~Eight~
"I'm really fine, I told you a hundred times, Zack," Cloud said through an exasperated sigh while he ran his one hand through his hair slowly, his elbow propped up on the arm of the couch next to him.
Zack was supposed to be leaving soon for work and he thought he could convince him to take his stuff with him when he went. He'd told him multiple times in the days prior that he should just go back home but now he was insisting. It had been over a week since he'd seen Rand, run out of work in a panic, and ended up at the hospital. He'd been released on the promise Zack would be staying with him for a few days but it had been much longer than that. It wasn't that he didn't like having Zack under the same roof. He did. That was the problem. He had missed having Zack within a literal reach. He had missed the feeling of safety that his presence somehow immediately invoked.
Even though Zack had been living with Aerith in their own place and he'd been on his own, they still saw each other a lot. But it wasn't the same. He didn't like to admit to himself that he wished sometimes they still had an apartment that they shared together without anyone else, specifically Aerith. He hated himself when he even thought of it because he loved Aerith and he loved the fact she and Zack made each other so happy. When he thought about it, he couldn't come up with one thing that would threaten the relationship they had…except maybe, him.
Zack's willingness to set aside everything else in his life to be there for him was as concerning as it was comforting. As understanding of a person as Aerith was, how understanding was she going to be when they were married? When they had a family of their own? The longer Zack stayed with him, the harder it was to see him leave and bigger an asshole he was going to feel for keeping him from Aerith.
"Just like that, huh?" Zack replied skeptically from where he was standing in the kitchen area putting leftover spaghetti into a container. "You've barely been speaking. You've been asleep like twenty hours a day and now you're really fine?"
Everything Zack said was true. Even after spilling out all his emotions in front of his therapist and having her assure him that things would get better or easier once again soon, he had felt trapped inside a body that just wanted to sleep. He hadn't seen anyone other than Zack or his therapist since the hospital. He'd been answering a few texts, mostly from Tifa or Marlene in the case she got hold of Tifa's phone.
The tone of Tifa's messages had started out concerned and comforting but the longer he kept himself confined to his apartment, refusing to see anyone, the more they seemed to take on a scolding undertone. He knew it was coming from a caring place but it didn't do a lot to motivate him. The previous night Marlene had text from her phone and asked to talk to him. Even if he didn't think he felt up to it, he couldn't tell her no. She had him smiling after just a minute of hearing her voice. She told him she missed him and although she'd said it before in her text messages from Tifa's phone, hearing her say it aloud almost had him breaking down again. He didn't feel like the person she thought of him as. Strong. Good. Fearless. But she expected him to be. He felt a responsibility to at least pretend to be what she thought he was.
"Yeah," he said to Zack's skeptical inquiry. "Why are you being a jerk right now?" he asked back sharply. "You don't want me to be fine?"
"Of course that's what I want," Zack said as he snapped the lid shut on the container of leftovers. "But you can't really blame me for being cautious, can you?"
"Is that what you're doing?" Cloud questioned, letting his hand fall to the arm of the couch. "What do you think is going to happen when you go back home and leave me alone tonight?"
"I think I've been pretty up front about my concerns," Zack told him while putting the spaghetti in the fridge.
"Look, I really appreciate all you've done the past week and a half, but you can't camp out here anymore," he told Zack firmly.
"Not really what I'd call it," Zack said back. He leaned against the nearby counter and crossed his arms.
"Sorry, what's the right term for a self-harm watch sit-in?" he asked.
Zack smirked a little uneasily and lowered his arms again, taking the edge of the counter behind him in his hands. "I've told you already I'm here because I care about you, Spike, and because, yes, I'm worried about you. It's not like I think you need a babysitter or a guard or some kind of nurse or anything. I just thought you could use your best friend while you're having a rough time. Sue me, alright."
Cloud scoffed. "Like you have anything worth suing for."
"Hey! I've got assets," Zack argued jokingly. "Like this metal pig statue thing we use to prop the bedroom door open."
Cloud smiled a little. He leaned forward with his forearms resting on his knees. "Zack, I…I am fine," he spoke seriously then. "I mean, I'm not great. I wouldn't even say good at this point. This thing with Rand, him showing up at the college…The stupid shit he said that I'm sure he knew would get in my head, and then whatever he did after…" He shook his head slowly. "Yeah, it messed me up. I did need you when I called you, and I'm really grateful for what you've been doing for me, putting your life on hold or whatever you want to—"
"My life on hold?" Zack interrupted. "Uh, ok, I mean I missed a few days working at Tifa's bar, it's not a big deal, bud."
