Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Du darfst mein Bestrafer Sein- Sehnsucht ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )

They'd parked the highwind for the night. Cid had enough trouble with Cloud deciding he wanted to steer, he wasn't about to have a sleep-deprived crew on top of it. Cid decided the only thing better than enjoying a cigarette and a beer in his own quarters of the ship was doing so without some goofy kid trying to drive his baby.

Someone knocked on his door.

"You can't drive and I don't have any materia!" Cid yelled. "I'm going to strangle those kids one 'a these days," he muttered.

The person at the door mumbled something he couldn't make out.

"I can't hear you!" Cid yelled. "And I'm not wearing any pants!" There. That should get rid of them.

"I said 'It's me,'" he heard.

Vincent. Shit. Cid jumped off the bed, nearly knocking his beer off the crates he used as a nightstand. He tore the door open.

"Shit, Vince. You look like… shit," Cid said. He'd been trying to get Vincent in his bed since they first bunked together and he ended up spilling the beans that he liked Vincent. Hell, getting him in bed in the purely literal sense was good enough... just not often enough.

He wanted whatever he could get from Vincent: a smile, holding hands. Going out and killing monsters over and over was good enough, as long as he was with Vincent. Anything other than moping was good enough.

Today had been the worst day ever, even without Cloud careening off mountains and driving sideways. They took a wrong turn looking for the key to the Temple of the Ancients. The waterfall had seemed innocuous enough.

Since they left, Vincent had been distant and quiet. He hadn't paid attention to anything but battle. After he hit his head on the doorway of the submarine and not noticed, Cloud had left him on the plane and taken Tifa with him instead.

"You gonna be okay?" Cid asked, tracing a finger down Vincent's wet cheek. Vincent hadn't bothered trying to wipe away his tears. He probably wasn't even aware that it would have been pointless. His eyes were bloodshot, making them more red than usual. The skin under his eyes was red and puffy. The ribbon in his hair was proving a crappy bandage over the bruise he'd gotten from not paying attention in the sub.

Without saying a word, Vincent half lunged, half collapsed onto Cid, immediately sobbing on his shoulder.

Having no idea what else to do, Cid just wrapped his arms around Vincent as tight was he could. He didn't want anything to come near Vincent and scare him ever again. He wanted to protect Vincent from everything. He wanted to keep him from ever seeing Hojo again. He wanted to protect him from the dark and all the frightening images in his head. He wanted to keep him from ever seeing Lucrecia again.

They should never have gone in the cave. Vincent should never have met her. She should still be dead. She should have been something he could finally get over.

It wasn't fair. It was never fair. Vincent wouldn't warm up to anything and flinched when touched, no matter how or by whom. Now he'd never have him. He had promised Vincent he'd do anything. He'd be there for him and keep his secrets. But he'd always be just a friend. Just a friend who really liked Vincent and felt something inside of him shatter every time Vincent cried. He spent hours agonizing over the fact that he never had anything to say when Vincent moped and sulked on the plane. He felt guilty that he never knew what to do when Vincent refused to eat or sleep.

It was never fair. Now he was crying over Lucrecia. Every time Cid complained about hearing her name, Vincent said he'd never understand how he felt about her. He was as dense as Cloud sometimes. Cid couldn't get Vincent out of his head, constantly watched him, wished so hard he could have him and yet he was already attached to someone who didn't deserve him. How could Vincent accuse him of not understanding?

"She hates me." Vincent was finally speaking after the incident today and it had to be that. It had to be to him. He knew Cid loved him. At least, he obviously remembered Cid saying he did because he remembered Cid promising to do anything Vincent wanted. Ever.

"She doesn't hate you," Cid said, then winced at his words. How could he say that? Why did it have to sound so honest? Why did anything have to be about her?

"Come here," he said, glad he could manage one sentence that wasn't about Lucrecia. He kept one hand around Vincent's back, placed the other under his knees and carried Vincent, still crying, to the bed. "My legs are getting tired, that's all."

