Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Du darfst mein Bestrafer Sein- Sehnsucht ❯ Chapter Seven ( Chapter 7 )

"Why did Cloud decide this was a nice hotel again?" Cid complained, stomping through the hallways of the haunted hotel. "I swear, I see one more goddamned skeleton I'm gonna kick him where the sun don't shine."

"…"

"Hey, Vince, you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine. Really. I'm fine," Vincent said, wishing he wasn't speaking so fast.

"Could you let go of my arm then? Those things pinch."

"Sorry," Vincent whispered, taking his arm away quickly and putting it behind his back. This was turning out to be a disaster. The whole place was a maze, darkly lit, full of skulls and ominous laughter that seemed to come from everywhere. Whoever had designed this place had never worked for Shinra; let alone been screwed over by them.

"You okay, Vincent?"

"I'm fine," Vincent managed, spinning around suddenly as something touched his shoulder and tripping over the skeleton prop. He must have set off some trigger on the floor.

"You're hyperventilating."

"I'm fine." Vincent said, shakily standing up. "Just leave me alone, I'm not a baby."

"I know you're not. But fuck, man, you weren't this tense when we pulled you outta that goddamned box."

"I must be so stupid, freaking about a place like this. I'm sorry."

"For what? I understand." Cid said, stopping at a T in the hallway. "What kind of jackass did you think I was? Here, you don't look so hot. Why don't you stay here for a bit and focus on not panicking. I'll go find our rooms and come get you."

Vincent nodded, practically hugging himself, and Cid walked down one of the halls.

Vincent looked around. Everything was pitch black. The hallways disappeared into darkness. He remembered the darkness, just like this. The room was always dark after Hojo left. He could see out the window in the door and the darkness just went on and on. No one was ever there in the dark. It was just him, all alone. Him and his own screams. The darkness meant Hojo wasn't there anymore. It had been comforting at first, but that meant he wasn't there to hear him screaming and crying from the pain. He was the only one who could make the pain go away, even if it required those damned needles.

The recording sounded again. Ominous laughter echoing through the halls. He was going to shoot whoever thought it was funny. As corny as it sounded, his mind kept remembering Hojo laughing at him in another room. He wouldn't shut up. He wouldn't leave. He would laugh so loud and so long he couldn't hear Vincent screaming at him. Or maybe that was why he laughed at him.

The recording wouldn't stop. It wouldn't stop. It was laughing at him. Hojo was laughing at him. It wouldn't stop.

It was suddenly hard to breathe. His chest was too tight.

The darkness was closing in on him. The walls were closing in on him. He was going to be locked in the dark again. He was going to be locked in the endless darkness again.

The laughter wouldn't stop.

He could hear footsteps. They were coming closer. He was coming back. Don't let him come back.

He'd be good. He'd never say anything again. He wouldn't try anything. Just don't come back. Just stay away and never come back. No more needles, no more IV's. No more pain. No more monsters. No more. No more.

No more nightmares. Please, no more nightmares. He'd already lost his arm. What other nightmares would he have, what else would he wake up to?

The pain. No more pain. No more nightmares, no more pain, leave me alone.

Vincent didn't feel it as he backed right into a wall, holding his mechanical wrist as if it were some monster trying to get at his face. He couldn't remember the dream. All this time, he could never remember the dream. Something that was never real at all, he had made it up all by himself, made him destroy his own arm. He couldn't remember what he had done. He couldn't remember the dream at all.

All he could remember was waking up; numb and so paralyzed he vomited on himself and couldn't move away from his own filth. He remembered the pain. There was pain too intense for the paralysis drug to cover up. He remembered sobbing as Hojo meticulously cleaned him up with the same care someone washes the dust off an old porcelain doll. He remembered the bandages. So many bandages. Every time they came off the wound was worse. It never got better. He never got to keep his arm.

It was all because of him. It was all because of a dream.

Hojo wouldn't tell him how it happened until he clung to his leg and refused to let go. Hojo had come in and found him chewing on his own arm, getting his own filth everywhere. He had been left alone with no one but himself when it happened.

The next time he ever moved his fingers, they were made of metal. Cold, hard, unfeeling metal.

He didn't want to be alone again. Not in the dark. Not while Hojo was laughing at him. Not again. Not again, ever.

Someone grabbed his arm. He screamed.

A gloved hand suddenly covered his mouth and he heard Cid swear.

He couldn't stop screaming. He kept screaming until they both thought he'd pass out.

"Just breathe, Vince," Cid said, taking his hand away and held Vincent as he struggled to gulp down air. He hoped he was doing the right thing. He had no fucking clue how to keep someone from having a panic attack. He just didn't want Vincent screaming like someone was trying to kill him.

Vincent hated crowds, so people trying to help him and possibly even needing an ambulance would have been worse than that. Right?

