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They’d agreed to meet up in the Sleeping Forest, interestingly where they’d left things off. Nearly a year had passed since the two had seen one another—give or take, because Cloud couldn’t be bothered to keep track, and Vincent most certainly couldn’t either. But a delivery had to be made. A rather small, plastic-wrapped thing with a little weight on it. But his curiosities mid-ride on Fenrir could be pushed aside.
The roads were thick with coarse dirt and paths were suddenly a rare find. Trees and a blur of fog somewhat obscured Cloud’s viewpoint; he’d probably be lost had he not been somewhat familiar with the Forest already. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d been made to meet up with Vincent here anyway.
Standing back against one of the ancient trees, a crimson-clad figure began to appear in Cloud’s vision. To make the connection was simple, with how few other people that could be. The motorcycle stopped, keeping a fair distance.
“Vincent,” Cloud said upon seeing him, stepping off Fenrir as he walked over to the crimson figure.
Vincent stood across from him, propped against a tree, arms crossed, closed off as ever, and he nodded in acknowledgment.
Cloud reached into one of the bags attached to his motorbike, pulling out the wrapped parcel, and stepping up to Vincent. He held it out in invitation for Vincent to grab it.
Vincent slowly reached out both of his hands, the real, flesh, gloved one, and the metal claw Cloud wasn’t so sure whether it was an accessory or some sort of prosthetic. Not that it was any of his business, but Cloud noted how little he knew about Vincent. Most people, particularly in AVALANCHE, were an open book to put it lightly, almost eager to hand out their life story. People loved talking about themselves.
But Cloud wasn’t so sure Vincent even liked talking at all. What with how his eyes were dark and cold and unmoving from his person. Vincent always looked at people as though they were dangerous and he was eager to prove it. But Cloud supposed he was the same, being so cautious, so he couldn’t really blame him. His sharp irises were dark red, as was the skin below, dusted with the same tint. Quite sleepless for someone who’d slept consecutively for thirty years straight. His chest rose rather heavily with his breathing as he cautiously eyed Cloud.
“Thank you,” Vincent said, taking the parcel into his hands, tucking it somewhere on the inside of his cloak.
“Yeah.”
Vincent said nothing in return, though his attention hadn’t left Cloud as though he expected Cloud to have more to say. The heavy silence lingered between them, before Vincent finally spoke.
“Why today?” Vincent finally asked.
“What?”
Vincent gestured toward the sky, which was a burnt amber that was fading away to dusk, vastly spread out behind snow-white vegetation in nearly every direction. “It’s late. The sun is almost set,” he said. “I was all right with waiting until tomorrow.”
Cloud shrugged a little. “Wanted to get it out of the way, I guess.”
Vincent sighed. “I understand that.”
Cloud looked back at him, hearing the exhaustion in his breath, seeing the way he was still propped against a tree, as though it weren’t just a convenience but rather a necessity. He raised an eyebrow.
“Is coming here really that much more convenient for you?” Cloud found himself asking.
Vincent’s lips parted, but his response seemed to be a little delayed. “I would say so. There’s not many other places I have a reason to visit,” he said, his voice raspy and labored as he tried adjusting his posture.
Cloud found himself wondering if leaning against that tree was really much of a choice.
“I don’t really have much of a reason to come here anymore,” Cloud admitted. “I haven’t been in awhile. Kinda forgot how silent it is.”
“If I didn’t come here, I don’t think I’d ever leave my house,” Vincent said, pinching the bridge of his nose and tilting his head down a little, his teeth clenching with a quick hiss before pulling his hand away and simply glancing at the ground.
“What’s wrong?” Cloud asked.
“Nothing,” Vincent said, so eagerly he’d nearly answered before Cloud had even asked. “Thank you for delivering this for me.” He shuffled a hand into his cloak, fishing around in there before pulling out some golden coins. He spilled them onto Cloud’s hand which he’d held out. Seeing Vincent in a transactional context was new, Cloud supposed. He was somewhat confident that Vincent didn’t even have an income.
“Yeah, no problem,” Cloud said, taking the coins and pocketing them, though slightly leery of Vincent’s state. Like hell it was nothing, Cloud thought. Of all people, he’d know. Everything under his own circumstances always coincidentally happened to be nothing, as well.
Cloud wasn’t sure whether he should head out now, or not. The sun was hardly visible, and soon it wouldn’t even be there at all. Relying on what was left of its light for guidance sure made things a hell of a lot easier, but it wasn’t setting so rapidly that he didn’t have a few more minutes to spare. If necessary.
“Alright, it was nice seeing you again,” Cloud said, making up his mind fairly quickly.
Vincent slowly nodded, hardly looking at Cloud but rather in his general direction. His eyes didn’t focus on much of anything, and keeping himself up seemed like somewhat of a chore. “You too,” he managed to mutter out, pulling his body away from the tree to begin to slowly, heavily walk away from the tree as he began to head out.
“Hey,” Cloud said, not turning away but rather stepping toward him.
Vincent just furrowed his brows, as if he had an idea before Cloud could get the words out, what they would be. He spoke before he could. “No, I don’t feel the best. Yes, I’ll be all right.” He hated when people tried to read too deeply into him, and the last thing he wanted was pity. “Good night to you,” Vincent said dismissively, continuing to tiredly walk away.
Cloud shrugged, “Okay. Bye.” He walked over to Fenrir, getting on his motorbike and starting up the engine, trying to be fairly quick. He could never stand the type of person who didn’t, the last thing he wanted to be was like that—a show-off.
Cloud wanted to describe that interaction as bittersweet, but it seemed to lack the latter half of the word. Even with Vincent, he’d had better interactions in the past, which to Cloud felt like that was saying something. Nearly two years ago now, Vincent had saved Cloud back in this very forest from Kadaj and his crew. He’d saved Cloud’s life, as he knew he’d do the same for him, and acted as though it were nothing. He didn’t even want Cloud to thank him. Even though he didn’t seem like the bashful type. He just seemed, to Cloud, like he didn’t want to be acknowledged. Of course, now Cloud had the time to think about it a little as his engine started up and he prepared to head out of the forest.
