Chapter Text
It was an exhausted Genesis that had stepped from the chopper that evening after several long weeks hunting the fiends that plagued the eastern plains, and he’d yet to give his debriefing or start his report, but even finished now, hours later, sleep eluded him and he could not say why. He gave up on lying in the dark of his apartment and set to wandering. The Avenues were still lit and bustling in spite, or perhaps because of the late hour, so he turned his tired eyes away from the heart of Midgar and headed towards the darkened compound at the edge of the city where the army slept, unsure of why he did so. Sector Five was peaceful in those small hours, and the parks of Sector Three reminded him to water Angeal’s plants, his friend still absent on his own long run to the Northern Continent – better him than Genesis: he hated the cold. But where the parks held false plants and murals of greener pastures, the fields of the training center held true grass. He set his sights on a corner off the tracks where a few late night runners made laps, likely in the same situation as he – though he would have to lap Midgar to receive the same effect. He paid them no mind and settled back, hoping Loveless might work a different song on him in the dark.
There were no clocks in sight, and he’d left his watch behind, time marked only by the soles beating down the path, so he did not know how long he’d read there below the weak lights, but after a while he felt a need to rise. He’d probably sat long enough, and the stretch was needed, so he did so and was about to wind his way home when he felt it. A prickling on his spine and the warming in his chest told him all he needed to know when another, smaller set of boots stumbled to a halt, mere feet away, and he looked into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.
“Well. Hello Precious.”
.
It had been a day of little note and maybe that was the problem. He was so accustomed to doing more that the lack might have been why his eyes simply wouldn’t shut. He’d had drill that morning, but no hand to hand, nor swordplay, not even a ballistics course. There had been a few classes, but nothing too dull nor too difficult, and his mission that afternoon had been a joke. They’d been sent to sector six to look into monster reports below the plate: it was a pack of dogs, not even feral. They’d corralled the mutts into a van to be taken to a veterinary clinic, and one would likely be finding its way home with one of the older men from the senior unit who’d been happily making friends. All in all not terribly exciting if briefly adorable. Still, he hadn’t done enough to meet Nótt’s realms, and he needed to if he was to survive the next day which would be as hard as this one was not, so he slid noiseless from his bunk. Soon he was out the door and jogging for the parade grounds.
Running had always been a strange thing for Cloud. It was easy to get lost in the motion, the strike of the earth echoing up his body, the wind in his hair; and he was certainly good at it, though that had never been a choice so much as necessity. Between the village children chasing him around and out of town, and the lions and wolves of the mountains to dodge he’d grown fleet of foot, and he found himself missing the challenge of craggy paths and narrow ledges, but the openness of the tracks was oddly liberating. He let his legs carry him around the many fields, mind wandering absently to homework and home, missions and misgivings, and before he knew it he’d crossed the grounds and half back when blinking he felt the oddest thing rise in his chest and stumbled to a halt.
“Well. Hello, Precious.”
The man standing on the slope down off the path looked worn with shadows under his eyes and grass clinging to old jeans, but the quiet surprised delight in his gaze was a light brighter than mako.
And as first lines go, he thought, face starting to burn, that was pretty smooth.
“I- um. Hi?”
And that was not.
They stood hesitating for a long moment – whether in shock or awe or what Cloud wasn't really sure, but when the other finally stepped nearer he remembered himself and drew back.
“Ah- um, not that’s I’m not thrilled or anything, but can we hold off until, like, fifteen hundred tomorrow? Er… Today?”
Contrary to what popular belief and paperback novels would have one think, meeting one’s soul mate (for what else could this be?) was an awkward affair. Oh, the first moments could be and were all that one could hope: spirits lifting, warmth spreading, tingling from tip to toe, and the relief of there you are! Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you. The first sight could transfix as well as any spell. Many a meeting of eyes across ports had sent star crossed lovers scrambling across land and sea as the bus or boat one pulled away. The first touch was electric, shivers up the spine, static and ozone. The first kiss was coming home without knowing you’d ever been away.
Which didn’t change that at least the first three days afterwards were spent attached at the hip to a stranger.
No one knew why it happened, but it was first contact and nothing else that woke the bond between soul mates, and the following hours and days that turned it into whatever it would be, whether the rare mind-link or just warm fuzzies on contact. In that time it was difficult if not outright traumatizing to be separated by any distance or for any length of time, and itching under the skin and the sudden, pressing need-want-now could not be denied, which was kind of inconvenient when one had crucial, immovable all-day field testing the next day.
Genesis understood, though his fingers twitched to touch. (Was that hair as soft as it looked, or his skin as smooth?) It hadn’t been that long since he’d been a grunt – alright, maybe it had – but he remembered the Field Days and all that rode on it. Missing one, or goddess forbid failing one, could set someone in the officer pool or a SOLDIER hopeful back months if not end their advancement entirely. A few hours of nerves or discomfort was a pittance weighted against his other half’s future.
And, well, at least they’d met now. He would likely spend the day watching the scrimmages.
“I think we’ll survive a half a day, no? The arrow has left the bow of the goddess. Just remember, dear heart – at the day’s end you’re mine.”
The scrimmages went about as well as Cloud could hope.
Keyed up as he was he still hadn’t gotten much in the way of sleep: the nagging feeling that there was somewhere he needed to be hadn’t helped in the least, though he’d at least gotten some and finally let himself relax. Still, he knew where most his gaffs were and was fairly certain he’d not have made them if he’d been less distracted, but he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed about it. Something in the back of his mind was telling him he should go to the watch tower, but it was a quiet voice, and stifled easily enough. It would be louder later, he knew.
