#vincentvalentineweek

In another world, he hadn’t left. In another world, Veld still held him, Veld still loved him. In another world. One where he wasn’t bleeding out on the floor of the Shinra Manor, where he hadn’t fallen into this all. Seen what they were making. Loved, or thought he had. No, this wasn’t for love. He had been told to protect her, and that was what he was doing. Vincent just wanted to move on, make Veld hurt for the way they had fought. The harsh words they had snapped at each other that had gotten Vincent sent to Nibelheim in the first place. 

In another world, he would have stayed. Apologized. He would have insisted he could stay. He should stay, they should stay. They were worth the fight. In another world, Veld agreed, despite the stress of leadership forced on him too soon, he took Vincent back. And he promised they wouldn’t part. They would love. And continue to love. Despite the hardships, despite the pain, the love was worth it, in this other world. The one where he wasn’t dying. 

In another world, the second bedroom in the standard Shinra issued apartment still went unused. Filled with spare parts and bookshelves, the bed a mess of discarded jackets and bits and bobs tossed aside to find later. In this world they only needed the one bed, couldn’t bear to be apart from each other even one night. In this world they still had that, those slow, lazy mornings while they sun came up, tangled under the sheets, tangled up in lazy kisses. Delaying the inevitable rise, suits and missions and bloodshed. Delaying Veld’s ascension to Director as long as they could. Like they knew it would be the thing that broke them. That left him dead and Veld hollow.