Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You vs. Me

Heavens, if one could seriously turn back time, Cloud would’ve done the deed the moment he met Vincent Valentine. Kind and intelligent for business as he was from first glance, Cloud never bought into his ‘noble’ mentality, never taking him for his word as far as altruism was concerned. He’d only tolerated his presence, not at all convinced of anything pure radiating off him as soon as he hit the age of fourteen.

If only his mother and father felt that way, too. 

Loving and patient with him as they were, the disheartening moment bearing discourse landed like a hammer across his skull when after years of working for Vincent and interacting pleasantly, Cloud’s father lost his job. An employee and one of the most hardworking members of Vincent’s company, apparently, loyalty and seniority mattered little when money was involved.

Due to his age, he was moved down the line, replaced by a younger, more suitable employee for the sake of propelling the business onward, according to Vincent’s words anyway.

Worried that they would lose everything, and with Cloud still in his teenage years, raising an omega would be a problem. Since both his parents were betas themselves, they had a few, though limited choices for new work on their own, but being the opportunist with a frosty, well-composed mask of friendship on at all times, Vincent stepped in at that auspicious moment.

A deal was struck under the guise that they would all benefit from it, even though there would be a significant loss for one person. Although society still failed to dispense equity and righteousness at times, this was a few centuries back in terms of sad regression. Still, no one really cared, especially since Vincent’s constant visits and years of time spent in the Strife household had gained the trust of Cloud’s parents to guide their steps to make a rather bleak decision on his behalf. 

Vincent set off the grenade of malice and injustice. His filthy mind operated beyond what Cloud had ever suspected, levels of degeneracy catapulting Cloud’s future in quite the upheaval and deplorable end. The man was a slick, confident business owner, working well for nearly three decades to generate and accrue revenue that would make his own life and his progeny set in heaps of wealth. 

Money, and a lack of it, did fuel others to certainly make many poor decisions. Desperation screeched out of the Strife household, bills piling up per day, and without the ability to land more than a menial, part-time job at a shoe store, Claudia was even at the end of her patience. Normally more inclined to be reasonable and pragmatic, she was the first agreeable one when Vincent dropped by for a meeting late one night. 

Cloud’s father had made the appeal, begging his former employer for any help. Under the pretense that he was the knight in shining armor, Vincent made the most intimidating, inimical suggestion Cloud never had expected from him. After all, Vincent was the fascinating facsimile of a friend…he was his parents’ older friend, confidant, provider, and that was it. 

Well, evidently, it was all a ruse. Vincent never saw it that way, promising that they would never have to worry about money ever again, as long as they gave Cloud to him. 

There was always a bloody catch.

Far older than Cloud, and only seen and known as his parents’ kooky boss, Cloud’s innocence was intact, impervious to any kind of breakdown until he turned twenty. That was the decided and agreed on age, those years of childish bliss fleeting and ending too damn quickly. Indeed, he’d taken his oblivious times for granted when Claudia pulled him aside the morning after Vincent’s visit to deliver the unsavory news and prepare him for a lifetime of misery.

Vincent Valentine had asked for his hand in marriage, which meant that if Cloud married into Vincent’s vast wealth, it would be a huge boon to his future and rescue his parents. It was an opportunity, but an officious one…no, an absurd, perverse one. Yes, it would solve their financial problems immediately, but the long-term effects were more dismal and hopeless.

Vincent was older than him by many years, and Cloud always had respected him as an ‘uncle’ of sorts. While he definitely had the gift of attractive looks on his side, he wasn’t Cloud’s type at all. More like a tall, lanky shadow of a person with their intentions constantly hidden beneath the opaque veil of mystery, Vincent couldn’t and wouldn’t ever be able to love him and offer Cloud what he needed in a spouse.

Never had he even thought of Vincent in that way, but clearly, if he was able to propose this union, Vincent had been eyeing him for some time, and it made Cloud highly uncomfortable and exceptionally nervous. Whether he was in the loop about Cloud’s secondary gender and growth as an omega early into his puberty years was immaterial; Cloud didn’t want this. He wanted to just be a kid, have fun, and eventually find his own love.

Deep down, he simply wanted to go beyond all the ridiculous norms still practiced in some towns and countries in their world. Omegas unfortunately sometimes struggled to find their way in the universe, job opportunities often being given to betas and alphas…not that there were many of them.

Betas these days made up a whopping 82% of the population, outbreeding alphas in a few decades. Bearing no burden of heats and ruts, betas were useful and cunning to thrive and succeed, but Cloud didn’t care about origins and the history of secondary gender. 

All he longed for was a normal life, but he was denied one. Appealing emotionally and in earnest to his parents did nothing for him either, though he tried his best on many occasions. 

Selecting his mother first, he implored her to cancel his wedding, especially since it fell right on his twentieth birthday. She remained stiff and rigid in her position, staunch as she sent him away to go bother his father.

When Cloud did just that, though his exhausted father appeared to sympathize with him more, he too was just as fermented in the decision that would elevate their family out of potential danger, involving starvation and poverty. 

“Dad,” Cloud hissed at him for the second time in a few hours, “I’m not gonna marry Vincent. That’s super gross.” 

Though they had gone over the subject a few times before, his father always held more patience right before letting him down. Stoic, but only dissimulating himself to be so as he maintained a detached demeanor for his own sake as much as Cloud’s, after hearing his son’s grievances, he only sighed and calmly expressed the same fulsome notions.

“Hush, Cloud. You have to sometimes simply accept what life throws your way, and I’m sure you will one day grow to like Vincent a lot.” Tired of the topic as he wiped his foggy glasses, Cloud’s father added in a dry murmur, “Vincent likes you and has for a while, so just be good, because he’s really trying to help us here.”

Disgustedly glaring at pictures of Vincent still hanging on their walls, Cloud snarled rudely, “If you like him so much, dad, why don’t you marry him?”

Needless to say, that was the final time the topic came up between father and son. Turned away plenty of other times he bravely tried to approach, Cloud ejected the idea of running away from home, rebelling, and objecting. After all, there would be no point; this was fated to be…this was destiny, apparently, and at least he could have some of his own dignity rather than screaming and fussing about things he had no way of stopping.

Spending his time as freely as he could while he had the opportunity to rejoice in being single, he counted the months, weeks, days, and hours obsessively until the morning of his birthday arrived. At least finding some kindred spirits in his school friends to complain to, as nice as venting was, he still was bereft of any reasonable solution to his growing conundrum.

Never having loathed his birthday as much, the tasks he’d set out for himself now took a grinding halt. Repetition brought on much of a sluggish mentality, made worse when he had nothing to look forward to. He’d read all his books, studied for every course, ate any decent meal he could. Summer was just blossoming, and most of his friends were off to spend their vacation with their family members…well, almost everyone, thankfully except for Reno Sinclair and Cid Highwind. 

Reno was a few years older than Cloud, having met him during his previous year in summer school in order to repeat a few failing grades. His much older, more talented superior and friend, Cid Highwind, was currently training Reno to become a pilot. Having obtained his own pilot license years ago, Cid was the one who ultimately came up with the brilliant idea to take both Reno and Cloud for a flight around a few small islands close to Costa Del Sol.

Seeing as this would likely be the last time they got to chat together without Interlopers, it was initially a lovely concept.

It was Cid’s birthday gift to Cloud, but the young omega saw it more as a way to truly be at ease and enjoy the symbolic value of having the chance to soar above the world one last time while he could. He’d soon be bound and shackled to a life of drudgery, and needing to erase it out of his heart and mind, before he wavered and dithered more, he took Cid up on his offer. 

Dressed and waiting for Reno to pick him up at the airport before his parents were awake, Cloud soon met with his eager friend in a way to suggest that hardly any time had passed between them. Finding comfort and solace immediately after Reno gave him a cappuccino, they weren’t even troubled when Cid began making his way to them, even if it was an interruption. Cloud had never seen Cid’s new plane before, but when it landed and he began loading a few of his personal items into the plane, Cloud felt conflicted about the situation. 

There, in the rapidly brightening dawn, standing next to a small plane and his friends, the more Cloud examined the aircraft from afar, the more he felt frightened. Gulping and hanging back, he knew he’d been so enthused about making it to the southern islands for a moment of peace, that he’d put the fact that he was going to be flying on a tiny little plane out of his mind completely. 

Cloud wasn’t the best flyer; in fact, Cloud wasn’t a flyer at all. The journey to the unreachable islands off Wutai and Costa Del Sol was Cloud’s first flight ever, and he’d been nervous even though he’d assumed it was to begin on a full sized commercial aircraft. But this plane was…gosh, it was really small. It looked well maintained however—shiny, even, and not too old, but Cloud couldn’t help the thought that went through his head the minute he laid eyes on it. 

“Yeah…that’s the kind of plane that always seems to crash with a load of adventurous people on it for sure.”

Shaking himself out of his most morbid train of thought when Cid emerged from the empty runway to signal that they could enter now, Cloud did so, flinging the gruesome images out of his mind to properly settle in the affable ambiance with his friends. Many hugs and handshakes were exchanged, bottles of champagne opened, and while it was too early in the morning for a drink, Cloud chose to humor his excited friends all the same. 

Eyeing Cloud’s thin, dark jean shorts, ratty black and white Converse sneakers, and loose t-shirt, Cid raised an eyebrow and then snickered. “You sure look happy today, Cloud.”

“Oh, hush, Cid!” Reno barked, guiding Cloud to one of only four seats in the small airplane. Helping Cloud onto one with his fizzy drink, Reno barked at Cid while he too entered, “I’d be wearing all black today if it were me!”

“It’s a wedding, Reno, not a funeral,” Cid sighed, while Cloud soon noticed just how tiny the interior of the plane was.

Caught gaping, Cloud flushed, shuddering as he tried being more grateful. “In any event, I really appreciate you coming out here to help, Cid,” he offered, trying not to show any fear or nervousness. “This’ll give me some time to clear my head at least.”

With a most reassuring smile, Cid assured him, “I know she may not look like much, but she’s in great shape and I’ve made thousands of safe flights on her. And as for me, you know me! Been doin’ this for almost a decade, Cloud!”

Repentant, Cloud fiddled with his glass of alcohol, more than a little embarrassed. “Sorry. I’ve just never flown in a small plane like this before.” Pausing, he winced and corrected himself, “Actually, I’ve never flown at all.”

Exchanging an odd look with Reno, the redhead making a gesture for silence as he pressed an index finger over his lips and then shook his head, Cid read the signs well and grinned at Cloud boldly.

“Well, you’re lookin’ at a triumphant state of the art when it comes to fly-tech, here!” he began to pontificate, oblivious to the tension from his junior. “I’ll get you in the sky in one piece! Let’s load up and we’ll be on our way. You’ll be in the city in time to join your family for lunch!” 

Polite and organized, Cid guided the rest of Reno’s suitcases in the back of the plane, then jumped into the cockpit. Getting prepared and focusing as he started switching and gearing up, Cloud and Reno then followed suit, climbing into the back and buckling themselves tightly in. 

Though compacted with the best and highly advanced forms of technology, the plane didn’t lack taste, but it was much too tiny. Although the design wasn’t even a decade old, it was still snappy. The interior of the private plane, in direct contrast to the balmy scene before them, was illuminated and decorated in 1930s art decoration.

The black leather seats of the plane were wide and designed with lounging in mind. The interior wall panels curved in a way that suggested a distant, luxurious sensuality—like a silk dress carelessly draped over the curves of a supermodel.

Brass was inlaid tastefully throughout the craft to further emphasize the might of the aerodynamic machine. A beautifully crafted glass triangle rested beside Cloud—and this was an ashtray. The entire interior of the plane was a testament to the power of the advancements of Shinra’s technology, though laced with the aftermath of the seedy underground and the triumph of the machine-age state of arts.

Dragging his fingernails over the belt and wishing it could go even tighter, especially around his throat to make his pain and rotten luck end right then, Cloud hated how quickly he’d lost interest in what should have been a rather wonderful time. By all accounts, he had everything that was perfect.

The recipe was just fine; he was among talented, awesome friends with great senses of humor, the weather was astounding for this time of year, his parents at least approved of the company he kept, he was in great health, his grades were just fine, and it was nearly his birthday. 

No, he really wasn’t as free as he suspected. Once the ride came to an end, when his feet landed on solid earth and he returned home, what should have been a safe haven was hell. By evening that same day, he would technically be Cloud Valentine, legal documents waiting for his signature on the way. The first step to his true demise.

Sniffling, an emotional Cloud abruptly blinked up at Reno. It was done out of impulse, but he was immediately taken aback when under the searing sunlight gushing into the few windows of the aircraft, Reno held a majorly depressed glint in his eyes, as though he could read Cloud’s mind.

Head handing in dismay and shoulders sagging, Cloud sniffed as he sadly lamented, “Sorry. I just wish this crap wasn’t actually happening to me.” Petting his own cheeks and trying to elevate them in a forced smile, it soon failed as Cloud exhaled weakly, “This is literally extremely unfair and my worst nightmare.”

Holding his opinions to himself so he could channel out something neutral and not wreck their day, Cid shrugged. “There’s always divorce if it’s necessary, Cloud, but maybe you’ll—”

“That’s not the point,” Cloud interposed and then argued sternly, “the point is, I don’t love or even like Vincent! I’ve had maybe four conversations with him in the two years alone, so why would he even think of marrying me?”

The wind made a screeching sound as it hurled past metal at several hundred miles per hour, as though providing the reply for him. Insidious pellets of rain rattled against glass windows; the propellers whizzed as it cut through cloud and sky; the ground shook intermittently, and though the sun was still prominent in the grand sky, rain was starting to gather. They weren’t even that high up yet, and Cloud’s stomach felt like it made a freefall down the Shinra building. 

Making the mistake of peeking out the adjacent window, he swallowed thickly, the hum and purr of the engines and whirring sounds of the controls sending shooting kicks and tremors from the back and underside of the plane to the very tip. The screeching of wind battling against the entire machine roared mightily, everything throttling quickly for many seconds until the prolonged moment began dying down as the plane leveled itself perfectly to grace upwards into the skyline and kiss along the horizon. 

Less focused now that he had everything under control, Cid toyed with the handles of his goggles, moving them up along his nose bridge before turning around to give Cloud a sideways glance. 

Aiming to be his form of comfort, he advised softly, “It’s going to be okay, Cloud. Most people actually want to get married, you know.”

Chin sticking out as he maintained his barbed attitude, Reno challenged, “At twenty?”

“I was almost twenty-four when I got engaged, Reno,” Cid answered, not yet afflicted as Reno wanted him to be.

On his quest to convince Cid to be on the same page regarding the technicalities around the forced engagement, namely, the soon-to-be groom, Reno squawked, “Sure, but have you actually considered who Cloud’s engaged to?”

Swallowing, Adam’s apple bobbing and visible signs of grief crossing his handsome, though rough features, Cid began, “Ah, come on, Reno.” Yet again having to swallow and pull a pained expression which faded into a dull one, Cid then turned around and awkwardly croaked, “It’s not that bad.”

Facepalming as the disgrace hit himself personally, while he shook his head and pitifully groaned, Reno feebly squeaked, “There’s a limit to how dense someone can and should really be, Cid.”

Flinching when he peered out the same window and felt his breath robbed from his lungs, Cloud mentally thanked the high altitudes for assisting with him forgetting the conversation. Counting the dot and ant-like shapes of buildings and mush of green, grey, blue, and white as the entire united canvas he could now see, they were nearly close to forests extending beyond Midgar at least. 

With a long way to go after they’d brushed by Costa Del Sol, he shut his eyes and clasped onto his seatbelt, fingers extremely sweaty despite the temperature cooling down. All around, even as he fought to maintain composure, whenever the plane would shudder when wind shuffled around, the mild pelting of raindrops splattering around to soon drench every window started providing a rather deleterious view all around.

It was glorious and worth the wonderful trip for the first hour, but soon after, Cloud felt dizzy with an impending sense of encroaching doom.

Frowning as he listened to and watched while the raindrops grew larger and came down like brutal hail after ten minutes, Cid whispered to himself, “Weird…the weather forecast didn’t even show a bit of rain!” Lower jaw tight but winding about, he kept his ponderous regard as he squinted around the expanse of the gigantic ocean they were crossing. “Real funny…I don’t think I’ve ever been here, and this place isn’t on any map and documented geography…”

Miffed to hear Cid veering off course for the barbed chat, the notions soon wore Reno down, but he too showed he was alarmed when thunder grumbled in the distance and a bolt of lightning flared away. The thick, grey clouds which were amassing seemed black and green at times, the sickly environment and dangerous atmosphere a clear warning that things weren’t what they seemed.

Whipping winds scattered the clouds, but more soon mounted over the plane in mucky, ominous swathes, thief-black and bewitching the eye with the incandescent clap of thunder occasionally.

Disturbed with the obscure view all around to shout at Cid, Reno wondered in a panicked voice, “Where are we?”

“There’s too much wind! It’s turbulent to say, but we’re not at all even close to Costa Del Sol!” Knowing he’d somehow gotten them lost, though not ready to admit that and terrify Cloud, Cid snarled as he tightened his grip on the controls, “I’ll get us out of here! Just don’t worry!”

All of Cloud’s worst fears were brought back all in an instant. Praying it would all end, though feeling that this was only the gruesome beginning, as the engines roared, Cloud began trying to get a handle on his unruly emotions, but he lost it all right when the plane hit altitude. There was no way to feel calm when he felt the movement of the plane become less smooth and even, the whistling he’d assumed in his eardrums now sizzling outward in the aircraft.

A loud ‘bang’ disrupted Cloud from his thoughts, tangential adrenaline now surging when Reno glanced in the same direction. A red glint speared between the cauldron-black sky, and Reno noticed it too, almost jumping out of his seat.

Shrieking, he pointed out to everyone, “The wing’s on fire! Oh my god!”

Zaps burst from the sky, peppering the horizon and the aircraft alike, clearly the culprit for things to go awry. Screaming nonstop and demanding to know where they were, although he was quite bombastic, Reno was now barely audible through the pounding storm. 

“Cid?! Where are we?!”

“I don’t know!” Gritting his teeth as he braced himself to handle the plane close to freefall, Cid shouted, “We’ll just have to make a crash landing anywhere, hopefully on dry land and radio for support!”

Tense while he wished he’d thought twice about boarding, Cloud clenched his fist tightly against the armrest before he impulsively curled into himself. Stuck in that fetal position, he cried out uselessly for his mother and father to no avail. His world literally was going down in flames, a mockery standing next to all the other crude points of bad luck since Vincent’s proposal.

Tremors shook the plane worse than twisters and volcanoes. The ashtray slid off the table and crashed somewhere by Cloud’s feet, and everything was becoming so much worse. Cloud didn’t look around once he discovered mountainous regions lurking, the lights flickering and lightning giving him severe bouts of terror. Holding his breath, he became dizzy while the pilot became more desperate in his attempts to assert control.

The damaged plane rolled to the side violently, items sliding to a wall with thuds in the process. Everything had been sucked into the middle of the pain, as if an invisible quasar was yanking them around, yet Reno still fought to grab onto Cloud and shield his body with his own. 

All bets were off as the wrecked plane shuddered all around the two passengers, but Reno, possessing quick wit, managed to snag life vests as he put them on Cloud and his own person without trembling hands to delay and obstruct his deed.

Erroneous as it was, when Cloud heard Reno breaking out into a high-pitched cry, he gazed out the window just as his friend happened to be. Once his vision cleared, he saw something that turned his blood into ice. The engine outside the window was billowing smoke to sickening levels, and he could hear the sputtering as it tried to catch. Finally, it went completely silent, the only sound now coming from the engine outside the opposite window. 

Gripping the edge of his seat, Cloud looked out the window again, this time at the bottom of the world awaiting them, and saw nothing but a wide expanse of trees. He also noticed that the ground was getting awfully close, awfully fast. Confirming this, he whined in pure terror when he heard Cid shouting from the cockpit. 

“We’re going down! Get into a crash position! I can set her down with one engine, but there’s no fucking stable area to land on!”

Drawn into himself and covering his ears to forget and bar the constant sounds of beeping and alarms from blaring, Cloud wept when he felt a hand on the back of his neck. Pressure mounted at his side, forcing his head between his knees for optimal safety and to reduce damage. Once down there as he was hugged by someone else, he turned his head to see the teary gaze of Reno’s piercing eyes. 

Ranting and yelling, but also sobbing like a child, Reno was saying something, but it was so loud that Cloud couldn’t even pretend to hear. Giving up on his shouting, Reno instead reached out and grabbed Cloud’s hand, clutching it as tightly as Cloud had done to Reno’s earlier.

Holding hands and knuckles going bleach-white as they squeezed, both young men turned their heads to the floor and waited for whatever was going to happen. Helpless as he never had been before, Cloud felt the plane yawl crazily to one side, and only had a moment to think.

The pilot was shouting something, but Cloud didn’t care for it as the plane nose dived into the deep waters of the ocean below, and all became eclipsed in a blanket of total silence. Explosions fired off to serve as the dire background noise, but the rushing water roaring became the symphony of doom. Floating in the plunge, Cloud’s hair and clothes felt warm, soaked, and clung to his body before ice took over. Limbs flailed and knocked together, just like his teeth as his chin rammed against a solid object. 

As the frigid water eventually came pouring into the plane, Cloud had only a final thought before his world turned cold and too murky.

“Triumphant state of the art my ass.”

Chapter Text

To think, how rapidly things had gone from dull to somewhat positive, then slightly bad to horrendously ignoble in under ten minutes. The brain truly seemed to augment and pan out time, making those horrible minutes feel as stretched out as possible. In truth, it felt more like an hour had elapsed, the series of bleak events leading to the crash spinning around Cloud’s mind like a movie reel.

Previously, as he sat by the window, his forehead lightly pressed against the cool glass, his cerulean eyes were wide with wonder. Below himself, the world unfurled like a living map: the gentle acclivity of rolling hills, the vertiginous drops of craggy cliffs, the endless verdure of dense forests.

Rivers shimmered like silver snakes, winding their ancient courses toward the deep, brooding ocean that breathed against the shorelines. Up here, above the chaos of the earth, he felt a giddy freedom—a sensation almost aeviternal, untouched by the slow decay of mortal time.

The engine hummed a sonorous tune, a purring lullaby that matched the rhythm of his own content heart. The fuselage cut through the air as if the plane itself were a bird, buoyed by unseen hands, a creature meant for such lofty heights. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the turbulence-free serenity, feeling the vastness of existence stretching out on all sides.

But then, the sky began to change.