They’d been allowed to break and scattered around the makeshift canteen when the rumours started to trickle through. There were SOLDIERs watching – high ranking ones – and even a few elite. There weren’t any names mentioned beyond speculation (Sephiroth in particular was always a favourite) but as much as Cloud usually liked to gossip over who might be scouted next he was not truly interested. There was only one person he wanted to hear about just then, and although no one had mentioned the Red Mage, there was no question that Genesis was there when a tiny voice at the back of his mind urged him to go, that was the way to where he should be. It was growing insistent.
They were loaded onto a bus at long last, heavy limbed, still hauling full kits and in proper file despite the urge to sleep in their feet; they stumbled off at the barracks. Cloud threw his pack down by his bunk and flung himself under the water before anyone else could motivate themselves back into motion in hopes that guaranteed hot water might revive him somewhat. It did feel wonderful, but failed to rouse him. Reluctantly, he flicked the taps to cold.
It was a briefly more alert Cloud who wandered out of the showers as his squad started filtering in, smelling like the offspring of an old gym bag and a mud pit. Alone for a while – they would just stand there until the heat ran out inciting sudden soap use – Cloud dressed quickly, gathering a few changes of clothes wishing he had had a chance to go out. He’d outgrown most of what he’d arrived with, leaving him with not much more than his uniforms and official digs. He made sure that his gear was stored properly, proof against a barracks review in his absence, and hurried out the door, scrounging for his PHS and the directions it held as he went. Finding his prize he let his feet guide him whilst he found the desired message, and rounding a corner collided with a chest.
.
Genesis slept like the dead, but that was only natural after such bone-deep exhaustion. He’d only been awake so long for the nagging tug just below his awareness, but now that he had found the one it’d led him to it was appeased enough for dreams to come: he did not remember them, but when he woke – earlier than he’d have liked, earlier than his alarm – he felt alert and eager. Today would be the day he held his angel, the radiant figure who had glowed in the track light. A spring he would normally deny entered his step at the very thought. How lovely his heart had been, a slice of sunshine and summer sky, rebelling against the dark.
Look at me; waxing at the briefest vision! And it had had to be short, as they drifted nearer and reached out not knowing what it was they did. Beloved by the goddess indeed.
He arrived mid-morning on the testing grounds. The secondary facilities were a wide tract of land surrounding an observational tower at the far side of the wastes where life began to creep back over the hills, and there was really no other place he could be, knowing that somewhere in the brambles and bog was Cloud. There were few others in the highest rooms, mostly the Elite classes who were surprised to see him there at all and especially dressed so casually, devoid of coat or rank. They moved past their shock, or brushed it aside in favour of observing the fields and displays for curiosity or wagers or even to seek out new students: Angeal had first noticed Zackary from one of these screens, but Genesis had no need of them with the dull tug leading him, and the elated trill through his core as he again set eyes on what he sought. A certain peace settled over him as the matches progressed. He’s doing quite well actually, for so fresh out of basic. There was a little bubble of pride at that. Still work to do yet, but. Well.
He made pretence of observing other areas and groups, but he doubted that he had fooled anyone who cared to notice his wanderings, though he had most definitely confused them. How often did he want anything to do with any infantry, even the SOLDIER recruit pool, after all? And he clearly had a mark, in the new recruit class to boot.
Was Rhapsodos actually considering a student? Weird. He could hear the others gossiping, and though none bothered him he was pleased his little one merited mention in those who might have caught his eye. Towards the end he did allow himself to be drawn into debate at last – there were some gems in the crop, but it was not the best group they had pulled in, for certain. He allowed that they ought to improve, initiates to the ways of ShinRa as they were and found his way to his car: the troop transports conspicuously absent.
Driving towards Midgar he harboured vague plans for ordering take out and preparing his apartments for his lovely’s arrival, but while food would be appreciated by the no doubt famished youth, he wasn’t going to care how the place looked when he got there, and the next few days would be a crash course in the-annoying-things-my-soul-mate-does anyway. And really, Genesis had just spent the last day mostly staring at him: he simply wasn’t that patient. It was about the only simple thing about him; he turned back towards the barracks.
Heading back into those halls – willingly even – was strange after successfully avoiding them so long. A standard speckled off white, blockish and about as friendly as a turn of the century sanatorium they seemed to suck the spirit out of all things in their halls, but that did not matter a wit when a figure hurtled the next turn into him.
Cloud’s bag hit the ground unheeded as its owner stumbled again into Genesis’s presence and arms, phone skidding away over the tiles as those limbs closed around him. He leaned in, steadied, hands curling reflexively in the thick sweater before him, took a shuddering breath and sighed. What was he doing again? It couldn’t be that important. The embrace tightening around him was so strong and safe; he nuzzled in deeper, eyes drifting closed at the nose in his hair and warm breath chuffing against his ear. He had held off on this: why had he ever wanted to do that?
His world narrowed down to the bundle in his arms – gone from running to half asleep in under a minute – as his chest swelled with withheld laughter. This was what they talked about, wasn’t it? Only the desire not to startle his angel kept him from spinning the boy around and crowing his delight, but the nigh-purr starting in the smaller breast was worth it.
She guides us to bliss, her gift ever lasting.
He could believe it.