"Cid--?"

"Don't," Cid said, placing a hand on Vincent's cheek. He wished he could touch Vincent somewhere else. He wanted to trace those thin, trembling lips, undo that shirt and trace his hand over his chest; he wanted to touch Vincent everywhere, touch away the pain, the cold, the shivering, the memories. He just wanted it all gone. He'd sacrifice ever being intimate with Vincent if it meant he could just make him happy. Maybe even see him smile once. "Don't say anything, it'll be okay."

He had no clue where the words were coming from. The last time he'd talked to someone crying they'd slugged him.

"But-" Vincent tried again.

"Don't talk," Cid said, pulling Vincent onto his lap and leaning him against his chest. "You don't have to say anything." Ever.

He was answered by a loud sniffle and Vincent burying his head in Cid's chest, sobbing again.

There was nothing to do. There was never anything to do but sit and watch Vincent be Vincent and it was almost always painful. It was painful watching him stay so upset. It was painful never knowing how to help. It was so painful wanting him so badly and knowing how impossible it was.

Life was never fair.

All he could do was hold Vincent, just hold him. He'd always wanted to hold Vincent, but it wasn't the same. Not like this.

All he could do was hold him, rubbing hands that he knew were too rough up and down Vincent's back. All he could do was watch as Vincent pressed closer to him, and to put a hand on his head, looping it in the soft, tangled, black hair and stroke it.

He couldn't even think of what he'd wanted to do with Vincent now, he just wanted him to stop crying, stop caring about Lucrecia, stop thinking about anything but him.

After some long, heart wrenching hours, Cid slipped his finger gently through Vincent's hair one last time and smiled. He was finally asleep and Cid had finally realized it.

"You need to gain some weight," Cid whispered, undoing the buttons on Vincent's shirt, one by one. He eased the shirt off, taking care not to rip it on Vincent's prosthetic arm, all the while leaning Vincent against him.

He slipped Vincent's glove and shoes off, tossing each one quietly to the floor.

Cid gently set Vincent down on the bed, careful to keep the bruise on his head from touching anything.

After placing the blanket over Vincent, Cid got under the blanket himself, carefully getting as close as he could.

Almost meticulously, he slid his hand down Vincent's arm, down the metal joint, down the arm, and wrapped his fingers around Vincent's. Fuck mechanical. Fuck prosthetic. Cid would always see the metal arm as really being part of Vincent. Maybe even more than Vincent ever would.

Cid had dreamed of lying like this with Vincent, but it was different. They were supposed to be lying just like this, but the bed was messier, wetter. They were meant to make love until they were exhausted, then they'd just lie there and fall asleep, holding each other's hands. One day, like the one he dreamt of, Vincent would tell him how much of his arm was real. He'd tell Vincent he wanted to know where to stop kissing if Vincent answered.

Cid sighed and wrapped his other hand around Vincent's normal hand and laid his head on Vincent's shoulder.

Cid found out a long time ago the best excuse for this position, for being so close and holding both his hands, was that it kept the nightmares away. Whether he bought it or not, Vincent had asked to bunk with Cid more often, saying he was scared of tearing the bed to pieces just because he got scared in his sleep.

Soon he was fast asleep, though almost as uneasy as Vincent.

As loud as the pounding on the door was in the morning, they both woke gently.

"You okay?" Cid asked, his hands still wrapped around Vincent's

Vincent nodded weakly.

The pounding resumed. There was muffled yelling accompanying it now.

"I'll go tell them to piss off," Cid mumbled and started to get up, but Vincent pulled him back down.

"The door's locked. It won't open 'cept from the inside."

"Think they'll go away?"

"I don't care," Vincent whispered, cuddling close to Cid. Whether it was friendship or more, or just a way of saying thanks, Cid didn't care. He appreciated it, no matter what it meant.