His peripheral vision caught a curtain of red toppling over, tumbling down the hill, limp like a ragdoll. Cloud hit the breaks instinctively, slowing down to come to a stop once the hill was level. He hopped off of Fenrir, rushing over to Vincent.
“Hey. Vincent,” Cloud said, standing over him as he slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Vincent.”
Vincent stared up at Cloud in defeat, his hands on either side of his body to help hold himself up. He was hesitant to say even a word to him, but he figured Cloud wouldn’t go away unless he did. “My body is punishing me for not sleeping enough.”
Cloud scoffed. “That’s what this is?” he asked. It was nothing new—he’d met Vincent nearly two years ago now, and he still hadn’t matured past that state of drowning in self-loathing. But Cloud knew he’d be a fool to set expectations for anyone. “You’re punishing yourself,” Cloud corrected.
Vincent seemed displeased with Cloud’s response. He coughed, clearing his throat. “My body punishes me when I sleep, and it punishes me when I don’t. Sleep has a worse punishment. I prefer to choose which consequence I suffer.”
Cloud just stared, before reaching out a hand to offer to Vincent. He reluctantly accepted, just looking for something to stabilize himself. “I’m not gonna ask when you last slept or anything,” Cloud assured Vincent, mostly for himself so that he didn’t look like an overly concerned, overprotective loser. He didn’t care that much, and even if he did, acting on it was not his job nor his place.
“I do not remember well enough to answer, anyway,” Vincent murmured in a rasp.
Cloud let out what was almost a laugh at that. “Unless you live in the Forest, you’d be really stupid to try walking home like that.” He gestured to Vincent, who seemed as though he struggled to hold himself up on his own feet, hunched over in the warmth of his cloak, long hair dangling in front of his face so carelessly as he clung to a person for the support to stand.
Vincent looked at Cloud. “Are you going to offer me a ride?”
Cloud’s expression went blank. “Uh…” he mused, before laughing. He was simply poking fun at Vincent’s choice, not handing out an invitation. But of course… if it wasn’t too much trouble. “How far do you live?”
“It’s about a ten minute walk.”
Cloud looked over at the sunset, or rather what was left of it, and then nodded. Riding Fenrir would likely cut the time in half, but afterward it would likely be pitch black.
“Yeah… okay. Just tell me where to go,” Cloud said, letting go of his grip on Vincent, forcing Vincent to do the same, before walking back over to his motorbike, hopping back on it. “Get on,” he said, flicking his head in Vincent’s direction, before he heard the clanking of metal against the ground in response as Vincent approached.
“I’m very lightheaded,” Vincent grumbled. “And this…” he trailed off as he struggled onto Fenrir behind Cloud, bunching up his cloak to keep it out of the way, even if it was somewhat of a comfort right now. He tossed most of the fabric onto his lap, so it was sandwiched between his and Cloud’s bodies, secure and out of the way.
Cloud just sighed. Vincent’s exhaustion sunk him into vulnerability, which was a side of him Cloud didn’t even really think he had. He started up the engine of Fenrir, before speeding off, Vincent almost leaning against his back, rather limply. He knew though that Vincent’s exhaustion made the choice, not his conscious mind, as he would hardly even make skin contact with Cloud.
“Don’t turn here,” Vincent said once Cloud was finally presented with options up ahead.
“Right,” Vincent said in a tired rasp, leaning pretty close up against Cloud’s back so that he was mostly speaking into his ear.
Cloud turned right. trying to focus more on the feeling of Vincent leaning against him and the fact that he could really use some help from him, rather than the bad memories the Sleeping Forest would tend to bring up. Aerith died here, Cloud had almost died here. The beauty of the forest didn’t fully overshadow how grim it was. Though it was mostly grim on a personal level, due to Cloud’s personal experiences here. Vincent told him to turn left after a while, and while they’d left the Sleeping Forest, that didn’t mean they’d left the forest scenery in general.
“Just that way. I currently live there,” Vincent said tiredly, and Cloud continued on in that direction.
They’d approached a small home in a clearing.
Cloud parked Fenrir right outside of the home, before getting off, and watching Vincent haphazardly climb off after him. He pulled the entirety of his cloak back into place in one swift motion, crimson fabric flowing in the air as it fell back into place behind him. Vincent sighed and scrambled his hand around in his cloak, fishing his keys out, before unlocking his door and going inside.
His home was dark, not in that the word described the decor, but his home appeared unlived in. Furniture stores’ model homes had more soul than this. Cloud glanced out the windows, but they may as well have not been there as the sun was now long gone until tomorrow. There was no way in hell he’d be able to find his way back home tonight.
“Can you turn on a light,” Cloud muttered, and Vincent pulled out the parcel Cloud had delivered to set it down, taking off his sabatons to set aside, before tiredly slumping down on the couch and flicking on a lantern. Vincent chose to ignore everything around him, only focusing inward.
Water began pelting against the roof and windows, and Cloud glanced over, realizing it was raining. He sighed, “Uh, can I stay here for tonight?” he asked, rather shamefully at the fact that was even a consideration of his. “It’s already pitch black out, and now it’s raining.”
Vincent’s focus hardly shifted to Cloud, as he was draping his cloak over his body like a blanket to curl beneath. “I guess so,” he said, trying to think of a practical way to do this. “You can sleep on the couch.”
“Thanks,” Cloud said, nodding, before noticing just how vulnerable Vincent looked like that. All curled up and enshrouded in his cloak like it’d hide him from the world. And it seemed to, because right now he was simply a figure that hoped covering himself would make him invisible.
They sat in silence and avoidance for a moment before Cloud spoke up once again. “Are you hurt?”
“Hm,” Vincent said mostly to himself, debating to himself what he should even say to that. “Yes. Slightly so. Before you’d arrived in the forest, there were quite a lot of monsters. I suppose it took a toll on my body.”
“Well yeah, especially when you consider you’re not sleeping…” Cloud said, and Vincent just nodded, though to his own dismay. His problem could be solved at the cost of creating another problem.
“I’d prefer not to,” Vincent said with a grimace. The idea frightened him a little more than he’d like to admit. Discomfort was more fitting of an outward description he’d use. If his face were something Cloud could visibly see, rather than facing opposite of him and half-covered in a web of hair and fabric.
“When you stand you can hardly breathe,” Cloud said bluntly.
