I felt oh-so terribly ashamed of my last update I knew I needed to make up for it somehow. And this came to life. It's not as creamy and flowery as I had planned it at first, but I'm hoping it to be the bridge that will lead us to a heart-throbbing love story behind corners, full of ordinary and extraordinary events that will somehow fit the unbelievable mess of ideas I have for this story.
[I miss you Joe.]
Disclaimer: I own the plot and Grandma Grace.
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He said I was growing into one of those old folks who saw pointless meaning in everything.
"It's funny sometimes." he said, laying on his back with a devilish sneer ornamenting his lips. We were on top of a broken railway carriage, two steps away from a dark, groundless hole.
"Says the one person to call me both slow and stupid on a daily basis" I said, defiant.
He scoffed, folded his arms behind his head.
"It's all good! Just don't read too much into things. You'll suck out the fun in everything." he said.
I flinched, unaware of the actual coldness in his voice. Then, came silence.
We hadn't been like that in a while, just the two of us in the Graveyard, the sun already melting behind the thick clouds of smoke from the industrial area.
Twilight brought the cold but I felt warm enough in my brand-new Italian wool coat – only it wasn't new and I reckon it wasn't Italian either. In the end it was just Edea's. She was to throw it in the bin because it no longer fitted her new vintage chic style. Whatever that was. I assumed it had something to do with the dark netted veil she so often used now, or the round polka dot dresses.
"This horrible coat is making me nervous!" she screamed, emerald-green eyes ready to burst into tears.
I yanked the strawberry twizzler out of my mouth and crawled to the foot of the bed so I could see it.
"It's a nice coat…" I shrugged.
Edea threw me a death glare, "Is it now?" she asked, and I shrugged again.
She pulled it out of the wardrobe so fast I can no longer recall the look on her face when she threw it out at me. It was quite the nice jacket, though. Large and warm, nearly reaching my knees…
"Hey, Cloud…" he called, his voice suddenly concerned. I was spacing out again, like in the old days.
"What." I muttered, watched him sit up.
"What do you think will happen if Alexandria wins?" he asked, numb eyes drowning into mine.
I nearly flinched again…
"You mean the war?" I asked back, the sound barely making it out of my mouth.
I could tell we were both a little unsure of what to say. We have grown up listening about the conflict but we had never felt the need to talk about it. Not even at home. I knew Barret's brother-in-law had been recently sent overseas, but that was part of that world of Barret's I did not interfere with.
"If they win, is what I mean." he repeated, sternly.
I shook my head, saying nothing. Zack tilted his head, an evil smirk on his lips.
"Wouldn't we regret the time we wasted here doing nothing?" he asked.
My eyebrows arched. "We're always doing something…"
He dragged himself closer. "Yea, such as…?"
"Well…" I bit my lower lip, "I draw sometimes. You read your comics and you smoke… we laugh a lot. Sometimes we talk too… I dunno…"
"Hum… Yeah, I guess you're right."
He was smiling but he was not looking at me. Only later did I finally understand why. I think…
It was Almond Day. Yes, the annual festivity where the whole neighbourhood gathered to celebrate the independence of Traverse as a self-governing community. It was in the start of May and someone decided I was old enough to take care of the drinks table by myself. I wasn't though: I was still fifteen after all, and completely abandoned it after a while – money still on the little silver can and all.
The music had been roaring for an hour already when he finally cared to appear. No one was supposed to see him of course; otherwise they would probably force him to help me.
"And God forbid…" I said sarcastically, sitting down on the stoned wall behind me.
Zack was squatted right on the other side.
"Shut up. I'm here aren't I? You wanted some company…" he complained.
"I wanted some visible company!" I said. "People will think I'm a wacko, talking to myself like this…"
He suppressed a laugh. "They wouldn't be that far from the truth, anyway…"
"Fuck off." I grunted. He threw a couple of little pea gravels at me in response.
I could have complained but the delicate singing sound of her voice told me not to. When I looked up, she tilted her head and smiled, the light-pink bow on her hair following the swinging of her ponytail. I didn't smile at her like I used to – to this day I am not sure why.
"So, enjoying the party from that side of the table?" she asked, hands linked behind her back.
"Not much to do anyway. People want beer, not orange juices…" I said.
"I can see that…" she snickered. "You know, Tifa promised to help me selling my flowers but I haven't seen her all evening…" she then explained. A neighbour approached the table and asked me for a coke.
"I saw her dancing with Cid just a while ago." I said. Then, turning to the man "Sorry, just orange juice."
She folded her arms. "Cid, huh…? He really won't let go until he trick her."
"Guess so." I shrugged like it was none of my business. And really, it wasn't.
Zack threw us another handful of little stones.
Aerith chuckled, nearly mutely, and pretended the little peas hadn't reached her.
I remember noticing in her eyes the absolute certainty that someone – if not Zack himself – was behind that wall.
