This chapter is for Zack. Finally.

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In the end, Squall didn't accept Aerith's invite.

"But I'm keeping the plane ticket." he said, saving it in his nightstand drawer as I packed my bag. Said it was just in case it was interchangeable, but I don't think it was.

I was relieved that he didn't come – took an awful lot of tiresome work from my hands, somehow. And I knew Zack would appreciate it too, as we crossed the lonesome, silent roads that were to take us home. He owned a pick-up truck now, had himself restored it to life at Cid's repair workshop. It was of a strange yellow-mustard, and it didn't have a name yet.

For some reason, I felt strangely upset when I learnt Aerith had been the first one to take a ride.

"Really? So you two are friends now?"

He shrugged, answering with a chuckle, "There's no one else to talk to around here." he said.

I didn't ask him what he meant. I guess I was afraid to…

As we drove past the Lower District, I snuggled in my scarf and turned my eyes to the window. There was the same lingering, heavy cloud coming from the coal factory in the industrial area, its smoke of a menacing black, swirling up towards the sky. Edea would later explain to me how that was affecting the local workers, who no longer relied on their lungs only.

"They should close that goddamn place, people can hardly breathe in there, for Christ' sake!" she yelled.

"But it's the major source of employment in town!" argued a sensible Miss Scarlet.

She spent most of her time at Grace's now, though it shouldn't be for long. They were moving to Costa del Sol, to the seashore, sometime in May. For the sake of Scarlet's acting career, see. It must have been tough to succeed back then as an underground actress, with so many interesting things going on in the world. On the other hand, the silky blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes might have helped.

Curious how that worked. From my childhood into my puberty, things scarcely changed. I didn't have many friends, I didn't stand out in school and I never had a girlfriend. I was bullied a lot – but life, for better or worse, was quite stable. Now, four months after I moved into a completely different place, everything was changing at a decade's pace. Except for him.

And Chocobo Street lied so uncommonly quiet at twilight, I barely recognised it once I got there.

Time was taking its toll, especially on Grace, who I noticed to talk of nothing else but her days as the beautiful redhead she once were, with her expressive dark eye that could broke any man's heart.

One night, giving in to an old habit of hers, she asked me to take her rocking chair to the porch so she could smoke her cigarettes in peace. Edea would be all over her if she saw it, of course. It was frizzing outside and I didn't want to stay, but her hand got hold of me before I could say anything else.

"Your mother is pregnant." she said, her voice hoarse. She wasn't looking at me.

I frowned. "Is that possible?"

She nodded, with a grin on her tiny, wrinkled lips. "You don't need love to make babies, Cloud…"

Yes. That much I should have known. Married couples made a lot of things that took no part in love, whatsoever. And what could possibly need love all the time, anyway? Only his laugher crossed my mind in that moment, his turquoise-blue eyes smiling at me through the dark-blue locks, and a smirk on his lips that held nothing back.

Did you need love all the time, I wonder…

I kept my eyes staring ahead, trying to reach the darkness before us. It was a house, but I couldn't tell.

"Grace… What do I do now?"

She took a long drag on her cigarette, tried to chuckle between a cough, – "They will always be your family, kid. Even if they leave."

I bit my thumb, lost in thoughts. "Then, you think she'll leave me behind…? Like her mother did…?"

"You know I love both my daughters, Cloud." she shrugged in her increasingly smaller figure. "But I love you more, and I want you prepared in case they kick you in the butt!"

Classy words. Classy words from a classy lady. And I knew what that meant, even if the unborn child came to suffer from the same hands that I did. But I couldn't cry. Not for me and definitely not for that baby. I wouldn't cry even if Joanna left me.

"People leave other people all the time." he concluded.

I heard his voice struggling from under the Wrangler he had been working on for an hour. Now and then he would curse behind gritted teeth, between the metallic rustling of tools. There was no one else in the workshop that morning, and as I later came to understand, Zack had been officially employed there for over a month.

I kicked his feet, very lightly. "Being passive-aggressive today, are we?" I asked.