Vincent seemed about to give up on breathing because it took too much effort and was about to switch to crying.

Why did Vincent have to be so afraid NOW? The minute Vincent had asked if he wanted to go to their rooms he thought he'd jump on the man.

Maybe a distraction would work. "Hey Vince, were you hitting on me back there?"

Vincent was so surprised he stopped trying to breathe altogether.

Perfect. Highwind and is big, stupid mouth. Cid had always joked he wouldn't know subtlety if it bit him on the ass.

"Shit, come on, you have lungs, remember? Breathe, please."

Vincent went back to breathing. It was erratic and too fast, randomly alternating between too shallow and too deep. "I'm sorry," Vincent said, once his breathing started to resemble normal, after a few long minutes of trying not the hyperventilate and failing.

Yeah, that question had really helped.

"I didn't know I was talking like that, and I didn't know you'd notice. I guess I haven't forgotten what I was like thirty years ago. Please don't take offense, I… it slipped out."

"No problem," Cid said, part of his mind already forming plans. "Its mutual."

"But…"

"What, you didn't know?" Cid asked loudly, trying to keep Vincent distracted as he lead him down the hall. You're as dense as Cloud, sometimes."

"Sorry."

"For what? No, wait, I don't wanna fucking hear it. You just say that too much, Vince. Come on, I found my room." Cid let go of Vincent's arm and unlocked the door. "Well, come on."

Vincent didn't hear him. Once Cid let go of his hand Vincent looked up and saw the door.

Who could expect less of the Haunted hotel? The door was a large, ornate, beautifully carved and intricately decorated… coffin lid.

His chest hurt. Both arms were in pins and needles and shaking visibly. Everything was spinning. He felt dizzy and lightheaded. In fact, he didn't even feel real.

No coffin. No more coffin. Anything but that. He didn't want to dream anymore. He didn't want to remember anymore. He'd been punished. He'd learned his lesson.

He didn't want to be sealed away, locked away from the rest of the world. He didn't want to sleep through decades with nothing but nightmares as company. He didn't want to be alone.

Everything hurt. His legs wouldn't move, but he wanted to bolt so badly.

Not the coffin.

Anything but the coffin.

Please.

Someone grabbed his wrist and everything was suddenly a blur. He closed his eyes. It would all go away if he couldn't see it, it had to.

Suddenly Vincent tasted tobacco and, mildly, beer. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times.

It was real. Cid was kissing him, and it was real. Determined to finally enjoy something in his life, he put his hands around Cid's back and moaned softly as Cid's tongue slipped inside his mouth.

Pressing closer, he wondered when the last time was that he had ever felt like this. He could feel the tension practically melting off. He was no longer worried about how fast his heart was beating.

Just when he thought he was free, just when he thought nothing could bother him anymore, he was proven wrong.

He remembered. He remembered the last time he'd kissed, been kissed, had sex. He remembered that insidious grin, the glasses slipping off the bent nose, the strands of black hair falling out of the ponytail in front of his face. That face. That grinning, insincere, lying face.

That was the last person he had been with. That was the face of the person who took everything from him because it had been funny. Because it was there to take.

He remembered everything so clearly. No drugs blurred his vision or his memory. The worst part, though, was that nothing had forced him to do it. He'd heard his name, had felt something other than pain, and he liked it; he had been an idiot.

"I think I'm gonna be sick!" Vincent said, suddenly pushing Cid back so hard the pilot had to take a few steps to regain his balance.

"What? What'd I do?" Cid asked, utterly confused. "You were enjoying that five minutes ago."

"I can't… You didn't… I should leave."

"No fucking way!" Cid yelled, grabbed Vincent, and led him to the bed. "You practically had a heart attack out there! You couldn't get through the fucking door. No way am I letting you leave."

Vincent said nothing. He sat down and looked at his lap.

"Vince?"

"I'm sorry."

"I told you, stop saying that," Cid said, sitting next to Vincent. "Look, I'm not interested in hearing your life story, and frankly, I don't care. But this mopey shit stops now, you hear me? Now what the fuck's going on?"

"You… I don't want to talk about it."

"Look, I don't want to push it and I haven't before. But you can't finish a goddamned sentence."

"I don't know what to say," Vincent said. He'd ruined everything. Twice. He was stuck. There was no way out of his past, no escape. He'd never be free and he should stop trying.

What could he possibly say to Cid that wouldn't make things worse? Cid probably hated him now anyway, so why not just finish it? Why not just tell him? It was pointless to hope Cid could like him, so why not just say it and prove how utterly stupid and worthless he was? He'd probably tell the others and they'd all understand and stop pestering him.

"Try just saying something. Anything. One word, start with that," Cid said, putting a hand around Vincent's waist.

