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Zack adores Cloud. There’s no surprise there.
What’s there not to adore? This feisty kid with his head in the clouds (pun intended), dreaming so big he doesn’t even realize it’s completely overtaking him. And Zack admires it, admires how even when Cloud’s given up, there’s still this fire in his eyes. How even when Cloud puts his walls up, he’s holding canons for defense. How Cloud’s name is perfect for him, this storm ready to take anything and everything.
Ever since Zack made SOLDIER, people began to treat him differently. There’s no shock there, people treat authority in strange ways—even if that authority is hardly one. But when Zack met Cloud on that mission, he smiled and joked with him. And when Zack later learned that Cloud smiled for nearly no one? Oh, Zack just knew he had to make that kid his best friend.
Zack doesn’t adore the parts of Cloud that can’t see how amazing he is—the ones that make him stare at his boots, not in that cute shy way of his but in that self-deprecating way that makes Zack want to shake him. But Zack is his friend, not his therapist. If Cloud doesn’t open up to Zack, he’s not going to pry.
Of course, Zack could still tease. Zack could always tease.
The two of them are sitting in the mess hall, all the other cadets not giving them the light of day. The first time Zack followed Cloud to lunch had at least half the cafeteria’s heads turning, whispers of “How did Strife befriend a SOLDIER?" making Cloud poke at his food with a pout. Now, it’s become a somewhat frequent occurrence, and everyone’s moved on to the newest bits of grunt gossip.
Cloud rubs his neck, poking at his ‘meat’ with his fork miserably. Zack eyes him with amusement. “Sure you don’t want to head to the infirmary?”
“Sure you don’t want to head to the infirmary?" Cloud mimics in a high-pitched voice, drawing out a snort from Zack. Cloud forgot how to be shy whenever he was annoyed. “I’m not telling anyone that my neck hurts because I did too many sit-ups.”
“You can wear it like a badge of honor,” Zack tells him, taking a bite of his food. SOLDIERs typically didn’t bother with cafeterias, especially not 2nd or 1st classes, either skipping meals or heading out to restaurants. Zack hates the dry food of the cafeteria, probably leftovers of what the Science Research Division didn’t use, but he could grin and bear it to sit with Cloud, so grin and bear it he does. “You pushed your body beyond its limits!”
“Right, like anyone’ll believe that,” Cloud says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be lucky if anyone thinks I can even do a sit-up.”
“You think about others too much, sunshine,” Zack casually says, taking another bite of this undercooked, maybe rotten dog food. “But think of the upside: if you go in and say that your neck hurts, and then say your throat hurts, maybe they’ll give you better food.”
Cloud’s annoyance dies down with a laugh. Zack likes him annoyed—but Zack likes him disarmed the most. Zack likes Cloud the most when Cloud looks at him like he’s the world’s biggest idiot. “All that just to con them for food?"
Zack is lucky he’s good with people; this is one of the stupidest conversations he’s had. He’s fully brought this upon himself, just trying to warm Cloud up, break open those pretty walls of his. But conversation is conversation, Cloud is Cloud, and Zack is the idiot puppy who no one suspects of trying to be anything other than an idiot. So carry on this conversation he does, all for that sparkle in Cloud’s eyes. “Hey, if you won’t let me take you out to restaurants, I gotta get you food somehow. Real food. If we’re lucky, this stuff is only poisoned.”
Cloud no doubt lingers on ‘take you out’ for a moment, the way he sits up and shuffles in his seat, hunching over to focus a bit more on his food, biting his lip. Zack doesn’t know if Cloud’s always been this readable or if Zack’s been around him long enough to tell exactly what sets him off, how to leave him flustered, and what exactly a flustered Cloud looks like. Zack doesn’t know when he started realizing how easily he could fluster Cloud, his best friend. Zack doesn’t know what to do with that information.
Flustered Cloud’s shoulders move on, dropping as Cloud chokes back a laugh. “Can you even pay?”
Zack turns his head, and Cloud, with a small, stupidly bright smile on his face, continues, “I…heard rumors that you leech off others at restaurants because you have no money.”
Letting his mouth drop open in mock offense, Zack sets down his fork (he couldn’t stand another bite of whatever this was, anyway—whatever cadets were on kitchen duty took personal offense to the cafeteria today) to lean forward. “That’s what people have been saying about me? Not what a good date I am?”
Cloud, turning his eyes up in amusement, hums. “No one calls you a good d-date, and you know it.”
