back to shore, but instead, he tipped his head back a little and gazed steadily at Cloud. His eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed, the droplets clinging onto his lashes mingling and smoothly rolling down his cheek, melding with the water dampening his soft, white face. He was suspended, and with Cloud's voice and at Cloud's request, he made himself focus not on the fact that his feet did not touch anything solid, but at the story Cloud was telling him to get his mind off the fear ravaging him.
Slowly, Squall's grey eyes slid open again, gaze tender and clearer than it had ever been, reflecting his emotions.
That feeling stirring inside him, he knew what it was.
He had half-expected his heart to thunder with this new surge of emotion, but instead, he found that he was completely cool, eyes steady and disposition now more languid than it had been mere moments before.
"What made it better?" he asked again, a little louder, a little more confidently this time.
Cloud's smile on him widened, expression softening. He felt something warm cloud his thoughts, making him feel a little light-headed, but only a little.
"Well," Cloud began softly. "I apparently had a cousin staying here that I haven't met before. He was in the swim team, one of the seniors, and took me under his wing. He's the first real. . . friend I ever really had."
By then, Cloud's gaze had grown downcast and hazy again, as though tears threatened to spill. His voice had alleviated into a barely audible whisper.
"We were really close. I miss him."
Squall's eyes drooped slightly, leaning against the teenager once again, settling comfortably in his arms.
". . . what's his name?"
He could feel that smile on him once again. That small, shy, bitter smile. The smile that made him happy and sad at the same time, because it was beautiful, delicate, and heart wrenching. Like a desolate sketch of bereavement that marred the golden rust of autumn. Like the blank whiteness of winter that fell softly on the earth, covering everything in the quiet shade of a serene white only to hide the dried, cracked branches of dead trees.
"His name's Zack."
He could feel it. Squall could feel it. Emotions weren't overflowing in him alone; Cloud was feeling the overwhelming rush of feelings constricting his chest and picking away at him with the intensity of the breaking waves crashing into a golden shore.
"He. . . he always made me happy. He always wanted me to be happy. He used to take me around town, and we'd just. . . hang out and have fun." There was a hint of a laugh in Cloud's voice, but Squall couldn't be sure. He merely nodded, face still buried in Cloud's shoulder.
"He trained me really well. We used to race, right here in this river, until I got much better than some of the other regulars. I got into the actual team, and I never looked back. Not once. The people who picked on me eventually stopped, for the most part. It was. . . it felt good, to be at least a little respected. To have a sense of self-worth."
Cloud paused, a hand moving up and running through Squall's hair.
"One day, he had to go away. I was sort of by myself again, and that was fine. But. . . well, when he left. . . I had to quit the swim team. I haven't jumped into some water for a bit, but I'm still pretty okay. I could. . . I could teach you, so that you can swim by yourself too," Cloud ended, his voice tinged with a touch of hesitancy.
A warm, swift breeze billowed through, whispering across the surface of the river, the smooth whistling mingling with the gentle rush of the river rapids. The silence that stretched between them was long, so long that Cloud gave up any hope for an answer. He leaned forward a little, an arm curling firmly around Squall's body as his other arm made a powerful sweep through the water, his legs kicking and propelling him forwards.
There it was again, and this time, Cloud had almost not heard Squall.
"I don't want to swim by myself."
The teenager paused abruptly, glancing at the boy in surprise who only blinked in return, hands still nimbly wound around his neck, though they had loosened comfortably.
"Why did you quit?" Squall asked instead, his tone light, yet insistent.
Cloud remained silent, thoughts an intricately disorganized swirl in his mind as he pondered Squall's sudden loquaciousness and the answer he found himself a little less than inclined to give the boy. He knew that he should tell the boy, let him be free of any doubts that plagued his mind, but. . . he didn't want the confusion addle the boy's mind. He didn't have to know. Not yet, at least.
". . ." his breath hitched at first, but slowly, the words came to him, forming with utmost care on his lips. ". . . I had to quit because. . . Mum lost her job. I had to stop all my extra-curricular activities to help her earn some money."