Vincent didn’t even look up. “I don’t care to be reminded.”
“The nightmares are worse than this?”
“Yes. They are,” Vincent insisted, tiredly. His voice was gruff and he didn’t wish to explain himself.
Cloud glanced around in search of a blanket, as the night had made it cold inside. “I thought you said you deserved to have nightmares…” he muttered. Vincent grabbed onto the fabric of his cloak, pulling it upward to drape it over Cloud as well. Cloud almost felt as though he were drowning in fabric—the cloak was even larger than he’d given it credit for. And so, so warm. “Thanks,” Cloud murmured.
Vincent just nodded. “Yes… I used to believe that. But I do not deserve them. I endured the nightmares for so many years in an attempt to atone… for what ended up being another man’s sins.”
Cloud tilted his head, ”Didn’t you atone? You got to kill him.” Cloud could never seem to understand Vincent’s fixation with sins, and atonement. These things never mattered to himself, but Vincent’s life seemed to revolve around them.
“No. I forced myself to suffer for thirty years over something that I ended up not even having been certain about,” Vincent said. “That is a sin.”
Cloud scoffed. “Why is everything a sin to you? And everything is punishment and suffering? You said it yourself, you suffer when you sleep and you suffer when you’re sleep deprived.”
Vincent backed up a little on the couch, his cloak pulling along with him, some fabric slipping off of Cloud’s body in the process. “Because I did sin. And I deserve to suffer for it.”
“Do you want to suffer? It really sounds like you do.”
“No,” Vincent said. “It is not that I wish to, but rather that I deserve to.” Vincent slowly stood up, walking further from the dim light of the lantern on the table, the only source of light in his home.
Cloud stood up as well, following behind but keeping a distance. “Vincent. Who gets to decide what you deserve? Or what counts as a sin?”
“Good people do not do the things that I have done,” Vincent said.
Cloud pinched the bridge of his nose, “You didn’t answer my question. Who fucking cares if something’s a sin anyway?”
“Speak for yourself,” Vincent said coldly.
“Gods,” Cloud sighed, “All you do is talk about how awful of a person you are and what kind of punishment you deserve for it. You’re so cold to everyone and when you’re not it’s ‘cause you’re too busy talking about how much you hate yourself.”
Vincent gave no reaction whatsoever, he simply stood there He cleared his throat, “Quit being so presumptuous about me. I deserve punishment because these sins are harmful.”
“Your ‘sins’ don’t harm me.”
”They harm others,” Vincent said.
”Like Lucrecia?”
Vincent froze.
His eyes widened, pupils shrinking to pinpoint, and Cloud could do no more than stare as the thought crept into his mind that what he said might’ve gone too far. To use Vincent’s lost love to make a point was too cruel of an action for him. Vincent couldn’t begin to figure out what to say, and by extension Cloud could not either due to the wound he’d sliced into the conversation, which neither of them could figure out how to recover from.
“Don’t…” Vincent eventually said, turning away from Cloud in the dark. It was all he could choke out. It was a reminder he didn’t want. He, himself, was a constant reminder and that one was enough.
“Um…” Cloud looked at Vincent, turning away from him. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” was all Vincent said, his voice was rough and weak, and he refused to turn to Cloud. “I harmed her. Even you know that I did. Lucrecia…”
Cloud shook his head, “Vincent…” he said, still facing toward Vincent, who wouldn’t do the same. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t say that right. I’m sorry.”
“There isn’t a ‘right’ way to say that,” Vincent snapped back.
“No, I mean…” Cloud looked down. “I meant… that Lucrecia was someone you’d say you hurt. But, everything that happened to her was Hojo’s fault. Not yours. Just… that you’d consider it to be,” he tried to explain, but words seemed to fail him now that he needed them so desperately to attempt to fix the harm they’d just caused.
“Because it is,” Vincent said.
“It’s not. She didn’t choose to be taken advantage of by a mad scientist, and you didn’t choose for her to be either.”
Vincent shook his head. “I was involved.”
“Involvement isn’t causative,” Cloud said, still facing Vincent’s back, searching for any indication he might’ve been really listening to what he had to say, but in their current positions there was none. Vincent had simply turned away, facing no one but himself so that he could wallow in self-hatred and blame. “Don’t you get sick of blaming yourself for everything?”
“No, because I’m to blame,” Vincent said.
“No, you just…” Cloud paused. “Brainwashed yourself into thinking that.” He waited maybe half a second for a response, some sort of protest from Vincent, before taking the lack thereof as a clearance to continue. “You’re so obsessed with everything being your fault, and feeling bad about it. Everyone does horrible things, and you don’t even care ’cause you’re too busy focusing on what you do. You act like you’re the only one who can do bad.”
Vincent sighed and turned to once again face Cloud, his eyes a little damp with remnants of tears he must’ve turned around to hide. Cloud chose not to acknowledge it, for Vincent’s sake.
“Why are you defending me,” Vincent asked, “from myself?”
“…I don’t know,” Cloud said, after having given it thought.. But he didn’t find Vincent’s words or actions to be too foreign—just foreign for what he’d expect from Vincent. “I guess I kinda resonate with it,” he admitted.
Vincent stepped closer to him, once again looming over him. “Do you?” Vincent asked, having blinked away most of the lingering tears, hair falling over his shoulders that he still had yet to be bothered to fix. But truly, there was no way Vincent could have believed he was the only person to lose someone dear to him, or to blame himself for that having happened. Perhaps he just didn’t think that happened so close to him.
“Not the sin and punishment stuff…” Cloud said, “But losing the person you love and blaming yourself… yeah.”
Vincent narrowed his eyes, “Aerith?”
“No,” Cloud said.
Vincent just nodded. He knew it wasn’t his place to ask the specifics. Cloud never asked him about Lucrecia or her demise.
“I’m sorry,” Vincent said.
Cloud sighed. “I don’t think Lucrecia would want you so miserable like this. And you’re gonna stay miserable if you keep dwelling on what could’ve been if things were in your control.” His words got more reluctant by the end of it. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to want to comfort Vincent in the slightest. Comforting was hardly in his skill set.
