Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Du, Du hast, Du Hasst Mich ❯ Four ( Chapter 4 )

The beeping annoyed him. Everything had to fucking beep all the time. Then there was the scratching of the needles on paper. He didn't care what anyone thought, he could hear it. And it drove him nuts. The worst part, other than seeing Vincent connected to a bunch of wires and machines, was the damn ventilator. It made too much noise, and the sound alone made him want to retch. It all made him feel too alone, too small and weak and helpless.

His eyes hurt from crying and lack of sleep. He didn't want to see Vincent like this, but every time he closed his eyes, he remembered waking up and he was gone.

He clung to the back of the chair with one hand, Vincent's hand with his other.

Life sucked.

There was a knock at the door and he didn't feel like answering. The doctor would come in anyway.

The door opened.

"Cid?"

"Shera…" Cid completely broke down, sobbing on the back of the chair. "I can't do this. I can't." He didn't notice her arms were around him. "He's gonna make it, but they don't know what happened or what's going on. They've got him on an EEG and an EKG and all they could do was give me some damn pamphlets on PTSD and I hope I never hear another abbreviation in my life."

"Oh God, Cid. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Shera said. Where was that ability to say something and make it better? He'd hated her after ruining the rocket launch, but she kept saying stuff. She kept making it better. It didn't justify anything, it just kept them as friends. He never kicked her out of the house. He never stopped thinking she was a good friend. Why couldn't she say stuff like that now? "He's going to survive, Cid. It'll be okay, he'll survive."

That was it. He'd survive. He didn't want survive. He wanted Vincent to wake up. He wanted him to talk to him and tell him there was nothing wrong with him and that it would never happen again. He wanted Vincent back. Preferably in his arms where he'd never let anything else happen to him.

But Vincent just lay there attached to the beeping, annoying machines. He wasn't even breathing on his own, he needed that damn machine. It was as if Vincent were dead and they were just pretending he was alive.

Just looking at him made Cid feel scared.

What Vincent must be going through…

And all this time he'd kept telling Vincent to cheer up and forget about things and pretend they never happened. Just smile and think it wasn't there.

This was what he'd gone through. This was the kind of torture Vincent had known thirty years ago before being locked away in a box. All these machines and needles and nothing to stop it and no one to help.

Vincent was right. Life really was shit.