A portentous gloom gathered on the horizon, swallowing the golden light like a most voracious monster with an insatiable appetite until there wasn’t even a shard of light. Clouds, fuliginous and seething, rolled in with a malignant grace, muting the world below. The plane trembled, a subtle warning at first, as a sudden tremor raked its underbelly. Unable to recall precisely when lightning had struck the left wing, Cloud’s stomach twisted with a sense of quiet dysphoria, a shiver of fear he tried to laugh off since it was just so bizarre.

He’d heard of and read many cases of planes going down, always assuming it would be so rare to happen to himself. Cid was a decent pilot, well trained and educated, but of course, the same moment Cloud had ventured on his plane, it had crashed.

The air thickened, soured, as if soaked in some deleterious magic, but it was far from magical and a significant portion of reality even as Cloud tried denying it. Thunder groaned, a fulminate roar that shook the heavens themselves. Lightning flared—a white-hot lance—and in an instant of blinding clarity, it struck the wing of the plane with a deafening crack. A smell of burnt metal filled the cabin, a lambent fire gathering in the back, eating through everything in sight.

As though a dynamite had gone off, lights inside flickered and dimmed, twisting and altering Cloud’s perception. The engine that had once purred now sputtered, coughed—a sound like a dying beast—before lapsing into haunting silence, leaving only the dreadful whine of the wind against the fuselage. After many struggles, the aircraft shuddered violently, beginning a slow, inexorable tilt toward the earth, the indelible mark of their unfortunate end already stamped in time.

Outside the window, the view had turned malevolent and totally caliginous. Rain slammed against the glass with savage force, the grey skies swirling like the vortex of some monstrous eye. Lightning strobed across the heavens, illuminating glimpses of mountains and forests below, now distorted by speed and altitude. Vapor trails from the engines spun into chaotic, fuliginous spirals, winding like smoke-whirlpools in the gale.

Inside the cabin, the ambiance became tumultuous, a cacophony of screams, gasps, and the dull thuds of unsecured objects flying. Panic was a living, breathing thing, contagious and raw, breeding a pandemonium that filled every cranny of the shrinking space. Everything was being sucked through a vortex, the damage the aircraft had sustained too abysmal for any hope that they would meet the sky ever again. 

The plane lurched again quite violently, the nose pitching downward sharply and sending many inanimate objects dislodged against the front control panels. Gravity pressed Cloud roughly into his seat with ruthless hands before tearing him out of it. Swinging and flipping about like a rag doll, he stared out the windows, unable to tear his gaze away from the spectacle: the earth rushing up to meet him, the forests and rivers now vertiginous blurs of green and blue smeared across a canvas of doom.

Like the world being dragged and pulled into a quagmire, the plane spiraled, a wounded thing, descending in a nightmarish ballet of smoke, fire, and inescapable swathes of mist. Each second seemed stretched and elongated, an endless, aeviternal moment suspended between hope and annihilation. Then, with a final, shattering roar, the ground surged up—and everything was swallowed by darkness.

Sensory perceptions augmented, the pall of darkness seeped in first—a hush, a hush so pure it could have been made of fine silk. Each time Cloud recalled precisely what had happened, he envisioned the mountains curved below, green acclivities rising and falling like the breathing of some ancient beast.

The ocean was a blue, trembling thing, stitched with white-capped waves. Forests stretched to the ends of the earth, a soft, endless pelt. The engine hummed—purred—the ragged sound threading through his chest like a secret until he couldn’t hear it when crashing tides replaced them.

There was no freedom here, nor did he feel weightless. Filmy and grainy sights began gathering at the edge of his vision—lazy at first, then lumbering, encroaching, suffocating the sunlight. A dull vertigo pricked at his temples as the horizon skewed, the plane tilting ever so slightly. He shifted in his seat, uneasy, counting down the seconds as it was swallowed by gravity.

The first growl of thunder was low, nearly lost to the hum. A tremor, a turbulence that nudged the plane like a child’s careless hand. He frowned, in search of answers as he pressed his forehead to the glass. All he could really do was watch as the world turned bleak and sordid, smeared by thick curtains of rain. The smell of metal—sharp, deleterious—licked at the cabin air.

Yes, it was lightning which tore the sky apart. A crack, then a blinding flash, the culprit to the destruction the plane sustained for daring to upset nature. When struck, the plane shuddered so violently it knocked Cloud’s breath sideways. Lights flickered above nonstop—an ugly, stuttering white. The hum was gone soon, only the sound of wind screaming against the fuselage, then, there was a violent jolt, a plummet, all the way down.

Akin to a scene from a horror film, the once lovely view outside tilted and spun, forests and ocean and mountains all blending into a single, eerie whirl which possessed his dreams. Black smoke streamed from the wing, winding into venomous coils that vanished into the wet, thrashing sky. The cabin erupted into a symphony of terror as cries tore the air, objects rained down from the overhead bins—a bag smacked his shoulder, but he barely noticed. The whole world had collapsed to the size of his window, and the nightmare beyond it.

The plane was still spiraling, deriding against the storm, trailing insidious vapors that twisted and danced in the broken sky. The rain pounded the glass with a violence that felt personal, as if the heavens themselves were trying to tear the plane apart. Down, down, faster. A patchwork of green forests, dark rivers, and jagged rock rushed upward, terrifyingly vivid. The engine tried to cough itself alive—a sound like a dying animal—then, all fell silent again.

Cloud’s hands gripped the armrests until his knuckles burned. His mind became a blur of half-formed prayers, flashes of memory, the final, dizzying acceptance that the world was ending in a storm of smoke, rain, and chaos. Gravity pulled at his body, yanked at his soul. A final surge came then—the earth rising to meet him—defined by only pandemonium inside and out—a world which rapidly spun into screaming oblivion.

Then, when impact was made, darkness greeted his eyes before the pinch and bite of pure ice coiled around his nerves. 

Cold water rushed into the vessel with an impossible force, the sloshing and roaring now unmistakable and unendurable. Cloud’s body crashed against the walls of the plane and into numerous objects, no doubt fetching more nasty bruises in the process. One moment, he was breathing warm air, the next, he was swallowing gallons of frozen water. It was hard to figure out which way was up, but he fought to keep his head up and used both hands to steady his weak body against a headrest. 

“Okay, okay,” he frantically thought as he got his bearings together. “You’re alone for now, but you can do this. First things first, let’s get right side up, before you pop a blood vessel.” 

Quickly, Cloud fumbled for the latch of the seatbelt with shaking hands, getting it open on his fourth try. He realized a little late that he probably should have been hanging on to the seat or seatbelt since the aircraft had been turned upside down and left him hanging, not potentially open for being strangled by it.

Unfastening it miraculously in the darkness, he fell a short distance to the ceiling of the plane in a painful heap, bones groaning before he did. It wasn’t until he landed that he realized how sore his entire body was, and he mewled loudly when he hit nothing but roughness. Massaging himself made it worse, so Cloud took a moment to get a closer view of his immediate area and then sat up.

Blinking to lucidity quickly, Cloud had a flash of a moment to look around and take stock of the rapidly deteriorating situation. The exit door was open, thankfully, but ushering in the pools of dark water now rising far too close to his throat. Knowing that he would drown if he stayed in place, Cloud tightly gritted his teeth, stopping them from chattering due to the coursing cold flowing all over his body. Bravely, he took a deep breath and dove out into the unknown.

Mobility was gained as he sucked in oxygen as much as his lungs could hold, swimming down to end up out from being locked beneath seats and other larger items. Potently, Cloud kicked his way to the surface, and clung on to the first thing in front of his eyes—a floating steamer trunk. Biting back a slew of hot tears, he coughed up some salt water, and was greeted with the full force of a tropical storm.

Heavy rain fell down like buckets of water, and lightning served to momentarily illuminate the dark clouds in the sky. Sheepishly, Cloud grimaced and looked around for survivors. The plane behind himself however was totally destroyed and parts of it were still ablaze.

Hating that he was reduced to the role of the single survivor crying out useless questions, Cloud still gathered his guts and shouted himself hoarse, “Hello?! Cid?! Reno?! Can you guys hear me?!” 

Using the steamer trunk as a floatation device, he kicked his way around the crash site to get a better look at the plane’s dark interior. Behind the glass of the pilot’s cabin, he didn’t even see a glimpse of Cid, but a uniform in tatters with his goggles was oddly strapped to his seat. Head spinning once he caught that ominous sign, Cloud weaved back, glaring around to no avail.

“Guys?! Where are you?!”

The plane sadly was rapidly sinking now, as made evident by the loud groaning stemming from beneath Cloud. Shooting tremors into his toes, he deciphered the warning properly, hurrying towards the exit. Glass scraped his chest, the life vest absorbing the damage, bursting in his eardrums. Flinging it off as he sped by, Cloud swam for his life, turning to occasionally stare in true horror at the empty spot in the ocean where the plane used to be. 

Water bubbles and churned around the midsection of the tail and end of the left wing sticking out, but it was indeed a victim to the brutal force. Cloud tried to fight off the growing sense of fear and dismay amidst the rain and black skies, hopelessly mewling and shaking as he created more of a distance between himself and the plane.

It only continued being consumed by the ocean, the tail’s tip jutting out and then stopping since it smashed into a particularly large, round boulder. Suitcases bobbed up around, being tossed this way and that by the fierce waves, guiding the luggage towards Cloud.

Once more, he rested listlessly on the edge of one, using it like a pillow as he gently pushed himself towards the shoreline. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far, and he decided that once he hit dry land, he would begin searching for his friends. Perhaps Reno and Cid were already there…

Ignoring the floating debris, with his target set, Cloud squinted at the distance. The outline of land was visible not too far away, although it was hard to judge with this kind of visibility. It could take him maybe an hour to get there with his current movement speed, but he was determined either way. It was already darker than he wanted, and he was terrified of sharks and other dangerous predators in the ocean.

Now that he had every reason to move faster, the omega set on his course with ravenous power, swimming his way to safety with every ounce of energy and gusto in his bones. Muscles and joints coordinating well, he kicked his way through the rain and tried his best to shun the rumbling thunder and lightning strikes, although he’d always been fearful of storms ever since he was a child. The ocean currents pulled Cloud in different directions; the waves pushed him back, but with each obstacle, his fierce steps only grew stronger.

As Cloud continued to fight his way across the stormy waters, he looked around for a tuft of blond and red hair in the inky black waters beyond. No luck was given, but he powered on through his most arduous journey. Head swiveling around to capture all angles of the large body of water, he tried hard not to think about how long it would take him to get to shore. His father never gave up, and if he were here, he’d get to shore with a serene smile, possibly channeling out the likelihood of finding the shortcut to enlightenment.

Still searching for signs of life, Cloud lost track of time. It seemed like the outline of land wasn’t getting any closer, and the waters of the uncharted territory stretched out into infinity. Truly, as sorrowful as it was to be pessimistic, he was starting to feel like Sisyphus.

While Cloud wrestled with his inner cynic, a ghostly wave crashed in behind him. It sent him shooting high in the air, flailing as he shrieked and almost lost hold on his raft. Holding on as tightly as he could to his floating trunk, he gazed into the reflective surface of the water and paled. He was almost unrecognizable, as his hair was matted and dark grey from the saltwater. He looked haggard, injured, but still a far more robust swimmer when he considered what condition Reno and Cid were possibly in.

In his last fit of strength, almost able to see individual tree branches now, the young man bolted through water. Cloud’s mind was completely devoid of expectation, as he was focused on keeping his head up, and had a singular focus on the slice of land in front of himself that slowly loomed closer. In what felt like a half hour later, he finally reached shore, but he wasn’t expecting a prize for his efforts. 

Dragging his wet, salt-drenched body across the pristine white sand like a worm, he crashed to his knees, taking heaving breaths by the mouthful, the greedy wheezes never-ending as he sprawled onto his back. Rolling around numerous times as though he couldn’t believe it, he grabbed fistfuls of the sand and wept for joy, vowing to never take solid land for granted ever again. 

Head wrenching up as soon as he remembered that his job wasn’t yet complete, Cloud skipped upwards, but due to seaweed and rope tangling around his ankle, he went sprawling face-first in the sand. Coughing it out as he was weighed down by his soggy clothes, after removing the item from binding his leg, he darted forward, lurching side to side when the blood flowed from his skull to his feet.

Everything was already pitted against him. Not only had his youth been ruined because of misfortune and Vincent, but the second he tried to get away, he’d faced disaster, and now, he knew he had no chance of being a dutiful savior to his friends.

The night had dropped over the island like an inky shroud, thick and absolute, smothering the world in darkness. Each step Cloud took was hesitant, each breath shallow and quick, misting faintly in the cooling air. Balancing well on the soil and sand, his heart battered against his ribs with frantic, uneven thuds, a rhythm of rising dread that seemed to echo out into the void around himself.

Spotting nothing in the way of more personal items and equipment, not even the embers of a welcoming fire was spotted from a distance, making him really start to wildly freak out.

“Cid?!” he called out, voice raw and thin. “Reno?! Cid?!”

No answer. Only the hush of waves gnawing at the beach and the low, restless sigh of wind through unseen trees. The bushes at the edge of the jungle stirred, and he froze, his breath caught tight in his throat. Shadows jostled and shifted, and for a moment, he thought he saw a figure move—but when he staggered closer, it was only a tree, its gnarled branches clawing at the sky.

The stars blinked through the cloud cover—cold, indifferent witnesses—and the luminous moon hung low and hidden, casting the beach in a faint, ghostly pallor. Shapes loomed and vanished, and the young man’s eyes strained uselessly against the dark. His imagination tormented himself with the most ominous, odious visions: bodies sprawled in the sand, faces of his best friends ghostly white and turned upward in silent accusations.

“You should have found them sooner,” hissed an aggressive, accusatory voice inside his mind. “You should have done something.”

Unable to see straight, he stumbled forward, calling again, softer now, as if afraid to disturb the night. Parched and confused, Cloud’s throat burned and ached. No sound answered his pleas but the lapping tide and the rustle of unseen creatures moving through the undergrowth. A profound loneliness settled over his brain and heart, so heavy it seemed to pin him to the earth and cast him in the foreign land of true sedition and attrition.

Terror gnawed at the edges of his mind, but exhaustion began to root deeper, dragging at his limbs. He couldn’t help anyone now, not blind in this darkness. He needed to replenish his strength, and panicking—that sinister, spiraling panic—would only bleed him dry. 

Gritting his teeth, he turned back toward the crescent of the beach, tracing the pale line where wet sand gave way to dry soil. He moved carefully, wary of tripping over driftwood or stones he couldn’t see, his hands outstretched like a sleepwalker. There wasn’t a high probability that he could persevere for tonight.

He’d been knocked out in the plane for hours if it was well past sinking by the time he’d woken up. He had no food for now, and with only a few suitcases landing next to him, he had to conserve whatever else had washed up if he was to search.

The night pressed close around him, dense and absolute. Somewhere beyond the trees, something hooted—a low, mournful sound that sent a chill crawling up his spine. It was much too idiotic, dangerous, and useless to squander time wandering the darkness of an unknown, strange island for his friends. Cloud deduced he could be more productive at dawn, which meant he had to at least try and start a fire and get some rest…somehow. 

Strategically, it was a rational thing to do, but in praxis, Cloud knew he was facing a brick wall. Trees were certainly in abundance here, but too thick, tall, and humongous…indeed, they were out of reach. He didn’t have an axe, no knife, nor did he have energy to chop the trees for firewood. He would have to dig a bonfire to keep the fire dry, and with the rain constantly beating over the land, it was impossible. The best he knew he could do was find a dry section of thick grass and bushes, and he set to do so while he was lucid.

Swaggering like an inebriated individual, Cloud whispered repeatedly what sounded like garbled nonsense at first, but when the howling wind died down momentarily, he heard precisely what he’d chanted like a sad prayer.

“Mom…dad…Cid…Reno…mom…mom…h-help me…dad…”

Breath catching once he heaved out for his mother one last time, he approached the opening of a cave. Large, territorial, covered in heaps of jagged, sharp rocks with the mountainous view hiding behind the scintillating stars, it caused him to trip since his head was cast up at it in awe. Stumbling over himself, Cloud’s right hand jutted out to catch his weight before he fell. Rolling through the sand, he swayed to the left, noticing more bushes surrounding the perimeter of the cave. 

Squinting and evading their soggy, sharp branches, he tilted back forward, dragging a long line of sand with himself before the rest of it held the imprint of his torso. With one last glance ahead, shutting out the wide ocean at his back, Cloud knew the only way to survive was forward, quite literally. Eyeballs rolling back in his skull, he cried out hopelessly before he lost all consciousness, but at least the sandy ground in the cave was dry.

:-----: :-----:

Rising to consciousness was, for Cloud, like making his way through wet, black cobwebs. He fought his way through them towards the light of consciousness, even though a silent voice urged him to stay in the dark where it was safe. Giving that voice the metaphorical middle finger, Cloud slowly cracked his eyes open to see where he was and what had happened to him. 

Everything was upside down. The unexpected sight shot him directly to total awareness. The next thing he noticed was that he felt a lot of pressure in his head and ears, and that he had a pretty nasty headache on top of it. He looked down, or up, rather, and his groggy mind projected views as though he was hanging from the ceiling, held in by some kind of harness. All he saw was brunneous shades above, mold and lichen covering the shadowdy, dusky ceiling until he deliberately had to roll over to lie on his stomach.

Where was he, again? He tried to think, and when he grabbed nothing but sand in his palms, it all came back to him in a rush.

“Oh my God! T-the plane crashed! Oh shit, oh SHIT!” 

Like an arrow, Cloud fired himself up and took some deep breaths as he tried to calm down, promising himself a total mental breakdown later. Darting forward on hands and knees until he could properly stand, he emerged from the opening out of the cave to look around the plane still smackdab in the middle of the ocean, but was hindered by the awkward angle and the tightness of the snare of agony holding all of his weight. 

“Reno?!” shocked at how weak his voice sounded, he tried for more volume as he cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered. “Reno! Cid! Cid!” Nothing met his ears, yet he roared as he spun around under the sun, “Is there anyone here?”

On and on, he shouted, his voice breaking a little on the word ‘here’. There was nothing but more silence, but Cloud refused to accept the truth at first glance. Shadows encompassed the bright, sandy ground, and when Cloud opened his sand-encrusted eyes wider, he spotted an eagle.

The large bird of prey circled until it found a nearby perch close to the heaps of boulders to Cloud’s right. The majestic creature landed there and looked down at him with its head cocked sideways in disdain, tormenting him when it was the only companion he had aside from more squawking seagulls. 

All of Cloud’s primal senses kicked into gear in a sudden rush of activity, overwhelming him as he gazed around the small beach he’d woken up on. All around, white, gold, green, brown, and nothing but turquoise ahead belonging to the ocean greeted his eyes. The waves spun, not as wildly as last night, but with momentum and beauty, inviting more hungry gulls to land on rocks far ahead as they began plunging their beaks in the water for food.

“Gah!” was Cloud’s less than admirable response to a throbbing headache, doing very little for his case, but at least making the huge eagle flap its wings and bob its head in curiosity. 

The hot sun overhead beat down on the scene, and he was covered in sand like breaded pork katsu, and probably just as salty too. Standing taller to peer out ahead, he was starting to feel slightly disoriented while baking under the pure rays of the sun. Licking his dry, cracked lips, Cloud then rubbed the sand off his hot face with his equally sand-encrusted hands—which made the process less efficient than it should have been.

Examining himself properly, much to his surprise, his stupid Converse sneakers had managed to cling on to his feet throughout the journey. Disgusting as his soaked socks felt, the rest of his slightly torn clothes were wet and itchy with salt water, pressing over his flesh to make him uncomfortably heavy. Cloud hadn’t lost the humble blue ribbon that he wore in his hair, but his ponytail was a mess, so he tore off the thing and instead pocketed it. 

“What a shitty start to my twenties,” he griped, patting himself down, and then suddenly pausing once his palm ghosted along a protruding mass in his back pocket. 

Fishing it out right away, as he inspected the object, he felt ashamed that he hadn’t thought of going for his phone first. Surprisingly, it was still mostly intact. Aside from two cracks in the screen and a tiny dent in the left, lower corner, through the water and crash, of all things, his phone had made it just fine. 

Checking to see that it still had over 89% battery to his shock, though without any WiFi signal to latch onto, it was better than nothing, and Cloud hugged his phone tightly. Cradling it as if it were a beloved child, he rocked it in his arms before tapping the screen. Once it came to life, he began moving back and forth along the shore, stereotypically seeking all positions, angles for height, doing all sorts of things even including shaking it many times to make his emergency call. 

Sadly, nothing would connect out here. The remote island indeed was cut off from the world, but with his flashlight features and camera, he could at least feel somewhat safer at night. His phone was his entire universe right now, so much that Cloud profusely sobbed as he took into full view his background picture. The selfie with his parents meant everything to him, and despite the cracks in the device, he could constantly look upon these pictures and not feel alone.

Protectively placing his phone in the sand by a few blankets and messy items he couldn’t identify yet, he commented wistfully, “Well, thank God for a four-hundred gil investment. At least the phone is indestructible.”

Numb as his flesh felt, he carried on with his physical exam. Diligence was applied to the task as he wriggled every appendage to his satisfaction. Indeed, he counted four limbs, ten fingers and toes all in decent shape…he was a bit sore but otherwise all right, which was shocking considering the massive plunge on the plane.

Once Cloud was through with examining himself quickly, he really began moving his arms and legs. Making sure everything seemed to be more or less in working order, he still had a bitch of a headache, but he could see, hear, and move all of his limbs. He didn’t believe in God, but at that moment, he understood why some people did. That he had come through a plane crash with so little injury sure seemed like what a lot of people would call a miracle. 

As soon as he was convinced he was mostly okay, he looked over to where his friends had been sitting at the time of the crash, and even at a distance, what he saw sent his heart into his stomach. 

There was a giant hole on Reno’s side of the plane. Screw that, there was no Reno’s side of the plane at all anymore. It had been sheared off by the impact completely, as he could see through the glowing, transparency of the unadulterated water. 

Were his friends really gone and done for? He ascertained it was plausible since a few of the airplane’s seats were also washed up on the shore, not a trace of their clothes and other personal wares in sight. 

Cloud’s nascent horror rose when he realized that Reno’s seat had most likely been ripped out of the floor, and at some point, flung out of the aircraft completely, with Reno likely still strapped to it. A sob caught in his throat as he imagined it, sending him into a new bout of explosive tears.

“Oh shit, oh fuck! What am I going to do?!” Cloud felt the hysteria rising up in his veins like a hot bubble, and barely forced it down. “Don’t think about it,” he told himself, terror always singing in his bloodstream just the same. “Just look for Cid and Reno, then, you can think about other resources later. But not now, or you’ll lose it completely. You can lose it later, Cloud!” 