"It's not not a big deal," Cloud argued softly. "Tifa counts on you to help out and Aerith counts on you to be at home."
"They get what's going on," Zack said back to that with a light shrug.
"That's not the point. I had a bad week. I'm sure it won't be the only one, but if I feel like some kind of burden or weight attached to you, it's not going to help me. It'll make me feel worse," he told Zack who seemed to sink a little at the suggestion.
"So, you're saying leaving you alone here to look after yourself is going to help you then, huh?" he asked and Cloud nodded after a moment.
"Yeah," he replied.
"What are you going to do?" Zack asked him somewhat softly as he looked down at his own feet.
"I don't know. Same thing I've was doing before? Go back to work?"
Zack raised an eyebrow to that. "They're alright bringing you back after you were off kind of announced?"
"Yeah, I talked to them," he said.
"And you want to go back?" was Zack's next question. Cloud could hear the doubt in his tone.
"I guess I have to. I can't sit around doing nothing, right?"
Zack shrugged again, dropping his arms at his sides. "Alright, well..." he started to say as he looked around the living space, his eyes eventually landing on Cloud once more. "If I find out you let this apartment get empty of food again, I'm confiscating it and you're moving back in with Aerith and me, or I'm moving here and you'll have to deal with her wrath," he warned.
"The wrath of Aerith?" Cloud replied. "What's that like, a loud sneeze?"
"Nah, even her sneezes are understanding and patient," Zack joked. "Well, fine," he said through a light sigh. "I'll pack up and leave you to resume bachelor activities," he spoke a little dully, walking behind the couch in the direction of the bathroom. He paused behind Cloud, leaning down slightly to give him something of a hug from over the back of the couch.
Cloud saw and felt his arms as they crossed over his chest. He felt the strength and warmth of them. "I'm trusting you though, buddy," Zack said softly. "Promise me you're going to take care of yourself," he pleaded.
"I will," Cloud said, hoping his voice sounded more confident or convincing to Zack than it sounded in his own ears.
Zack kissed the top of his head before letting him go. "You can always call me. No matter what, day or night. I love you, Spike, don't forget it."
"Never could," Cloud said. Zack made his way to the bathroom then to collect the few things that belonged to him.
Zack was trusting him. What wasn't to trust? He'd only been hiding for months the fact he'd been going fairly regularly to bars or clubs and night racing out in the wasteland. Basically putting himself in the midst of the very environments that his therapist had warned him to avoid. He'd been engaging in sex with multiple people, some he'd barely exchanged ten words with, abusing his medication and occasionally drinking, even though he wasn't supposed to.
It hadn't seemed so bad in his head before. It had seemed irresponsible but not dangerous, per se. He'd only been going out after work a few times a week. His job had him busy until midnight so when he was hitting up the bars he was only there for maybe an hour or two. He'd really only been drinking after races, and he'd limited himself to one light beer, maybe two a few times, knowing that it could be bad to mix alcohol with the medication he was on. He hadn't really thought about how sometimes choosing to take more of something he was prescribed could be thought of as "abusing" the medication until he'd been admitted to the hospital with apparent indicators he'd overdosed. Zack had lectured him long and hard about it.
It was after what happened at work with Rand showing up and then disappearing again and his subsequent sinking into days of deep depression that he was able to see that the things he'd been doing after work that he thought of as having been helping himwere actually just distractions. They hadn't helped at all. Realizing that should have made it easier to give up on them and to move himself in a better or healthier or more productive direction. Only, it didn't, because he was feeling more doomed than ever before. Without some kind of obvious purpose or mission ahead of him, his life felt now like it was only distractions. Good distractions. Bad distractions. Healthy distractions. Unhealthy distractions…
He didn't know if he fully bought into Mia's suggestion that a goal could solve his problems and help him along his road of or to recovery, he didn't know which. What he did know was that since seeing Rand again, it wasn't just his fear and anxiety and despair he had to deal with but also bitterness, anger and resentment. Other feelings too, which he couldn't face and didn't want to acknowledge. Like loss. Like guilt. Confusion for feeling either of those things.