Zack hasn’t been on a date in a few months, not since he met Aerith, the angel in the slums. She has this smile that makes Zack forget he’s a murderer— SOLDIER for a few minutes and makes him feel like he’s just some ordinary farm boy from Gongaga trying to figure out the big city. But those playboy rumors never clear him, whispers of him breaking girls’ hearts and moving on to the next.
Funnily enough, Zack’s only been on a date with four girls. Two of them were friends in Shinra. One was set up by Kunsel. The fourth is Aerith. There’s only one more person he’d want to take on a date and he’s calling him a bad date, and Zack needs to defend his honor. (Besides, Zack knows he doesn’t stand a chance, though not because of Aerith. She’d like Cloud. He knows it.) “So, what do people say? That I’m cheap or broke?”
Managing another bite, Cloud raises his eyebrows pointedly as an answer.
Grinning, Zack points his fork at Cloud. “I’m only slightly broke, but only because I like showing my friends a good time! Which you could have if you weren’t so stubborn, Cloudy. Anyway, once I get promoted to 1st, I’ll get paid at least three times and I can take all my dates out whenever.”
Cloud knows about Aerith, but doesn’t chew Zack out for continuing the dating bit. Instead, he sets down his own fork, having finished the majority of his plate (and Zack mourns the fact that Cloud hates himself so much that he refuses to accept he’s Zack’s friend, refuses to let Zack take him out, refuses to eat the good food he’s supposed to be eating, because god, Zack can only take so much of not forcing Cloud to be treated the way he deserves) and plays with the hem of his sleeve. “You’re…so sure about it. Getting promoted.”
I’m sure about a lot of things. Like you deserve better.
“Well, I don’t play around! I got a work wife at every table in this room.”
That draws a surprised laugh from Cloud. “I’m not going to argue with that. But you never even seem…”
“Worried?” Zack supplies and after a moment, Cloud nods. Honesty is pretty on Cloud. (A lot of things would be pretty on Cloud. Zack thinks lipstick and eyeliner would be pretty on Cloud.) “Maybe I could teach you how to be more confident.”
Rolling his eyes, Cloud replies, “I don’t want to end up a—”
He’s cut off by a repeated high-pitched beep. Cloud’s PHS is placed next to his tray, screen facing up so he can quickly see any notifications. This time, though, Cloud doesn’t even look at the screen. Standing up so suddenly that he bumps into the table, Cloud collects his tray and shoves the PHS down his trouser’s pocket.
“Uh, buddy,” Zack laughs, “don’t you wanna see what that is?”
“It’s nothing important,” Cloud says, his voice a little quiet. Zack could swear he started burying his face in his scarf, but when was Cloud not hiding in that thing?
Cloud steps out of the cafeteria seat and begins to make his way to the tray disposal. Before he can be left behind, Zack stumbles to his feet, collects his own half-finished meal, and follows after Cloud. “You didn’t even check.”
“They’d call if it was important,” Cloud insists a little firmly, his voice hitching at the end. (Zack gives himself three seconds to imagine all the ways he could make Cloud’s voice hitch. In bed. One. Training together. Two. Dancing together. Three.) He scrapes his food into the trash next to the disposal, and slides his tray into its return bin, dusting his hands. Zack mirrors the action, trying to keep up with Cloud.
“You know Shinra doesn’t call cadets,” he points out. “They send out mass texts—”
“Wasn’t a text,” Cloud cuts him off, beginning to walk away and out of the cafeteria. He pushes the double swinging doors and enters one of Shinra’s many dimly lit corridors. The light makes him look like an angel of the barracks. Oh, Zack likes that. Glancing over his shoulder at Zack, he sheepishly adds, “Uhm, I…set different alerts for different notification types?”
“Oh, sure. Right, yeah, forgot you could do that! Yeah, my buddy Kunsel—you remember him—he set up mine so that I didn’t get notifications for emails. You have no idea how much junk mail SOLDIERS get,” Zack rambles, flipping his PHS open to its email system and moving forward to grab Cloud’s shoulder and show him when Zack pauses.
The handedness of silver winds <no-reply@silver_elite.shinra.org> [18:00 (1 minutes ago)]
You received this message because of your subscription to Silver Elite, Sephiroth’s fan club. It’s no secret to anyone that Sephiroth is left-handed. Some have wondered…
Zack glances back up at Cloud and barely suppresses his snort. Cloud isn’t the most social trooper, but his ineffable crush on Sephiroth is an open secret. The other cadets who are always looking for something to give Cloud grief for don’t even bother using that for their cruelty; not only because they all look up to him, but because they’re too scared to use Sephiroth’s name in that way.