Gasping, he turned towards the mass of water, knowing that although he had to swim out at least for twenty-five minutes, he had to check once more. Reno and Cid would do the same for him if the roles were reversed, and that was sufficient to send Cloud racing through the shallow water until he slammed himself in the depths. 

Water sloshed around as he stroked powerfully, the same nagging beat slapping over his torso until it burned and strained. Keeping his eyes locked on the plane and reaching it as soon as every muscle felt scorched due to the ferocious speed and strain he’d exerted was his ultimate prize.

Ducking underwater and blinking to steady his murky vision, he located the cockpit and crawled towards it, cautious not to waste all his accrued seconds. He could see the glow of sunlight through the thin curtains wavering around, but it looked rather orange to him. 

“The sun is tricking me,” he vaguely thought to himself. “How long was I out the first time?”  

Frightened when shimmering scales of a large school of fish breezed by the shattered windows, while still holding his breath, though his limbs were heavier than ten-tonne weights, Cloud batted the thin curtain aside and looked inside the murky cockpit.

Bubbles rose everywhere, underwater coral and vegetation dark until the lucent lights illuminated through the broken windshield with what was most definitely the beginnings of sunrise at its peak. Shadows were scarce, but the gleaming water twisted around his eyes, the sparkling rays and colorful hues revealing nothing hopeful, despite the grand prism of color underwater. 

Unfortunately for Cloud, light wasn’t the only thing going through the windshield. At first, he didn’t even recognize what he was seeing, but his imagination toyed with him cruelly. It was like his mind just couldn’t accept or make sense of it, but as he stared at the front of the plane, images spiraled to further aggrieve himself. 

Imagining a blood covered instrument panel, the haunting reality of what could have been set in gradually. Black and white sparked, and Cloud pictured Cid halfway through the windshield, so Cloud could only see the lower part of the man’s body. Nearby, Reno was…gored, impaled by a pole. Brutality was the only word Cloud’s frozen mind could come up with, the torment far too treacherous even if built on a fake premise. 

Running out of oxygen while he continued dreaming up vast terror, he imagined that he was also next to Reno and Cid, his flesh violently shredded by jagged metal and glass, and his ragged clothes saturated in dark, brownish-red blood. Bubbles flew around his visage as he noticed something shiny on the instrument panel, and felt the scream climbing up his throat when he recognized it as a loop of someone’s intestines, hanging from a torn abdomen. 

Too creative for his own good, a horrendous scream was cut off mid-way by the rise of Cloud’s exhale. In another lifetime, he would have turned away to vomit helplessly, but since he hadn’t eaten since the night before, there wasn’t much to come up to his esophagus, and he was wracked with dry heaves for several minutes. Shaking his head around as he beat against the water, when clarity visited himself, he rejected the images of the intestines and learned it really was only seaweed and more rope instead. 

When he thought he might be able to move again, Cloud dashed forward to unhook the rope from the sharp, broken glass. He would need it for sure, and he quickly began using his limited breath wisely to retrieve a few first-aid kits hidden under the pilot’s seat in a special compartment. 

Rotating out of the plane, Cloud’s head broke through the surface of the water, and he immediately began coughing and sputtering his heart out practically. Choking on the fresh mouthfuls of air, he spat out nothing but salt. Awkwardly, he wiped his mouth and eyes, and crawled the rest of the way far out of the wrecked cockpit and left the plane where it was. 

Swimming back to shore, he felt his sternum and stomach burning much worse than his arms and legs. Plopping dully on the wet sand, he fetched his phone again, groaning in many agonizing notes that had no stop. He’d wished so foolishly to find service out here, even though it was a no-go. Many times, he swiped all around, even actually calling the emergency line, only to hear many dial tones followed by an automated, female voice encouraging him to discuss his service options with his plan provider. 

Even more peeved now that his phone had to be temperamental and rub it all in, not to mention how infuriating it was to be drenched for the second time in less than a few hours, Cloud now simply desired to lie there and rot. He didn’t care if the eagle overlooking all his measly antics eventually was replaced by a damn vulture at this point. The sadistic island and all its scary monsters lurking within could rip and tear him to shreds, and he wouldn’t put up a fight. He had no reason to anymore. 

Perhaps it was dramatic to feel and behave this way, certainly, but the dynamics had changed. Statically, he was certain that given how unprepared they all were, due to their pampered, sheltered lifestyles save for a few camping trips here and there, they wouldn’t be able to last more than a few days. Evidence was suggesting that things were too bleak even for his companions. Trained and efficient in flight as Cid was, the man wasn’t a warrior or a wanderer well versed in jungle survival tactics, and the same went for Reno.

They were likely just cast off at sea somewhere…hopefully. If they were injured or possibly had drowned…no, he refused to think of such evil things. 

…There was a way to check! Perhaps it would be fruitless, but he was more annoyed for not having the decency and brainpower to think of such a relatively common, not so complicated solution.

Grabbing his phone again, he unlocked it, mindful of the battery decreasing by two percent just by that action alone, but Cloud refused to let that be a major concern. Red flags were too many in this dire situation as it was, and he didn’t need to focus on that. They would in no time turn to full-blown obsessions and straight up panic anyway, so he figured that instead of wasting time worrying, he could at least be sensible.

First on his contact list, arranged by alphabet, he called Cid. This way, if he was alive and around somehow, somewhere, perhaps he would be able to hear his phone ringing! 

The attempt at connecting went on for almost thirty seconds before Cid’s inbox and voicemail greeting sounded off. Worries driven up a notch, Cloud disconnected and tried again. Receiving the same result compelled him to now shift his focus on Reno. 

Two calls sped by however, but unlike Cid’s inbox, evidently, Reno’s was full and unable to receive any logged messages. There would be no way to hear their phones going off to track and locate both his buddies this way, much to Cloud’s growing chagrin and disappointment. It really was shaping out to be a total disaster. He unfortunately was alone in a desolate, foreign land, abandoned, hopeless, helpless, and lost entirely.

Where he’d formerly shown an extreme level of alacrity, due to the garish light and unseemly facts, now, he had no sign of hope and might that his friends were around. Preservation was his only tool for success and survival, starting from two major requirements all living beings sought after. 

Shelter and food.

Chapter Text

Many things thankfully washed up on shore further away from the main area Cloud had occupied, while other items were strewn on more boulders only a quick swim out ahead. 

Cloud collected at least four suitcases, rummaging through the packs that Cid asked Reno to carry. They had some sort of waterproof lining so the items were only damp at the very worst. The packs however did indeed contain some useful items: a small axe, a box of matches, a flashlight, a hunting knife, and shockingly, a flare gun. Of course, the longer pack held more safety guide books and extra BBQ fluid with many prongs and utensils. 

Staring at them, Cloud resisted the urge to smack both his friends with the damn things for getting him into this mess in the first place. Well, Cid being Cid, at least the bastard was well prepared for emergencies and quick stops given his lifestyle routinely traveling.

Arranging the things he needed in gigantic piles under the protective canopy of the same cave he’d slumbered in, Cloud weakly squinted up above once he’d finished his trask. The sun was still up and close to the middle of the sky, so he likely didn’t have the luxury of taking a quick nap. Time to get cracking and figure out where in God’s green earth he was, and how to find some food.

What surrounded him was the major ocean on one side, a dense tropical forest on the other, and a shoreline that stretched out into infinity. There seemed to be no man made structures in the vicinity or even a man made pathway. It wasn’t too promising, but it was time to explore, seeing as a few of the suitcases held belongings which weren’t ruined by water.

A long stroll to the left then right brought him little comfort. After navigating back with a few boxes and bags, though there were traces of water and salt everywhere, the provisions weren’t that spectacular to begin with. 

Cereal, oats, snack bars, a package of pretzels, nuts, and three containers of rapidly drying and withering berries maybe would be able to provide sustenance for three days at the most. Clearly, Reno and Cid had been planning another trip together, but judging from the BBQ fluid, they likely weren’t including crash landing on a barren island on their itinerary. They would likely have gone to another coastal, tropical place to purchase other food ingredients, all of which meant Cloud was still hugely screwed.

Storing the food in the cave, he feasted on a chocolate chip and banana snack bar immediately. Savagely tearing into it, he stuffed at least half of it in his mouth, swallowing it all in one go. Barely masticating, as the crumbs flew everywhere, he began surveying the water once more. Smooth and untarnished by disturbances in the gentle ripples, he occasionally heard sloshing and plopping not far away. Even when he’d been under the water the first time, he spotted many tiny fish, and he rather liked fish.

“Ugh,” Cloud murmured in annoyance, wiping his lips and then smacking his tongue over the melted chocolate. “Forget it. I don’t have fishing equipment with me, and catching them on my own either way is gonna be a bitch.”

There was no recipe, no intelligent, efficient blueprint here to obtain what he wanted. Though he could mentally plot and cultivate a plethora of scenarios where he would be victorious as a great hunter, those dreams were only dreams. The phantasmagorical ideals would never be harvested, furtively configuring in the recesses of his mind, eventually dissipating since they would never become a significant part of reality. 

Facts were facts. Aside from a few silly guide books on camping and hunting, Cloud didn’t completely know where to even begin. More than that, he didn’t have the heart to hurt any creature, breaking down many times whenever pets were put down. Even if he was starving and had to do the gruesome deed, there simply was no telling what kinds of beasts lurked on the island. 

Still, that begged an important question Cloud wasn’t capable of answering immediately, but definitely weighing as he started rambling to himself while pacing around the opening of the cave. Tugging on his blond hair and twisting the strands until he genuinely started crying from the pain lancing over his scalp, he couldn’t leave the vast doors closed, going through the ordeal of conversing with himself aloud as he planned everything he could in an organized fashion.

Shadow large as he painted the ground with his form hanging under the sun, Cloud squished through the sand as he groused, “I can’t run, can’t hide. I’m no hunter, not a gatherer. I’m scared, losing track of time, and I have food for maybe a few days. I could stay here and hope that someone will fly or swim by on a boat, but the chances are odd…”

When he reached a spot tucked between two large boulders, he crouched, drawing his knees to his chest. The sand was cool beneath his weight, gritty against his skin when it rubbed over his hands and toes. He huddled there, rocking slightly, his eyes darting toward the dark line of the trees and the black water stretching into infinity.

Above, when nightfall would once more visit, the stars would peek down through the shredded veil of clouds—distant, twinkling fires offering no warmth, no comfort. He whispered the names of his loved ones a last time, a broken offering to the night, before letting his eyes flutter closed.

Tomorrow would never arrive if he didn’t make it past today. Tonight, he had to survive the loneliness, and this was his only mission built on sense and courage.

Staring out ahead at the massive ocean, the body of water surrounding the land was perhaps calm, but Cloud was now extremely paranoid after personally witnessing how the elements of nature had turned against him in seconds. He didn’t have any way to tell what would happen, nor did he trust the sky. Even if he eventually made a small boat or raft, he wouldn’t get very far, and he’d likely be prone to drowning if the wind swayed differently.

Head now facing the large woods behind himself which looked more like a jungle than anything else, he squinted at the dark masses of branches and leaves swaying. Practically daring him to be bold, twigs snapped as though whispering out to him so cruelly, playing tricks on his eyes. Nervous as ever, mouth parched, he thickly swallowed, the sound rough, as though sand had gotten in his mouth and throat. 

Coughing up nothing but heat and dryness, he winced, massaging his throat, though it never helped. “God,” he whimpered, “I’m so thirsty…have no good food.” For the last time, he circled the main shoreline, listening to the waves as he chanted back to himself, “Soon, I won’t have much energy to even run. If I find a predator, it’s over. I can’t rely on waiting this out, I don’t have a way to signal for help here.”

Lights flared in his head as he recalled how many old islands and forests held sheds, shacks, old shantytowns, water towers, and a radio tower. It was probable that there was something like that here. Old as this place was, to Cloud, it was highly unlikely that humans had never passed by and lived on it before. Besides, he had no time to remain inactive and insouciant anymore. This was literally a case of survival of the fittest and strongest, which obviously would never be defined by resting here like some tool.

Courageous as he could be, he straightened his posture, arms tense as if braced for a violent battle. Snatching the small axe in his right hand, with the object brandished for protection, he prayed he would never have to use it. Assuming he could get by with an intimidating aura alone, he faced the lush, silent wilderness, shuddering when the wind caressed his back and gently massaged his hair. 

“Okay. Let’s just be calm and walk. If I stay here, I’ll be dead for sure. Can’t depend on that luck, so I have to keep moving and maybe come back here for the rest of my shit.”

While it wasn’t a solid, more comfortable approach, it was certainly optimal, pragmatic, and reasonable. The more he scavenged and gathered items, the better chances he had of survival, and there was just no way to even consider drinking ocean water for that matter either. Already, he was dying of thirst, and that was a motivational factor plenty to get Cloud to simply ease his inhibitions slightly and take the first step forward.

The florae of the bush were a combination of familiar species found on Wutai’s southern islands and some fairly exotic ones like the overabundant palm tree. Cloud quickly came across a patch of healthy bamboo plants, and decimated a young one with his axe. Not only was it in his way, but when Cloud chopped it to a more manageable length and weighed it, throwing it from hand to hand, voila, he had the beginnings of a makeshift knife handle.

When a nasty bee and mosquito flew around his skull, Cloud wanted so badly to curl up and just lay there in front of the ocean holding the plane, but a little voice told him he had to get moving. It was going to be dark soon, and the wreckage wasn’t going to be much of a shelter with one whole side of the aircraft missing.

The further Cloud walked on however, the more he wondered if he really was stuck between a nightmare and pleasant dream, for the landscape was rather appealing and serendipitous in many ways, but constantly held that same shadow of ignoble whispers too.

The jungle itself looked like a child had sploshed layers of solid blue, white and green paint on a blank canvas, the blue strip of sky, white line of sweltering bubbly clouds, and a vast green canopy stretching beneath. It created a sign—a flag, the cerulean, pale and shimmering emerald banner of the mass of land, surmounted on high to declare the jungle’s glory and prowess, demanding dominance over any other life form because it was only set to present disturbing but potent sights out ahead.

The canopy was a thick verdant blanket; it smothered the jungle until Cloud could hardly breathe due to the oppressive, heavy air. The canopy looked like an endless swamp of algae blooming, rolling over the hills and valleys, soft to the touch like moss. Above the line of trees, the clouds sweltered at the horizon that marked the sky from the jungle: a bubbling, ever expanding vapor.

It hung there, like the crest of a colossal wave, frozen in its rolling white splendor that would soon engulf the sky. All around lay an azure blue backdrop, a drowsy sea, giving way to the roaring, thundering, white waves. Small birds flitted between the clouds and tree tops giving, forever wary and alert for danger, soon disappearing before he had a chance to gape at them.

When the last of the birds flew out of sight and silence reigned, Cloud was anticipating some danger, shuddering despite the sun heating his flesh in an admirable caress.

An odd parrot studied Cloud from the highest point of a viney branch more green than brown. Its sharp, yellow beak glinted madly in the serene sun as it scanned the sky for prey, sharp talons protruding from the colorful plumage in a major warning. The feathers on its head were like dark chocolate, all neatly aligned, not a single one ruffled. Nearby, the same eagle Cloud had suspected was at the beach appeared, calm, deadly, and completely in control as it too examined him with interest. 

Its black, beady irises glared down at the trees surrounding a cluster of rocks akin to onyx gems suspended in a sea of amber-imperial, powerful, and raw underground. Light spread as a reflection warped, made manifest where the tree trunks were slightly spread to allow the filtered light through to reveal the overgrown path, where seldom dared to venture forth, yet he was supposed to press on.

A potpourri of noises unknown to himself and a haunting cornucopia of smells began adding onto his grief. Far too sensitive and delicate for the rough outdoor environment, Cloud held a trembling hand at his side and then swept it up to cover his nose, squinting ahead when the atmosphere and air pressure changed. He’d only made it up past a large slope, perched on a grassy knoll when his ears slightly popped and an icy breeze tickled over his flesh.

A paucity of warmth and calm now had arrived, procellous signs glaring down over the landscape. 

It truly was perplexing and miraculous how in the heart of the vast and furious tempest, hidden deep within the eye of the storm, this island lay so achingly beautiful it seemed almost imagined. At times, it was akin to a flicker of paradise suspended between chaos and calm. 

The sky overhead was once an otherworldly dome of soft, steely gray, glowing faintly with an eerie luminescence that filtered through the swirling walls of thunderclouds encircling this pocket of serenity. The nippy cold in the air was now sharp and clean, like glass kissed by ocean mist, and the atmosphere hung heavily with an electric stillness, as if time itself was holding its breath. 

Cloud could envision it now; the beach curving in a gentle crescent of fine, silver-pearl sand, smooth and gleaming with wetness, where waves—kissed with phosphorescent turquoise—rolled in gently, as if the sea had forgotten its rage just before reaching the shore. They would go on, picking up strength due to the orchestration of the wind, collapsing into a fizz of white foam that rushed lovingly up to the roots of palm trees, their trunks arched like dancers frozen mid-bow. The palms around shuddered in the wind’s lull, their long, emerald fronds slick with rain and bent downward like dripping tapestries of jade.

All around, the jungle loomed in saturated brilliance, even during the beginning stage of a wild storm. Every shade of green burst forth—olive, lime, viridian, moss, and the deepest forest green—layer upon layer of wet foliage breathing in the storm’s hushed lull. Leaves quivered beneath droplets the size of pearls, trembling but unbroken. Giant banana leaves shone like polished malachite, while thick vines snaked around tree trunks in coils of brown and blood-red, glistening like velvet ropes soaked in heady wine.

Among the foliage, exotic flowers bloomed in riotous, soggy splendor. Primrose petals, soft and butter-colored, drooped under the weight of rain, while marigold blossoms burned like small suns smoldering through the mist. Crimson hibiscus flowers, ragged and soaked, clung to the branches like smears of fire across the green. Orchids in haunting shades of amethyst and ghostly white spilled down from the canopy like weeping chandeliers, petals heavy with moisture, their fragrance faint but unmissable—earthy, sweet, and damp.

A cerulean bird with wings like a brushstroke of lightning soared through the thick air, feathers slick and gleaming, trying to seek shelter immediately. Parrots, feathers damp but no less vivid—scarlet, sapphire, gold—nestled quietly in high canopies, ruffling themselves beneath the safety of overhanging boughs. At the edge of a mossy pool formed by the rain, a jaguar cub, soaked to the bone, watched on silently, its coat darkened to near-black, yellow eyes glowing faintly in the gloom.

The underbrush was alive with movement: frogs the color of emeralds and topaz, with glistening, glimmering skin, chirped softly in the shadows; insects flashed like fragments of stained glass; and geckos in hues of jade and sunset scuttled beneath sheltering leaves. Even the butterflies, sodden though they were, carried the storm’s palette—turquoise, coral, and jet-black wings trembling as they clung tightly to petals and bark to wait the deluge out.

Above it all, the sky still muttered with distant thunder, low and constant, like the purring breath of some ancient god watching over the land. Rain poured even harsher in thin veils from the dark circle of clouds that smeared the horizon, catching the light in prisms as it fell. It beaded liberally on every surface, turned every leaf into a mirror, every flower into a cup overflowing with the grace of the heavens. 

This was nature in her wildest contradiction—calm within calamity, glowing through gloom, as though the storm wasn’t a key destroyer but a keeper of secrets, cradling this hidden Eden in its vast, trembling hands.

Pelted down by it, Cloud shivered when the rivulets trickled down from his shoulders, spreading across his forearms before rolling past his wrists. Dangling over his fingers and dripping from the tips, he shook wildly when his soggy hair curtained his already poor view. Not knowing what to do and where to go, he pivoted halfway around, carrying on the same path, holding his head down. 

Growls were interspersed with the rain lashing through the tangled canopy like thrown needles, thin, cold, and unrelenting. The young man stumbled blindly through the dense jungle, every inch of his form soaked and trembling. His clothes were now glued to his skin like a second, suffocating layer, waterlogged and heavy, dragging him down with each uncertain step. Cloud’s breath came out in short, ragged bursts, steaming the air before his face, but vanishing almost immediately in the chill that sank deep into his bones. 

It didn’t take a genius to tell him he was lost—utterly, terrifyingly lost—and the storm above seemed to echo his panic, rumbling with a kind of monstrous laughter that chilled him deeper than the punishing rain.

This wasn’t his imagination at work. The forest was indeed alive, too alive—overwhelming in its strangeness. Trees towered in misshapen silhouettes, their trunks black with wetness and twisted like arthritic limbs, limbs that seemed to shift slightly when he blinked. The foliage crowded in, thick with broad, dripping leaves that slapped against his face as he pushed forward. 

Each branch cracked like a gunshot underfoot, each rustle making his heart leap up to his throat. The shadows between the trees stretched long and too fluidly, contorting into beastlike shapes that his frenzied imagination thought of as watching eyes, teeth, claws, and waiting mouths. 

Cloud spun suddenly, convinced he saw something move—something large, loping, monstrous. When his vision settled, his stomach bottomed out. There was nothing. Just dripping vines and dark green walls of foliage. Still, he heard it: crack—snap—a low, creaking groan like something ancient waking up. Then, a sound like a muffled growl reverberated from the distance, so soft and deep it thrummed in his chest and rattled his bones.

Scared out of his mind since he hadn’t seen anything, he wondered how crazy things were becoming if comfort would be found in himself spotting a predator as opposed to not finding one.

The wind howled as it threaded between the trunks, whistling like a death cry through narrow gaps, and the rain made a sound like quiet static on every leaf, every surface. Above it all, a medley of strange noises coiled through the underbrush—clicking sounds, distant animalistic shrieks, sharp thumps like something dropping from a tree.

Cloud’s mind conjured brutal images without his consent: horned creatures with eyeless faces, slithering things with too many legs, great shadows with teeth made of bone and breath that reeked of wet rot.

Head aching, his stomach turned as though reminding him that he was freezing. His arms are wrapped tightly around his body involuntarily, his soaked skin puckered with gooseflesh, lips blue with the creeping cold. Exhaustion pressed down on him like a weight from the sky, and he didn’t know how long he’d been walking—or stumbling, or running—only that he couldn’t afford to ever stop.

Then, ahead, the path opened when the tall grass parted and bushes bent. Three forks, each one swallowed quickly by dense jungle and veiled in falling rain were his options of progression. Accepting it, Cloud stood at the intersection, legs trembling, brain sluggish with fear and fatigue, the choices blurring like a bad dream.