"I'm happy they're gone, if you ask me!" he answered, bending his knees – "Least chances of you getting to live with them again."

"Hum…" it was a nod – "Guess I'm officially without a house, though." I said, my smile quickly fading.

"Yeah well, you live with Squall now…!"

He tossed an open-ended spanner to the ground, catching my attention, and pushed the car creeper from under the vehicle. The back of his hand would leave a trail of oil each time he rubbed his forehead. I laughed, genuinely, at the look on his face.

"You're all sweaty." I sniggered as he stood up. Zack threw me a death glare.

The wind was lifting outside, but the heat in that place was unbearable. Around me, the vicious smell of paint, diesel oil and oxidation stuffed my nose, and it took me a while to let go of that uncomfortable feeling of vertigo.

He cleaned his dusty hands and shoved the handkerchief in his back pocket.

In silence, I watched him as he removed the oil-tainted t-shirt and disappeared into the small cubicle I knew to be the toilet room.

"Feels like you own the place." I raised my voice so he could listen.

"It's ok. No one would mind see me half-naked." he laughed, his voice echoing outside.

I finally stood up, followed his steps and came to lean on the wooden frame that secured no door. Inside, the worn-out walls and ceiling damp made the place feel obnoxiously claustrophobic. I could see his profile on the cheap, dirty mirror above the lavatory, but I don't think he noticed.

"Hey, Zack…?"

"Hum?"

"Do you ever think of me?" – I wondered for how long I was holding that in.

He turned around eventually, his hand on his zipper. He wouldn't look at me as he washed his hands, as he ruffled his hair, as he asked me to step aside. He wouldn't look at me when I reached out for his arm and made him stop right in front of me.

"Do you?" it was a low murmur. Very calmly, he leaned over and placed his lips on my cheek.

"Sometimes." he was smiling as he pulled me away.

Zack himself felt a little claustrophobic, constantly avoiding my eye contact, touching me the least possible. He wasn't upset – at least he never sounded upset –, but it felt different. And I felt like punching him sometimes, only to get a reaction. I wanted to ask him if it was still me.

How selfish would that be…

Later that week I would try and talk to Aerith about it, utterly and humiliatingly self-conscious. As I understand it, she had become some kind of a demoiselle au pair to Zack's distant, alien mind.

I felt like I was being replaced by both of them, but I asked her anyway…

"What? No, I don't think he has been sniffing lately." she could still smile while she said it.

I shrugged – "Sorry. Just thought I should ask."

"Yes, well…" she returned her eyes to her book, "If anyone can know that for sure, it's you. Zack would never lie to you."

Yes, he would. Zack lied to me all the time.

He would lie to me every time I asked him about the bruises on his chin, on his arms, on his back, saying he was awfully clumsy around the workshop. He wasn't clumsy but apparently he fought a lot, at the Urban Jungle – a well-known place in the whole of Midgar for supporting and inciting street fights among desperate kids. Edea said it was the government's fault, of course. Because of the war.

I guess they paid them sometimes; otherwise they would leave them there to bleed.

I believe I was no older than fourteen when Barret first told me about it. And Zack too.

"You two could probably get in for free." he said in his warm voice, "That's how they run the business."

"Who would go to a place like that?" I asked, scratching my nose with a clenched knuckle.

"Yeah, 'heard it can get pretty bloody!" he laughed, and I laughed too because I knew I was safe. Zack didn't laugh. Back then he was always a little suspicious of Barret.

"You never tried it, did you?" he asked, and of course Barret said he hadn't. Because Barret was cut out to do much greater things.

Three years thereafter, I could hardly believe my ears when he told me he had tried it once or twice out of innocent curiosity.

He laughed, folded his arms behind his head – "C'mon, Cloudy. It's not like I can't walk anymore."

We were in the back of his truck, pulled over somewhere outside the city. I can no longer recall what drove us there, even though I knew I liked those moments away from everyone but him. And the sky was clean. It had been raining all week.

"I can't keep up with you, Zack! What are you trying to do, kill yourself?" I yelled in disbelief.