Zack isn’t though. Any opportunity to tease Cloud is one he takes with open arms and a big kiss, even if it’s about Sephiroth.
Easily catching up to Cloud, who was probably trying to find his way to the barracks to go read the email in peace, Zack casually says, “Y’know, I was thinking about growing my hair out.”
That catches Cloud off guard, and he peeks out from his scarf (and Zack catches a glimpse of those pretty pink cheeks) to give him a cautious look. “You have?”
“Why not! I’ve been seeing more guys with long hair lately. Seems to be all the rage.” He runs a hair through his spikes. “Lucky for me, my hair isn’t naturally spiky like yours.”
“You’re a fraud,” Cloud hums, probably grateful to be able to avoid the topic of the email.
“You’re just jealous you can’t grow yours out without using insane amounts of product. And speaking of… Do you have any idea how much care I’d need?”
“Care?”
“Yeah, care! You know me, I’m not that patient. Doubt I could stand in a shower for more than five minutes.”
“You’d probably start squatting,” Cloud laughs, not catching on to Zack.
“I actually have squatted in the shower before,” Zack retorts. He winces and rubs his neck. “Lesson learned.” And Cloud laughs again, before biting his lips and Zack wonders when he’ll take down all those stupid walls. (Wonders if Cloud knows how to kiss.) But, the teasing must commence and the Cloud pyscho-analysis can continue later. “Anyway, I’d probably need a whole ton of conditioner. Wonder how much Sephiroth uses per shower? Maybe a quarter of a bottle? Probably coconut scented.”
“A full bottle and coconut, but— H-Hey!”
The two stop walking as Cloud catches his mistake and Zack throws his head in laughter. Cloud isn't having any of it and, red-faced and huffing, points an accusatory finger up at Zack. “Okay, fine, the email was from Sephiroth's fan club, but how would you know!”
“I'm in all the Firsts fan clubs,” Zack manages between wheezes. Once he calms down, he turns his head in pure adoration at Cloud's puffed-up face. “Aw, c'mon Cloudy, don't be mad with me. I'll get you on a date with him if it'll make you feel better.”
Like a chocobo, Cloud puffs up and sputters, “D-Don't even joke about that! I would be mortified.”
Zack rolls his eyes in good nature and starts walking. Cloud follows, defenses still up. He drawls, “Zack, I'm serious. Sephiroth doesn't go on dates, let alone try to entertain some cadet!”
Sensing that this was spiraling into a fit of self-hatred, Zack sighs. He feels a twang of jealousy or maybe pity: jealousy because it's Sephiroth getting these affections and pity because Cloud is giving them to someone who could never give him half as much. It's more pity if he's being honest—he doesn't just want Cloud like some asshole. He wants Cloud happy. (It doesn't have to be with him.)
And the only thing that makes Cloud happy is being treated nicely and his crush. So, of course, Zack obliges. (How could he not? He adores Cloud.) He bumps his hip against Cloud and muses, “You'd be surprised how lonely the guy is. You two would hit it off, but,” he cut himself off before Cloud could glare, “I promise I won’t embarrass my buddy like that. Won’t even dream of it, SOLDIER's honor!”
Once Cloud realizes Zack's just been joking, he finally lowers his guard and offers a tentative smile. It's not a grinning Cloud but it's better than a self-hating Cloud. “Thank you, Zack.”
“Though if he mentions the clouds or something, I mean, you can't blame me if my tongue slips—”
“Zack!” Cloud shouts, between laughs. Oh, that laugh. That laugh. “You're making me sound desperate!”
“You are, sunshine!” Cloud's too caught up in his laughter to puff up at the nickname like he always does. Instead, he lives up to the name, the clouds clearing away to show that soft soul that probably just wants to be loved and love others, laughing and fragile.
God, if people could hear Zack's thoughts. The last thing he wants would be for them to group him with Genesis. Though Cloud deserves a fan club of his own where people sprout wax poetry of him. He’ll join. Maybe he’ll get Aerith to join one day. Maybe he’ll convince Sephiroth if that makes Cloud happy.
“When I do get that promotion, though, I hope you join my fan club.”
Because all he wants is Cloud happy.
“But I already get VIP Zack knowledge,” Cloud laughs.
All Zack wants is Cloud to get what he wants.
All Zack wants is Sephiroth dead.
“C’mon, sunshine,” Zack says, mainly to himself. Cloud is hanging limply from his shoulder, and Zack hoists him up further. His head is dangling in front of him, eyes empty and lips groaning, and Zack prays his brain isn’t damaged. Can it even get damaged worse? Zack’s learned it can always get worse. He’s stopped praying for better. “Hang in there, please.”