Wiping his eyes, when he tilted his head about, suddenly, colors mingled before settling in the overgrowth, and then, he spotted it to his left keenly.

A figure was crouched so sleekly, quite low to the ground. Feline in shape, but far too large, far too still. Its fur—if it was fur—happened to be matted and slick with rain, mottled in a pattern that appeared to shift as he stared without blinking. Yellow-green eyes burned through the gloom in tormenting sparkles, the creature opening its mouth to hiss, slow and sharp.

Like steam escaping from hell, its lips curled back to reveal long, hooked fangs—unnatural in their curve and glistening like ivory knives. Claws—four, maybe five inches long—unsheathed into the mud, the shoulders rolling in an ominous threat that it was ready and willing to spring at him.

Cloud recalled everything he’d been taught regarding meeting wild beasts in their natural domain. Wisely, he didn’t breathe or move, keeping his gaze locked on the predator completely. The creature didn’t yet pounce, but its shoulders bunched up tighter, muscles flexing like coiled ropes beneath its skin as it emitted one final growl and pinned its ears back. 

That was the warning, and all Cloud needed to get moving. With a strangled cry, he bolted straight forward—into the middle path and into the thick, unrelenting wall of wet leaves and thorns, letting them scratch and whip across his face. He stumbled repeatedly over roots, feet pounding and kicking up mud as he nearly fell, but kept going. Behind him, the sound of rustling foliage followed briefly—enough to fill his mouth with the taste of terror—before being swallowed by the rain.

As he raced on while sucking up as much oxygen as he could, arms and legs blasting forth, Cloud’s heart slammed against his ribs. While he crashed deeper into the jungle, the shadows, the unknown tormented him relentlessly, but he sped on, hoping only to survive whatever nightmare he’d wandered into.

Branches whipped violently across his face like fingers trying to pull him back. Thorns caught and tore tiny, stinging cuts across his arms and cheeks, and roots reached for his ankles like traps hidden just beneath the soil, but he didn’t stop. 

He couldn’t stop. The only thing that mattered was distance—putting space between himself and whatever beast had hissed at him like death itself.

The forest thickened into a blur, and just as his legs began to buckle from sheer exhaustion, he spotted salvation—a hollowed, massive log, cracked and crumbling with rot, slick with algae and fungus, half-sunken into the loamy earth. It looked wide enough for an adult man to squeeze into, dark and reeking of mildew and decay, but right now, it was as decent as a protective castle. Ducking his head, Cloud stumbled forward and practically dove inside, knees hitting soggy wood with a muffled thump.

Stomach and sternum dragging until he raised himself not to create more noise, he fit well inside the log, everything dim and close. The air was heavy with the damp musk of wet earth and old life dying, rain hammering the outside world like a warning drum. Slapping a hand over his nostrils as they flared, inside the log, it was all dry, sounds muffled, and his emotions softened. 

On high alert, Cloud silently curled into himself in a tight position, arms strewn around his shivering body, heart a metronome of pure terror. His breath heaved for minutes on end, but slowly, slowly, it began to reach a calming point.

Perhaps the animal chasing him had lost interest…maybe the creature didn’t follow, but either way, after waiting it out for a few more minutes, Cloud relaxed on the bottom of the old wood. This log was his safe haven, if only for a few minutes. Head spinning and lungs on the verge of burning and bursting, he allowed himself to close his eyes. 

Just for a second. Just to catch his—

Thunk.

Another sound suddenly echoed all around. Subtle. Wet. A kind of shlup, like something large and heavy shifting slowly through soaked, pulpy wood. It was emitted once more, and Cloud’s breath hitched as he opened his eyes and realized that something else was in here with himself, and to deny it was ridiculous.

Warm air kissed the left side of his face, the old log groaning—a gradual, creaking shift of something vast pressing against the rotten structure. Amid the heat, there came the smell: not mildew, not rot—but flesh. Sour, meaty, hot breath rolling toward him in slow waves that poured toxic bile into every pore. Fingers twitching like his eyelids, as his heart rate again kicked up, Cloud turned his head, trembling furiously, eyes wide in the darkness.

Unable to spot anything beyond the tip of his own nose, as soon as he focused, the view aligning with the mass of wood all around, there—half-shrouded by shadows but unmistakably real—was a wide, elongated head. Mere inches away from his own, it hung there like an insidious spell summoned out of darkness to rupture his tranquility, and it certainly did the job well.

Rough, coarse skin camouflaged well with the log. Wedge-shaped, and scaled like wet stone, its nostrils flared, a forked tongue flicking in and out, tasting the scent of him. Its eyes opened wider now—twin slits of burning orange, like coals stoked in the belly of the earth. As the forked tongue flicked again, its lips peeled back to reveal rows of jagged, uneven teeth, each one yellowed and glistening with thick, ropy strands of saliva.

It was some kind of lizard, closely resembling a komodo dragon. The thing was massive, easily twice the size of any regular komodo dragon, however. Its limbs were folded beneath its bulk, thick and muscled, with caliginous claws like rusted meat hooks sunk into the wood. Its scaled body shifted slightly, slithering with a sickening grace, and the wood groaned louder under its weight to signify that where it was once slumbering, now, due to Cloud intruding on its home, it was waking up.

Enough was enough. One look at the reptile was all it took. Cloud didn’t even have time to think, for it would be futile. On edge, he erupted like a volcanic dart from the log with a scream that tore from the bottom of his lungs. His hands clasped onto anything to steady himself, soon finding mud, then grass, then air as he scrambled up and bolted. Behind him, the log shuddered violently—splinters spraying from its hollow as the beast lunged from its nest.

The jungle roared around him, the rain now falling in horrendous, blinding sheets, and the ground beneath his feet was nothing but slick, soupy soil. His converse sneakers were sadly done for, too caked by mud, and he eventually slipped—his knees twisting badly—and then, as he slid forth, spinning sideways one last time, he was finally down.

Crack!

Eyes swimming with salty tears, he hit the earth hard, his breath rushed and squeezed out in a wheeze. His face was buried in wet grass and mud, his limbs trembling, chest heaving like it was being squashed by invisible hands. Feeling the sky and earth rumbling from thunder and the heavy lizard approaching, Cloud tried to push up, but his arms barely answered. 

If he had a brain that was working, while face-first in the grass, leaves, and rich, pungent soil, Cloud knew he would’ve used his axe. Perhaps it would fail on the feline he’d seen earlier, but it would’ve kept the lizard at bay. Sadly, when he’d tripped, the axe had fallen somewhere under heaps of stones and grass, and he was much too tired, weak, and scared to search for it.

The best he could do was awkwardly turn over on his back, wincing when through the downpour, he counted the remaining steps left over and scant distance he measured visually. It couldn’t even be more than ten feet, at best, and then, he would be sharing oxygen with the ugly thing yearning for his flesh and blood.

Gargantuan up close and ever so menacing in its own universe where it was a king, the reptilian beast crashed through the underbrush, impossibly fast, shaking the trees with its bulk. Rain streamed off its thick hide like water down stone, revealing mottled scales of ashen gray, coal black, and a bruised, sickly green. Its tail lashed behind its massive form like a battering ram, and with every lurching step, the earth seemed to shudder.

Its mouth hung open in a grotesque grin of hunger, fangs primed, forked tongue snaking out to taste the air again. Those burning eyes—glowing with molten, infernal light—fixed on Cloud, unwavering. Not hissing, the hulking monster clawed at the soft earth, as though warning Cloud that it could bury him right there on the spot if it wished. Nostrils flaring mildly, it scented at him, targeting its victim, though biding time before dragging itself even closer.

Perhaps emitting its own rendition of a growl—a deep, grinding sound that rolled like boulders dragging across stone abrasively slammed out. Lowering itself near Cloud, the beast showed not even an ounce of fear, no hesitation—only endless hunger. The kind of hunger that knew its prey had nowhere left to run.

The young omega knew he was trapped, with only trees and their huge roots unevenly bumping against himself. Head swiveling, he tried to crawl, clawing at the grass with shaking fingers, but the beast was already upon him. Closing in too quickly, vapors floating around each time it breathed, it opened its mouth to reveal fresh blood coating its teeth, giving Cloud an even larger cause for concern. 

There wasn’t any feasible way to outrun and overpower this monster. Cloud’s fingers scraped and frantically dug into the mud, dragging dead leaves and sodden clumps of earth with them as he scrambled backward, barely upright, hardly functioning. The storm roared overhead like a war god’s wrath, wind screaming between the trees, the sky split open again and again by lances of lightning. Steam was now before his eyes—coming with an almost deliberate slowness—a result of the beast breathing over him.

Its massive, scaled body moved with a ghastly grace, like a serpent given the legs of a godless predator. The water rolled from its back in rivulets, exposing rough skin patterned in twisted mottling—gray as ash, green as rot, and tinged with a bruised, meat-colored purple. Its eyes glowed like fire coals buried in a pit of tar, seething with hunger. 

Once it was close enough to brush his bangs about with its rancid, foul breath, it let out a low, wet growl that rolled through the forest like thunder from beneath the earth. Its tongue flickered—a twitching fork that tasted the air, licking at his tears, sweat, and fear. Savoring him with deliberate slowness, back and forth, it scented its meal while Cloud froze in terror, resorting to shutting his eyes as he mentally escaped the onslaught of brutality on the way.

Cloud tried to stand, to crawl, tried to do something—but his limbs betrayed himself. They shook too much; his body was already at its limit, trembling from cold, massive exhaustion, from soul-deep terror. Choking up, his astringent throat tightened, and though his mouth opened, no sound came.

His breath hitched into nothingness, and he really couldn’t breathe. He’d never known what it was to be prey—until now, alluring, vivid, with the most spectacular moments of his young life speeding in his mind like a movie reel on a fast forward loop.

Unbidden and unfiltered, he saw it all, feasting on it since it brought himself comfort and warmth.

The light of childhood days dancing through orchard trees. As the gusts of wind brushed past his nostrils, he could always enjoy the scent of fresh-baked bread from the kitchen window. Soon, he remembered his father’s rough hand ruffling his hair after his first fall and scraped knee sustained from learning how to ride a bike. Then, there was the first time he’d seen the ocean, cheering on between his parents on their cruise ship, numerous photographs snapped in quick succession.

The first time he’d developed feelings for a cute little boy during recess, the emotions carrying through past puberty were seen next. Riding through them all, he recalled the rejection, leading to the only time he’d cried in the rain. Movie and game nights with friends often hyped him up, uplifting his soul as they always wiped away all his stress. 

Within the shifting of seasons, there would always be a single, constant note, a valuable message even pertaining to his plight currently. It would bring him to his end, but in another realm, his travels and adventures far over, maybe he would be reunited with his family. All he could repeat was his mother’s voice, soft as dusk as she whispered so gently to him, “Come home safe.”

How he’d gone through abstention of what he yearned for, but now, here he was, on his back, in the filth of the jungle, inches from death in the form of an unwieldy creature that didn’t even know his name. Saying one final prayer to whatever god that it would all be painless and quick, Cloud closed his eyes and waited for the jaws to close. Saliva had dripped and oozed on his face, the burning pressure of the gravel and frozen rain so powerfully grating that it disintegrated his bones. Soon, he would be nothing.

In a vexatious moment of silence, suddenly, a FWEEEEE—followed by a thud rammed on the ground. It was a sharp whistle of air—then, there came a brutal, bone-cracking, ground-splitting impact.

The sound was wrong. Too sudden. Too heavy. The kind of sound the world created when something unnatural forced its way into it. There came an absence of heat and the horrid aroma wafting off the lizard’s breath, and Cloud flinched instinctively—but death didn’t come to him…there was only silence, so painstaking and ominous that he knew he had to look. 

Thick, heavy silence, broken only by the pouring rain and the whimper of wind between the trees rushed on before decreasing, the diminished speed heightening Cloud’s awareness. Ascertaining that something horrible was on the way if the lizard hadn’t attacked, his heartbeat drowned everything else—boom, boom, boom—in his ears, behind his eyes, in his throat. The seconds stretched, warped by the echo of panic, the world dipping in and out of focus.

Something had changed, and it wasn’t glorious if it had scared off that rancid monster.

The air still tasted like blood and stormwater—but the heat of the predator, its heavy, foreboding presence, all of it was gone.

Feeling something else lurking when twigs snapped, Cloud opened his eyes. To his genuine horror and confirmation, the monster was no longer moving. Instead of lunging at him, it was down now, practically flat. It lay there, sprawled and heavy, its limbs twisted grotesquely under its own enormous weight.

A crude, massive spear—made from wood, jagged and dark, with what looked like obsidian or sharpened stone latched to its tip—protruded from its spine; rather, the weapon plunged deep through flesh and bone. Steam rose faintly from the wound as blood—a dark, oily red-black—pulsed weakly from the gaping hole.

Its jaws were still open, slack in death, those rows of serrated teeth no longer snarling but stuck in a final, dumb grimace. Its eyes, glowing just moments ago with infernal fire, had dimmed to glassy, lifeless stones. Lifeless, it was now the hunted prey, which begged a serious question Cloud was truly scared of.

All he could do was stare, motionless, the rain dripping into his eyes, his face streaked with water and mud. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. The jarring, abrupt shift from death to survival had happened in the blink of an eye, and his mind was too battered to keep up.

Still gasping, madly trembling, he slowly turned his head to the right. The jungle lay there—dense, sodden, as if nothing had happened. The heavy rain pounded the leaves, mist curled low between the roots, and the trees stood tall and silent, concealing whatever secrets they harbored. No sign of anything, but then—to the left, there was movement. Small. Subtle. He detected it when a few leaves clipped off and fell, swiveling numerous times since they’d been orchestrated by another force of gravity to do so.

The tall grass shivered, howls, crickets chirping, birds fluttering, and other forms of ambiance decimated to nothingness. Leaves shifted in careful succession, parting without sound, the ground shaking as the planet took one final breath. Something was there—not rushing, not charging, but moving with the assurance of a being that knew it was in control. Whatever the source was, it wasn’t to be trifled with or challenged, the spiritual energy much too vast and surreal.

Peering at the leafy, grassy ground besmirched with blood, Cloud’s breath caught again, the unmitigated reason to be frightened inescapable. A cold sweat broke across his brow, mingling with the chill of the rain that now felt like ice against his skin. He felt it before he saw it: a presence. Something old, large, ominous. Something was watching, looming in the background, only revealing itself when it wanted to be seen.

Despite the moratorium on peace and light, a figure stepped slowly from behind the veil of foliage, first a silhouette, then something more. Cloaked in patchwork fabrics soaked through with rain and streaked with jungle grime, it moved like a shadow coming to life. Its angular face was obscured, hidden behind what looked like a mask—carved bone or bark in the shape of a wolf skull, painted with streaks of crimson and ochre, primal symbols curling around hollow eye slits.

Long, silver hair dangled everywhere, soaked beyond belief past broad, massive shoulders, the feet holding some kind of footwear like Moccasins, though its muscular form rippling and shredding to move the rain everywhere off its torso was the scariest aspect it possessed. 

In one hand, it held another weapon—long, dark, dripping with blood not its own, and in the other, with a steady grip and sway, it bent over, grabbing the hunted predator by the nape. Slinging its huge form over its shoulders in one move no regular man could perform, it draped the deceased animal there, then lifted its mask.

Without blinking as soon as the obstructive piece was removed to reveal an alabaster face, Cloud could only stare. Confusion and trauma blistered on, his body had forgotten how to move, heart pounding frantically as if trying to escape his chest.

The figure stood silent. Watching. Waiting. Not approaching. Not retreating, but now, Cloud could vividly see that it wasn’t some kind of demon or phantom after all, but it was another regular man. Perhaps no older than thirty at most, the unknown person was at least 6’3” inches in height, a towering, though not lanky individual. Not an ounce of his body was covered in fat, too lean, as if he’d gone all his life without poor quality meals.

The mask was carved to hold wolf-like ears pinned at the top, but it was simply an effect of a hood to protect from the rain. Once lowered, the rest of the man’s silver, long hair fanned out, magicked by the wind to match his thick, massive beard of liquid mercury.

However thick the facial hair was, Cloud was more intrigued by his eyes of pure emerald, far richer and greener with the depth and quality unable to be found in the heart of the woods. They were slitted, but radiated light and other prisms of color, as if this man held every secret there was without even uttering a word.

Stunlocked into pure awe, unable to speak yet, Cloud paused, lying there in the cold earth, caught between death and some stranger’s salvation. Glancing at the odd man from head to toe twice as his shudders became worse, he realized something far more perilous than the monster nearly slaughtering him; he wasn’t alone in this jungle. This was another predator, perhaps, but also potentially a friend, if he played his cards right.

And this—this madness and hellscape, it was only the beginning.

Jaw quaking uncontrollably, before Cloud knew it, his eyeballs rolled back into his head, his right hand darting out to try and make contact in a pleading gesture, but it was too much. He’d been through more than what his tiny, exhausted body and brain could handle, inflamed and drained. Stretching out before the mysterious hunter, he took one last breath, heaving it out like a significant weight before he fainted in the soggy, wet earth.

:-----: :-----:

It began in phantasmagoria—a fever-dream of molten images, each more maddening than the last.

Relying on instinct, Cloud hurtled through the jungle, lungs ablaze, bare feet slapping the soaked earth. Everything was a morass of true heat. The sky above himself split with a bombastic roar, lightning pouring down in jagged streaks, scorching the dark canopy into quicksilver ghosts. Steam curled from the ground with every step, turning the world into a smothering mirage of verdant green and toxic gold.

Vines snagged his limbs like grasping hands. Shadows spun and melted behind him, each one alive, each one waiting. And behind—somewhere too close—a thing thundered after him. He couldn’t properly see it, but he felt it: an ancient predator, vast, ravenous, moving with purpose. Its breath was the wind, its growl a harbinger of extinction as it locked onto him to make him feel even weaker and smaller. Every tree ahead loomed like an omen, inviting him to get lost in the wonderland maze.

The air itself became spurious—false, unreliable, a trick of the mind. It blurred and trembled, refracting monstrous shapes that laughed in the corners of his eyes. His steps faltered, maladroit and uncoordinated, as the ground beneath his legs shifted into muck, then blood, then bone. And still, he ran.

The more he did, he found the layout and journey ahead not as a crafted dream, but as a descent—a wild plummet into the unhinged tapestry of delirium where sense unraveled and memory dissolved like paper in rain.

The jungle was fire and wet breath, and his most sorrowful, harrowing fears came to life.

Branches lashed his face and tangled his feet, the world around himself a quagmire of steaming green and brown-black ooze. The air boiled with the scent of ripened rot, pollen, and blood. Trees loomed overhead like titan sentinels, their roots knotted and slick beneath his stumbling steps, their bark oozing sap that looked too much like something alive.

He gasped, lungs tearing at the air, but the humidity turned every breath into syrup. Steam churned around his eyes in thick, lurid plumes, all to trick and confuse him even more than the huge jungle did. The sky above swirled in unnatural colors—sickly magenta and sulfur yellow—as if the heavens themselves were bruised. Lightning carved the bridges open in bombastic shrieks, jagged and white, revealing glimpses of howling branches and quaking canopies.

Then, it found him.

From the haze and waterfall of rain erupted the beast—a grotesque amalgam of scaled muscle and teeth, its eyes smoldering coals. It lunged after assessing and locking onto him, and he reacted quite naturally to its presence as he screamed and bolted. 

Time fractured, but before the maw could close—before oblivion consumed him—a sharp crack resounded from the depths of the world. A shadow stepped between them, then, glorified silence took over.

No shape. No name. Just the certainty of something massive and cruel pounding after him through the mire, its steps seismic, its breath scorching the back of his neck. Trees splintered. Vines tore free. Earth cracked beneath its weight. Every footfall was a malignant drumbeat announcing death.

He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. His mind refused to show it to him, refused to grant form to something so unnatural. But he could hear it—its guttural panting, its slobbering hunger, the way the jungle itself recoiled around it. The shrieks of disturbed birds spiraled above, the calls of unseen beasts warping into twisted laughter.

On the neverending path of doom, Cloud ran harder.

Mud sucked at his legs, warm and clinging like a grave in motion. Insects crawled across his skin, vibrant and venomous, twitching beneath his sweat-soaked shirt. The heat he created due to his frantic activity was unbearable, soporose and heavy—it dulled throughout the grief, softened his sore muscles, made every step like dragging a corpse through a nightmare.

Shapes danced in the periphery of his vision—spurious things, malformed beasts and glimmering phantoms. They mimicked tirelessly, mocked him, mirrored his fear with exaggerated, grotesque movements. One even wore his face, a direct facsimile until it peeled off.

All he really could do was call out, having nowhere else to go as the vines snaked around his ankles and arms like many shackles. Eventually, since the old forest was sealing his fate, Cloud stumbled, and then, he was cornered.

A clearing appeared, walled in by roots like cathedral ribs, moss and vines choking every surface, yet the obvious way out was rapidly shutting before himself. Sealed into the inky darkness, he was left at the mercy of the predator.

It emerged from the mists, real now, horrifyingly real. A monstrous thing—half-reptile, half-nightmare, with sinewed limbs like tree trunks, jaws that split apart far too wide, and molten eyes glowing with starvation. Saliva hissed where it hit the hot jungle floor.

It crept forward, shoulders rising with each breath, claws raking the mud. Its breath smelled of death and sulfur, and its tongue lolled like a strip of wet leather.

His legs failed. His thoughts failed. There was no fight. No weapon. He was a haggard shell of a man, running on fumes and horror. Rolling around as the sea of mud and rain wound up to clog his nostrils, he dropped to his knees in the muck, blood rushing in his ears like war drums.

This was it. This was the end, and he shut his eyes as he clung to the final flickers of his life—fragments of solace, soft and solacious until he only fixated on his mother humming on the porch. The scent of wildflowers in a summer storm was followed by the brief warmth of a friend’s hand. A memory of laughter, the color of home...all bygones now.

And then, music to his ears— WHISTLE. THUNK. CRACK.

A thunderous impact struck the ground before splitting it open. The Earth convulsed, rumbling tearing through the core, but then, it did bring peace and silence. Even the jungle held its breath, waiting for him as the frosty pins and needles were removed like the branches and vines cleaving away and off his torso.

Cloud opened his eyes and witnessed the image of the beast lying sprawled in the clearing, its skull caved in by a savage, rudimentary spear—its long shaft quivering with the violence of the blow. Its limbs twitched once, eyes eventually growing dim and lifeless. Then, all motions stilled, steam ceasing to flow out of its nostrils.