I didn't quite understand his annoyance and unexpected irritation, but the very uncertainty of it convinced me to leave my post and follow him, a couple of minutes later. Or maybe it was just My Sharona playing loud in the middle of Chocobo Street that compelled me to do it: I will never know.
We crossed Mr. Kisaragi's backyard at once and run down the main road laughing like lunatics, squatting behind the bushes every time we heard a familiar voice.
Our excitement was much stronger than the disobedience itself, but we didn't mind…
We reached the open field. I couldn't remember the last time we had been there.
"Let's play Doormat!" he dared me.
I squinted. "We have no ball…?"
He looked around, frankly engaged in finding one. He wouldn't though.
"Let's pretend we do have one!" he yelped excitedly, his aqua-green eyes glowing against the night sky.
"Aren't we a little-too old to do that?" I didn't think I had to point out the obvious.
He pinched my forehead and his lips opened in a childish smile.
I understood then. Zack didn't want to play Doormat, just like he didn't want to celebrate Almond Day. He wanted to be goofy and feel silly and run down the road with the same laugh and the same strength he did a decade ago. Because after all, he was sixteen already: he didn't read dirty magazines; those were for kids. And he missed being one.
Playing stupid was exhausting. After a whole hour of it I was nearly melting on the dirty field.
"Already?" he mocked, sitting down next to my decaying body.
"Shut up, I'm out of practise!" I said, trying to catch my breath.
His head joined mine on the grass. He waited a few minutes to say it…
"I wish we could be like this more often…"
"What's stopping us?" I asked, confused. He glared at me from the corner of his eye.
"Everything is." he blurted.
"Oh…" I didn't comprehend. "Can't we change everything then?"
"Well, we could but it would take forever." he said.
I was still out of breath and we kept quiet for a while, the music from Chocobo Street resounding at a distance. He sat up again, eyes staring down at me with cat-like curiosity.
"You really have no clue, do you? I mean, of what I'm talking about…" he asked, very serious.
I snickered. "Nope. No idea."
He sighed, defeated. "You're so stupid!" he said, falling on the grass again.
I dared him to count the stars he could see then. I said I saw one hundred of them, and he began to count them just to prove me wrong. How many hours did we end up wasting on that stupidity? We talked of school too, money and the lack of it, and he talked of Aerith because he still didn't like her.
Finally he asked me how long would it take for me to leave Joanna's again.
"I just got back." I shrugged "Why do you ask?"
"Because he'll be around," a brief pause "Sephiroth."
I chuckled. "She says she loves him… more than me, I suppose."
"Why don't you stay with Edea and Grace, then? They love you." he said, matter-of-factly.
"Can't. He will break her if I leave her… If we all leave her."
He sighed, "I never liked him."
I smiled, squinted at him. "You never like anyone."
"That's not fair, Cloud." he chuckled "I really like you, but I don't think you'll ever understand how…"
As the words slithered out of his tongue, I instantly recognised them. Those words. I had heard them before inside my head. They were harmless and pure, though I couldn't tell the difference back then. I drank them in, tried to memorise them just because they sounded beautiful. Because they were his...
Sometimes I still wonder what could have happened would I have kissed him then. I didn't because I didn't know how to, I didn't feel like I could, I didn't feel like I needed to…
I sat up at once. "Can't you simple show me how?"
He looked back at me with a quizzical squint. "Show you how I like you? I dunno how!" he said.
"Can't you ask someone for help?"
"It's fucking embarrassing…" he whispered as he stood up. I felt strangely upset.
"Then maybe you shouldn't like me." I said.
He chuckled. "C'mon, I'll take you home." his outstretched hand helped me up.
He was warm. I was not.
I hated when Zack took me home. Joanna's home. I always watched him from the porch walking down the street again until he disappeared. Only then would I find the courage to enter, when the only light I knew was no longer in sight. I didn't feel so ashamed that way, such a coward, abandoned into silence.
Life within those walls was as stilted as the plastic smiles on high school group photographs.
Joanna barely left her room now, which gave Sephiroth the advantage of dealing with me the way he wanted. He didn't hit me unless he had a purpose see, but he could always find the time to humiliate me.
Only when he earned the place for assistant professor at Midgar Faculty of Arts and Humanities did I saw the faint, desperate light at the end of the tunnel.
I had taught myself to cook a decent meal by then – it was a good thing he still remembered to provide the goods. Joanna wouldn't eat though, not until Edea sat by her side and kiss her forehead. Thanks to Sephiroth's busy schedule, she would often stop by in the morning and leave a couple of hours before sunset. She would read small pieces of her new unfinished novel aloud and Joanna would laugh and cry and curse with her, Erik Satie's Gymnopédies in the background.
Tears would threaten behind my eyes in those moments, and I'd drink them in not to cry.
It would be ungrateful to cry, for as long as I had this…
Please review. Reviews are my gasoline. Without it the car won't run :(
PS: Yes, there is a war. Actually there has been a war for quite some years now but I didn't feel it appropriate for eleven year-olds to be discussing it. Zack is already sixteen though. I assume he's old enough to wonder. Thanks for reading~