Cid braced himself to hear that goddamned woman's name again. He was already sick of it. She was dead and never coming back. How long did it take to get over someone who had treated him like dirt? Especially when there was someone else perfectly willing to screw his brains out and punch the snot out of anyone who even looked at him funny.

"Hojo," Vincent whispered, surprising Cid. "It was Hojo. That was… he…" Vincent took a deep breath and tried again. "The last person I was with was Hojo."

"Okay…" Cid started, then stopped and tried again. Hojo? Didn't he hate Hojo's guts? Why would Vincent… shit. "Look, it's nothing to feel guilty about."

"I don't feel guilty, I feel stupid!" Vincent yelled, shoving Cid's hand away from him and standing up. "There weren't even any drugs or… or anything forcing me. The one time I'm sober and not drooling from painkillers or whatever and… and I fall for a stupid trick. It was all a trick. It was all a trick and I can't get him out of my head. I'm an idiot."

Cid just stared and blinked, completely at a loss for words. This whole situation was way over his head.

"I did it willingly!" Vincent screamed, starting to sob.

Cid said nothing for a long time. He wished everything wasn't so complicated with Vincent. He wished he could have a cigarette. He wished Hojo hadn't ruined the one opportunity to finally get Vincent in the sack.

"I should go to my room, I'm sorry." Vincent wiped his face, no longer sobbing, but tears still fell down his face.

"Hey, you don't have to go anywhere. Stick around, I could use the company."

"Why aren't you mad?"

"I've had worse dates."

"Cid, I'm serious."

"I know. Frankly, I don't care and I don't see why I should. I mean, I'd really like to rearrange that guy's face, and probably make him sing soprano for the rest of his life, but that's it."

"You're not mad?"

"Not at you."

"Why aren't you mad?"

"Should I be?"

"Yes!" Vincent said. "No. I don't know."

"Look, you figure it out and I'll do whatever it is I'm supposed to do," Cid said, scratching his head. "In the meantime, I'm feeling pretty cheap. I mean, I wasn't thinking straight. With all the shit you've been through I still thought I could just jump ya. Fuck. I'm sorry."

"I can't… I couldn't do that. I couldn't just be a one night stand."

"I couldn't either."

"Huh?" Did Cid Highwind just say he wanted a meaningful relationship? That couldn't be possible. That just made less sense than what Vincent had just admitted.

"Well, when I first met ya, I would've fucking loved the idea. But now-I have no idea what the fuck it is about you, but I don't just want that. I want-I want-Goddamnit, Shera makes this look so easy when she's on the phone. I don't know what I want, but I know I wanna do whatever it is with you. Shit, now I sound like Barret."

"I don't know." Vincent sighed. "I'm sorry."

"I told you to stop fucking saying that. If there's something you should be sorry about, I'll tell you. And… And… Well, if you want anything, just ask. I won't mind, I promise."

"Cid…?"

"Yeah?" Cid asked, hoping for Vincent to say he liked him back, but not letting it show.

"Can I stay here tonight?"

"Sure." When this was over, he was going to have Shera explain to him how to talk about things. Even if it killed him. And it probably would, considering how boring it sounded. But then, dying of boredom seemed better than losing Vincent just because he hadn't watched enough soap operas.

"I need a shower," Vincent said, standing up.

"Hey, I'm not stopping you." Cid said, then winced. He was definitely going to learn how to talk to people he liked. He was just glad he didn't accidentally blurt out that he wanted to join him.

Vincent got into the shower as fast as possible and made sure the door was locked, despite the fact that he knew Cid wasn't going to wander in on him and the others were probably oblivious as to what had happened.

That didn't mean he was. Nothing like a panic attack to break the monotony of the day. And Cid just added to the confusion. How the fuck could anyone like him, let alone Cid? Maybe Cid paid less attention than he thought. He turned into monsters, who could ignore that?

He'd ruined everything for Cid. When he wasn't moping or thinking of Lucrecia, he was having an attack or ruining any chance Cid got. He couldn't stand Cid kissing him because it reminded him of Hojo. What an insult that must have been.

He wasn't even that good looking. Even if Cid liked him with his metal arm-how or why was completely beyond Vincent-he was still ugly. He was too skinny; his eyes were unnatural and so saturated with Mako they probably glowed in the dark. Then there were those ugly scars. White lines outlined in pink on his skin. If Cid didn't care, he sure did. He hated them. He should have died. He wished he had.

He decided to just stop thinking about anything at all except the warm water rushing down his skin, thankful the brace was just as waterproof as the rest of the prosthetic.

After using up all the hot water, Vincent came out of the bathroom and was greeted by a note on the nightstand. It was from Cid, saying he had gone to get a cigarette and hated the hotel for not having a smoking section. Vincent never knew Cid wrote profanity as well as saying it every five minutes.