And from the edge of the roots, a shadow retreated into the dark. No face. No form. Just the undeniable impression of someone. Watching. Gone. The creature had collapsed, but so had Cloud since he knew he wasn’t free from danger just yet.

The dream folded in on itself like a dying star, colors shifting rapidly before fading, the land breaking and chipping off until it all got sucked in the center. From the depth of his soporose trance, he awoke, kicking and shouting himself hoarse until he saw only a sea of true red.

Cloud bolted upright, gasping like a man surfacing from drowning, hands flailing but catching nothing. Head spinning as his spine twitched, his body was drenched in sweat despite the cool sting in the air. For a breathless moment, he couldn’t remember where he was—or who he was. Reality returned sluggishly, like thick oil rising to the surface of water. Blurred vision shimmered, until finally, it sharpened as he peered around his immediate surroundings, noticing how familiar they were.

He was inside a cave…no, not just any cave, but the one he normally frequented. Though the waves crashed many yards ahead, the cave itself was too quiet. Too real. The cave was dim as bits of firelight danced across its damp walls, casting malformed silhouettes that still bore echoes of the things that had hunted him in dreams. But this was real—tangible. A firepit crackled a few paces ahead, its embers glowing orange-red, throwing occasional sparks into the still air.

Cloud’s chest heaved, breath coming in ragged bursts as he reached for his surroundings with trembling fingers, seeking some proof he wasn’t still trapped in that fevered dimension of fear. His palm pressed against fabric—no, fur. Thick. Coarse, piled into a crude bedding that stank of wet animal and firewood.

His skin was much too uncomfortably clammy. Fever-slicked. His heart, still galloping from the nightmare, now had a real cage to beat against, even if he was bundled in such soft, fine quality fur.

The air was acrid and dry—laced with smoke, scorched meat, and the faint metallic scent of blood. A faint breeze stirred the cave’s entrance, carrying with itself the distant chirr of insects and the rustling hush of the trees outside.

Unable to comprehend how he’d gotten back to the first zone he’d started his unfortunate journey in, once more, Cloud looked down for clues. Beneath himself in lofty arrangements were furs, coarse and ragged, layered with slovenly stacks of stitched hide and makeshift fabric, still damp from the rain. His own limbs were wrapped in remnants of cloth, likely torn from what remained of his clothing, yet his skin itched with dried sweat and grime. He was filthy, bruised, and haggard, but he was at least alive.

And across the fire, he was there. The same masked figure. Silent. Motionless. Watching the flames like some creep. 

Back so broad, he sat on a squat stone, tending to a spit of wood spearing through the charred remains of the great lizard. Its flesh hissed and popped, dark skin crackling open to reveal pale, steaming, roasting meat. Grease dripped into the fire in slow trails, sputtering into smoke, the aroma not too unpleasant by itself, but not enticing enough yet.

The figure’s mask—bone-white, etched with spirals and angular lines—flickered in the glow. It betrayed nothing. No emotion. No intention. All he was doing was currently roasting the carcass of the same beast that had nearly killed Cloud, but to the omega, it was as much of an insidious notion that this wasn’t someone he could easily run from and beat in combat, so he didn’t try to.

The figure’s movements were steady, deliberate. A long branch skewered through the center of the great lizard’s torso, blackened from flame helped him rotate and cook it thoroughly. Fat constantly sizzled and spat into the fire as various portions were tended to, almost tar-black from broiling for quite some time. The man didn’t speak, didn’t look up as he seemed to be enjoying the natural ambiance all around created by the waves and wind. His presence was both calm and uncanny, as if carved from the jungle itself, not to be challenged or relished.

Beyond the cave’s jagged, wide mouth, night had settled in full, fond of its own supreme prowess to overpower all things. The stars outside were sharp, diamond-cut against the velvet dark. A few jungle birds soared lazily across the treetops in the distance, wings silhouetted by starlight, before they found branches and perched—watchful, cautious. Crabs shifted around, hiding under bits of rock and dunes, scurrying around as their shadows became massively warped in the gleaming lights.

The quiet was still lethally oppressive. 

The young man sat frozen, breath shallow, heart pounding anew with fresh uncertainty. Watching as the hunter took off his mask and set it on a rock next to himself, Cloud’s limbs trembled again, not from the cold now—but from the weight of the unknown. His balance faltered as he shifted upright, still too weak, still too rattled. His every motion was an echo of his terror, limbs lethargic and stiff, and across from himself, that solacious, unfathomable figure—his rescuer, his savior, or something else—remained unmoved.

The fire cracked louder. A bone snapped under the heat, and the frightened omega only watched, wide-eyed, as the masked stranger tore a strip of meat from the burning beast.

Outside the cave, night had fully taken the world. The sky above was an ocean of ink and diamond. Stars winked, cold and distant, scattered in constellations unfamiliar. Another pair of birds—silent and pale-winged—glided overhead and settled in a high tree nearby, staring down into the cave like solemn sentinels. Cawing and making themselves look much larger as they hunched over, their beady eyes locked onto the strips of fresh meat the hunter was loudly chewing on.

Each snap, crack, and odd grunt which rose from the hunter enabled Cloud to feel more than disturbed. He couldn’t sit frozen for much longer. Every muscle was a coil of tension, and his limbs were still indifferent to movement, slow to respond, as if fear had anchored his very marrow. He felt small, frail, and disastrously vulnerable. A body reduced to survival, consciousness barely reassembled, but he wasn’t by himself now.

This person was real and in the flesh, clearly having survived out here on this island for almost thirty years or so…

Wondering how useful this man could be to him, Cloud swallowed hard, wincing at the dryness in his throat. No doubt, his lips were cracked, his voice, if it existed, had abandoned him since all he’d done for hours was wailing and shouting to no one.

Still, he had to wonder…who was this man? What did he want? Why had he saved him?

Impenetrable silence followed Cloud cruelly, though interrupted as the quiet figure tore a piece of meat from the spit with gloved fingers. Previously, he’d lifted it beneath the mask to make room, but now that it was removed, he released animalistic noises with each chomp and gnash of his sharp, large teeth.

Then slowly—very cautiously, Cloud began to move, knowing he had to at least try to speak to the man. Feet heavier than stumps, he practically had to hold them up with his hands, clutching at his soggy jeans for support. Each hulking shift felt like it took an eternity, but the marked, lurid flames dancing over the firepit encouraged him.

On and on, he slugged forward, creating large, long strides in the sand until he tripped over another hidden rock. Crashing onto his left side, ribs groaning under the pressure before he himself did, that tiny noise of complaint was all it took to grab attention not so unwarranted.

Gradually, as soon as he stopped chewing, the stranger’s beefy, muscular arm cautiously lowered the portion of cooked flesh with every part of his body highly alert. Sitting up straight and tall, the man now turned his head and finally looked at Cloud.

Chapter Text

This wasn’t a beautiful man in the conventional sense—but there was an austere, wild magnetism to him, the kind carved by time and suffering rather than indulgence or vanity.

He looked to be around twenty-eight at the most, really, though his presence suggested someone far older—not in years, but in experience. He bore the weathering of a man who had spent half his life exposed to the elements and had not only endured them, but thrived in their crucible.

Long, rich hair was striking—silver, straight and loose, falling in rough layers that swayed past his broad shoulders, often caught by the wind like flowing riverlight. It wasn’t the brittle, pale silver of age, but the lustrous, uncanny hue of something altered—otherworldly. In dim light, it shimmered like moonlit steel, and in the sun, it glinted with faint strands of ash-white and iron.

The same spectral tone carried into his beard, which was long, but neat—kept well by the standards of someone who lived far from mirrors or civilization, shaped naturally by hand and instinct.

His cheekbones were high and concave, sharply defined beneath his skin like sculpted marble—but not sunken as if he’d been starved. They hinted not at deprivation, but discipline, carved lean by years of survival and solitude. Oval shaped, his face held a kind of primal symmetry—one too raw and savage to be called pretty, and too exact to be called anything else but striking since he was beyond comely in every way.

Alluring, though eyes were sea-green, but not soft—far from it. They were the eyes of a predator, sharp and searching, flicking with constant awareness. The color itself was wild, vibrant—something between turbulent jade and storm-lit aquamarine—glaring out from beneath thick lashes and furrowed brows. They shimmered in light like deep forest pools, dangerous and unstill.

Yes, those eyes had the same startling clarity as a mountain stream and the lineaments of his visage were in perfect proportion to each other. He seemed moulded from a different cast as he had an androgynous look uncommon to most people. Lacquered and enamelled by the sun, he radiated energy and brio.

His mountain peak cheekbones appeared chiselled into shape by a master craftsman. They were of such sharp contours, that it looked as if they were sculpted and paired to perfection. With eyes as bright and spellbinding as lode stars, they bewitched all those who fell under his steady gaze. They were a-sparkle with mirth and shone like two eternity-emerald jewels enwrought in snow.  

His nose was straight, slightly angular, with a bridge marked by an old, healed break—a reminder of violence survived. Strong and thick, his jaw was square and chiseled beneath the beard, cut clean with the same natural precision as the rest of himself, and his lips were full but rarely relaxed, usually pressed in a line of contemplation or subtle tension.

Somehow, the man’s skin told its own story—not bronzed, and never touched from sunbathing or vanity, but the kind of paleness burned in over years of exposure to cold wind, protected from searing heat, and everything in between. There were scars—many—but none so hideously grotesque.

They were scattered like old constellations across his arms, his throat, the edges of his jaw, even one just beneath his left eye, thin and curved like a crescent moon. Calluses gripped the ridges of his hands and the soles of his feet, hardened from rock, blade, and entanglements of conflict with many beasts alike.

His frame was tall, lean, and functional. Built more for endurance than spectacle, his shoulders were broad, back straight, muscles defined beneath tight skin not by training, but by survival. Every movement he made was purposeful—quiet, exact, like a creature born of silence, and there was no doubt that if he had to put forth an exuberant burst of puissant speed, he certainly would.

He looked like someone who had hunted and had been hunted. A creature of mountains and storm-blasted coasts. A man who slept beneath stars, drank from glacial streams, and whose heart beat more steadily in wilderness than in any city street.

There was something almost unsettling in how he held stillness—something feral, almost ferocious, barely sheathed beneath his composure. As though behind the calm of his sea-glass eyes and his storm-silver hair, a ferocious, cruel wildness waited. Patient as he was, he also began watching…watching Cloud with glacial conceit and timely beauty in his own way.

Having been silent and a weird watcher of sorts for too long, now that his prayers were somehow answered, Cloud gasped as he rounded the corner of the fire pit. Landing inches away from the man’s feet, he clamored closer, mewling and whining incoherently until he could put phrases together fluidly.

“Oh my g-god! I thought I was all alone out h-here!” Singing out tunes of praise, broken as they were, he then heaved out in an odd croak, “Th-thank you for helping me! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! I just…oh my god!”

Impervious to his change in emotional notes, the inscrutable man continued watching him, but Cloud didn’t care for it. 

Pointing at the night sky, and then at the ocean, he spotted the tail of the plane still jutting out past the waves, though infinitely smaller since it was sinking. Using that for a marker of sorts and solid example, he waved his arms again like a chicken trying to fly.

“My friends and I were on that p-plane, a-and we crashed here!” Remembering Reno and Cid, he sobbed, holding both hands over his nostrils to keep them from flaring. Calming down marginally, he supplied in whimpers, “Oh my god! Cid and Reno! I still haven’t found them! C-can you maybe help me? I mean, did you happen to see anyone else?”

Green eyes simply assessing, with the silken-smooth quality of an experienced professional, the man didn’t even tilt his head as he continued listening while Cloud gave thoroughly detailed information and descriptions.

Pointing at his hair now, he grasped a few strands, tugging on them for dear life. Twirling them between his digits, he cried, “Cid has blond hair like me! He’s taller, and Reno, he has long, red hair! Have you seen them?!”

Sadly, only the guffaws of seagulls mocking him sounded out, water sloshing over boulders echoing in accompaniment. The fine-tuned elements of nature gave one warning sign as the unknown hunter only stared emptily at Cloud, and while he didn’t entirely give off vacuous vibes, when his eyelids widened a fraction, barely noticeable since it’d happened so fast, the reality clicked for Cloud seconds later. 

When the quiet, large man glanced at the large chunk of meat he held between both hands and then stretched out his left one to offer it to Cloud, more than he wanted to, the blond male reached a rather bleak conclusion. He hadn’t wanted to accept it at first, but when his savior continued shaking his hand with the cooked meat before him, he knew he really had another heap of rotten luck stacked onto his shoulders after all. 

Still needing to chase after his confirmations, the scant clues he was given were close to breaking him entirely. With the wind now breezing in the opposite direction to carry the man’s woody, earthy musk, the rather sour, bitter stench wasn’t wafting off the carcass completely.

This was much different, and it burned his nose, rearranging his tangential thoughts, turning his brain upside down as he suddenly reached a vital, virulent, logical point. It pinned and uprooted him, stretching the liminal space back and forth until it all felt like a thin rubber band had snapped.

The earth-shattering proof stamped clearly informed him that there were many stark differences between himself and this unknown hunter. More than a prowler of the jungle and perhaps a conqueror of all dominions, the reason why he stood out and appeared to be like an immovable mountain so solidly was because he was above a stolid watcher. Uniquely, as much as Cloud had set his instincts aside, this time, they couldn’t be ignored, for they would surely determine and seal their next steps. 

Only a partial whiff now that he was cognizant and lucid was all it took to ossify the blunt, raw fact that this wasn’t just any random hunter, warrior, or survivor on this strange island. This man was an alpha…an apex, primordial alpha, too. 

Rumored to be among the first and most original breeds, they were supposedly extinct…their more modernized ‘cousins’ were the alphas not so present in society, their numbers dwindling since the population had been overrun and outdone by betas and omegas. Unlike his more domesticated counterparts, this was what twenty-something odd years in the wilderness presented; pure energy, raw muscle power, survival instincts, but also, the menacing, invidious, domineering disposition to overrule and dominate all inferior beings.

Were there others like him here? Could they have possibly inhabited these islands, their entire nature residing on this remote place?

Contemplating the genesis of the alpha population didn’t exactly get him anywhere productive anytime soon, unfortunately. It would have to be stored away for later, the velocity and serene gestalt of his sense of trust somewhat disturbed now that he was by himself with a hulking, gigantic predator in his natural habitat. 

Too young for misadventure, especially something magicked from the start to be deleterious, Cloud knew he didn’t have much of an optimistic chance now. Society was vast and modernized. He’d never had to run into a single alpha, and even if his parents had crossed a few, they were well-established, behaved, logical, intelligent people who paraded from quotidian days to the next by obeying the law. 

The law out here was only that of the jungle…the strong would survive, the weak would wither and perish.

Suddenly, running back out to fight for himself with tigers and lizards didn’t seem so bad after all. He hadn’t packed anything useful for this encounter, and it was alarmingly dangerous. All his heat suppressants and birth control were back at home, and by all accounts, this was an extremely virile alpha, and he was a young, fertile omega.

Going from seraphic to shambolic, although those thin, wispy bangs covering his forehead and overshadowing the potency of wrath in his eyes made him look even more appealing and handsome, the longer the stoic alpha studied Cloud, the more encouraged Cloud felt to simply speed away into the darkness. The firelight was playing games with him, its trickery warping the quiet alpha’s visage into a mighty form of beauty and ravenous power to make him desirable, but also one to wrench out veneration.

Both scared and reverently inclined, Cloud wondered to himself, “Okay. On a scale of one to ten, how royally screwed am I?”

Since he had no way to determine it yet, choosing to search for the first clue, he licked his lips and kept his eyes low as he approached in sheepish steps. Entrenched in meekness, though he wasn’t acting it up, he held onto humility all the same until he felt eyes burning holes deeply into his skull. 

Discombobulated plenty, the way Cloud was encumbered by an authoritative glare spoke volumes, but he was beginning to grow concerned when the alpha hadn’t responded to a single thing he’d stated and asked before. Still, he chose not to rush and leap to conclusions, wanting to give it another fair chance before he made his decision to flee and hope for the best. 

Assiduous to not cater to a scission of his opinions, premature as they were, before he turned into a scurrilous version of himself and threw a bloody temper tantrum, he eased himself to a gentler mood. 

Practically gormless, he sounded too pathetic as he wheezed, “What’s your name?” Thinking that had to be too much, he changed course slightly, pressing a hand on his chest and bowing. “Err, I mean, I’m Cloud…Cloud Strife.”

Grimly, what Cloud feared unfortunately fastened hard to reality when the pale alpha let the gusts of the wind push his hair around to cover his eyes. Curtained by the moonlight mane, he didn’t even budge, his eyelashes frozen as the rest of his torso. He’d almost turned himself into the perfect statue, mouth so prim and tightly pressed, flesh smooth as refined weapons set to be used, but always warning of violence on the rise.

Yes, this mute beast would have Cloud’s dreams, whatever they might be, but it came at the expense of being under his power: completely and absolutely. Living in a world of whatever elaborate fantasies he chose to entrance himself with, trapped in a beautiful prison the forest and island provided was immaterial now. Far away from anything safe, while the world above went on without Cloud being a part of it, he was falling apart by the minute. 

Once he was in tatters and so weak, then, the alpha would truly have defeated Cloud, and so prevailed over any humiliation of his former loss. Whatever he might choose to tell this man, he knew that was the real reason he was here. It was all meaningless and baseless now, but Cloud took a deep breath and looked up at him; not even needing to find the words before the muscles in his face tautened with barely restrained anger.

Broken and hapless, he knew what the reply would be, enmeshed in more silence as confirmation, but he still inquired, “You don’t understand a word I’m saying, do you?”

Plangent sounds of inner turmoil and melancholy shook Cloud, rocketing him into further pits of anguish. Saturnine when the pale alpha continued eyeing him as if he really was jabbering in an unknown, alien code or language, even he had to pause, lowering the bit of cooked lizard before cocking his head to the right and scowling. Never was it done in a disrespectful way, but the inviolable form of condemnation censured Cloud terribly when he was thrown back and affronted by the bitter signs he was given.

Taking a step to the side and disturbing the smooth, white sand below, he shook his own head as he panted weakly, “You don’t…oh my god…you don’t speak a word of English, do you?!”

Proving that to him just as well, the alpha again tilted his head, but this time, without much of a care, he lifted the meat to his lips, teeth bared as he took a huge bite out of the portion since Cloud didn’t indicate he wanted any.

“My luck seriously is pure ass. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected it though. Not like there’s a college in a damn jungle.” Close to plucking out every strand of hair he had, Cloud wept, “The only person around on this piece of crap island is not only some Tarzan wannabe, but he doesn’t even talk! This sucks! I can’t even speak to him!”

Shoulders snapping up when the crunching and popping of charred bones slapped around, Cloud’s fingers were skittishly elongated. Tensing and curling them into his palms, he ground his heels in the sand as he brainstormed what he could do to get his message across. 

“Maybe he’s mute?” Assuming that had to be the case, when Cloud shifted side to side, more sand kicked around suddenly. 

When a heap of it covered his sneakers, the lights went on in his brain, and he decided to go with the first idea he had. 

Praying that the alpha wouldn’t fly off the handle and react dangerously, he approached as one would a rabid wolf. Making himself seen first without resorting to jarring moves, he planted himself almost directly in front of the alpha as he ate. Stopping to glance at Cloud with flesh covering his lower lip, the man in the middle of his meal froze, wiping his lips with the back of a hand.

No longer chewing at least, when he hadn’t yet budged, Cloud chose to be daring and ever so bold. Taking umbrage with his own actions, Cloud still couldn’t break off from the out of body experience either way, nor did he want to. The penchant he had for being brave was priceless, stunning himself as he crept closer, touching the alpha’s left elbow. After tapping him twice there, once he hadn’t looked away, Cloud picked up a small twig left close to the bonfire. 

Holding up his opposite hand to show that he had no weapon, he bent to the right, far away from the crackling fire pit and poked the twig into the sand. Checking that the silent man was always watching and finding himself becoming bashful the moment those green eyes consumed him, Cloud focused on his new task instead. 

The sharp end of the stick was circling away in the sand, and with both the luminous moonlight assisting and the embers around, Cloud let the stick become an extension of himself. Serving as a pen and a limb, he let the middle half rest in his palm, wrist daintily drawing the curvy, crescent shape to form out the letter C. Now onto the next letter, with more room in the clumps of sand, he yanked his arm down, shaping out the straight, vertical line to write a capital L. 

Green eyes always moved with him, tracing the spherical O, admiring the swerves of the U, and then tilted back and forth, eyelids squinting the entire time until Cloud finished the letter D. Left to right and then the opposite way, those grass green eyes swept, but there wasn’t anything substantial to show that the message clicked. If anything, it seemed to go right past the alpha’s head, quite like a child seeing something new without understanding what it was.

At least he was open to something new…Cloud had initially been scared that if he touched anything close to a potential weapon, since he’d been possibly found with his axe, it would be taken the wrong way. While he had no clue where his axe currently was, he didn’t fixate on it. As it were, this man may have been slow when it came to erudite conversation and questioning, but that didn’t guarantee he was ignorant in other forms of body language and communication.

Once he’d finished writing his name in the sand, Cloud knelt back, knees tucked under himself. Extending his arms and gesturing from the C to the D, aloud, he read perfectly, “Cloud. Cloud. See? Cloud.” Expecting the man to repeat after him, he smiled as widely as he could, mouthing rather languidly, “Cloud. Cloud.”

…

It seemed to be a lost cause. Perhaps he’d been too hasty and foolish to assume that the hunter could read. Well, he was technically still staring at the arrangement of suitable letters, but when he glanced back up at Cloud, there really was nothing there to stitch and sew reconciled recognition there. Cloud may as well have been spitting in the wind or entertaining a pile of junk. There was only a vacant form of emptiness, ‘a lights on but no one home’ type of ordeal.

Not prone to giving in that easily, Cloud fought for another chance to hammer his message across by dragging his fingers an inch above the letters drawn in the sand. Mindful not to disturb them, he again mouthed them out one by one before an annoying cough came.

Waving and fanning a hand in front of himself, when he swallowed and barely was able to scrape saliva by his burning tonsils, he croaked and winced, “Cloud. Me.” Tapping on his chest and bowing, he repeated, “Me. Cloud. Cloud. Cloud.”

On both feet now, he rolled his wrist forth, eyebrows flying to his bangs as he hummed and gestured at his bizarre companion. After a few moments of awkwardness, Cloud cleared his throat, frowning as he then rotated his wrist and pointed at the alpha. 

“Cloud…” Waiting for a reply, his eyebrows were seriously hurting from arching them too long. All he could rely on was his voice, a bit higher-pitched as he whispered, “Cloud…me. You?” 