He never wanted the people he cared about in his life to witness his struggle. He didn't want them to have to feel responsible for calming him down or lifting him out of a low. So he tried to give them the best of him he could muster, the best performance of someone in control, and hide the rest. His coping mechanisms may have been poor but they'd gotten him as far as they had and until he came up with the so-called mission that Mia suggested he focus on, they were all he had.
He had no intention of going back to work at the college. He had lied about talking to them and asking to come back. He'd told them the exact opposite. He was too anxious now about the thought of having to stay in one place for hours at a time. The thought of being bound by the responsibility of employment was like another kind of confinement now that he wasn't equipped to deal with, and he couldn't see the point of it. Also, if Rand had known where he was working, it made him wonder who else knew. Did Hojo know? No body had been found at the reactor yet, and so in the chance Rand was still out there, he couldn't make himself go back to the place the man had ruined with his sudden uninvited and unwanted presence.
Despite knowing he couldn't handle the thought of returning to his job, he had lied to Zack and told him he was going back part-time on a night shift. Nights were hard to get through, almost impossible to sleep through, so Zack understood why he'd want to have something to occupy him between the hours of 11 p.m. and 7 a.m. There were certainly lots of things he could find to occupy himself with during the night hours on the plate.
There was no shortage of nighttime activity any day of the week and no shortage of races either. Having an eight hour span of time when no one was looking for him or really calling him to check on him while he was presumably working meant he was even able to accompany Rick out to a few places further away from the city. They could travel out with his trailer. He could ride whatever course had been set up and they'd be able to make it back before his supposed "work shift" was over.
The more time he spent living his secret life, however, the harder it was to hide, and the harder it was to talk himself out of doing things he was tempted to do to escape his feelings and the sense of losing control that nipped at his heels like some animal. He was desperate to stay ahead of the thoughts and questions that were drowning him.
That was the problem with facing the darkness and the pain of the past and present. It took so much strength, so much effort to operate on a daily basis with that weight in your head and your heart. He needed escape, and as much as he wished he could allow himself to accept the love of his friends and things that made him feel so fortunate to be his only escape, the things that had been hammered into him in the past—being told he wasn't a person, that he didn't have or deserve freedom and that his life wasn't his own—made that impossible. Those things he'd been conditioned to accept or consider as truth ate at him. Being told he was undeserving of respect and dignity. That he was just some puppet…Having someone use him like that and admit that he'd done terrible, torturous things to him as if it was forgivable, why? Because he was nothing. Because he should never have been alive after the incident in Nibelheim. Because he was only something to be owned, used, and discarded. Nothing else.
It wasn't just the things that had come from Hojo's mouth or Rand's, Sephiroth's, Genesis's or even Galen's. People had been saying those kinds of things to him his whole life. People in Nibelheim, the Academy when he'd failed his attempt at being recruited into SOLDIER. He'd always been told he was nothing and later he was shown. He still didn't know sometimes how he'd even managed to find a few people who thought he was better than that, especially Zack.
There'd been no real reason for Zack to pay him any attention back at the Academy. No real reason for him to have befriended and supported him. He couldn't help sometimes feeling similarly now. That there was no real reason Zack even needed him in his life at all. His self-deprecating thoughts could be so powerful sometimes. A reckless action or activity proving how little he thought of himself could almost be a welcomed vacation.
Weeks after Rand's possible demise in one of the mako reactors, he'd fallen once again into a routine, not much different from the one he'd had before except for the whole pretending he had a respectable job part, so he was generally lying to Zack and the others about most aspects of his everyday life. Since Reno had already figured out he'd been racing, the ex-Turk knew that despite saying he probably wasn't going to keep doing it that he actually had been. He knew it was really starting to bother Reno that he knew and no one else did. Reno had texted him a few times about it to complain about the secret he knew.
Cloud was in the midst of another of those text conversations while he was out at a Western style bar one night with the usual few acquaintances he kept but still couldn't really bring himself to call friends. They usually went there once or twice a week. There were quite a few people from the racing community there that night. A few times Rick had tried to introduce him to some people that he seemed to think he should know, people like Taggert who eventually abandoned the amateur riding they were doing to ride legitimately on the circuit. Rick seemed to think at some point he'd be able to convince him to do the same but he couldn't really imagine it.
Despite the fact the bar was a little kitschy, he actually liked that it wasn't as loud or jam-packed with people as some of the others. There were tables to sit at and there was usually a live band. It was more of the tavern style that reminded him of Tifa's place. That night was the first time he actually realized that maybe one night he should bring her there. She'd probably like it.