Vincent just nodded, before clearing his throat. His voice was hoarse, and that was worsened from crying just a bit ago. The rasp was sharp, yet it still fit. “That does not change the fact that I’m a monstrosity, though.”
”You’re a victim.”
”Don’t say that,” Vincent said, his voice faltering as he stepped back.
”What?” Cloud asked. “You didn’t do… this… to yourself.” His eyes fell over Vincent’s form in front of him—the sickly, dead complexion he would keep eternally, and the golden gauntlet on his arm which either replaced it, or served to cover something horrific that had happened to it. These were features no human would willingly choose.
Vincent looked down again, away from Cloud to avoid meeting his judging eyes that spoke louder than he did. “You agree. You feel the need to work around the subject of what my body was turned into.”
Cloud looked back at Vincent, “It doesn’t scare me… but of course your body’s gonna have issues when you never rest it.”
Vincent almost laughed at the notion, and laughing wasn’t something Cloud was sure Vincent was capable of doing, “Resting will not change anything about my body. Nothing will. It is stuck as it is forever.”
“Stuck…?” Cloud asked.
Vincent nodded, looking down. Cloud could feel his breath on his face, but somehow it wasn’t as hot as he’d expected, and that was what gave him chills. “I am physically dead. Essentially an animated corpse.”
Cloud’s expression was uneasy at those words, but he accepted them. As vague as those words were, Cloud figured he’d probably rather not know what happened. And regardless of what did, he couldn’t judge what had happened to Vincent. He couldn’t judge a fellow victim of Hojo’s twisted experimentations.
“That doesn’t matter, it’s not your fault,” Cloud said, not moving. Away would be understandable and closer would be inappropriate. So he stayed as he was.
“How can you say that?” Vincent asked. “Had I never involved myself with Professor Hojo, he would never have sought this kind of revenge upon me. And had I never involved myself with Lucrecia, she would have never given the time of day to use demons to reanimate my corpse.”
Cloud furrowed his brows. “Why do you act like getting involved with someone means you can control their actions?!” he asked. It was frustrating him to hear that everything was Vincent’s fault due to who he’d associated with in the past.
“A lack of involvement would have prevented this all,” Vincent said, glancing over at himself. Most of his body remained covered at all times, and its state was the reason why. “My body would still be alive… Or I would be peacefully dead in its entirety. Not this…” He gestured around himself in disgust, though he’d put a little more emphasis on his sunken, morbid face and the arm he chose to cover.
Cloud shook his head, directly in front of Vincent’s. “I don’t care if your body is dead, no one in AVALANCHE cares if you’re physically dead. It doesn’t matter!” Cloud yelled, cutting into the air between them as Vincent stepped back, almost as if to make room for the tension.
“Cloud, I’ve been dead for longer than you’ve been alive.”
Cloud’s eyes widened. “Um…” He struggled to think of anything that would be appropriate to say, in response to a statement that felt wrong to acknowledge. Vincent Valentine was dead. Undead. A Turk who’d been shot and killed over thirty years ago—and Cloud was only nearly twenty five. Vincent had lived his life to its end before Cloud was even born. At the thought, a chill slithered its way down his spine.
“I was meant to rot years ago,” Vincent said, his voice gruff with bitterness.
Cloud shook his head. “You… There’s way too much you needed to do now. If you died thirty years ago, who knows where the planet would be…”
Vincent shook his head in protest, before Cloud could even share his entire thought. “I have no such impact, Cloud. Don’t be delusional.”
Cloud scoffed. “How can you say that? You helped kill Sephiroth twice. We needed you.”
“Another could have substituted.”
Cloud almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity—the man had helped save the Planet from its destruction, and yet wanted zero credit for it. People who’d zero impact claimed involvement just for the status, and yet Vincent, more than deserving of acknowledgment, rejected it entirely. He’d been an essential asset in protecting the Planet from Sephiroth, and Meteor, but he seemed to disagree.
“Maybe if I could find another person who shares a body with a demon,” Cloud said sarcastically. Vincent gave him a glare, and Cloud spoke before Vincent could, “And, if it weren’t for you I’d be dead.”
“Hm?”
“That time, a few years ago, in the Forest with Kadaj. You saved my ass from those remnants,” Cloud said, looking around as though someone else could listen in and get a glimpse of what was the slightest vulnerability. He knew there wasn’t—Vincent was staying in a pretty remote area. He continued. “You fought them off and carried me away when I couldn’t fight back or even escape.”
“Yes,” Vincent said, drifting into recollection. He’d happened to be in what he’d made into a safe haven—the Sleeping Forest—when Cloud was targeted and nearly killed by Kadaj and the other Sephiroth remnants. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
Cloud nodded slowly; he wasn’t sure what to say to that. Vincent was glad he was alright. Vincent was glad?
“I’m glad you helped me,” Cloud said quietly, somewhat mimicking Vincent’s wording in response, more so focused on what Vincent had done that he was grateful for. But Vincent’s arms had been more than ready to hold him and drag him back to safety. The safety and calmness of the Forest that day was one of their few fond memories together, if not the only one. Cloud got lost in the thought, and he snapped out of it. “I don’t think I ever thanked you properly. But thank you, Vincent. I mean it.”
Vincent just nodded, and then lightning flickered once again. He took a deep breath, but it still sounded choked.
“Hey,” Cloud said.
“I’m all right,” Vincent said, his voice gruff and tired. “Though, Cloud. I think that you’re right.”
“Huh?”
“That I need to stop dwelling on what could’ve been.”
The reluctance in Vincent’s tone said more than what he had, Cloud looked down sheepishly, “I know it’s easier said than done…” he said, more so in response to Vincent’s body language. They’d seemed to speak the same language rather frequently though.
Vincent nodded, “I haven’t tried. But you were right. I will stay miserable if I don’t even attempt to get out of this…” his mind drifted over a mental list of words to quickly choose from, “spiral.”
“I’m still trying,” Cloud murmured, reluctant to even admit that. But as Vincent wasn’t exactly stone-cold as per usual, judgment on his part would be hypocritical. And somehow, Cloud found that reassuring. Vincent couldn’t judge him. Or rather, he could, but it wouldn’t be for a good enough reason to justify.
“I could stand to,” Vincent said.