Mouth twisting open and shapely lips spreading, though not forming any sort of smile, for some twisted reason, the alpha dove for the twig Cloud had previously used. Taking it in his own grasp, he showed he was left-handed, tossing the object into the sand with the same tip jutting downward. As it plunged there, harpooning in the mounds, using the art form of mimicry, side to side, the alpha acted like a bubbly child during a kindergarten activity, namely, art class. 

Going crazy with the stick as if he’d never known of it to have such a use as this, the alpha wielded it as a paint brush. Sliding it around to erase the letters Cloud had so neatly pressed in the sand, the childish temperament went on for some time. Embarrassing Cloud more than he thought, the vicarious humiliation on the alpha’s behalf was glued to the playful disposition he became enmeshed in. 

Side to side, sweeping the sand and tiny gravel around, the biggest, most uneven circles covered half the ground practically. They went on, stylistically stultifying and stupefying Cloud beyond all belief. The ideas he longed to propose and concepts he’d tried to propound all dissipated because of the impish games the mute alpha had chosen to take up. 

Detestable glares and heated scowls meant to upbraid the man at play did nothing for Cloud aside from pissing himself off and bringing on a huge headache. Facial muscles torn from the heavy workout, he decided to put away his furious comportment. There was no sense in it anyway, because the alpha had transmuted into someone innocent. Like a real child stuck in an adult’s body, the unruly, refractory actions demanded an intractable reaction to be leveled out as it stood. 

Setting himself up for a way to snap the alpha out of it, Cloud sighed, shaking his head in dismay. After rolling his eyes and trying to grunt to get the alpha to cease and desist, the fruitless endeavor left himself feeling quite impatient.

Missing the light, flighty twig balancing in his hand and assisting in the neat, almost professional development and assemblage of letters, he hatefully scowled, stoked to set the wrongs right and act as his own advocate. 

Tongue clicking against his teeth, he snarled and leaned close, “No. Give me that! Hey!” Slick as a robber in the night, he latched onto the end of the stick, tugging it upward. “Stop! That’s not what you do! Hey!”

Just as stubborn however, the long-haired alpha decided to engage in a rough game of tug and war suddenly. Challenged by Cloud accosting him according to all the wrong, misplaced standards, the snide game of attrition and sedition burned on, both ‘opponents’ refusing to relent and stop. 

White flashed between the alpha’s pupils before they honed in on the stick. Weaving himself to the right when Cloud shifted left, now directly in front of each other, they closed the gap. Noses almost touching, they still struggled. Cloud had the bottom of the twig, while the other male held the upper half.

The wood cracked and chipped, but that wasn’t any deterrent at all. On and on, they went through a tiny skirmish of sorts, the sand between their knees now compiled in domes until the older male yanked the stick so roughly that it not only flew out of Cloud’s hand, but it caused him to also soar upwards from the force and momentum. 

Too stupidly, like something perfectly written in a comedy skit, Cloud reared up and rammed his forehead into the alpha’s chin. His bones hurt far more than the other man’s, evidently. Cloud could descry that from the way the large alpha quirked his lips at him, clearly finding his fumbling humorous.

All evidence pointed to the long-legged male indeed laughing in his own way, eyes scintillating like a web of stars. Without giving too much away in a stereotypical manner to suggest outward laughter, the alpha gleamed at Cloud and seemed to be thrilled. Those lips remained tersely drawn, but the radiating twinkle was unmistakable. A dulcet chuckle emerged, only to disappear like dust in the wind, but it was a laugh, nonetheless.

Unbelievable as it was, Cloud became enraged when he’d been made a fool out of twice in under five minutes, and he sought vengeance immediately. If tall, dark, and homicidal wanted to mock him, he would pay for it.

Recalling that while he had no axe, there were still many tricks up his sleeves, including this new handy dandy dagger of sorts he was creating. The handle was in perfect place, and though he had yet to find something suitably sharp and keen, the makings of a vorpal blade were on the way. Maybe postponed for the time being, regardless, one end was still quite sharp to get the job done.  

Stealthy enough with the application of crudeness, he carefully snuck his right hand into his back pocket. Thankfully, the hunter hadn’t searched to relieve him of that item. Feeling it poking into his flesh was reassuring, a first for someone normally rather peaceful and non-confrontational. 

Gathering his guts to just get it over with, Cloud vowed to simply incapacitate the alpha, not maim or brutally harm him. Any little thing would do to stun him, buying himself enough time to make a beeline for the woods and hopefully find someone else or his damn axe…both, actually. Both sounded glorious. 

Under the heavy surveillance and pressure of his own ego, Cloud kept a close eye on the unknown alpha, not even blinking as his fingers squeezed the handle of his weapon. The jungle’s breath steamed thick around them, heat and damp curling through the air like unseen rope binding tightly. Beneath the aegis of tangled green, where light was fractured by dense canopy and time itself seemed a foreign, limp thing, the two figures met— collided, really.

They hadn’t spoken. They didn’t need to. Tension roared louder than any voice could, conveying plenty by the uptight body language Cloud exuded, while the one opposing him seemed thrilled by his discomfort.

It had begun with a brush of shoulders, too rambunctious for the narrow, muddy path. Neither yielded. Pride flared before either heart caught up. A misstep. A detestable glare. A contemptible stare that dared the other to remonstrate, to test the boundary unspoken. Demonstrating his solid oath to prove his own dominance in some way, Cloud, with his sunshine-struck hair and sea-glass eyes too wide for the world’s bite—moved first, though his intention was unclear even to himself. 

A twitch. A brash lurch. The sort of motion born not of strategy, but instinct, all moxie and heat, and then, before he knew what he’d done, he flew forward in a snap of movement. A flash of something metallic in his grip slashed out, his growls emerging too late, the confused look in the alpha’s eyes appearing to settle slowly. His wrist had caused some damage, grazing across the distance, covering the thin stretch and moving air in perfect gusto.

The blade was no longer than a finger, a utility knife more auxiliary than a weapon, but rewardingly sharp. Too sharp, an extension of what he wanted and needed to rouse attention and earn respect. A hiss of contact, the bite of steel against flesh—not blood, but hair served to poke fun at him for his lack of aim. A slice of sound that cleaved silence, followed by the drifting fall of a dense, silver tuft was all it took to ground Cloud in shock, one which the alpha mimicked as soon as he could.

The older man froze, the air around them congealed, turning crystalline in its stillness. Realizing what had happened, gingerly, while his eyebrows clenched and unclenched, he raised a hand to his face, brushing fingers along the edge of his jaw, then drawing them back with the caution of someone touching a wound they couldn’t see. 

Equally tossed in a horrified state, Cloud noticed that the beard—his beard, thick and wild like a winter storm, revered and feared in equal measure—now bore a patch where only skin remained. Still intimidating and thick, the right cheek now had a rather long, thin line scraped clear off, showing nothing but luminous, pale flesh beneath the cover of such coarse hair.

Whatever ire had stoked his chest seconds before now drained like water through a sieve. Unable to stop himself, Cloud stared at the spot he’d exposed—accidentally, but irrevocably. It was as though he’d stumbled upon a bearded man for the first time in his existence. Flickering through stages of confusion, bewilderment, and then amusement, he couldn’t fixate on one expression, but his questing gaze certainly did as it began voraciously studying the porcelain flesh.

Yes, it really was alabaster, that stretch of skin. Not in fragility, but in its surreal perfection. A pale, pristine canvas untouched by somnolent, searing sun, unmarred by marring scars. The line of his jaw revealed itself in stark contrast—sharp, noble, sculpted to true handsomeness. Not a single spot was weathered like the rest of his lower torso. It was as though he’d unveiled a part of the man that time had forgotten to age, and above all, he looked more than human.

“Goodness, if he would shave this entire beard, he’d be one heck of a hot catch…”

The blond omega blinked, stymied—stunned by what he’d uncovered, but there wasn’t a way to deny that his overactive imagination was already piecing together precisely how this man’s sculpted face was so defined and surreal. It really was a shame that he had long hair and a damn beard, but even with those hairs on his face to shield his lovely flesh, nothing was amiss. Astoundingly, his hair wasn’t matted, greasy, knotted, never full of soil and leaves, but rather glowing like a full moon in an inky sky.

His imagination, always so dangerously quixotic, fluttered into motion without consent. He saw the man again, newly, and he was beginning to thoroughly enjoy the view. Without the beard, without the thick curtain of hair that cloaked his features in myth and age, this would be someone honored by every fashion industry. 

Cloud was jealous of his features, noticing those hollow cheeks still high, eyes even brighter, mouth more expressive. There was youthfulness imminent there—buried under the tyranny of survival, but breathing. This man wasn’t too old at all, and namely, he had to be extremely intelligent and observant in order to bring him back to where he’d camped out for a full night. Cloud swallowed nervously, but his throat felt dry despite the wet heat around them.

Knowing he still had to provide an answer for his weapon when verdant eyes circled it and then locked onto his own, Cloud winced and shuddered. Curling into himself as he lowered his hand, but kept his fingers heavily and thoroughly wrapped around the blade’s handle, he whimpered and looked too hapless for his own sake.

“I didn’t mean…” he finally offered, blithely, the words anemic and weightless in the thick air. “I…um…”

The silver-haired man didn’t admonish him, but expecting him to was ridiculous. He simply didn’t speak. Instead, he merely turned his head slowly, eyes hooked on the younger omega with something unreadable—not anger. Not truly, but something harder, as if judging him by another standard he wasn’t ready to reveal. Oddly, the alpha seemed to possess an older, more ancient wisdom, the weight of it causing the younger man’s heart to stumble in his chest.

“You shouldn’t touch people like that,” Cloud opinionated at last, his voice low and tumultuous, thick with something caught between restraint and resignation.

A few times thereafter, his mouth opened, but no sound emerged. What else could he really even offer? Apologies were beneath him when he couldn’t promise that he would refrain from attacking the alpha. He had to protect and look out for himself in this vast wilderness, and he wasn’t ready to trust and befriend a silent companion.

In the distance, birds cried out—sharp whistles in the trees above. A peaceful breeze whispered through the foliage, stirring vines like serpents in slow retreat. The moment was soft at its edges, almost dreamlike, yet the burden to stir reality and work against itself in pessimism bore down like stone. This was the kind of moment that lodged itself into memory without asking, one that would wake Cloud in years to come with the taste of guilt and awe in his dry throat.

When his elder turned slightly, moonlight slipping across his newly exposed skin like a revelation, the contrast between beard and bareness made him seem almost split in two—myth on one side, man on the other.

Captivated entirely by legends and constructs of stories, foolishly, Cloud almost reached out.

“I can…” he tried again, catching himself fast enough to slam his arm down, but his voice broke. 

Cloud’s reasonable conscience roared up like an adjudicator at that moment, bearing down over his idiocy as a more adult-like voice snarled into his brain, “Don’t try to fix things you don’t understand.”

That hurt, but it was true. The way he was going, he would likely end up making more enemies than friends, but he couldn’t prevent it. The gruesome thoughts warring in his mind screamed that this alpha couldn’t be trusted and relied on, especially if they couldn’t communicate. Aside from that, the unfortunate reality was that Cloud was still an omega without any form of reproductive, health care and products, and he wasn’t built for depending on someone in order to get by.

He didn’t know what he meant to say earlier, only that he was feeling apprehensive and quite guilty. Though for what reason? Could he solve this? Expiate what, precisely? A moment? A mistake? A deeper sin of perception?

The man’s eyes, those pale, ice-green eyes, studied him, leaving nothing untouched. Lavishing a spotless type of peculiarity, they turned slightly darker when he squinted, but then softened—only a flicker, barely there, like a light flickering behind thick fog. His upper lip curled back, a feral show of teeth sticking out, though pearly and rather clean for someone who’d torn meat apart in one go.

Awkwardly surveying their faces, neither of them moved to leave. Something had shifted, but the change was distinct. Time hadn’t healed or broken their unusual relationship, but unraveled more of an opportunity hidden. There, amid the vines and hanging shadows, the scent of moss and crushed green, they sat still—one trying to make sense of what he saw, the other silently reprimanding fate itself for letting someone get close enough to see it.

Under the aegis of trees too old to care, silence reigned once more, upturning the universe and Cloud’s stomach so easily. Fog and steam coiled the psychological revelations, his thoughts meandering into memory, sensation, and an unspoken recognition of the man before himself. The atmosphere was only getting thicker, the introspection deep, and the connection profound yet confusing.

Even the jungle held its breath around them.

Somewhere far off, an owl called—a single, warbling note that hung in the air like the tail of a forgotten lullaby, then vanished, its wings beating like Cloud’s heart as it fought to regulate the more normal tempos. Leaves trembled in a wind that didn’t reach the forest floor. The heat stuck to his back like an extra quilt entirely made of nagging guilt. 

The fire they’d left churning behind them hissed softly through the ferns, sputtering in defiance of the weight that pressed into the moment. Perking up, Cloud’s blue eyes went wide and flickering, remaining frozen where he sat a few inches away from the alpha. Unbeknownst to himself, the more he plunged into the vibrant greens, the more he lost control and energy until he’d dropped the blade. 

He didn’t even remember doing it, but the dull ‘thud’ in the soft sand was followed by his tiny cry of concern when the enormous alpha towered over him, still kneeling as well.

Pressing a palm over his sternum, Cloud’s breath came slow now, not out of calm, but rabid caution—like something wild and waking had taken root in his lungs. The opposite hand trembled faintly at his side, his soul lurching as he continually traced the hairless patch of skin. 

Frozen there, he hardly jolted when the alpha raised his own hand and draped it on his face. Tiny, pinprick trickles of cold stayed on him; the result of a thin scrape of mud smudged his cheek when the alpha caressed him, however briefly it was. The cut in the beard had not bled, and yet the guilt was blood-thick in his mouth.

Why did it feel so wrong, what he’d done? Why did that brief revelation—a small, pale stretch of skin—feel like he had trespassed on sacred ground?

It was just skin. Just a patch of cheek beneath a weathered beard, yet he wanted to turn it all back and never harm the alpha. If it was a matter of the thick beard getting in his way, he could deal with that. It wasn’t as though he’d never seen a man with and without a bloody beard, for goodness sake.

But it wasn’t just the beard making him react this way, was it?

No—it was the man beneath the cryptic aura, a man he’d never seen, never thought to see. In all the time they’d been before each other together—awkwardly, angrily, under the pressure of necessity—he’d known him only by sharp orders and sharper silence.

The silver-haired man had always seemed carved from a harder stone than the rest of them, like some statue of old ruin and war, never quite softened by the warmth of company. He seemed the type who moved with purpose, slept lightly, and spoke rarely. His presence demanded distance, yet he was the one who ultimately dictated the shots, all without being much of an aggressor.

A monolith of sorts, he was an island, and yet, now…the blade helped relieve him of some supernatural, fanatical notion that he was untouchable. The beard had been nicked away, and what was left wasn’t stone.

It was skin, smoothness, blood and muscle beneath it all, and vulnerability. It was human.

An unseen vendor had opened the shop of flawless imaginings, unending hopes, ridiculous dreams, but Cloud couldn’t stop staring at the outline in his mind—the sudden asymmetry of the man’s face, the curve of an untouched jaw, the angle of a cheekbone that belonged in sculpture, not suffering. He dreamed—unbidden and far too vividly—what that roguish face might look like entirely clean-shaven. Not the haggard mask of the jungle veteran, but something else…someone far more…rustic and common.

In ever a confusing quandary now, with what was considered outré for any reputable, well-behaved individual from an esteemed society, something whole and unbearably real had discolored and transmitted into Cloud’s perception.

Was that what disturbed him so deeply? That there was wholesome, invigorating beauty beneath the layers of silence and hardened survival? That he’d seen it, even for a breath?

The proscenium had been brightly lit, and even if Cloud had never considered the silver-haired man as beautiful, he certainly held that quality. True, he was also harsh. Efficient. Stoic. Occasionally cruel. No doubt, he was the type to be known more by his commands than his name. But now the image of him—half-bearded, half-bare—was etched into the younger man’s imagination like fire against his ribs, brazenly vying for a way to constantly fasten his gaze to him.

Wondering how he hadn’t passed out, Cloud tried to breathe, but the thought was suffocating. Someone had practically changed his entire outlook on this person, and like a powerful magnet, he didn’t wish to draw back yet.

Biting his lower lip, Cloud focused on that angular face, eyes sweeping from left to right countless times. “What would he look like without the beard entirely? Without the armor of wilderness and wear? Would he look young? Or would the years press deeper without the veil? Would it change him? Would he still be the same?”

The thoughts were tumultuous, rolling like turbulent thunder over the surface of calm. They didn’t make sense, not in words alone. They had the feeling of something ancient and primal, something unspoken. The youthful omega sincerely didn’t know what this was—this ache in his chest. Judging by how his stomach fluttered, it wasn’t guilt entirely. Or awe. It was closer to...recognition.

Not the kind of recognition he felt when he met someone again. It was more so the type he experienced when he realized he’d been looking at someone in the wrong way to misjudge them for his entire life. He’d gone through that with Vincent, assuming he was nothing more than a friendly visitor…this however was the opposite…whoever this man was, he didn’t completely pose a virulent threat…maybe he could be a venerable friend to count on.

“You’re staring,” came the adult man’s voice—low, quiet, hoarse. Not angry. Not accusing. Just observing, like he’d done too many nights by the fire, watching for beasts and betrayal alike.

Reeling back from it, Cloud blinked hard and shot up, jolting like he’d been struck.

“I wasn’t—” he stammered, voice brittle and defensive. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You were, but it’s fine,” the voice of his conscience confronted, while the alpha turned halfway to the side now. 

The glowing firelight behind them made the new scar of bare skin gleam like porcelain bone, showing off every inch of his refined dominance and regal beauty to be coveted and desired. The kind of pause that lingered now carved silence into something raw, but it seemed constantly apropos with the quiet hunter. 

Desperately, Cloud tried to summon words. Anything remotely intriguing to help boost conversation, but he routinely failed. Sentences and lofty phrases wouldn’t work well here. This interesting man perhaps had gone half his life without trinkets of socialization, so much that his mere presence made all forms of communication disappear. 

Nowhere near prepared to lift his eyes, Cloud stared at the ground, where the clump of silver beard still rested like something dead and broken. He should have swept it away. He should have done something to expiate the offense, but his legs refused to move. So stubbornly, his mind spiraled on its own, screaming at him that he wanted the man to shave off the rest.

And yet, a part of him—some foolish, reckless, quixotic part—wanted to see it. All of it. Not to shame him. Not to mock him, but to understand. To witness his naked nature…to see the man as he really was, freed of the tyranny of image.

A laugh—a single, dry sound, like brittle bark cracking underfoot sounded out, but Cloud had no clue whether he’d chuckled or the alpha had. Rambling now, he held onto his jaw, tight as it was, fingers massaging his flesh and bone to coordinate it to move so he could openly confess. 

“Never have I done anything like this…not since I left home. It…wasn’t worth the trouble.”

A gruff sound emerged, severing the moment, swerving Cloud’s judgement when he was given that form of a noncommittal response. So utilitarian. So void of sentiment. Yet the younger man felt the viral truth hidden in it, succinct as daylight.

Like his beard, this man wasn’t someone so easily understood, mostly because he yearned for distance. Everything, every part of himself was like a wall. A warning. A way to keep people from getting close enough to ask the questions that mattered. Of course, that was why he’d survived here on his own for years…attachments probably meant very little to him.

Stern now, Cloud clenched his hands, his shift in demeanor better suited to match his quiet companion. “I didn’t mean to cut it. I swear. I was just—”

Interrupting with a sharp look full of pure green, again, steady silence returned. Only the fire spoke now, crackling quietly like a distant voice telling them to keep breathing, but the damage was done. Equanimity was ruptured, not to the beard, but to further thicken the wall between them. And now, like light shining through a cracked shield, possibility and opportunity leaked in.

More or less, the tension became part of an ephemeral moment. Suddenly offering Cloud an affable smile, the attractive alpha indeed presented a magnanimous, affable trait. Allowing bygones and egregiousness to be done away with, his soul was more indomitable to wane off whatever discourtesy he held, amicable enough in every way as he continued grinning.

Shaking off the paroxysm of mild fright that vulpine smirk delivered, Cloud deduced he was beyond unmoored. Adrift in thought, yes—but not chaotic or querulous. No. He wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t even afraid. He was constipated in the soul, so densely packed with feeling that no expression could find its way to the surface. It was all trapped inside him, swirling like the dark waters of a buried spring.

The world around them blurred. He couldn’t hear the fire anymore, couldn’t feel the humid night pressing in or the muffled cries of distant birds. He wasn’t tethered to that jungle floor, but instead, like foam of the sea, he floated in a still, suspended moment. A crystalline suspension of perception, honed like a most refined tool for a keen cut, pendulously swung around to dice the liminal space between fantasy and reality.

The silver-haired man was the axis of this space without gravity.

The patch of pale skin on his cheek, where the beard had been sheared away, drew the blond’s gaze like a silent commandment etched into flesh. A single shard of raw, undeniable humanity screamed out to him that this was no beast lurking every dark nook and corner. It softened nothing—and yet, it shattered everything.

The jawline was severe, sculpted with the same primal poetry that shaped cliffs and ancient bone. Clean and cruel in its symmetry, as though formed by nature’s own chisel—some force too old and knowing for mercy. From that exposed jaw, Cloud’s wandering gaze traveled upward in dazed reverence, over high, concave cheekbones so finely wrought they could have been cast from stone and starfire. A sharply defined nose followed, sloping nobly, and then—those eyes narrowed their focus to bring life to everything they witnessed and held dear.

Sea-green. Ferocious. Alive.

They didn’t just look back—they pulled, like storm tides pulling a body beneath the surf, quite like vines wrapping around ankles, akin to a jungle that never released its prey. There was something indescribable in them—not rage, not sorrow, not desire. Something more ancient…some emotion too large for language, and Cloud was drowning in it.

The moment lingered—brittle and unbearable, making time speed up and then go gooey, syrupy slow.

Silence wasn’t merely absent here; it had density, a substance that pressed in on the young, adventurous omega like humid air before a tempest. It cloaked the world in suspended stillness, distilled to the thinnest strand between breath and thought. Sound had vanished. Even the fire, once crackling with sharp consonants, had grown quiet, now just a whispering, shifting glow—its rhythm lost beneath the swell of something far more consuming.

Cloud’s mind registered that he was no longer in a cave of fear. Not even the jungle could do him harm and threaten him here, for he wasn’t anywhere concrete where regular laws of logic and reality applied.

