All of Us Monsters
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Final Fantasy VII › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
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Reviews:
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Category:
Final Fantasy VII › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
Views:
1,053
Reviews:
20
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 11
Disclaimer: I don't own SquareEnix or any of their Squaresoft
characters. I don't own Advent Children, or else I would be rich. I
don't own Cloud, Fenrir (his bike), Vincent, or any of Cloud's many many many
swords.
have seen the movie, you might understand where this could be coming from.
I've recieved lots of good words for this on the Livejournal Community acfiction.
You won't like this chapter. I'm warning you now so that, if you were hoping for
more sex, you will be disappointed, and that this chapter is mostly about
emotion and letting things go. Don't flame me. Trust me, it may get
better before you know it, loves. And, the song is "My December" by Linkin
Park. Go ahead, shoot me...Chapter 11The explosion that had nearly killed me was another thing I would be
hard-pressed to drive out of the tangle-webbed confines of memory. The
explosion that, for all good reason, should have taken Cloud's life, rocked the
airship and sent several people to the glass screaming Cloud's name. Tifa
had cried. She had cried hard and long and I held her in quiet,
heart-pounding silence and I was absolutely sure that I was going to die then
and there, just crumble and waste away and even then I knew it wouldn't have
been so.But it wasn't over. My pain continued in silence, unheard of, for we
had gone to the church and found his sleeping body there, whole and unscathed.
The silver-haired brothers, all fair-faced and beautiful, had perished in their
long-sought after dreams that were only shadows of dreams and therefore
irrelevant to the true meaning of 'family'. I had a suspicion that none of
those men had ever known who their families were. Perhaps they had all
been cloned, or maybe come from nowhere at all and just *were* one day, became
something out of nothing, or out of the LifestreamIt did no good to ponder on it. What mattere was this: Cloud was alive.
He was not dying. He was never going to die from Geostigma, and for a moment I
hated every moment of my life that I ever believed he would. Because
now... he was free. But he still could not be mine.I saw how Tifa looked at him there in the church with the laughter of
children and men and women around me. My arms were crossed and though I
had good reason to be smiling, I did not. I never did; why should that
change? I saw how their eyes met, briefly, and warrior and fighter
exchanged some silent wording that was lost on me. But I knew the look she
gave him; I knew the look in his eyes when he turned and saw something that no
one else did, and he had dissolved away his pain and found the peace and
gladness underneath.Tifa, who loved Cloud unconditionally and always, smiled at him. I did not
smile at all. I saw his bare, scarless arms and felt relief... and a deepening
stone of cold despair. He looked off toward the door, staring, riveted, until it
was gone. I saw nothing at all but a flash of rose-colored dress.
I left the celebrations quickly. The children's voices followed me all the way
until I reached the sunlight outside. Joy and elation soared somewhere inside of
me for the cure. I need not watch helplessly as children and people I were
familiar with die. Most importantly, I would not attend my own friend's
funeral... because he was cured, he wasn't dying, he was well again.
Which presented to me a monumental problem. I had planned on Cloud dying. It was
my fault for not keeping hope, for believing against all hope that he would
never survive and death, yes, death, would come for us all in the end and
nothing would matter anymore. Cloud must have hated me for it, and how he must
hate me now! I thought. He must be standing in there, numb with joy and shock
and warmth as everyone embraces him and gives them their unconditional, undying
affections and friendship. It would be better, they said. This time, he's going
to visit them and he'd better answer their damn calls.
I still didn't have my own phone.
The church creaked slightly as they swung on their hinges. I turned slowly;
Tifa's silhouette stood against the light.
"Cloud said he wanted to talk to you," she said quietly. Her brow was furrowed.
I knew she understood; somehow she knew, a woman's intuition flavored with
her motherly patience and strength.
For her sake, I shook my head. "I don't want to talk to him."
Tifa smiled sadly. I didn't see it, but I knew it was there. Her voice told me
so. She came close, and rested her hand on my shoulder. "Vincent... if...if
you're worried that I'm jealous, or angry... please don't be."
Her touch made me flinch. Still I did not turn, fearing such a motion would
change her mind, terrified that her words were a lie built on bravado.
"I'm not ready. Take care of him."
"I thought that was your job?" She smirked, leaning forward to try and steal a
look at my eyes. "Come on, Vincent... All I ... All I ask is that you bring him
home to me in one piece, okay? I want to have dinner with him once in awhile.
The both of you. I don't care if you sleep in the same bed, if that's what
you've done in the past."
To hear the truth spoken from a woman chilled me to my bone marrow somehow.
"You don't understand." I stepped toward her, and cupped her face gently in my
hands. "I can't look at him. It hurts. I gave him up, to give him to you.
Why didn't you...?"
"Well, I tried, didn't I?" she said quietly, stepping away impatiently. She gave a
wistful noise, something like a sigh and a moan, as though something great had
built up inside of her. For the first time I saw her begin to cry.
"I tried and tried. I know Cloud cares about me... he cares about me very
much. But he doesn't... love me. He doesn't...
necessarily need me in the same way. All I ask is that he looks for me sometimes
in the street. To think about me once in awhile. I don't want him to wake up one
day... and not remember who was his childhood friend."
I wanted to tell her I'd make sure he would never forget her. But I was also
sure that I would never have to tell him that. He was ready to let people back
in now; I knew this. His heart was reopened, his life renewed, and he had the
whole of his future to rediscover what it meant to be a normal, open,
light-hearted man. I wanted to see him happy, truly happy, before I could
enter his life again. Without noticing the process by which I had come to this
conclusion, I only knew that it was fairer to leave him be than to approach him
directly, straight away.