That was familiar. With Vincent, Cloud supposed a lot of stuff was. But coping was never easy, especially with mental scars of the caliber Cloud’s tended to be… and Vincent’s, as far as he knew. “I guess it gets a little easier eventually,” Cloud said. “All I know is, with how many people there are, it would be pretty damn difficult for everything wrong with the world to be caused by you.”
“Yeah,” Vincent muttered.
Cloud just looked at Vincent, raising an eyebrow, “Um… okay.” He looked down, his own regrets flooding into his mind, and he frowned to himself.
“Hm?” Vincent asked, noticing the shift in Cloud’s demeanor.
“Nothing.”
“I do the same; it’s something,” Vincent said, and Cloud felt the slightest shame at the fact Vincent had read him so easily. So long as others couldn’t, he’d be all right, he supposed.
Cloud shook his head, “I miss someone.”
“That would make two of us,” Vincent said.
The room all of a sudden became pitch black. The flame burnt out.
“Great,” Cloud muttered, and he heard Vincent shifting around as he stayed in place. Sabatons against the carpet, metallic parts clanking together in a series of somewhat precise gestures, the hiss as a flame sparked. Then the light flicked back on, courtesy of the matches Vincent kept on his person.
“That was fast,” Cloud said, looking over at Vincent, across the room.
“I’ve grown accustomed to the dark.”
“I haven’t.”
Vincent took a few steps toward Cloud, glancing down at him, glancing over at his eyes.
“I’d figure that your eyes would glow, in the dark.” His own eyes fell over the mako specs sprinkled here and there, which seemed to light up the shades of turquoise and blue.
“No… Hojo would’ve never given me something useful,” Cloud said, a part of him immediately regretting his choice of words as soon as they’d come out. Mentions of the man who’d inflicted so much trauma upon him, allusions to the pain he’d endured. It slipped into this territory of vulnerability he was unfamiliar with, not to mention uncomfortable. But another part of him knew Vincent would get it.
“I could say the same,” Vincent said, and Cloud could’ve sighed out of relief from the fact that despite the vulnerable position Cloud had dragged himself into, rather than cornering him, Vincent dragged himself there as well.
Cloud looked away. “I’ve never gotten to speak to someone else who was experimented on by him too,” he admitted. At least, he’d been nearly certain, but he had some doubts, so he shot for a slight chance of redemption had he been wrong. “…About it, at least.”
“I haven’t either,” Vincent said. “Though it seems he was kinder to you than to me. You got to keep all of your body for yourself.”
“Yeah, at a cost,” Cloud grumbled. The cost… pain that was imprinted onto his skin forever, in the form of scars that were more than skin-deep—multiple wounds from being pierced through the chest with a masamune. The years lost for him to have come of age in a comatose state, rendering him socially unadjusted and inexperienced in life.The missing puzzle piece of trauma that was meant to be there, but could never be found as he’d no recollection of what he should be traumatized about. He still had yet to piece everything back together. And not to mention, the lives of others. None of these were prices he’d paid, but rather been forced to in return for the life he’d continued to live.
Vincent sighed. “Hm, sorry.”
Cloud didn’t bother—Vincent didn’t intend anything, and if he had, Cloud lacked the energy to care as much as he should’ve. Cloud got to keep his body, even if at a price. But Vincent hadn’t? Cloud hadn’t given that too much thought before. “It’s a prosthetic?” Cloud asked, gesturing to Vincent’s gauntlet.
“No, what I meant was that my body is shared,” Vincent said grimly. “The gauntlet goes over my arm, and I prefer to keep it that way.” He ran pale dead fingers over the cold metal.
Cloud nodded, assuming that was because Vincent’s skin beneath the armor had been mutilated. He’d never seen it. He’d only seen a sliver of the skin on the arm Vincent didn’t cover in armor.
“I get it. There’s stuff I’m glad to hide, too,” Cloud said sheepishly. Though the physical ones were mostly on his chest, which were more comfortable to hide constantly than if they had been on his arms, like in Vincent’s case.
“I suppose that goes without saying, given your circumstances. Hojo.”
Although he’d grown accustomed to hearing the name, it still made him feel something unpleasant wash over him, when mentioned unexpectedly. Though Hojo permanently changing Cloud’s body, changing his life, wasn’t the same as ending Vincent’s, neither of them were fond of hearing his name.
Cloud nodded shyly. “He… took a lot from me. And gave my body constant reminders of that.”
Vincent nodded in return. “Hence my efforts to hide them.”
Cloud absentmindedly ran a finger over the fabric of his sleeveless shirt, the part covering his chest, the indentations he could feel from the holes that had scarred. “Maybe worse scars would’ve been better if it meant things had ended up okay.”
“Hm?”
“Er… if everyone had lived,” Cloud said in almost a whisper. “Zack. Aerith.”
“Zack?” Vincent asked.
Cloud wished that this wasn’t something he would have to explain. He figured Zack was something Vincent was already aware of, but perhaps he just didn’t remember because he didn’t need to—it had nowhere near the same impact on him as it did Cloud. How great it must’ve been to be able to forget. Forgetting Zack was a thing Cloud could never do, and though he never desired to, it was a burden because of the weight it carried.
“I haven’t talked about him much. Sorry,” Cloud apologized. “He was the SOLDIER First Class, whose story I…” Cloud trailed off, but he’d already said enough. Memory loss, brainwashing, teenage identity crisis. Reminders didn’t need to be overly detailed for mental issues that ran as deeply as his.
“You blame yourself for his demise, too,” Vincent gathered. He hadn’t known much about Zack, apart from his SOLDIER rank and the singular photo of him with Sephiroth and Tifa. But he supposed that a lot of what he thought he’d known about Cloud, was what he knew about Zack.
“Yeah,” Cloud said. “I was… practically braindead, from the mako poisoning. I couldn’t even attempt to help him fight, or even give him a better chance to survive.”
Cloud looked down, his bare arms growing prickly with the chill that coursed through him, and he shook his head as though that would shake the feeling away. Even after years, it still felt like his responsibility, his fault he’d fallen victim to the twisted experiments of a mad scientist and as a result, rendered in a vegetative state that prevented him from protecting the one he cared about.
Vincent just nodded. “I suppose we both give advice that we cannot take, then.”