I jus think the longr u don't say sumthin the worse it is
He read Reno's text message while his phone was sitting on the table in front of him. He was alone at the table amongst some empty or half-empty beer bottles while the others were out on the dancefloor, in the bathroom or at the bar counter. He sighed a little and took hold of his own bottle in both his hands, beginning to pry at the paper label on it.
Its not like ur snortin coke or runnin wit a gang, Reno added. Not yet, Cloud thought mostly jokingly. Evryone will no when u wreck out again and end up in the hopsital anyway cuz ur such a newb, Reno said.
"Eff you," Cloud muttered to the text.
"I recognize you," a voice said from close by.
Cloud couldn't help but roll his eyes, thinking 'here we go again.' He only glanced to the side a little to confirm the speaker was standing next to the table he was at before responding. He didn't even bother to look up to face him.
"I get that a lot and you're wrong," he replied while he stared down at his phone on the table and continued to chip away at the glued paper on his beer bottle with his fingernails.
"No, I've definitely seen you before, and I wouldn't forget a face like yours," the stranger commented.
Cloud couldn't help but look up at that, his expression hard. "Is that some sort of line?" he asked the dark-haired guy who shrugged and smiled.
"Depends on the reception it gets, I suppose," he answered cleverly. Cloud wasn't impressed though. "You're a racer?" the man asked him as he set down his own beer on the table and proceeded to sit down in an empty chair.
"Sometimes," he replied simply. He never knew quite how those kinds of conversations were going to go when someone said they recognized him. It was hard for him not to get immediately irritated and want to get away.
"It makes sense then," the man told him.
"What?" he asked, not looking at him.
"Why I feel like I've seen you."
"You a fan?" he questioned dryly.
"I could be," was the guy's quick reply. "What's your name?" he inquired.
"Why?" Cloud found himself asking him sharply.
"You're kind of defensive," the man told him through a light laugh. "Are you always so unfriendly?" he asked.
"No," Cloud said in return as he made himself look at him.
"I'm Marco," the guy introduced himself, offering a hand to him that he scoffed a little at.
"Spike," he spoke back simply, ignoring his gesture.
"Good one," Marco said in amusement as he dropped his hand. Something about the way he said it had Cloud instantly more irritated.
"What?" he asked. "You think it's a joke, or something?" The reaction only earned him something of an apologetic but also what seemed like a teasing grin.
"You need to calm down," Marco said.
"Or you could go away," Cloud suggested. He shook his head. He knew he didn't always look his age, but he couldn't stand when anyone other than Zack talked down to him like he was some kind of kid. Sometimes he couldn't even take Zack doing it. "There's a bunch of other people here you could talk to who are probably less defensive or more tolerant of someone like youthan I am."
"Someone like me?" Marco replied, clearly taken aback by his words.
"Yeah, someone who likes to talk but never really gets to a point," Cloud told him. "You must have money."
"Wow," Marco said then as he scratched at the back of his head a little. "It's been awhile since I've been called out like that. It's kind of refreshing," he commented, seeming a little abashed. "Straight up then?" he said. "I think you're cute—"
"Cute?" Cloud shot back, interrupting him.
Marco shrugged. "I mean, sorry, but it's true. And now that I've talked to you, I think you're pretty interesting also. I'd like to get you a drink and keep talking and hopefully at some point tonight you might warm up to me and maybe we could have some fun."
"Fun?" Cloud said the word as though it were unfamiliar. "You a board game kind of guy?"
"Not really but if that's your kind of foreplay I could get into it," Marco told him lightly.
Cloud hadn't really taken a moment to even consider the guy as a hook-up, despite the obvious suggestion Marco was trying to pick him up. Any time he'd gotten with someone at a bar or club there really hadn't been much of a conversation leading up to it. It was usually late. Everyone was mostly intoxicated. Sometimes there was just a questioning look or a gesture and it wasn't hard to misinterpret groping hands. Sometimes he was already maneuvered into something before he really thought about it or if he even felt like it.
A quick visual survey of Marco told him that he wasn't a bad-looking guy. He looked to be in good shape. For all the sex he'd been having, he actually still didn't have a clear idea in his mind about what he was really attracted to, but he thought Marco was pretty good looking. Nice eyes and smile. He wasn't giving him any weird vibes, and if he was ultimately going to be doing something with someone that night, he supposed Marco was a fine option.