"Didn't I just tell you I was curious?" he couldn't stop laughing.

"But…" I sat back on my knees, "Why would you be? About something like that…?"

He shrugged, his eyes closed. "It's not like I do it for free, you know? Or on a daily basis…"

"Still… I'm sure your mother will think it's my fault when she sees this…!" I took my fingers to his jaw line, touched the mark of fresh blood that would shape into a beautiful, everlasting scar. A cross.

Zack stood up so violently at the sound of my words I nearly lost my balance.

"Why would it be your fault?" he was frowning, his voice breaking.

"Well… just, just think about it…" I stuttered – "Weird things are happening ever since I left."

He chuckled in a sneer full of sarcasm, "Don't flatter yourself so loudly Cloud. It doesn't suit you. There's nothing weird going on! Just so you know, you hadn't left yet when I went down there for the first time. Because you can't see it, doesn't mean it's not happening!"

"You don't need to yell…" I muttered. I could see the light slowly returning to his eyes.

He sighed, lying down again. "I really am fine, Cloud. You know I hate when people try to butt in!"

"If you say so…" I turned around, stretched my legs forward.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and we were back to our silent selves again. It happened naturally, really. I think everything about our relationship happened quite naturally. Maybe then I just wasn't sure what kind of relationship we actually had…

"You really have to leave again?" he asked, quietly and out of a sudden.

"Yea…"

"Do you like it there?" I could tell he was smiling.

My eyes blinked in surprise as I turned to him. "Guess so. Why do you ask?"

"You should just come back." he shrugged, pulling the hemline of my sweater with little effort. I fell backwards and rested my head on his shoulder.

I was right though. In a couple of days Mrs Fair would be knocking on Grace's door, drinking lime tea with ginger crackers at our kitchen table, and subconsciously judging Edea's poor taste in furniture as she listened to the conversation, leaned against the kitchen worktop.

It didn't take her long to suggest it was my fault her son was always so glooming and not stepping his feet in the house for days.

"He's eighteen years old… It's about time he leaves the house, isn't it?" Edea tried to remain calm.

"To do what, with the life he leads?" she had a sympathetic smile on her lips. Then, looking at me – "Can you believe he never brought one single girl to meet us? Even that good-for-nothing Highwind could find himself a woman, and my Zack can't?"

"I'm sorry…" I whispered, feeling heavier and heavier in my heart.

Edea lit up a cigarette and handed the pack to the woman, who slowly repeated the gesture. I couldn't look at her as she blew the cold smoke out, biting the edge of a cherry-red nail.

Her eyes were his eyes…

"Let him make his own mistakes, Candace. He's not a baby anymore."

After that, I strongly avoided being alone with him. I felt so guilty, so powerless. So lonely. And there was no place like home, they always said. Why did I want to run away?

It was not until my last night in Little Traverse that I finally understood what was so devastatingly missing. It was not the cure for guilt, you see. It was even less the cure for loneliness. But I doubt I had ever felt that much strength consuming me.

It was late into the night when he stopped by the house, his knuckles quietly knocking at my bedroom window. Unfortunately, in a house where walls were paper-thin, a lot of caution wouldn't make much of a difference.

And I wasn't even asleep yet…

"You're like a sitting duck. Go put something on, I could be a fucking rapist." he chuckled, his spiky locks hidden under his hoodie, a dark shadow casted upon his eyes.

"Won't you come in?" I asked, dressing up the first pair of jeans I found in a messy pile of laundry. For how long had it been there?

He shook his head. "Hurry up, there's something I want you to see before you leave."

He smashed his cigarette with an old, worn out converse before we both got into his pick-up truck, parked before the rusty gate to the porch. He offered me bubblegum but I refused.

We didn't share a word through the entire way, but it didn't take us long to pull over again, in front of the bright yellow sign I knew so well – the capital red letters reading NO TRESPASSING. It was a norm we had always ignored; but then again, Zack and I ignored a lot of norms…

In silence, he didn't lead me to the usual spot but run, instead, towards the far off back where the trains were a little less decomposed.

It smelt of rain.