Cloud sighed, “Don’t put it like that…” he said, trying to avoid the thought of Zack, of what could’ve been.
“I would know what it’s like,” Vincent said roughly, reaching out to press his hand to Cloud’s cheek, chilling against the warm flesh. The first time Cloud had ever felt Vincent’s skin. Cold, dead, and lifeless. Just animated—like Vincent had said.
Cloud sighed and leaned into the touch. “I can’t… I can’t help anyone. Not you, not myself. I don’t know why I say the things I do.” He didn’t want to tell Vincent these things, didn’t want to show Vincent this side.
“You gave me the advice that you need to be told,” Vincent said, bluntly. He understood more than Cloud ever thought he would.
“I guess it applies to you too,” Cloud murmured.
“Then I’ll probably follow through just as well.”
They both looked down, Cloud’s skin still warm against Vincent’s corpse-like flesh. Yet it wasn’t unpleasant. “Living skin is warm,” Vincent said.
Cloud finally looked back up at Vincent. Cloud’s lips parted at that statement, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He supposed that it was good that his warmth was a comfort to Vincent. It wasn’t even something Vincent himself had, he was learning now.
“I guess I’ve never thought about it. But you’re cold because corpses are, right?” Cloud asked. “No body heat.”
“My heart does not even beat. Warm blood is alien to me.”
Cloud’s mind drifted to what winters would be like, producing no natural source of warmth and having to rely on less practical methods. Cloud’s natural, living human warmth was one of those, with Vincent’s hand pressed against his cheek. And Cloud was alright with it, being a source of warmth for Vincent right now.
“Your heart doesn’t beat,” Cloud repeated. He reached a hand up, gently taking hold of Vincent’s fingers that were still on his cheek, rubbing his thumb over where his pulse should be on his wrist. Nothing but stillness; cold skin, blue hues and purple veins. Not a sign of life to be found—Vincent was just a resident in the body he had.
“My body is that of someone who just died, it will not age nor function, or even move without the assistance of… a third party, so to speak,” Vincent stated. “Although, I do not rot. But that is the only difference between my body and a corpse. The functionality is all the same.”
The functions weren’t corpse-like. Cloud’s hand remained on where Vincent’s pulse should’ve been, warming his lifeless flesh, in the body Vincent still seemed to bring some semblance of life into. “You can fight better than most living people,” Cloud said. “And you’re the best damn shot I’ve ever seen… I don’t think you can say that about too many corpses.”
“You are right, but as you said, there is a cost,” Vincent said. Cloud’s thumb was still pressed against his wrist—and he’d forgotten, due to the lack of movement, zero feeling, zero sign of life. But Vincent hadn’t. The warmth was a nice change. “I almost envy the state Hojo left your body in, in comparison to my own. Perpetual coldness is less than ideal.”
Cloud chuckled dryly. “You envy this?… I don’t think either of us are enviable…”
Vincent sighed. “Perhaps you are correct, sorry.”
Cloud tilted his head. “You apologize more than I thought you would.”
Vincent parted his lips, looking downward thoughtfully. “…I see,” he said. “I do so when I believe that I have reason to.”
Cloud just nodded. “This is the longest I’ve ever heard you talk, actually.”
Even in his days as a Turk, he’d been quiet and timid. Of course, that was years before Cloud was born, but Vincent had never been talkative. Over time, he’d grown more sure of himself, but even so, he remained a man with little to say. Others seemed more inclined to listen as on the occasions he’d speak, it was on something important.
“Considering this may be only the third time I’ve been alone with you, if even that, it shouldn't be such a surprise,” Vincent said.
“I’m definitely not the best in group conversations,” Cloud murmured.
“That would make two of us,” Vincent said.
Cloud sighed. “Yeah, I’ve hardly heard you say anything, with AVALANCHE.”
“I have nothing to say to AVALANCHE as an entity,” Vincent said, and Cloud nodded. He wasn’t so sure they’d ever really had a group conversation involving him. Their group conversations hardly involved Cloud, but he tended to be more talkative than Vincent. Though it wasn’t that he naturally was—that just seemed to be a position he was often thrown into.
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding us?” Cloud asked, and Vincent took his hand off of Cloud’s cheek.
“Sort of,” he grumbled.
Cloud looked up at him, noticing the distance he’d suddenly established. But it was all familiar. “At least you admit to it, I guess,” Cloud said. “I don’t blame you.”
“They’re more human than I am,” Vincent said.
It would almost be laughable, if Cloud couldn’t relate.
“…I guess me too,” Cloud said. “I mean, I’m still human, but I don’t get to live the same as one.”
Vincent did almost laugh at that. “At least you get to live.”
“I guess, yeah,” Cloud said, his lips twitching in spite of the subject. “At least you still have the living person benefit of not rotting?”
“I suppose you’re correct,” Vincent said. “I look dead enough as is.” He tried collecting his breath once again, a pained expression falling upon his face. He coughed in a rasp, backing up from Cloud a little, his head falling downward, long black locks obscuring most of his pale face.
“Are you okay?” Cloud asked.
“Not quite,” Vincent said in a gruff voice. “I have been especially hard on my body lately, so it seems to be reflecting that. I need to sit down.”
Cloud nodded as Vincent pushed himself off of the wall, moving to collapse on the couch once again, Cloud taking a seat beside him.
“Think you’ll try to sleep anytime soon?” Cloud asked, taking note of the fact that being dead he’d look sleepless no matter what, but his sleeping habits matching his appearance couldn’t be a good thing.
“…Perhaps some time within the next few days.”
“Tell me you’re joking,” Cloud said.
“I suppose I am,” Vincent said dryly. “If I weren’t already dead, I would be dying of sleep deprivation,” he added, punctuating the sentence by pressing his lips together and locking his eyes on Cloud’s, mock-serious. Vincent’s face always got so serious at every attempt at something unserious. His eyes darkened, his lips would press together and the corners would curl up just a little.
Cloud laughed at that, before his expression faded. For a second, Vincent almost looked like…
“Cloud?” Vincent asked, noticing Cloud’s shift in demeanor. His laugh had faded and his lips were kept apart, but unmoving, his eyes watching over Vincent entirely, with unease.
“Er, yeah?” Cloud asked sheepishly.