"Look, uh, you really don't need to waste your time," he told Marco before lifting the beer bottle to his mouth to swallow down the last few gulps.
"I understand," Marco said, nodding, seeming a little disappointed.
"Let's just go now," he said as he pushed his chair back and stood up.
"I'm sorry," Marco replied fast, looking up at him in surprise.
"Right now," Cloud said to him but he still seemed confused. "You wanna go? Right now?" he repeated and finally the guy seemed to clue in.
"Oh, yeah, yes," he said finally. He stood up and awkwardly took a drink from his own beer that was almost full before choosing to abandon it. "Just to be clear, I'm asking you to sleep with me," he said and Cloud mentally rolled his eyes at the word sleep. Why people always seemed to want to use that word would never really make sense to him, at least not now.
"Yeah, I got it," he said as he started to lead the way to exit at the back of the building.
Marco followed after him to a spot a ways down the wide back alleyway to a spot they were shielded from view. It involved dumpsters and thus wasn't glamorous in the least. There he began to undo his pants. Marco stopped him.
"Geeze," he said, "I didn't think you meant out here in the alley."
Huffing out an exhale, Cloud refastened the button of his pants. "Where then?" he asked.
"I've got a hotel room," Marco told him.
"Forget it," Cloud replied, already ready to ditch him to go back into the bar.
"Seriously? It's a nice place. Vita," Marco announced to him.
Cloud knew the name right away. "You think I'm a prostitute?" he questioned sharply.
"What?" Marco replied.
"You know that's a hotel people bring escorts or whatever back to right?" Cloud said and Marco smirked.
"Pretty sure that's any hotel," he argued. "It's a decent place. They're attached to a casino. They've got a nice lounge and pretty great breakfast buffet," he claimed. "But, we could go to your place if you'd rather, or a different hotel. I'm not trying to treat you like a prostitute or anything," he declared softly. "Kinda seems like you're trying to make it that way though," he suggested and at Cloud's serious expression he added a "No offense."
Cloud thought about it a second and exhaled deeply. "Sorry," he said, his tone softening. He shook his head. "Fine, yeah, sure, whatever," he said in acceptance. "You want to get a cab, or…"
"I have a rental," Marco told him. "It's over in the parking lot." Cloud just nodded and walked with him in the direction. "Mind if I have a cigarette?" the guy asked and he told him it was fine.
Marco held his leather jacket up in his one hand and fished around for something in one of the pockets. A metal cigarette case was revealed. Cloud really didn't know anything about cigarette cases or lighters but both of the ones Marco had seemed pretty nice. The man offered him one of the cigarettes and he turned it down. Whatever he was smoking was flavoured. He couldn't place the aroma but it smelled good. The rental car he had was a sports car. He tried not to seem as interested in it as he was. He imagined what it would be like driving that thing at top speed out on the highway outside the city.
"So you're not from around here?" he asked Marco when he was driving them to the hotel.
"No, but it's my fourth—no, third favorite city to travel to on business," Marco replied through a bit of a chuckle. "It's a little too serious here sometimes. Must be why you're so laid back," he teased.
Cloud ignored the comment. The words indicating he wasn't originally from Midgar were on the tip of his tongue but he withheld them, reminding himself he didn't need or want Marco to know anything significant about him. "What kind of business are you in?" he asked.
"I guess I'm a talent scout of sorts," the man answered him a little ambiguously.
"Sure," Cloud said flatly.
"You're not a minor are you?" the man asked him then. "That'd be a nightmare."
"No," Cloud said, throwing him a short glare.
"I'm not saying you look like one," Marco was quick to explain. "Just…how old are you?" he asked.
"I'm not a minor," was all Cloud said to him.
They were pulling up to the brightly lit entrance of Vita then and a valet attendant was approaching the driver's side of the vehicle as Marco put it in park.
"You want to get a drink at the bar first?" the man asked him when he'd handed his keys to the attendant and met Cloud up on the sidewalk.
"Sure," he said. He figured he might as well be drunk before he willingly put himself into a situation he swore he wouldn't.
He told himself he'd never go to some hotel or motel to hook up with someone, same as he'd never go to someone's home. It was too weird. Too personal, and the travelling to get to a specific location just to have a few minutes of largely pointless and impersonal sex seemed like a waste of time. Actually time that he would have to second-guess what he was doing. It had been a pretty short drive from the Western bar to the hotel and the compulsion or impulse to "sleep" with Marco was already almost gone. Although the fact he'd let the man take him there with the expectation of what was to come made him feel like he should probably follow through.
