Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Moments ❯ Moments ( Chapter 1 )

AN: I was listening to Moments by Emerson Drive, so if this bears similarities, that's why! I don't own any of the FFVII characters, and the plot mostly belongs to Emerson Drive, I just felt like writing it down.

 

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Moments

 

 

My name is Alvira. I live at 472 Maple. I am seventeen years old, and tonight I am going to kill myself. This is exactly what my suicide note said as I tucked it into my coat pocket. The night air was cold; my breath fogged in front of me as I walked, my shoulders hunched to keep me warm. I realized I was shivering, and I remember thinking it's odd that even though I'm about to die, my body is fighting to stay alive. I smiled sardonically to myself. I must have been twisted to find humor in this situation. I looked up as the lights of the Wallace Bridge came into view. Apparently nearly a hundred years ago, a man named Barrett Wallace had this bridge built between the new city and the old as a memorial. That's really all I know about it, and that it's a good fifty foot drop into the raging waters of the bay.

 

As I came into the light, I stepped up to the edge of the railing, staring into the water. I gazed at it for a long time, feeling thousands of emotions running through me. I could feel my heart beating faster, and I swallowed hard, steeling myself. No one will even notice that I'm gone. No one will care. No one cares. At least, that's what I told myself as I started to pull my coat off and drop it on the sidewalk beside me. I kicked my shoes off as well, hoping that the lack of clothing will make me numb and freeze me faster so I don't feel any pain. I took a deep breath, gripping the rail, and prepared to throw myself over, when a shadow suddenly fell over me.

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

 

I looked up, my eyes wide and frightened at the stranger standing before me. He was tall, ominously tall, with ghostly pale skin, long raven hair that nearly touched his knees, and the most brilliant, but at the same time terrifying, crimson gaze I've ever seen. Terrified, both by him and my actions, I felt my knees give out and I sunk to the ground, suddenly bursting into tears.

 

“I—I don't know,” I sobbed softly, realizing what I had nearly done. I looked up as the man I would soon realize was my demonic savior kneeled next to me.

 

His eyes softened, if that were possible, and he sat beside me, pulling me into a light embrace. “I was once in your position, you know,” he whispered.

 

Surprised, but comforted by this total stranger's presence, I let my forehead rest against his chest. He was clad in a simple black, long-sleeved t-shirt and black pants with black combat boots, and the warmth from his body seeped into me like the warmth from a fire in a hearth. I felt him pull my coat around my shoulders, and I looked up at him, wishing I knew what to say to him. I had wanted to end it so badly, but now I was so terrified. What was wrong with me?

 

I watched him smile softly. “I know, it's hard,” he said, his arms tightening around me. “Some times you think that you're all alone, and no one sees your pain, or if they do, then they don't care.”

 

I looked away, feeling as if he'd just read my mind.

 

He brushed a strand of my liquid silver hair away from my face. His voice was soft and distant when he spoke. “But you're never really alone,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “There is someone, maybe someone you've overlooked many times, who cares about you, and they would be devastated if you had jumped off this bridge.”

 

This drew my gaze, as I wanted to protest. “Who?” I asked, my voice filled with anguish. I watched him smile, and I felt an internal warmth spread through me.

 

“Do you have a pet?” he asked.

 

I nodded, my eyes suddenly widening. “Oh, Mia,” I whispered. I looked up at him.

 

“And what would she do without you?” he asked, his eyes searching mine. “She depends on you. Who will take care of her once you're gone?”

 

I looked away again, feeling extremely guilty. I had been so caught up in myself that I had forgotten about her, and…. I gasped suddenly. “Jasper,” I breathed. Once more tears came to my eyes as I thought about what I had nearly done. Jasper would have died if I had gone through with it. I closed my eyes as tears streamed down my cheeks, his deep hazel eyes burning into my mind. How could I have forgotten about him? What was wrong with me?!

 

I felt the stranger pull me closer, understanding that I was finally realizing what jumping would have meant. I cried into his chest for a long time, feeling stupid and selfish and guilty and thankful. I could never repay this man for saving me from myself tonight, but, when I looked up into his eyes, I think he understood. I don't know what it was about him, but I think he knew what I wanted him to know. He heard the words I couldn't say.

 

When I finally was able to compose myself, he stood, pulling me up with him. “You will be alright,” he said, and I was unable to distinguish if it was a question or a statement. Either way, I nodded, knowing I would be now. Now that I realized I wasn't really alone. I felt cold when he stepped back from me, but not like I had before. It wasn't a deathly chill in my soul; it was just the night air.

 

I watched him smile as he turned to go, and I was captivated. I reached for his hand, stopping him before he could escape. I never wanted him to leave, but I knew he was just a stranger. Trying to cover my blunder, I looked away.

 

“Please,” I whispered, glancing at him. “Tell me your name.”

 

He laughed softly, looking away, before looking back at me. “Once upon a time, my name might have meant something to you,” he said, facing me. “But now it is of little consequence.” He took my hand in his, his eyes searching mine. “But if you must know, it is Vincent.”

 

I nodded, looking away as he let go of my hand. “Just Vincent?” I asked. I watched him nod, before turning and vanishing to the darkness.

 

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I never saw Vincent again. I told Jasper what had happened, and I don't think I've ever been kissed so passionately in my entire life. He told me what an idiot I was, and how he was always there for me, and then he asked me to marry him.

 

My wedding is to be tomorrow, exactly a year since that incident. Tonight, just because I was curious, I looked up the name Vincent on the National Database. It means prevailing or to conquer. I'm not sure what that has to do with his actions that night, but I also found something interesting. I did a search on the Wallace Bridge, and I read that this Barrett guy was a member of a team called AVALANCHE. The group was made up of rag tag rebels, and, interestingly enough, one of them was named Vincent. I clicked on a picture of them, and I couldn't believe what I saw. It was those same crimson eyes staring back at me, and I felt a shiver race down my spine.

 

According to the article, he had been dead for a long time now, but somehow, he had stopped me from making the biggest mistake of my life. I don't know how, or why, but some thing tells me he's not really dead. I swear I feel his presence now, as I write this, and I know, one day we will meet again, and I will be able to thank him with words.