“What happened?”
“Nothing, you just…”
“Did I make you uncomfortable?” Vincent asked, shifting on the couch awkwardly, slightly away from Cloud. Just when Vincent let his guard down, he was given a new reason to be uncomfortable. But this seemed to be his fault, whatever discomfort he’d caused Cloud.
“No, it’s just… I never realized you look like…” Cloud trailed off.
It was on the true opposite end of the color spectrum of what Vincent had, but the features seemed almost shared. Sharp, red eyes and jet-black hair, inverted it would look just like him. Every shape, down to the nose, eyes, lips…
And he’d been involved. The time period lined up, along with the setting. Was Vincent…?
“You’re… are you... Sephiroth’s father?”
Vincent’s lips parted, and his eyes looked away from Cloud. Cloud felt his shoulders drop as Vincent’s expression said what he refused to. His body language, gestures, and appearance were the loudest confirmation Cloud could have possibly received.
“…You are,” Cloud said, looking at Vincent who appeared to feel much shame, closing in on himself, unable to even look forward. Not a soul had ever known except himself, save for the off-chance that Lucrecia might’ve kept it secret if she’d found out.
“I do not want to think about it,” Vincent said. “He never even had a chance.”
Cloud hadn’t seen someone humanize him in the slightest, since before Sephiroth learned of the Jenova project. And Vincent had never known him either, but he was clearly attached to the potential he’d had before Hojo took it away.
Cloud sighed. Why did this keep happening? “Vincent… you need to quit blaming yourself for all of Hojo’s abuse. You know he’d have had a chance if you had more of an impact on him than Hojo did.”
“I’m sorry,” Vincent said, instinctively backing up further, some strands of hair falling in front of his face again.
Cloud looked at him, scooting a little closer. “You don’t need to apologize for everything. It’s okay.” He awkwardly put his hand on Vincent’s cheek, echoing what Vincent had done earlier. His skin was so cold, even though the room also was. He didn’t have the healthy warmth someone with a proper blood flow would, but Cloud knew his touch warmed Vincent’s cool skin, and that was something that he was all right with.
Vincent looked away, while Cloud studied his features. Sephiroth had practically been looking into a mirror, and had had no clue. “You look so much like him. Er, I guess he looks like you.” He was coming to acknowledge that this wasn’t a bad thing. Sephiroth was quite beautiful.
“Do not tell anyone,” Vincent said icily.
“My lips are sealed,” Cloud replied, and Vincent nodded in acknowledgement.
“Thank you,” he said, taking note of their proximity and taking no action against it. He wasn’t afraid of Cloud, and despite all of this, Cloud miraculously wasn’t afraid of him. He wasn’t afraid of the demons that resided in his body, his cold, dead flesh he was caressing, or his relation to Sephiroth.
“Though… I should’ve guessed Hojo lied. I mean, why wouldn’t he?” Cloud shrugged.
“He wasn’t lying, he genuinely doesn’t know,” Vincent explained tiredly. “If he knew Lucrecia’s child was mine, he’d have done more than just kill and torture me…” Vincent almost shivered at the thought, but pushed it aside. He’d suffered enough at the hands of that man for one lifetime.
“I don’t know why I didn’t question it,” Cloud said, gazing upon Vincent’s features, while he mentally tried to make sense of how Hojo could have found someone to have a child with. “I guess uh, I get that Lucrecia was fine having a child with him, but is Hojo into people?” Cloud murmured, his mind flashing back to Hojo’s plans for Aerith when the crew had picked up Nanaki. “The only way it would make sense that Hojo was Sephiroth’s father is if he actually, er, went and did it with Jenova.”
“That sounds plausible.” Vincent laughed at that, for once. Cloud was stunned, as before tonight he hadn’t ever really seen any emotion from Vincent, but this… The more he learned about him, about the atrocities he’d endured, the person he hid that he was, and the humanity he’d been forced to leave behind, it somehow made Vincent even more human in Cloud’s eyes. He was a person residing in an inhuman body, who had yet to let go of the human heart he had, unbeating and useless as it was. To Cloud, that sounded familiar enough. He took his hand off of Vincent’s cheek to just look at him.
“There is so much that would have been prevented had I never existed.” Vincent spoke once he saw he had Cloud’s full attention.
Cloud’s gaze started resembling a glare. “Like the world getting saved.”
“There would have been no need to save it had Sephiroth never been created,” Vincent said in a gruff voice.
“Hojo would’ve just experimented on someone else’s child,” Cloud shot back.
Right. Hojo didn’t have any children at hand to use, so his best bet was to create one for the experiment. Vincent was in protest as soon as the idea had been proposed, before any efforts had been made to even begin the experiment. But even then, he’d zero positive impact on the situation, if anything he felt complicit for being the one to provide Lucrecia with the child. But as Cloud said, if not that one, it would have just been another.
Vincent’s shoulders slumped in defeat, his mouth parting and closing just as suddenly. He gulped. It wasn’t his fault, and no argument would make it so. “You are probably correct.”
Cloud gave a slight hum in agreement, aiming for nonchalance for Vincent’s sake. “You’re sure you don’t wanna keep sleeping off your problems? You’re bringing them up non-stop.”
Vincent forced a dry, bitter laugh, brushing loose strands of hair away from his face. “I know, I’m sorry. I suppose this is what happens when I actually speak…”
Cloud didn’t feel the need to say once again that things were all right—Vincent could figure that out. He was more focused on how Vincent looked in the candlelight, how the light of the flame reflected in his ruby eyes, “Feels like I’ve learned a lot about you tonight,” Cloud said.
“The same goes for you.”
Cloud bit down on his bottom lip, his mind naturally drifting over to the consequential places it liked to stay. “Well, if it’s changed anything, I hope it’s for the better.”
“For the better? I’m not sure,” Vincent said sheepishly.
“Er,” Cloud wanted to say something, but didn’t. “I guess if you’re anything like me, you’ll have a hard time talking about it.”
Vincent looked down again, his red eyes sparkling in the light of the candle that shone in the lantern. “I believe that you have helped me stitch up some old wounds,” he said, his proximity to Cloud only getting closer, eyes still avoidant, but not vacant. “Thank you.”