He'd never been inside Vita. He'd never actually been near enough to see it even from the outside. He'd heard about it. It had been around for years and as Marco had pointed out, it was a decent hotel. Actually, decent wasn't doing it justice. It was nice, at least from what he could see from the curb and from what he'd heard. Not one of the top five most expensive nightly rates in the city but perhaps in the top ten. Compared to the larger hotels in the city it was pretty small. It topped out at five floors high so it wasn't towering over anything in comparison to the buildings around it. He heard it once had something of an old theatre kind of feel. A classic, old movie lounge atmosphere.
The place had a reputation, supposedly. There were rumours that back in the early days it had secretly operated as a brothel. Other rumours involved sex clubs and peep shows. In all likelihood probably none of it was really true. What was likely true was its reputation for having a 'hush' policy. Meaning, if people, especially people with a specific reputation to uphold, wanted to be able to bring guests back to their rooms and know that they could do so discretely then they could. Since it had recently come under new ownership though, he'd heard it was being recognized as a safe space for those engaged in sex work to bring their clients to.
When they entered the main lobby, he was happy to see that there seemed to be a lot of activity at the place. He thought it'd be awkward and quiet and he'd feel out of place but besides the fact he generally always felt out of place, the atmosphere and décor inside was actually more neutral than he was expecting and more contemporary, maybe having undergone some sort of renovation not too long ago. He didn't feel somehow underdressed or like it was going to be obvious why he was there with a guy who he figured must think himself important enough to need to get a room in a hotel with a hush policy to begin with.
The bar and lounge area that Marco spoke of was somewhat separate or operating as its own space from the hotel and being as there was a way to get through on the other side of the building to a casino next door there seemed to be a large mix of people moving about. Now that he was inside he could see why people might choose the hotel purely on its atmosphere and amenities.
The bar area was busy. The lighting was low and somehow it made him feel a little more at ease. He sat next to Marco and while the guy was trying to get one of the bartenders' attention he took a moment to really look at him. He actually wasn't as old as he'd initially thought back at the club. Maybe thirty years old. Somewhere around that. He had dark hair that didn't have even a hint of greying to it. Tanned skin that reminded him of what Zack's was like when they had been out in Costa del Sol and he'd been exposed to the sun on a daily basis. He found himself looking down then. The last thing he wanted was to think of Zack at that moment.
Marco wasn't dressed much different than he was. Just dark blue jeans and a black V-neck t-shirt but somehow they seemed more expensive. Newer. Something. He had a ring on his finger and
For a split second it had Cloud thinking he must be married. He had to point out to himself that the ring wasn't a wedding ring and it wasn't on his left hand. It actually looked to be more like some kind of fraternity or school ring but either way it looked pretty expensive.
What the hell am I doing here? he found himself wondering. The regret had deeply set in then and he opened his mouth to let Marco know he'd made a mistake and was going to leave. Before he could get a word out one of the bartenders had finally made his way over to them.
"What can I get you?" a voice asked and although it was pretty noisy around them, he thought he recognized it.
"Whatever he wants," Marco told the bartender as Cloud finally looked to his right, to the source of the familiar voice. His stomach sank hard. It was Johnny.
"What'll it be?" Johnny asked him as he looked from Marco directly at him. Although it was without a doubt him, nothing in Johnny's face gave away that they knew each other, at least not anything that would be discernible to Marco.
"Shit," Cloud muttered to himself as he looked away from both of them, down at the floor to his left.
"You alright?" Marco asked him, forcing him to acknowledge him then.
"Yeah," he told him probably too quietly for him to even hear. "Maybe we could just do drinks in the room or whatever," he suggested a little more audibly.
Marco shrugged. "Fine by me," he said as he stepped back down from the stool under him. "You coming?" he asked when Cloud didn't immediately follow.
"You go, I need to, um, call someone first," he lied. The man smiled at him.
"502," Marco told him. "Top floor, blue eyes," he added with an irritatingly charming smile that had Cloud wincing little. He wasn't one for pet names, especially not from someone trying to get with him. Alone finally, he forced himself to look back Johnny's way.
"Big spender," Johnny remarked with his palms on the bar top between them.
"Can we talk somewhere else for a minute?" he asked, hoping the embarrassment he felt wasn't visibly reddening his face the way it felt.