At that moment, something roused inside him – a cold, wispy shot of air – and it slowly gnawed at him, hewing away at that warmth that Squall had filled him with ever since the boy stepped into his life. His arms wrapped around Squall, squeezing the boy gently as he embraced the child, burying his face in the boy's hair, his blue eyes squeezed shut – as though asking for forgiveness, reconciliation.
Squall's own eyes fluttered shut in acquiescence, arms tightening around Cloud as well this time, that warmth flickering through him, gurgling happily in his stomach, spreading to the very tips of his fingers.
In the back of his mind, Squall wondered if this would be what it felt like to have a brother.
And if it did, Squall decided that he wouldn't have wanted anyone else to fill that role in.
Squall was warm, a large, thin jacket – Cloud's – serving as a blanket for him as he laid the side of his head on the blond's lap, eyes gazing up dully at the screen of the television. They were back at home, having returned only a few hours before after getting hosed down by Cid in the garden.
Upon arrival at their own house, Cloud and Squall had both respectively retreated to the bathrooms and showered themselves off with hot water. Cloud took a little longer since he was bigger, and hence needed to use more water, so meanwhile, Squall had made his way to the kitchen to fix himself a sandwich.
Unfortunately, Squall was about a few inches shorter than the shelf in the refrigerator that stored the cold cuts. No amount of hopping or stretching would help, as it had with his attempts to grab at the photo albums in the study only a few days before. His stomach was starting to rumble agitatedly, and he couldn't very well ignore its pleas for edible and tasty substances to digest. And so, without much else to distract him with, Squall was forced to resort to desperate measures.
He glanced sideways discreetly before setting off to complete his mission.
When Cloud entered the kitchen, the teenager had to bite down on his lower lip to keep the laughter from spilling out.
Cloud had arrived much quicker than Squall had anticipated (he had, in all honesty, thought that the teenager would have taken ages to shampoo and style his hair) and the mere sight of the blond had startled Squall so thoroughly that he had lost his balance, nearly toppling to the floor but grabbing the backrest of the chair he had been tiptoeing on to keep him on his feet and his face away from the hard parquet.
After a good-natured chastise about chairs being used to sit on as opposed to being stood upon, Cloud had shooed him to the living room to watch some television while he made them something to eat. A little cold, Squall managed to fish around for Cloud's jacket and proceeded to wrap it around himself, plopping unceremoniously on the couch as he began to channel surf.
Cloud had arrived shortly after, in his hand a tray carrying a large plate of hotdogs and two oversized glasses alongside a jug of deep red-purple liquid, ice clanking around in it, sloshing the juice about.
They had been sitting in a rather lazy position, but soon enough, Squall had gotten a little more boneless and had tilted to the side, leaning against the blond. Gently, Cloud hoisted Squall up a little and allowed the boy to lie down on his lap, a hand resting in the boy's hair and stroking it softly.
They continued to waste away an hour or two like this, watching TV and occasionally popping a fish finger or two in their mouths. Squall felt strangely satiated at the prospect of lounging around the house like an utter slob, if it meant that he could do so with Cloud. It seemed all the more enjoyable to have someone to join in and share the fun. Cloud's lap was really, really comfortable. . . he felt like he could sleep forever in that position. Eyes already fluttering, Squall let out a small yawn, nuzzling the teenager's thigh a little before nestling himself under the jacket and curling up.
Naturally, when Cloud leaned over to pick up his ringing cellular phone, it had irritated Squall by a marginal degree.
The teenager took special measure in keeping his voice low, quiet, but Squall managed to catch bits and pieces of the conversation anyways. Even so, nothing registered in his mind as he felt Cloud's smile on him again – this time completely content. His nimble fingers were threading the brunet's hair again, massaging his scalp gently as he ended the call and reached for the remote control, lowering the volume of the television.
For the very first time, Squall fell asleep with a smile on his face.