Cloud liked the way Vincent put it, and gently nodded He could feel Vincent’s breath against him, and so he leaned into it, kissing Vincent’s cold lips.
The kiss was brief and sweet, the warmth of Cloud’s lips perfectly cathartic. When they parted, they didn’t move too far apart, keeping their foreheads pressed together, listening to the sound of one another’s breath and taking each other in.
Eventually, they moved apart slightly, just looking one another over. “Are you all right with this?” Vincent asked. For things to be ruined now would cause more damage than he wanted to imagine. This was not something he wanted to suffer for, not when it felt as though things were going well for once. For a person who was all too familiar with tragedy, these possibilities pained him.
As though he wasn’t the one who initiated it, Cloud said, “Yeah.”
“I would hate for this to ruin our relationship,” Vincent said seriously, gently brushing his fingers through his own long hair. Nervously fidgeting wasn’t much of an issue for him these days, but still sometimes he’d slip into it.
“Um…” Cloud murmured. “Yeah…” He wasn’t sure what to say, apart from that he agreed. “I didn’t think this would happen.”
“Nor did I.”
Cloud grabbed onto his own forearm, just looking for something to hold onto. “You’re okay with it too, right?”
Vincent shook his head. All things considered, he wasn’t sure how comfortable he was. “I’m not sure. I think that I am too old for you. I was a Turk before you were even born.”
“Er, I don’t think you are,” Cloud said. “We’re not on vastly different maturity levels.”
Vincent considered that they seemed to understand enough about how the other’s mind worked as they were rather similar. There was also not much of a physical power imbalance—sure, Vincent was taller, but Cloud was tough as hell. Neither of the two were in a position to take advantage of the other, even if they wanted.
“Maybe you’re right,” Vincent said with a sigh. “After all, I’ve spent much more time asleep than I have awake.”
“I don’t think sleeping thirty years gives you as much life experience as you’d have gotten actually living your life in that time,” Cloud said with a shrug. Even if he’d spent the ages of sixteen to twenty-one in a comatose state himself, he figured he’d caught up enough by now.
“Does that justify it?” Vincent asked, seriously.
“I mean, do you want it to…?” Cloud asked. “I think it does.”
If it wasn’t harming Cloud, then Vincent was mostly inclined to trust his judgment. He sighed. “It’s nice seeing you again, Cloud. I really mean it.”
“I sorta wondered if I wouldn’t.”
“Hm?”
“I guess, I wondered if since we didn’t have any reason to fight alongside each other anymore, we didn’t have a reason to see each other and you were just gonna shut yourself off from the world again, since you knew it was safe,” Cloud said.
“That is what I did, for a little while,” Vincent admitted. “But I cannot continue like that. I chose to ignore you and everyone else because in my presence, I could damage my relationships. Avoiding you all would avoid that, if I was too gone to do harm.”
“I get it,” Cloud said. “I’d have shut myself off too if Tifa and Barret weren’t reaching out for me.” Hell, he’d probably had several missed calls from either one, for staying out so late. He hadn’t even properly explained where he’d been.
Vincent laughed sadly, “I was looking forward to the parcel you delivered so much as I was looking forward to the necessary.”
“I’d say you should reach out more, but I could never take that advice so I know you won’t either.”
“You can just stop by. I could use the company.”
“You can also always just… order more stuff,” Cloud said, half-joking.
“It seems I might have to.”
Cloud just gave a tired half-smile. “Hey, thanks for letting me stay here tonight. It’s still pouring, and I’d probably just be getting back to Edge by now if I decided to go.”
“Of course,” Vincent said, and Cloud just nodded.
“Er, Vincent?” Cloud asked after a few moments of silence.
“Yes?”
“Can I feel your hair?”
Vincent wasn’t expecting that. His hair hadn’t been in the hands of another person the entire time it had been long, and it was halfway down his back. He was extremely protective over every possession of his, naturally including his body, and by extension his hair, so he was unsure if he was comfortable with that.
“I suppose,” Vincent said sheepishly.
Cloud gently reached out his hand, brushing his fingers against some strands of Vincent’s hair. He gently ran them through it, carding his fingers through the silky black locks that seemed to flow endlessly. His gaze was focused and set, and his touch was gentle. He was comfortable.
“Vincent,” Cloud said, hands in Vincent’s hair, Vincent looking up at him when he spoke. “I find you really beautiful, I have for a while.”
“Hm,” Vincent said, taking that into consideration. That was a new phrase to him. “I did not think that anyone would ever find me attractive again.”
Cloud shrugged, “Well despite being cold and pale and dead, you look really good.”
If anything, Cloud couldn’t stop admiring him. Vincent had this beauty about him that was absolutely entrancing. Looking dead did no harm—his face was perfectly hollowed out, his lips tinted blue, but with their natural upturn that didn’t matter. His long silky locks of black hair lent him an elegance that tied into this morbid beauty.
“Let me hear your heartbeat,” Vincent asked.
“Sure…”
Vincent leaned in again, lying his head gently against Cloud’s chest. Cloud’s fingers were in his hair, gently playing with the long strands as Vincent l istened to the thumping of Cloud’s heartbeat. The beating of a human heart was a nice change.
“I cannot remember the last time I was this close with someone.”
“I can, but I’d prefer not to think about it,” Cloud said with a shrug.
Vincent figured what he meant, but he’d only like to think about it as much as Cloud would. He knew Cloud wasn’t super easy to read, but he himself didn’t seem to struggle so much. “I believe that we have an understanding,” Vincent said, his voice low and more vulnerable than he’d ever let anyone hear.
“I think so too. I think you get me.”
Vincent said nothing, but he wouldn’t disagree, and Cloud continued playing with his hair. He seemed to get lost in the motions, in his presence, spellbound by him.
When he realized he’d been doing it rather absentmindedly, he looked down at Vincent. He was fast asleep for the first time he’d ever seen. Vincent’s head was laid against his chest, right over where his heart was beating. Cloud had eased Vincent into doing something he was afraid of, despite it being for his benefit. That held a heavy weight to him.
Cloud eventually drifted off as well, after spending a considerable and pleasurable amount of time pondering the realization he’d made Vincent Valentine of all people feel comfortable enough to fall asleep on him.