"You need help or somethin'?" I yelled, playfully. He was climbing up the heavy iron door to one of the longest goods wagons, struggling to slide it open with his foot.

"Nah. Been doing this for a while now!" he smirked, finally getting it done.

The strong scent of burnt wax caught my attention as he helped me inside. He lit up a candle, set it down on a wooden box.

In the half-lit darkness I could tell there were wool blankets and other bed clothing somewhere in the centre, like a nest, near which stood one of those fashionable silvered cassette decks every spoiled brat would carry around lately. There were Coke cans nearly in every corner, but it was the lighter and the spoon that immediately caught my attention.

"So this is where you hide…" I run my finger on the cold, silver handle.

He chuckled. "Not as much as you might think. I crash at Cid's most of the times!"

How I hated those words.

I turned on my heels to watch him yawn and sitting on the pile of blankets. I don't think Zack will ever know how much I wanted to punch him in that moment.

"I don't get it." I frowned, walking to him – "Why would you do that? Why would you do this?"

"What?" he cocked his head a little.

"Well… You have your own wage, you do work full-time after all! And not only that but your old man has a lot of money too so… y'know, is not like, well, not like you even need to work…" – I don't believe I was used to talk like that; I shoved my hands in my pockets, not to bite my nails.

He squinted. "So?"

"So…? So, you can buy yourself a house… I guess. Or not, if you don't want to… but—"

"Cloud."

His voice sounded so far away, so distant. It was unbearable not to find his eyes in the dark.

I squatted before him.

"Cloud…" it was a whisper now.

"It's nothing, really…" I muttered back. "I don't care. I'm not trying to take control or anything…"

He laughed, running a hand through my hair, and I breathed out, freely, for the first time in two weeks. I had no idea I was holding it in.

"Why would I even want a house now?" he asked, pulling my forehead to his chest – "You said you would live with me when we were older, remember?"

I did, didn't I? It was Christmas morning…

"I'm just waiting for you to be older!" he laughed, pulling away.

His hands clutched my shoulders and he leaned over, capturing my lips. Or did I give them to him? He tasted like him, like mint. His hands, like his tongue, were so cold I would flinch every time. But I still surrendered to his touch like I had always done. Only it was different this time.

"You won't stay if I ask you to, will you?" he asked. I shook my head in his hands.

"You know I would never do that, Zack."

He smiled. "And you'll never understand how much I need you…"

"Teach me." I asked, sitting next to him and bending my knees – "I've asked you before, please teach me how to understand. You know… you know I don't know how to do this…!"

It was undeniably true. Zack was always better than me. I couldn't even call things by their name. I wanted him. I want you, I want you. How do you say, how can you say that to someone?

To someone you know you'll end up leaving…

And what if he left me first? I instantly reached for his hand in the dark.

His voice whispered my name against my skin and it was a thrill I had never experienced before. I felt no restraint as he took off my shirt, kissing me, biting me – every moan a search for peace, a cry for help. I don't think I knew then that I needed him in such a way, I didn't know I needed him so much more. Because it was so much more than lust…

I never understood lust.

And it was his greed, his jealousy, his dependency when I lay down under him, on his nest, his bruised and naked torso feeling uncommonly heavy against mine. But I could feel his smile.

"Can you touch me now?" his voice was painful in my ears. It was raining again.

I wanted him to take me, to crush me, anything but leaving me behind.

I didn't want that feeling anymore! It was devastating -

To feel alone.

It's the longest chapter yet. How worthy was it? Review, please? :)

Also, I'd like to apologise for the lack of consistency in Cloud's behaviour, but I guess they are both pretty inconsistent from day one. That's the major reason why this has been such a challenging adventure.

Skiestrife: I can't really tell how deep in the relationship are they myself, but I hope this chapter helped even some things out. We have to keep in mind falling in love doesn't work the same way for everyone, and try to understand them thusly. Eheh. As for your request, I don't know how intimate they can be in a T-rated fic. Hopefully this is already something. More will come so, keep tuned and thank you for the great support.

And thank you all for reading, V.