"Sure," Johnny agreed with a light shrug.
He started to move behind the other bartenders to the end of the bar. Cloud followed after him and Johnny led him to a door marked with an 'Employees Only' sign. Inside was a small supply room with shelves of stock that appeared to be bar related. For some reason his eyes were immediately landing on stacked jars of olives.
"What are you doing here? You work here?" he asked Johnny when he'd closed the door gently, blocking out most of the sound from outside the room.
"I'm a part-time manager and a part owner," he revealed.
"Part owner? What do you own half the city now?" Cloud questioned sharply.
"Trying to," Johnny agreed with a short nod.
"Do you know all of what goes on here?" he asked as he tried to make himself stand still. He felt like pacing but resorted to simply shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other nervously.
"I do," Johnny said. He had his hands behind him, between him and the door that he was leaning back against.
"Is that not kind of messed up?" Cloud asked. "I mean your background..."
Johnny's eyes narrowed a little at the mention of it. "My background what?" he inquired.
"Well you know what it's like," Cloud said, feeling immediately awkward about referencing Johnny's experience years ago working as a prostitute, which he'd told him he'd resorted to at one point to help pay for his brother's cancer treatment, which his parents couldn't afford.
"I do," Johnny said. "There's people who choose sex work though, and they deserve a safe place to do it that's not a piece of shit," he stated firmly.
"But you—" he started to say, unable to understand in that moment why Johnny would want to be involved in any part of the industry after being out of it.
"I'm not going to justify myself to you, Strife," Johnny cut him off. He said it matter-of-factly, not seeming to be angry or offended.
"But I should justify myself to you?" Cloud fired back at him. He, on the other hand, was feeling very defensive and he supposed it was just that he was ashamed and scared to be seen with some random person at a hotel. Any hotel really.
"Not at all," Johnny said back to him. "It's your life. You said you wanted to talk," he pointed out. He waited for Cloud to say something then and when he didn't he asked, "You're drinking?"
"Sometimes," he admitted. "A little, it's not a big deal."
"You racing?" was his next question and it took Cloud off-guard.
"What?" he replied, his voice rising. "Did Reno tell you that?"
The expression Johnny had then immediately told him that Reno knowing anything about what he'd been up to was news to him.
"Nope," he said. "Your secret's safe with him."
"Then how—" Cloud began to ask, shaking his head.
"The guy you came in with. It's Darius Marco," Johnny revealed. "His family owns a brand that sponsors a continental racing team. You, uh, miss his name or just didn't ask?" Cloud ignored the jab and looked down at the floor. "You here with him to go over the details of a sponsorship?" Johnny asked which had him looking at him again quickly.
"You think it's funny?" he asked.
Johnny shrugged a little. "Do you really want to know what I think?" he retorted.
"He just asked if I wanted to come here with him," he explained of Marco. "I'm not charging him money or anything, if that's what you're thinking."
"Does that sound better to you than the alternative?" Johnny said back. Cloud groaned in frustration at the comment and turned away from him for a moment, putting his hands to his face to rub at his eyes tiredly. "Are you doing alright?" Johnny asked him then after a few seconds. "I know you've had a rough—"
"I'm fine, okay!" he replied in irritation, turning back around. "I'm just doing whatever other people do that are our age. They go out and they mess around, it's not a big deal. It's normal," he tried to say with conviction. He could tell Johnny wasn't buying it though. He didn't blame him. He didn't even believe his own words. "Look, I just don't want Zack or anyone else to know about this, okay?"
"If it's so normal why don't you want anyone to know?" Johnny asked. It was a question he wasn't prepared to answer in that moment.
"Just please forget you saw me tonight, please Johnny," he begged.
Johnny lowered his head a little. He put his hands on his hips and appeared to be thinking, chewing at his lower lip a little. He looked up then, meeting his eyes. "I'm not going to do that," he said, making Cloud's stomach sink once more. "I was put in the middle with you and Fair before when he asked me to lie to you and I'm not doing that again," he explained softly. "You need to tell him whatever it is that's been going on that you've been hiding. I will if you won't," he concluded.
Cloud stared him down a moment, trying to decide how serious he was. He could tell he meant every word he'd said. Scoffing, he moved toward Johnny and the door. Johnny stepped away from it to let him through, opening it so he could leave. "Thanks a lot," he threw over his shoulder at him as he was on the way out.
