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im halfway thru the prompts for this year's @vincentvalentineweek !! i posted day two on the 9th and days three and four today! its all tooth rotting fluff and its definitely a challenge to test my dialogue and prose skills in the span of a week but im happy to be publishing a fic again and its my first multichapter fic on ao3 :3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
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It had been the first decade passing that made Cloud think that something wasn't quite right. He'd never been good at facing things, least of all his own face in the mirror.
At thirty-something, Cloud was pretty sure he shouldn't be staring into the face of the same Nineteen-year-old cadet he had been when all of this had begun. Maybe it was impossible to perceive aging on your own face, or something like that. Hell, maybe it had something to do with the mountains of identity related trauma he had. He really, desperately hoped that that was the case.
That same year, Vincent laid to rest the last surviving remnants of Deepground with something of a heavy heart. The things that ShinRa did to the human body had wildly varying effects. He considered his own lengthened, possibly endless, lifespan the extremely unluckiest end of the spectrum. He had selfishly thought that perhaps the survivors of Deepground might have the same misfortune but today had proved there would be no such luck. He turned away from the lonely little makeshift graveyard in the forest of the ancients that he'd been tending for years now, and brushed the dirt from his hands.
Cloud went about business as usual, happy to take the most dangerous jobs that cropped up in Edge for a modest cut of the pay-- or none at all. He wasn't just a courier, but a proxy-- something that he found a good deal of meaning in. The same as always-- no matter how many times he got crushed or stabbed or grabbed in the jaws of a great mako-mutated beast, he survived. Tifa had begun to look at him strangely, with some sort of distant, haunted expression that he couldn't place. Marlene was gearing up to take over the bar, and Denzel could almost keep up with Cloud-- almost.
Vincent still loved his solitude, but he kept closer to those he cared for. Time was short. He knew you could sleep it away, if you tried hard enough-- and there was too much to lose. It was twenty years since meteor-fall when he really noticed the anomaly when he went to speak with Cloud. He had thought it could happen, but hadn't thought fate or-- their personal goddess, would be that cruel. Vincent sat in the city of the Ancients, alone in the sea-salt air and prayed. He begged Her, begged Her to not put Cloud through what he had to live with for years-- and a yawning, empty future spread out before him. He had the distinct flash of a vivid memory, of Aerith laughing and mocking him-- not entirely kindly.
Then stop moping about it. If you're both stuck, then don't you want to make it less awful for him, too?
Nanaki was the only one not sobered by the news. It was hard for the others to wrap their heads around. Cid looked positively envious. Cloud couldn't stop staring at Barret's head of silver hair. He had joked about it, hoping he wasn't showing late signs of Jenova genes or something. For the others, the truth meant something strange and unknowable but it wouldn't bother them-- they wouldn't care once they were dead. For Nanaki it meant relief at not living the eons without a friend or two. Saying the words made it more and painfully real. Cloud wasn't aging, and likely wouldn't any time soon.
That was when Vincent moved back to Edge permanently and let Cloud and the others help him get a small apartment of his own-- he didn't want anything more. He began to learn how to live normally again albeit a bit stubbornly. He spent the days helping Cloud with work, and the evenings in quiet, rapt conversation with him trying to untangle the existential dread that was surely settling over him. Vincent himself had never had the chance to feel it creep up. He was simply thrust forward into the reality of it.
A few months into this shift, Vincent found Tifa on his doorstep, her mahogany hair streaked with white he wasn't sure he remembered noticing before. She hugged him suddenly, ignoring the bewilderment that caused him to stiffen as though he didn't know how to return the gesture. She thanked him for being there for Cloud. It was so
very simple and he thought it was strange-- wasn't it simply what he must do? What he would always do? He had looked after him ever since they'd met, an instant fondness grown towards the man that he couldn't name.
Everyone was in town for the 25th anniversary of Meteor Day. Yuffie's entire surviving family, including her children and husband were lavishing-- or perhaps harassing-- Nanaki with affection, and the others were already drinking and reminiscing, though Cid and Barret couldn't really hold their alcohol as well as they used to.
Vincent moved through the shadows in silence as he always did, unchanging and a bit melancholy despite everything. He had changed though, even going so far as to don new clothes in an effort to wash away his past. It had taken years and years of unfurling the tightly clenched fist he kept around his heart. Lucrecia's digital memory and knowing the Rui siblings had begun the process, and now he felt Cloud reach out and gently uncurl the fingers of his hand.
Vincent hadn't noticed him. He'd thought he'd been alone on the stoop of the warehouse overlooking the festivities. Cloud had quite literally taken the digits of the new prosthetic that had been made for him, gently pulling the fingers out of the fist Vincent had clenched them in to get a better look at it himself. Luminescent blue eyes shone softly out of the darkness as he looked it over.
"That's some craftsmanship. They're coming up with new stuff every day. Looks like it works good." Vincent had been reluctant at first. He still felt he didn't deserve anything but a hand that served only as a weapon.
"It's... yes, it works quite well." Vincent let a small smile touch his lips, fleeting like a ghost.
"Good. It suits you. It's... it's good," Cloud seemed to struggle with the words for a moment, and he-- to Vincent's surprise-- laced his fingers with Vincent's golden metal ones. "See? Now I can do stuff like this. No pinching or poking."
Bemused, Vincent drifted back towards the metal stairs that lead up to a side door, a good perch that Cloud seemed to have picked out for himself. He tried to come up with a way to admonish him; to remind him that they didn't know how many more festivals like this they had with the others. But Cloud's eyes seemed to warn him away from it, and he let the seeds of a selfish wish sprout. That alone was why he settled on the stoop and rested his head on Cloud's shoulder.
"I... never wanted this for you. I had hoped..." Vincent began, as he had a hundred times.
"You hoped I'd die, right?" Cloud said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
"That-- well, when you put it that way..." He looked bashful, as though he'd been caught with his cloak on inside out or something.
"I know. I... You're always telling me. That it's gonna hurt. I know that. I know what it feels like. We all do. So when it comes... well. We'll just have to face it. I'm kinda scared-- anyone would be. But I'm grateful. That I can be with you. I hated how you were always alone, and I guess now I get why everyone was always trying to bring me back out of the inside of my head." Cloud didn't always have a lot to say, but when he did it was what he meant. It meant everything.
Vincent lowered his head for a moment, eyes closed as he tried to accept what Cloud said and not fight him. It was selfish to want him there with him, to want him at all.
"We're going to be... together for a long time." Vincent said uselessly.
Cloud nudged him gently, and Vincent lifted his gaze, turning to look at him in the close quarters. He hadn't stopped to think about how they were crushed in together on the narrow staircase, and he hardly processed the soft hush of Cloud's lips against his when it happened. Cloud could only think about how soothing the cool of Vincent's skin was compared to his own, and Vincent drew in close to the warmth.
"Yeah. I think there are worse things. Even if another meteor comes... I'll be here with you." Cloud squeezed his hand and let out a little sigh as Vincent relaxed against him, his cheek on his shoulder again.
The first burst of multicolored light sang across his pale skin as the fireworks started, and Cloud knew that he had been given a gift rather than a curse-- it was time Vincent started seeing it that way too. They looked up into the sky, and though every star could be seen for miles, Cloud was sure he felt a drop of rain splash onto his cheek. He smiled, and up to the stars whispered a silent "Thank you."