He was adrift inside something vast and intangible, tethered only to the shape of the man before himself—his body seated near the hearth, part flame, part stone, part unfathomable force. It was the accident—no, the intimacy—of that moment, that unintended nick of the blade that had revealed a strip of pale skin beneath the strange man’s thick, silver beard, that had shattered everything.

No blood, no cry—just that sudden, vulnerable strip, a piece Cloud didn’t think he could symbolically do without. The smallest wound, yet it detonated something enormous inside the omega to warp his senses.

Without warning—without knowing, truly knowing—what he was doing, his hands lifted so slowly. As though drawn by some tether he couldn’t see, a string of instinct buried in his blood to push his limbs up without trembling. On their own accord, as he blinked once, his heart skipped a beat when contact was made and he’d finally touched the older man’s face.

His fingertips brushed the unshaven cheek first—rough, thick with wiry silver. The texture caught against his skin like memory itself, but he didn’t stop there. Leveling his breathing as though he could borrow oxygen from contact alone, his hands slid, trembling but persistent, over the bare patch—the skin he’d unveiled. 

So smooth, so cold. The pulse beneath it barely stirred, and needing more of it, his fingers traced the edge of the jaw, then traveled up, memorizing each shape, each angle, with something that felt dangerously like devotion. The rest of the beard was in the way, but it never stopped Cloud from feeling something not similar to lust, but something else.

Not exactly that. It was awe…like touching a secret or spell recently discovered.

The curve of the cheekbone was too powerful and thick. Artists couldn’t have even crafted the slant of the brow. The slight indent where the nose met the forehead, all of it was chiseled to perfection. He mapped the face with his touch as if he feared the man would vanish, as if committing every inch to memory could preserve something sacred…something real.

This reaction gleaned happened to be because that small arc of bare skin wasn’t just organic material alone; it was humanity incarnate. Proof of mortality. A glimpse of him beneath the wild mythos he wore like armor. It was—proof that he could be known, touched, held, and it undid Cloud piece by piece.

The younger man’s mind unraveled like a brittle thread, the pressure mounting, but not close to snapping yet. A slow, dreamlike dissolution overtook Cloud as he found himself fixated, not just on that sliver of skin, but on the entire geography of the silver-haired man’s face.

It was a topography chiseled not by age, but by time, sheer hardship, cruel weather, and will. Concave cheekbones so sharp they might cut light, a nose straight and unyielding, the kind that bespoke heritage or war, or both. Brows thick, shaped like wings mid-descent froze and then relaxed, the comportment constantly at ease. 

And those eyes. Gods—those eyes.

A crystalline green, seafoam and storm surge layered in gaze. Not glassy or soft, but dense with something unsayable. They held a feral lucidity, like they had seen fires rage and waters recede and still kept watching. There was no readable emotion in them—only presence. Inexorable. Ancient. Some ineffable emotion simmered behind them, restrained by a will stronger than steel. That kind of silence was not accidental. It was forged.

Unwittingly, the youthful omega’s hands rose, stopping an inch over the other man’s cheeks before he blinked and held his breath. Searching but finding no need to seek permission, there was no forethought—just instinct. Compulsion to constantly feel.

Cloud’s fingertips began trembling faintly with a reverence that bordered on sacrilege, drifting toward the older man’s face once more like someone parched and starving. They hovered, then landed to rest firmly on the scraggly, thick beard, a breath of touch against the bristled silver. It was like touching the edge of myth. The beard, coarse and thick, held the scent of earth and smoke, wild and unfiltered, but then came the skin beneath—the bare strip he’d sheared.

It was impossibly smooth.

Not soft, no, but tender in its novelty. Vulnerable to its core, and it struck him with sudden clarity—this man wasn’t an immortal phantom. He was real. Flawed. Flesh and nerve and sinew, and yet, his very realness was otherworldly.

Needing to hang onto something before he woke from his bilious dream, Cloud’s right hand began to move of its own volition, gliding across the man’s angular cheekbones, memorizing the ridges, the subtle dips, the tension just beneath the skin. Each contour was mapped as if by cartographer’s care, and Cloud gave himself full authority to seize the opportunity.

Taking what he could, his thumb ghosted over the sharp line of the sturdy jaw, brushing the faint edge where skin gave way to bone. He traced the man’s face as though drawing a sacred icon, a wordless elegy born of touch and trembling awe.

He had no lauded courage now. No braggadocio or boyish grin. Only breath, and silence.

Within that pitless quiet, the frantic staccato of his heart soared, and the tempo had begun to hammer against his chest like a captive begging to be freed. Each cadence and beat wandered off course to bang against his chest like a bird beating its wings against the most potent gusts of air before smoothly sailing to higher planes.

Only then—when the sound of his own pulse filled his ears like thunder—did he realize what he was doing. Awareness chomped into his brain, and Cloud inhaled sharply. What he had done was rather odd, the still mute and frozen alpha cocking his head as though inquiring when he would cease his tactical exploration.

Needing desperately to look away, he turned his gaze downward, only to be caught by the snare of the man’s raiment. His hands withdrew with a sharpness, a kind of guilt-ridden recoil, as though his touch had violated some unspoken rite, but the air still thrummed with the imprint of contact, as if both their bodies remembered.

Cloud fidgeted, awkwardly wringing his hands back like they’d been scorched, and yet the heat wasn’t in his fingers—it was deep in his chest, in his veins, flooding through himself in wild, painful surges.

“I—” he started to speak, but breath was all that escaped.

His vision flitted again, not from fear, but from the intensity of being under so close scrutiny. His eyes now fell, seeking anything—anything—to anchor himself to a pier of reality, and they found the man’s clothing.

If he could call it that.

The silver-haired man wore the jungle itself like a second skin. Pelts of black and brown fur wrapped across his shoulders and chest, feathers stitched with bone beads interwoven across his upper arm. Layers of beast hide, claw-worn and weather-patched, hung over his frame like some totemic armor.

Many layers were strewn to assemble the mass of predator and prey, thick and raw, the fur streaked with mud and age. Feathers wove through leathers like ceremonial war-signs, and his broad shoulders were shrouded with something primal, as if he bore not clothes, but the prowess of some ancient tribe or forgotten god.

Yet, through the chaos of the ensemble, the man’s chest was partially revealed, and it was devastatingly sensual. Not to mention the torso—oh gods, did he ever have a body most men would kill for.

Parts of his chest were exposed in jagged seams where the makeshift garments didn’t cover. Bare, raw, moonlight-slicked skin caught the firelight and flickered like forged steel. His abdominals were taut and defined, not from vanity but from use—a body honed by the demands of survival, not softened by luxury.

A sheen of sweat layered him like a glaze of effort. His broad chest moved with the calm, precise breath of a man who knew control, and had earned it. That sternum bore no softness. Just sinew and sculpted muscle, veins like tributaries running beneath powerful, silver-kissed skin. His torso moved with calm breath, steady and almost too still, like the breath of a predator between hunts. Across his abdomen, muscle striated in symmetrical ridges, framed by the faint white ghosts of long-healed scars.

Awareness left as Cloud’s gaze fell lower, admiring how those arms were long and corded with sinew, muscles rippling beneath skin glistening by a lack of ample sun and holding only a few deep marks. Scars that told stories. Scars that had meaning.

His legs—gods above—those legs were long and unrelenting. Powerful. They were the kind of legs that had outrun predators, that had stalked prey in silence, that had leapt from cliffs and climbed trees and never, ever yielded to fatigue. Even crouched by the fire, the man radiated unspoken strength. A predator in stillness. A monument to stamina. Carved from effort, it seemed—like nature had sculpted him by necessity rather than vanity.  

Gods. This man was immense.

Taut and powerful, those legs were made for the most impressive, athletic movement—leaping, sprinting, climbing. They bore the wild’s demand for speed and power, elongated with thick cords of potency beneath dark trousers half-mended with sinew and bone buttons. These were the legs of a man who could outrun a stampede or scale a mountain with a bow strapped to his back.

He wasn’t desirable in the plain and routinely set sense however; he was something worse. Beyond a supernova, a surreal sensationalist, this was a force of nature…he was necessary. This was the embodiment of survival—of what happened when a man endured everything, and still stood.

Encapsulated by his vivid imagination, Cloud’s throat was dry. When he tried speaking, his lips parted, but no words came—none worthy of the moment. Dumfounded, all he could do was stare, entranced, caught between reverence and bewilderment, the weight of feeling pressing at the cracks of his soul like floodwater against a levee.

Checking the man out still, Cloud followed the shape of his arms—long and tightly packed with functional strength. His biceps, shoulders, forearms—every inch carried the story of endurance. His hands were calloused, fingers scarred, the palms marked by years of survivalist craft.

Survival was indeed all he knew…this was magnificence in the way stories defined beauty. This person was beautiful the way nature defined power, and yet, there was too much unseen about him to be feared.

Terrible. Unrelenting. Inconceivable. 

What was he supposed to say? What words could even begin to contain this moment? To explain the fire in his chest or the river flooding through his ribs?

Making no sign of discomfort or surprise, the warrior only watched.Those emerald eyes—so knowing, so quiet, so devastating—locked onto his, observing him. Those green eyes, feral and knowing, didn’t admonish him, never set on any form of reprimand.

They didn’t laugh, seek to ask for clarification, or even blink. They simply looked straight through him, as if the man already knew and had already seen through Cloud’s soul to know it entirely.

Ashamed of himself for letting something or someone else snatch his attention when he should have been more aware and cautious, Cloud vowed to set himself on a more lucid, strict path. Head hung in obeisance after every errant thing he’d pulled, before he could crawl off into the cave and try to catch a wink of sleep, the long-legged alpha abruptly grabbed onto his wrist.

Holding it with such gentle, timid care as if the bones would already snap wasn’t what shook Cloud. The sand and waves drifting in the distance, the luminous moon hanging lower between the stars couldn’t even sway him. What roused his attention however was the warrior pressing his left hand from his sternum, tapping onto it before he pushed it back to his own and let it rest there.

Nodding at him, a warm, affable smile finally breached the smooth surface, the well-schooled mask of an indecipherable nature sliding away. When he opened his mouth, the most sonorous tone accommodated his extremely appealing visage, heightening his grand aesthetics and leaving Cloud adrift in the new world of elation and opportunity.

The perfunctory nod was repeated, those emerald eyes enveloping Cloud as the warrior spoke slowly, “Cloud…” Rubbing his hand on Cloud’s chest, he then held steadfastly onto his own, grunting out in a mild growl, “Sephiroth. Sephiroth.”

It was quite the ringing introduction, built on such a basic foundation with a most exquisite, masculine tone speaking to him, but it was one Cloud never would forget.

Too exhausted, though reeling over in triumph, after he knew his efforts had indeed paid off, he couldn’t help but purr back, “Nice to meet you, Sephiroth.”

Chapter Text

Cloud didn’t know when he would ever learn that in this new, brazen, unpredictable climate, he had to take things day by day and step by step. Through a few leaps and bounds, he faced an egregious impertinence when Sephiroth wasn’t as much of a loquacious individual as he initially thought. 

Gaia only knew what gave him that insipid impression to begin with, but Cloud had fallen asleep assuming he would wake up the next morning to chat with Sephiroth over a hearty breakfast, only to face a brick wall of true disappointment instead. 

Sephiroth had strangely at least arranged the fur and pelts back around Cloud like a mother nesting and taking care of her infants. The gushing cocoon of heat was in a way something he couldn’t take for granted when he’d spent an entire day rolling in his soaked, mud-caked clothes festooned with ice, but he really had expected Sephiroth to open up to him more than on a basic level. 

Somehow, things became somewhat clearer, though dubiously promising by evidence trailing everywhere. Sephiroth must have found more of the remnants of the plane crash, for a few more suitcases Cloud recognized were rather close to where he sat. 

A rather desperate shriek was hardly containable the moment Cloud noticed one of Cid’s iconic chocobo stickers glued to a thick suitcase, and he dove at it. Unzipping the object and going through it like a madman, Cloud yanked out four small bottles of water and a Clif Energy Bar. He then emptied the leather bag of everything else; he doubted he’d need his friend’s hairspray or iPod for whatever lay in store for himself, but it was nice to find extra snacks and trinkets for the moment. 

Gathering the items to his chest, he wagered that he should see if his own suitcase was still intact, as some extra clothes would be a good thing. He didn’t know where he was, but anywhere between Wutai and Costa Del Sol was going to still be cold at night, even in mid-May.

Gingerly, a sideways glance was ripped out of his composed veneer, and while making sure he wasn’t stepping on anything sharp or dangerous, as he drew close to Sephiroth, he was amazed to see both his and Reno’s suitcases sitting there perfectly fine in place from a few nights ago. 

Looking at Reno’s black suitcase next to his own Louis Vuitton steamer-style one, Cloud shuddered down the former torment and leftover effects of guessing. Leaving Cid’s where it was, he studied Sephiroth yet again, wondering why he’d gone through the trouble of fetching both items and not salvaging whatever he could for survival.

Spotting the alpha still seated mostly where he’d been the previous night, though the fire was close to being extinguished, as a few of the light orange flames twisted and danced around, amid the smell of burning wood and fat, Cloud approached after stacking the other items closer to the cave. Rubbing his upper body frantically, yawning and then swallowing the sound when Sephiroth awkwardly tossed him a warped look, the omega abruptly changed paths.

Thinking it would be prudent and a significant boon to start the morning off pleasantly, after clearing his throat, Cloud bowed and greeted Sephiroth. “Good morning.” Polite to set the mood, he nodded back towards the suitcases then. “Thanks for finding that stuff…it’s very useful and close to me since they belong to my friends.”

Of course, that did nothing but garner only superb silence. Sephiroth went on tending to one of his spears, chipping and sharpening it with a stone. Routinely whetting it, the tiny ‘clicks’ and ‘taps’ soon became vexatious for Cloud. Gulls and the wind cried back, far more responsive than Sephiroth, but he wasn’t prepared to throw the towel in yet.

Once again, he cleared his throat, spotting pure green out of his peripheral view. “Uhh, how did you sleep?”

Stopping what he was doing only for a short second, Sephiroth’s gaze flitted up to Cloud, but then sailed across the horizon before he focused on whetting the sharp spear tip yet again. 

Floundered with the monumentally deep, nautical failure he’d created for himself, Cloud worried his lower lip between his teeth, grinding the first layer of skin until it caused himself some agony. Now more sore-vexed when he’d bitten himself, he hissed to snag Sephiroth’s attention, but it still did no good. 

Knowing now that he would get more of a reply from logs and trees at this rate, he chose to inspect what Sephiroth was doing. Squatting next to him by the dwindling fire, he bent his legs under himself, dismayed to find only a few more strips of the charred lizard remains from the previous night. 

Sephiroth turned to glance at him, catching how Cloud was tossing a most disgusted look at the food. Ascertaining that he had to distill that unsociable, rude expression while he had the chance, Cloud shook his head, forcefully painting a picturesque grin and then shrugged.

“Sorry. I’m a vegetarian.”

It was a blatant lie, and Sephiroth seemed to know it. Left hand taking a break from chipping at his spear, the fingers of his right one stretched, knuckles cracking. More sounded out like twigs popping, a result of him rolling his head from side to side before tossing another blank look at Cloud to penetrate and sear through his skull practically. 

Flagrantly mortified now that Sephiroth had somehow called him out on his bullshit without speaking, Cloud decided not to go fishing for more conversations. From what he could determine, Sephiroth probably hadn’t been lucky enough to interact with many people. This was an extremely socially stunted, immature individual, and he’d been spoiled plenty just by learning his name. Pressing for more would likely be as successful as winning the bloody lottery, and he was too tired now that he’d gone exactly two whole days without coffee.

As the supposed adult in the middle of all this, Cloud suppressed another yawn and glanced ahead at the humongous ocean. Peering back at the cave, he spotted a few compacted, organized rocks arranged in a unique way so that when the sun and moon directly shone on them, the dull-covered crystals would come to life. Each reflecting off one another, they illuminated the shadows with their gorgeous rays, allowing specks of light to flood through the clusters of clouds above.

The small nook caught between the ceiling of the cave was even sparkling. The will of stalagmites and stalactites became fervidly aglow in the atmosphere around, but it held no bewitching value on Cloud when he had other concerns brewing. Great wisdom and experience wasn’t something he possessed here, and the flood of light feeding off the eternity of massive silence only hammered that unfortunate point deeper. 

Globular flakes and groups of leftover ash floated around, some landing on Cloud’s nose and snapping him out of his temporary moment of a heady stupor. Independence and vigor helped him establish himself with an ingrained pursuit of reasonable fortitude and efforts of self-reliance. 

Bull-headed to a degree, he finally resolved verbally, “I need to get off this damn island.” Rearing up and determined, he set out his own frantic fires, susceptible to panicking as he was. “If you found their stuff, did you see them by any chance?”

Breaking the blood rusted tip of his spear off at last, as the morning sun and light droplets of rain scattered about, Sephiroth’s first show of a relentless trait reared itself. Renewed and rejuvenated by his own prowess when it came to replenishing his energy with resources he acquired, the cycles of chases and tricks were looped in a silent thread, the tension no longer sparse. 

A disconcerted gleam from Sephiroth briefly eluded Cloud, but when he spotted the expression for even a fraction of a second, that was the precise moment it had disappeared. The heavy swathes in the aftermath left him wondering if he’d imagined it, all while Sephiroth chucked the chipped off spearhead far into the middle of the sea surrounding themselves.

It would be unwise to let his guard down around this person, Cloud wagered. Being a solitary hunter with an entire arsenal of weapons at his disposable, there wasn’t any form of dubious contention here. Cloud suspected that Sephiroth had many more items kept in a secret stash, stored in a remote, unknown location. He’d shown easily that he knew his way around hunting and tracking, perhaps extremely clever and dexterous to learn to adapt to his prey. 

Sephiroth likely knew the island like the back of his hands, proving it by being rather comfortable with spreading his personal items around Cloud. There was simply no way to tell how many hours he’d been spying on the omega before swooping in as his savior from the heavens, so Cloud didn’t dare trust him explicitly just yet. All that would have to be earned and proven in time, and as far as he was concerned, Sephiroth was only a tool, a means to achieve a single end.

Knowledge and experience gave power, but right now, Sephiroth was the one who held and possessed them to suitably navigate the wilderness. Thrown in his endless state of befuddlement, Cloud almost grew explosively angry again, volatile only due to the fact that the newest impending battle brought on a level of haughtiness and condescending arrogance in the way that someone excluded from a dark secret would be treated.

Supposing that Sephiroth had to feel sinfully proud over his own accomplishments accrued over the countless years spent in isolation, Cloud still aimed to pry him apart as one would a tightly shut clam shell.

“Guess not,” he began to conclude, knowing this would likely end in disaster already. “So, can you speak at all? Like even a bit?”

Gathering and bundling a wrinkled rag to clean off the stains and soaked residue of all kinds of sordid things from the spear’s body and handle, Sephiroth squinted. Like a loathsome mountain, he trawled for time, eyelids relaxing like his eyebrows. Back and forth, the rustling of the fabric wiped the weapon to a better state of cleanliness, and right when Cloud wanted to spew a derogatory slur, Sephiroth huffed. 

“Some…words.” Nodding curtly, he gingerly tapped the handle of the weapon over his left temple. Amid the dull ‘thud’, he whispered, “Talk is no good. Quiet. Better for hunting.”

That was a sign of some intelligence, Sephiroth not as subhuman as Cloud initially suspected. Still, he couldn’t celebrate despite his guts tingling with supreme joy, for he had other ambitions to tend to.

Taking his complaints to the sky as he rolled his eyeballs so far back that it hurt the veins, Cloud groused, “Sure, but I’m more likely to starve and become a victim to the elements here!”

Flabbergasted by the whiny, adolescent tone taking over his vocal chords, Cloud’s bombastic courage had already dissolved when Sephiroth blandly gawked at him. The infinite, thin veil of barbed criticism was too victorious to even challenge for a second. Prone to making horribly irrational and irritating decisions when he couldn’t intimidate someone, Cloud deduced he was being rather predictable, but Sephiroth was a total nuisance just the same.

Sensing the venomous huffiness in his own gait, Cloud leapt to both feet, pacing around the firepit. It was at least somewhat assisting in taking the edge off, his capacity for whatever else Sephiroth had to offer already breached. With his vape at home and weed gummies far away from the comfort of his grasp, he knew the final insult to injury was the lack of much needed coffee. No form of lovely anesthesia was provided here, and he knew he was going to go ballistic if Sephiroth continued wallowing in blankets of silence.

Just as testy as his six-year-old self had been on a timeout, Cloud would never admit that he was losing. His tracking and hunting skills weren’t even subpar. At most, with his chocolate, energy bars, and shitty cereal, he would probably become emaciated in less than a week…if he even made it that far without another large animal stalking and eating him. 

Aiming not to borrow trouble when a tiny voice shrieked in question as to whether he really had to stay on the infernal island for another week, Cloud slammed the door on all that noise. There was something about his quiet, stolid companion that consistently caused him to throw his newly learned altruistic tendencies into the wind, but Cloud had to force himself to be cordial. 

Supreme irritation swam to the surface, a pressing need to boss someone he considered mentally beneath himself in top form as he chose to be cruel. 

Hands gesticulating all over, he first pointed at the sky, and then at the wavy surface of the ocean. “Look, I flew here…in the sky! Up there!” Biting and mocking, the implications of Sephiroth’s incompetence became blatantly raw. “Crash! In water! But I can’t stay!”

Sephiroth’s visage was now like a great iceberg. It would never melt and peel to meet Cloud’s needs, the same impassive dullness sticking to his eyes, barely glimmering out ahead as he stood there like a block of cement. 

Blood boiling, Cloud was close to losing it, submitting to the volatile flare of his temper. “I need help. I have to go home, but I don’t know where to find a radio and call for help.”

Cloud normally never would allow such a caustic fate to befall himself, but with Sephiroth still weaving the embroidery of pure silence and obstinacy, Cloud became incensed. The urge to tear at Sephiroth, knock him down, and rip his masked persona to shreds made him feel rather giddy. Though he could never be a true match for someone this physically enormous, he imagined felling him like a tree, nearly smiling at the sadistic idea.

Spruce and pine were discernible in the nippy air, Cloud’s doe-like cerulean eyes glazed with shades of orange and generous splashes of yellow which were charmed to continue luxuriating in the pit until the last ember died away. As usual, there was a sordid thrill in winning against something that was fighting for its life, as made evident by the dwindling flames until smoke fizzed them out entirely and the cloudy vapors rose.