Cloud doesn’t respond. Cloud just keeps hanging there as Zack runs. He’s maneuvering between the alleys of the slums, a place he used to treat as an escape. Now, every corner is hellish, dragging Cloud’s feet through the cracks and potholes. He hopes Cloud is conscious enough to pull up his legs because Zack’s run out of bandages and ointment for all the blisters on his feet.
Cloud’s SOLDIER fatigues are tired. He’s tired. And god knows Zack is tired, but god fucking smite Zack if he stops running.
The alley they’re in—Zack stopped keeping track of what sector they found themselves in, it doesn’t matter, none of it fucking matters—breaks into an open field. There’s some grass peeking through the dirt, but it’s withering and begging for help. The dirt is muddied, a storm probably having just passed, and maybe Zack from five years ago would take it as some sort of good omen that the worst is over.
This Zack doesn’t even think about it. He runs through the field, making a break for the fence with a hanging Cloud in tow. He’s not stupid enough to think it’ll put any real distance, but distance is distance.
Zack was trained to fight in wars. He knows how to strategize this.
The fence is only a few feet high, and he carefully (not carefully at all, he’s sorry, he’s so sorry, he just needs to get out of here) slips Cloud’s arm from around his neck to reach for his back and bend his knees. Zack’s arms are under his back and his knees. (It’s like he’s carrying Cloud through a threshold.) “Alright, here we go, bud,” he says in a single breath, lifting Cloud.
His head lulls backward and Zack dumps him onto the other side of the fence. Cloud hits the ground with a thump, rolling onto his front and Zack suppresses a wince. His face is going to be bloody.
But his face will also be alive, so Zack tells his guilt to shut up, and he hoists his leg over the fence and pulls the rest of him over. He lands on his feet and is immediately crouching for Cloud, hooking Cloud’s arm around his neck once again, trying to figure out where to go. He’s no idiot, this isn’t a win, but he’ll take anything, so he takes a few steps forward—
“Hey, hey, woah!” Zack yells, backing up and forcing Cloud with him. Cloud’s feet are dragged backward from the heel, and Zack imagines it must hurt. His Cloud makes a noise of protest at the movement, sudden and intruding, protesting until Zack’s fully backed up against the fence.
He tightens his hand over Cloud. He squeezes it. Cloud, he thinks. Cloud is alive. I’m keeping Cloud alive. I’m going to keep Cloud alive.
Sephiroth takes a step closer, having come from wherever the fuck demons come from. His green eyes flitter as if they hear his thoughts and want to taunt him. Of course they would. Sephiroth, hair cascading around him, sword unsheathed and poised forward, stalks forward with his head raised high.
“Put the sword down, Sephiroth!” Zack will try reason. He’s no idiot, but he can try reason just this once, the way he used to reason his way out of any fight. Cloud used to be especially naive to that, never able to see how Zack ran circles around him, only that Zack was this energetic puppy running around him. Zack wants to tease Cloud again. He glares at Sephiroth. “We can talk this out, it doesn’t have to be like this!”
“If you let him go—”
“Go to fucking hell!"
Sephiroth hums. Maybe he realizes that Zack never really wanted to negotiate, never wanted to reason.
Zack realizes it and he sets Cloud gently down (this time, he does do it gently, trying to make up for before and before and before, and a thousand befores, trying to make up for when Cloud was strapped to the table and would scream and Zack could only bang on the glass, he can’t fix Cloud’s scars but the least he can do is be kind and gentle to his tortured body) to the dirt. He gives himself a moment to make sure Cloud’s leaning back against the fence, and runs a thumb over Cloud’s jaw.
It’s covered in dirt now and some blood. Maybe Zack’s. He’s so worn, but all Zack can do is say, under his breath, “I’m getting you out, Cloud. You’ll see the sun again. I swear it.”
Zack stays crouching, unable to bring himself to fully leave Cloud’s side, but moves forward, pulling his sword from behind him. Angeal’s sword. His sword. Might’ve been Cloud’s sword. He points the sword forward at Sephiroth, dropping one knee to the dirt for balance and straightening his back.
“If you take another step,” Zack begins, because Sephiroth had still been approaching, taking his sweet time with his torture, “I will kill you.”
“And risk harm to Cloud?” Zack forces himself not to wince wince. It didn’t matter if he was dead, as long as Sephiroth was dead, because someone would find Cloud and take care of him.
But Sephiroth was dead for five years. And now he’s here. Zack can’t die, not this time. Not until Cloud’s awake. “I don’t know what you think of me anymore, Sephiroth, but I’m still SOLDIER. You know I can and will take you in a fight, and you know I’ll kick your ass.”