Tifa smiled again, wiping her eyes before she leaned up, and gave me a brief and
warm kiss on my cold cheek. She waved as she backed away, before moving back
inside the church where the child-like revelry continued, uninterrupted, by this
realization.
Six months passed.I spent my lonely existence at Icicle Inn. The slowness of business had
driven me to find income elsewhere. I wasn't exactly bored - I had interesting
customers and somewhat interesting friends who could almost see past the cold
exterior of my being to see the warmer person inside. But as soon as I drew
close to any one person, I closed the crimson curtains once again to hide inside
them. Nobody could see beneath my carefully constructed layers to the pain that
devouring my soul, the pain I endured uncomplainingly for I believed I was not
suffering it in vain.AtonementIt was for the best. I did not so much as try to remember Cloud,
but whenever I caught the tell-tale whiff of gasoline anywhere, my heart jerked
in that direction and so did my eyes, so that often my coworkers looked at me as
if I were afraid of something was catching on fire. And it was this aroma,
the wild, free scent of trees, the smell of fresh snow that lured me out, and the crushing
heat of my workshop that drove me away from my store every night with an
agonized appearance of a man who was slowly, slowly drowning.
My store worked well enough. I had two working assistants, one of whom generally
tended the cash register while I continuously nailed and welded together my
weapons. Nobody needed weapons anymore to defend themselves from other human
beings; monsters roaming the lands were growing fewer in number.
this is my december
this is my time of the year
this is my december
this is all so clear
Cloudless nights were spent alone brooding on the snow-covered rooftops of the
town. Up there, the air was sharp and painful. I drew in each
lungful with a determined passion and half-hearted hope that I might get sick
and contract some fateful disease that would take my life. Wrapped in what
was best described as a huge blanket masquerading as a cape, I watched over my
snow-covered houses as if they were all part of my one, dark kingdom of heaven
that was lacking one angel. The snow fell, clung to my cheek, to my thick warm
blanket as I sought a spark of gold from the horizon. There was nothing. Each
night, nothing, and each day I was half-heartedly waiting to see someone
familiar come through the door and each night and day, the nearly debillitating
disappointment.
I do not even remember when I relinquished my hope and strived with all my heart to look forward to
other things - in vain.
I stepped outside one night, the sweaty heat, weak yellow light of my workshop
stifling and undesirable. In my mind, I had come to a dark and final conclusion
and the overpowering trueness of it rang in my soul. There was no one to
contradict me. No one to look into my eyes and realize the horrifying
thing inside of me as I stepped outside and breathed the last few breaths of
my life with renewed vigor. The door's bells jangled as they swung from the
string until it shut with a bang. The first person to arrive, the last person to
leave, was myself. The others I had dismissed due to an utter lack of customer
activity. My services were slowly becoming unnecessary - guns were a commodity
to be enjoyed and hung on walls (another hidden reason as to why I had come this
far in my reasoning.) But I never stopped making sure they worked, that they
were lethal and did their murderous job well.
this is my december
this is my snow covered home
this is my december
this is me alone
The stars seemed to be falling from the sky in thick, breezy waves, spiralling
to the ground, becoming one solid mass of sparkling white. I stood, looking at
the fresh layer of snow that had fallen and I was truly, truly blessed to be
seeing it. What dark creator had come upon this vision when he dreamed
and how had he made it real? Reluctant to walk across and disturb the virgin white,
cold canvas, I was content to just stand under the eaves of "White Night Gunsmithy".
I heard a growl somewhere. It sounded like the snarling of a wolf. But it was
distant, far away, just another wild teenager on his snow-rider. We had more of
those these days, and the snowfields became criss-crossed with teeth-like tracks
over the better months. The sound ignored, I decided to walk along the edges of
the buildings to go back to my small, humble home. My breath came in thick,
vaporous clouds of white. When I reached the top of the hill, I turned and
looked down at the rest of Icicle Inn. Cottages, yellow windows who made glowing
yellow rectangles upon the snow. Smoke curled from the chimneys of imported
stone from foreign quaries.
My love for Icicle Inn had grown on me like a seed. I thought sadly that I would
miss it, oh yes, but there were other worlds than these, I thought.
Far where I would not want and need so much that it ate away my sanity and drove
me coldly to a dark solution.
and I give it all away
just to have somewhere to go to
give it all away
to have someone to come home to
this is my december
these are my snow covered dreams
this is me pretending
this is all I need
I turned around to find my driveway. I noticed snowmobile tracks but paid them
no more heed than I would have noticed a fly. I followed the tracks silently
along the street. There was a black snowmobile parked in my driveway next
to my own but this, too, I ignored, because I was done with looking and noticing
and analyzing. I was a man who realized after years of thinking and
thinking that I had a bad habit of thinking too damn much.
My front door was opened just a hair. I approached the front step, quietly
knocking my boots on the concrete before I ghosted inside, silently shutting the
door. It hadn't been open for more than four minutes. The boots tracked inside
for three steps before they stopped in the middle of the floor.Footsteps. Leading to my front door.
I stared at the bootprints. My hand slipped inside my jacket to the Peacemaker
inside, a frown slowly developing over my features. Maybe the strange
evidence of an intrusion to my sacred home had gotten to me... but then my
suspicions fled from the shadow of the thoughts roiling in my broken mind.
I drew back the hammer of the gun, a soft metal crack reporting the motion, as I slid into a
chair in front of the dark glass of the television. I took note of
nothing. Instead, my eyes closed and I took three, four, five deep breaths
and realized I was shaking. I struggled for one last hopeless vision, something
that I could take with me when the bullet snatched away my life. I raised
barrel nd let the cold material heartlessly dig just underneath my jaw.
There was a moon in the sky, heralded by the marching line of silver-blue
clouds. There was a lock of sun-yellow blonde...