He suddenly realized how exhausted he was. He muscles were sore and he was very tired. As much as he hated it, he just wanted to sleep. Not caring if Cid thought he was self-conscious or even weird, he threw on his boxers and pants before crawling into bed.

Things apparently wouldn't let up for Vincent tonight.

He was woken up by Cid, screaming his name and shaking him out of his nightmare.

Yet again, Vincent found it hard to breathe, despite how fast he was gasping.

"Shit, I leave you alone for a while and you're shredding the bed," Cid said. Vincent could hear how worried he was. He looked down at the mattress as he sat up and realized it wasn't much of a joke. His stupid claw had torn rips in the mattress, the stuffing poking from it as if he had torn its guts out.

"Fuck!" Vincent said, throwing himself back on the bed, and buried his face in the pillow.

"What are you doing?" Cid yelled.

"You hate me now. You have to hate me now. I don't want to go back to sleep, I don't want to talk. I just want to lie here until I suffocate or Cloud says he needs me."

"Look, I don't hate you," Cid said, pulling Vincent up. "You'd have to burn the hotel down for me to start hating you. But no suffocating."

"Why don't you hate me?" Vincent asked, shoving Cid away. "Why the hell don't you hate me? I'm a freak. I turn into monsters and I just ripped the bed apart because I got scared."

"I've had worse dates than you. Hell, I was sober."

"It's not funny."

"Look, you just had a nightmare. Who cares?"

"Cid I always have nightmares. Why do you think Cloud always has to buy new tents?"

"Okay, look, stop blaming yourself for everything. It's not your fault someone's trying to destroy

the world. It's not your fault she died. It's not your fault your life went to hell. Stop thinking it is!"

"I'm sorry."

"And stop saying that."

Vincent was about to apologize again, but decided it was easier not to look at Cid. Why did he have to insist on cheering him up?

"Look, your life's been a pile of shit. You have a right to be scared. And I'm punching anyone who says otherwise. Well, not you."

"You're not going to insist I talk about it.?"

"Fuck. You're scared, not a goddamned baby. Do what you want. You don't have to talk about it if you don't fucking want to. I'll listen if you do, though. I won't even tell anyone."

"Promise?"

"I promise. You can punch me in the face if I do."

"I don't want…" Vincent sighed. He couldn't hold it in anymore without crying. He might as well take advantage of the situation. If Cid insisted on doing anything he could for him, even after seeing him transform and suffer from a nightmare, he'd prove just to the pilot what he was in for. "There were needles in my arm. Six of them. I don't even know what was in the bags they were connected to. But they hurt. I could feel them. They were in my left arm and I could feel them!" Vincent had to stop and concentrate on breathing slower and not crying for a few minutes before he continued. "There was a tube in my chest. I couldn't feel my legs and my… my other arm was tied down so I couldn't rip the needles out. It was real. It really happened. It was thirty years ago, why can't I forget about it? All I could do was watch Hojo doing… something… and throw up on myself. Why is it so scary? Why does it keep coming back?"

Cid said nothing. He had no fucking idea what to do. Why couldn't Vincent just have a broken leg? He knew first aid. It didn't require talking. How come Vincent needed everything he sucked at?

"I can still feel it sometimes. My arm hurts and it isn't there anymore."

The was nothing to say.

Vincent rubbed his metal arm as if it were real, trying to stop the phantom pain.

Cid put a hand on Vincent's shoulder, over the brace that held his arm on. The brace made everything worse. Somehow, seeing buckles and straps holding Vincent's arm on made things worse. He had always thought the arm was just there, just an arm that looked a little different. He'd always thought of Vincent's arm being just as real as the rest of him. The straps though… Seeing some contraption to hold a limb on, that was distorting as hell. What it must be for Vincent, feeling and seeing it everyday, worried about the straps breaking, the buckles coming undone, hiding them from everyone.

Vincent jerked away, putting a hand over his shoulder to keep Cid from touching him. "Don't."

"Shit, I suck at this," Cid said.

"Just don't… Just don't touch my shoulder."

Cid smiled. He couldn't help it. Just don't touch the brace. Just don't remind him of it. Just don't make it real and he could try and pretend it wasn't there. He touched Vincent's right shoulder and gently slid his gloved hand down Vincent's arm and over his hand. He wrapped his fingers between Vincent's and held his hand. He pulled Vincent onto his lap and curled an arm around Vincent's chest, hoping Vincent didn't freak when he accidentally touched the scars.

"Cid?"

"It's okay, I won't do anything."

After a while, neither could really remember who started it, they were lying, side by side, Cid still insisting on holding Vincent's hands, even the metal one, and Vincent wasn't complaining.

"Cid?"

"Yeah?" Come on, just fucking say it. Please. Everything would be perfect after that, even if the world did blow up. Come on, I don't want to be the only one saying everything here.

"Thank you."

Ah, close enough.