One of those things isn’t true, and Sephiroth realizes this, laughing in curt breaths under his breath, choosing to walk to the side instead. He’s like a fucking cat, the way he chooses to play with his meals instead of actually fight. He wants Zack to feel scared.
(And Zack is fucking horrified. Please, he begs. Cloud. Wake up. Run. Live.)
(Cloud does no such thing, letting out a tired, pitiful groan from behind him.)
“Your time on my planet has been prolonged,” Sephiroth says, twirling his sword before swinging it down in a flourish, pointing it off to the side. He stops walking to narrow his eyes at Zack, an uncanny smile still smeared on his lips. “You will not harm me, you will not fight me, and you can not kill me. The only way to spare yourselves the harm is to give up the puppet and—”
“You bastard!" Zack yells, moving to his feet and severing the short connection he had to Cloud before he even realizes what Sephiroth is saying.
Zack has so many ways to describe Cloud. Angel has been coming up lately, and Zack can’t help himself, not with the soft way Cloud used to smile or with the way his hair would shine. But he also likes sunshine, because of the way he would brighten the room. Cloud doesn’t like that one, so sometimes Zack would go with chocobo, because of the way Cloud would get all indignant.
But Zack also goes with strong, because Cloud is hardly brave enough to face his fears, but faces them he does. There is no one stranger than Cloud. And beautiful, fucking hell is Cloud beautiful, beautiful in the way waterfalls are beautiful with their endless cooling and healing streams and beautiful in the way lightning is beautiful in that dangerous way that threatens to kill you, the crack of sky and land leaving you laughing and going closer and closer, and Zack begs for more.
Zack has had five years to perfect his descriptions of Cloud. This hardly covers the first page of his Cloud gospel. (The ending talks all about the things he’s going to show Cloud, the places he’s going to take him, the life he’s going to start with him.)
But never ‘puppet.’ Never fucking puppet. Zack would never let someone degrade his friend like that, degrade someone he cares for so deeply he doesn’t know where affection starts and ends. He would never let someone torture his friend like that, torture someone he fights for so deeply he doesn’t know where life starts and ends. He would never let someone think about his friend like that, think about him other than the angel he is.
Angel he was.
Angel he can be again.
Cloud will wake up, and he will be that same angel that Sephiroth has become obsessed with, and then he will watch Sephiroth die and he will be free.
“I will kill you,” Zack swears. “He killed you last time. I’m making sure you won’t get up. I’ll crawl down to fucking hell with you if I need to.”
Before Sephiroth can say anything, can laugh, can even breathe, Zack is rushing forward and bringing the Buster Sword down. The legacy of three tortured souls meets Sephiroth, sparks from the metal flying off.
Sephiroth’s eyes flicker over Zack’s shoulder.
Zack thinks about Cloud’s head staying limp forever—no, no, it would rise. The morning sun would rise, the birds would sing, the people would awaken, and sunshine would pour over Cloud’s rising head. His cheeks would remain pale, however, the blood stubbornly staying at his heart, too scared to touch the rest of his body, and when his eyes opened? They would be green slits. They would be a snake, unbecoming of an angel.
The sun would run off. And Cloud would stand, his legs shaky but alive. And Cloud would be alive, sort of, kind of, no, not at all, Cloud would be worse than dead. He would be someone else’s, his free will stripped of him. All Cloud wants is to be loved. And he’s adored right now, but the love is going to him, it’s going to his body, this vessel that can be manipulated, and Zack turns red.
Cloud fucking deserves to be loved. Cloud fucking deserves to be treated human. Cloud fucking is human.
And Zack loves Cloud.
Zack kicks Sephiroth and swings down his sword again. “I won’t let you look at him—I won’t let you think about him!”
Sephiroth laughs. “You can’t stop the reunion. You can’t stop a puppet from reuniting with his master—”
Zack tries to remember every lesson he’s ever gotten from Shinra, the company that ruined his life and the lives of hundreds, about striking and parrying and strength and punishment. He forces them into every vein in his body, every blood vessel that’s yet to give in on him.
He won’t let Sephiroth near Cloud. Zack has no SOLDIER to fall back on, no honor to turn to; all he has is saving Cloud.
And cruelly, so, so cruelly, he’s happy Cloud’s asleep. He’s happy Cloud won’t remember any of this, won’t even have had it in his memory. He’s happy Cloud won’t see the way Sephiroth looks at him. He doesn’t want Cloud to see how he got exactly what he wanted.