After a full circle, when Cloud completed his 360 angle pivot, once he was facing Sephiroth again, he felt a mental knockback. The genesis of it stemmed from that long, full beard. A waterfall of liquid moonlight in perfect shade, it vied to take all the legendary space, sullying his vision, and encouraged Cloud to develop a dislike for it. Aware of how attractive the man beneath it was, Cloud wished to finally rid him of his barbaric, caveman-like appearance once and for all.

“I’d be doing him one hell of a favor.”

But how to approach it without getting his ass kicked? 

Spotting his small knife still on top of one of the few rocks arranged around the firepit, when Cloud focused on it for too long and then blinked up instinctively, he reeled back. Emerald was slanted against him in narrowed suspicion. Dubious and incredulous as Sephiroth was, Cloud held up both hands, inching over to the knife. Bending to swipe it into his dominant grip, he then nodded at Sephiroth, too slow and cautious as he ate up the remaining distance between themselves.

“Sephiroth,” he initiated the oral cue, humble, gentle, feckless. “Sephiroth…stay very still.”

On his knees now, the elevated height Sephiroth held over him as he perched on a boulder was rather irksome, but Cloud was on a steadfast mission. Clinging to it, he smiled as pleasantly as he could, but the friendly attempt was soon interrupted the moment he curled his fist around the knife and cupped Sephiroth’s chin with his opposite hand.

The moment he’d craned Sephiroth’s head just in the way and at the appropriate angle to expose his right cheek, a quaking growl better fit for a bear broke the sound barrier. The blade glistened, lights ricocheting back to Cloud’s eyes, and a tiny swatting sound snapped. Pressure wrapped around his slender wrist, freezing and holding it in motion before it closed the last inch away from meeting Sephiroth’s long beard.

Understanding that Sephiroth took this as a threat, Cloud aimed to correct it as he calmly explained, “No pain. Just want to help. Just help. Please.”

The amalgamation of ‘please’ and ‘help’ bent Sephiroth’s mighty will like a thin, paper straw. Clenched eyebrows and gritted teeth relaxing a fraction, he danced with the heavy seconds, consciousness intact as he very gradually began easing the pressure off Cloud’s wrist. Akin to crabs scuttling backwards, his fingers were the last to go, every tight wrinkle erased off his visage as he inhaled and finally dropped his heavy hand to his side.

Even Sephiroth’s half-hearted grunts were grand sounds to enjoy. While Cloud had been too exhausted last night, he certainly wasn’t delirious and bleary now. Sephiroth’s voice was soothing, deep, guttural, full of masculine notes and grating decibels, but it was quite the handsome match for his above-average looks. While his limited vocabulary was a bit of a nuisance, for some odd reason, he didn’t need to understand the definition of many words, seeing as his ken was broad enough to comprehend what Cloud was often spewing.

Taking the chance before Sephiroth had a change of heart and caused significant damage, Cloud raised himself on a rock, acquiring a more at-level position directly in front of Sephiroth. The call to action was now, but what he had to work with was going to one hell of a tricky maze to meander through.

Wincing, Cloud whispered more to himself, “Umm, let’s just uh…hold this here for a second…” Gathering Sephiroth’s beard and bundling it all in his left fist, he apologetically added, “I hope you won’t kill me for this.”

It would be a munificent gift either way from his lack of stylish, talented hands. Sephiroth looked a bit uncomfortable with the beard, and Cloud guessed it had to be an intolerable annoyance in the blistering heat. Scratching his own fingers now as he held it in a gigantic clump, the meretricious affair between the coarse beard and the knife wasn’t prematurely celebrated.

Snip, snip, snap!

The first slash of the knife through the thick hair wasn’t done in a pusillanimous way. Although Cloud knew there was always a time and place to be reticent and parsimonious, his compulsory choice to unlock the secrets to his next method of survival were set in motion, even if he wasn’t confident that he held the key.

The scene was set exquisitely for a transformation. Brighter than a bolt from heaven, the morning sun spilled over the island like molten butter, dripping across the golden dunes and crystalline surf in slow, radiant waves. The air trembled with warmth—a thick, honeyed heat that clung to the skin and shimmered like a mirage above the jade-laced shoreline. Even the sand beneath their feet glowed like powdered topaz, fine and hot, silk-grain soft, crumbling under each shifting toe as gulls wheeled above with languid cries.

By the edge of the tide, where the ocean whispered secrets to the earth, the younger man knelt in reverence. Sunlight gilded his tousled hair, turning each strand to threadbare gold as it danced in the salted breeze. His shirt hung over his form, though in tatters and wrinkled at the shoulders, plastered damp to his spine from the heat, sweat shining along the gentle slope of his neck. In his hand—a modest, weather-worn knife, dull at the edges but warmed by use and affection.

Since the blade had devoured most of the lengthy beard, before him now, Sephiroth’s beard was still thick and silver, like frost left too long under a burning sun as it rested a few inches above his Adam’s apple. It gleamed in coils and wiry rivulets, flecked with sea salt and sun-bleached at the tips. His eyes were closed, face serene as stone, save for the faintest quirk of a smile, informing Cloud that above all else, he was trusted.

More hair and layers of inches were left, but Cloud held steadfast as he exhaled and reached forth with trembling grace. The blade kissed the beard’s edge, and he began—slow, uneven strokes at first, the crunch of coarse bristles splitting the morning hush. It sounded like dried leaves underfoot, then like sailcloth tearing softly in the wind. A few times, since this was the first instance he’d really shaved another man, his hand faltered—each movement a caress masked as duty. 

Every revealed inch of skin was startling, like unveiling polished moonstone hidden away for decades. Beneath the beard, the older man’s face was ethereal—porcelain smoothed by time, flecked with golden sunspots, flushed faintly by the heat. Akin to a wondrous present being unwrapped, the pale flushed out, revealing ghostly planes, but the pallor wasn’t as sickly and grim as Cloud had imagined.

The knife caught the light as it glided, no longer coarse—now sleek, a canoe slipping down a tranquil stream. The blade whispered over the man’s cheek, and the stunned omega’s breath hitched as he started to count the shorter bits of hair left in the wake. The flesh beneath was alive, warm and impossibly soft, dewed with sweat and salt. 

Touching it was sin and song—a forbidden marvel that set his heart hammering in his throat. Possessing a more transparent, unobstructed view and appreciating it, Cloud’s fingertips, stained faintly from the knife’s worn handle, brushed the exposed jaw to flick hair residue off, and Sephiroth recoiled as though it burned. A blush flared across his cheeks, hot as the noonday sun, soon so contagious as Cloud began feeling his own face flushing as well.

A parity of height and peace brought focus on both their ends, with Cloud majorly unable to look away. 

Well, who could, especially when something so scenic and miraculous was being unraveled for cherishing and savoring? To even blink once would be an egregious error…a waste of time.

Candescent, myrtle eyes sought his out, entangling those azures perfectly. Canorous tunes rose off the avian creatures in the large forest behind them, the most lavish background music Cloud warmed up to in no time. Wishing he could cantillate with them, he became charitable to tend to Sephiroth, every bit of his captious, capricious mood now up in smoke the more he touched the appealing alpha.

A cenote of unusual feelings suddenly overwhelmed Cloud, every unique sensation overtaking him. Each pass of the knife made the air sweeter, thick with the scent of brine, sun-warmed skin, and the earthy trace of their closeness. The rhythmic scrape became music—hypnotic, intimate. It made him dizzy with wonder, acting out of sorts as he bit his lower lip, caught between awe and confusion, like a child opening a gift and finding something terrifyingly precious inside.

Here was a man, perfectly delineated without a single aberration attached to his essence. Dapatical as he was to study, Cloud moved slower now, savoring each reveal: a regal cheekbone, the gentle curve of a jaw, a dimple hinting beneath stubble like a secret waiting to be told. His fingers trembled with reverence, smudging away stray hairs like petals fallen from a bloom. No dapocaginous urges were in sight yet, but he swallowed hard, a giddy warmth spiraling through his chest as he drew the blade across the final strip.

Torrents of awe had left their corrosive mark on Cloud, and he dipped his head in a demure fashion as he scraped off the last bit of hair. Then, after his blade had dragged it downward, it was done. The last lock of silver fell like snowfall to the sand, and he sat back, dazed, though proud of his handiwork.

Naked without his seven inch beard hanging, the man before him opened his eyes—brilliant, verdant like the earth, laughing with unspoken wisdom. His newly shaven face was luminous under the sun, striking in its vulnerability and charm, the years softened and scattered like mist. So refined and clean without the ugly beard in the way, now, Sephiroth looked years younger, not even a single wrinkle embedded anywhere, no hideous scars and blemishes spoiling his pristine, almost empirical design.

The younger omega stared, breathless, the flush never leaving his cheeks. Stymied as he was, the wind curled around them, gentle and forgiving. Waves crashed, the sea sang a lullaby to the shore while gulls accompanied in their clamorous ways. All around was warmth, citrus-sweet and sunlit, and for a fleeting moment, time felt paused—caught in the amber light of a morning too perfect to hold.

“Wow.” 

Heart thundering as it never had before, Cloud smiled—because he had seen something beyond earthly definitions of beautiful. Something real stuck here, and it had been for him…all done by his own skillful hands. Truly, the transformation was complete, and it was a grand spectacle to see just how vastly different a person looked without facial hair.

Cocking his head before he gripped his angular cheeks, the damn things so impressive with the thick jawline, Sephiroth gazed emptily ahead. Even to him, it was a day and night change. Handsome as ever, more so than any model and actor Cloud had ever seen, he flicked out a few fingers towards Sephiroth’s long hair, carding them over his scalp without much trouble on the downward brush from Sephiroth’s roots to his tips. 

Daring to be so bold, he cooed and whispered as he gazed at them, “I would cut all this too, but I won’t lie, you actually look really good with long hair. It was just the beard that was nasty.”

Touching his own face as if he never knew of its existence to become possible without more facial fuzz shielding every inch, Sephiroth’s dabbing went on for many seconds until Cloud began feeling pity for him. Spick and span as he looked, he perhaps wanted to see it for himself, and he certainly would so they could both rejoice. Youthful and sensational as he looked, with his deep frowns and grunts, Cloud withdrew his phone from his pocket, turning his camera on and then switching it to project and reflect Sephiroth’s portrait instead of his own.

“Why don’t we let you be the judge…look.”

A thick electric cable may as well have zapped right into Sephiroth’s core. The moment the camera flashed to present to him just what his newest state of appearance was, the alpha went ballistic…no, that was really putting it mildly. Berserk was more appropriate for how badly Sephiroth growled, jumping an inch in the air before covering his face with his own arms.

Scooting back so fast that he nearly fell onto his ass, though not bothered by it entirely, back and forth, up and down, while hissing and snarling, he really turned into quite the savage. Barbaric and too primitive, the trigger was indeed not his own reflection, but how it appeared there on the phone to begin with. Needing to seek it out, though extremely frightened of the device as if it held the gateway to all sorts of devious, dark magic, as soon as it didn’t lash out at him, though still quite cautious, he finally approached it. 

Eyes rounder than plates, to Sephiroth, Cloud was momentarily forgotten when he had something else to gape at. Awkwardly, as Cloud held out his phone, an eyebrow coyly lifted in the air. Churlish as it was to laugh at someone who’d obviously never seen a phone and an operating camera before, he had to pause and truly enjoy himself. 

Hunched over, Sephiroth still was scared to draw too close. Constantly keeping an eye on the phone, when an urbane lift of a pale eyebrow was pulled through and then shot back, he snarled. Excited, but for the wrong list of reasons, his arms and skittish legs cramped up before flailing.

Balance nearly going since he was so focused on the camera, he cocked his head, arms shaking before he flicked out a few fingers as if to swipe at himself. Doing so however didn’t result in his own reflection disappearing, but Sephiroth quickly pieced together that somehow, the phone was the ultimate source for his double to pop up.

Developing an affinity for those golf-ball sized eyes gazing in a hapless way, Cloud tapped the ‘record’ button and swam in the bath of clamancy and yearning. Wondering what Sephiroth would do if he caught himself on video, he managed to record forty seconds of Sephiroth staring back and forth, getting within an inch of the screen, then scampering aside before shaking terribly. 

Snickering to himself, he hit the ‘play’ button and then sat back as he got exactly what he assumed he would receive. 

Those same forty seconds looped forth, capturing and showing Sephiroth freaking the hell out, and it was priceless gold served on a beautiful, silver platter indeed. Sephiroth’s head rolled about, eyes going next in a confused whirlwind, almost crossed. He looked simply ridiculous, pathetically spazzing out over basically nothing, but Cloud lived for it.

Going through the motions and losing his mind when his smaller duplicate also reached out to grab the phone, Sephiroth stopped the video as he slammed his palm across the screen. Jolting around, he appeared ready to jostle with himself, but the skirmish soon had to come to a grinding halt unless Cloud wanted to piss four hundred gil down the drain.

Sephiroth had determined that the phone was either possessed, dangerous, or otherwise a lethal weapon. Balling up a fist, while cocking his head back and forth still to better assess the device at every angle, he tried swinging at it. Cloud yanked it away right on the knick of time, but Sephiroth’s opposite limb slid around the underside of the phone. Cradling it, he ducked and gaped beneath it, shaking his head, trapped in a stupor when he failed to recover evidence of himself stemming from somewhere tangible. 

Trying to peer behind it directly as if it was a two-way mirror, Sephiroth’s lack of mental versatility was quite astounding for all the worst kinds of reasons. Straining himself all around, when peering around, above, and beneath the phone did nothing, he started sniffing at it.

Literally smelling it like a canine would so curiously when learning about something or someone new, the only difference was that Sephiroth wasn’t an animal…still, he went on taking cautious whiffs as often as he could, but then, he had to take it the extra mile and truly be disgusting and despicable.

“No! Don’t lick my phone!”

The fact that he had to usher those words in that particular order was harsh, but the grating fact was that Sephiroth’s tongue darted out and he was beginning to lap at the screen. Confused since his ‘double’ was doing the same, he licked the screen twice, when suddenly, his oral ministrations landed in total disaster yet again.

Out of the operose shift, a quisquous curiosity lit in his pale eyes—one part confusion, one part wonder, all held in a delicate paralysis of awe. Tentatively, he reached forward, brushing the device with two fingers. Cool. Smooth. Repeatedly, he sniffed it—plastic and salt. Then, emboldened, he pressed it to his lips and tasted it. His expression soured, tongue out, raucous and childlike, before a song blasted out, a rare sound like stone cracking in spring.

The device lit up with sudden violence, paroxysmic in its brilliance since the volume button was raised to the max. Notes of Korean pop floated out of the phone, and Sephiroth reeled back, eyes wild. A second later, more sounds erupted from it—boisterous, brash, raffish—another pop anthem blaring with synthetic drums and digitized voices. The silver-haired man froze mid-breath, the music’s rhythm hitting him like a thunderclap. For a heartbeat, his face contorted—utter, raw shock, working his lips around into a tight seam, then came fear.

His hands flew to his ears, the movement ragmatical, desperate to contain the abrasive noises. They all flowed into him, changing his eye shapes as he blinked about, gasping as though struck, the song a seismic disruption to his body’s understanding of peace. His mouth hung open, aghast, as if the music itself were some violent storm pouring through himself to split him open.

Shaking his head like a soaked mutt trying to dry itself off, he staggered to his feet, stumbling in the sand like a marionette wrenched by invisible strings. His whole body trembled with an animal response—gooseflesh erupted across his arms, his shoulders flinched with each beat as if dodging arrows. Rapidly panicking, he turned to his companion with wide, beseeching eyes, silently pleading for explanation, salvation, meaning.

Cloud, half-laughing and half-horrified, scrambled to silence the phone, his thumb a fumbling mess and slamming on it when he held the genuine concern that Sephiroth would either smash it to bits or attack him. The music continued its quidditative scream, asking questions the silver-haired man had no words to answer, though his eyes certainly called them all out one at a time.

What was this sorcery? This invisible orchestra, this loud, shapeless intrusion?

It clawed at his ears, gnawed at his instincts, shattered his silence-born understanding of the world. Even after it was dying away, swaying, he shook his head violently, a blur of silver and panic, the rhythm of the noise stabbing like knives and splitting his world apart.

Then—it stopped. Silence swelled back in like tidewater rushing to reclaim a ravaged shore. The forest, ocean, wind, all the natural elements rushed to console Sephiroth, feeding him normalcy he desired after Cloud muted his device. 

Still taking as many heaving breaths as he could, the older male stood frozen, chest shunting up and down, arms limp at his sides. Covered in needle-points and on edge as his teeth ground roughly to make the audible sounds, those emerald eyes darted to the phone, now still and mute. Since Cloud had quieted it, Sephiroth approached it cautiously, as if it were a snake lying in wait. His expression softened—not into peace, but a slow, searching awe as he pointed at the object, then at his ear, then to his chest.

The blond youth gave a weak smile, nodding as he pushed it back into his pocket.

“Yes,” he replied gently, “that was…music. It’s gone now…it’s done.”

The silver-haired man blinked, his lips parted as though tasting the word itself. Shuddering once more as his long hair trailed over his broad shoulders, he then turned his face back to the sea, face bathed in morning light. The hungry birds cried and soared overhead, the secretive waves whispered on, but the world, for him, had shifted—something risible, terrifying, beautiful, and utterly alien had broken into his consciousness.

And now, the silence felt different. Like a breath held just before another unknown song, but the most awkward, albeit vital lesson was that Sephiroth really had never heard music before at all. It wasn’t surprising on its own, but his massively outrageous reaction to it was astounding.

Draped in the hue of the conflicting shock himself, Cloud shook it off, escaping the tension with a snarky, misplaced joke. “Sorry, guess I’ll play Ariana Grande next time then.”

This time, when Sephiroth turned his gaze to Cloud, the distinct, remarkable pull of his lips crawling backwards to present his sharp teeth informed Cloud all he needed to know about his poor lack of humor.

Humbly, Cloud cocked his head as he apologetically whispered, “Yeah, I’ll shut it for now.”

:-----: :-----:

The sun had just begun its slow crawl above the horizon, smearing the sky with watercolor hues—apricot, mauve, the faintest gold. Heat unfurled lazily across the shoreline like a great, sighing beast stretching its limbs, setting the wet sand aglow and dotting the silver surf with diamonds. Cicadas droned in the distance, their risible chorus a thin, comforting static in the otherwise hushed paradise.

Two figures lounged in parallel beneath a spindly palm tree, its shadow fractured across their skin like stained glass. Immobile more than he wanted to be, Cloud lay there, the flaxen-haired youth with skin slightly pink by salt and sun, reclined with an arm tucked behind his head, his legs dusted in sand. 

His phone lay discarded at his side, unassuming in its black case—silent, asleep. Spending a few hours trying to recuperate to then break out of his slumber and find Sephiroth standing by the edge of the shore, Cloud rolled his eyes, gathering his energy to not only find his balance on both feet, but gingerly approach the alpha. After his freak-out last time, he was more cautious about how he could communicate, only, Sephiroth was genuinely making him worry now.

Broad-shouldered and still as driftwood, silver-haired and sharp-eyed, with the calm of someone long divorced from speech, his presence was seismic, quiet but deep, a soul whose weight pressed into the world with all the subtlety of a dream turning heavy. Posted on the shoreline with his eyes narrowing at a particular spot where the water was churning to form a light blue and foamy white, he braced himself for more observation.

They didn’t need to speak—had never spoken since the first sunrise—but between them passed a quiet companionship forged in the marrow of summer. No words, only glances, gestures, shared sunrises.

Sedulous as he took a breath through his mouth to warn Sephiroth that he was close, when the stoic alpha had yet to acknowledge his presence, Cloud then perched next to him. Clearing his throat, eyes darting about as he swayed still did nothing favorable. The pendulous motions didn’t even break Sephiroth out of his semi-coma, oddly. 

Annoyed now that he was clearly being ignored by the vegetative man, after scratching the back of his head, Cloud placed his hands on both hips and rocked forward. Deliberately moving himself in front of Sephiroth’s view, he quickly waved a hand before his eyes, then tucked it back and sighed.

Clicking his tongue against his teeth, swaying again, and humming still did nothing. Hyper-focused on something in the water, Sephiroth didn’t even blink, so incredibly frozen stiff that it made Cloud wonder if he’d gone catatonic and statuesque as part of some bizarre game.

“Uhh, hello?” Waving his arm before Sephiroth and wrenching no single reaction, he groused this time, “Sephiroth? What’s up now?”

Mute and fixated with his disturbing glare facing out ahead at the ocean, Sephiroth never budged. Truly pissed off now, Cloud wondered if this was caveman-language, or lack thereof, suitable for a punishment. Since his previous stunt, Sephiroth hadn’t kept close to him, giving him the cold shoulder anytime he attempted to talk and open up to him.

“Ugh, I really am sorry,” Cloud began, wondering if his genuine apology would fall on deaf, dumb ears. Biting his lower lip and coiling his hands back to tuck near his spine, he softly added, “I legit didn’t think you were gonna lick my phone…come on, Sephiroth.”

Long eyelashes only moved, barely because of the wind rather than Sephiroth blinking. Stationary like the world, he wasn’t even bathed in opacity now, rigid, but also incredibly smooth akin to the snow-capped top of a mountain. Unreachable as one as well, he hovered there, tall, impassive, frozen, and totally untouchable. More of a prop than a person, he really started grating on Cloud’s nerves, the hours of quiet inconceivable when he felt he honestly hadn’t done anything wrong.

Countering with bite and attitude, like some bratty teen, Cloud spat, “Take a freakin’ picture. It’ll last longer then.”

Leaving Sephiroth to his own devices, he stomped back to the suitcases he’d uncovered hours ago. Interesting what one could find when they had sunlight and more time. Not only had Cid’s bags washed up now, but Reno’s had as well. Like sprinkled gifts from a kind force of nature, Cloud wasted no time going through the heaps of items, letting go of his prejudice around Sephiroth. 

Clearly, Reno hadn’t brought too much since it was only a three day trip for himself and Cid, and there was only so much he was going to be able to carry in his messenger bag. Cloud found a few personal belongings, untouched and new, fishing out the socks and underwear that he’d packed, along with his brand-new toothbrush and travel sized toothpaste. Reno clearly hadn’t packed too much in the way of warm clothes for a late spring trip to Costa Del Sol, but his robe was in there, and he figured it would make a good blanket. 

Thankfully having more sense than he apparently did, Reno had also brought along his favorite Doc Martin boots, and traded his teal canvas slides out for the sturdier footwear. Close to tearing up at the wondrous, munificent gifts, but also more determined to find his companions now, Cloud worked his way through the racks of various emotions, glancing back at Sephiroth.

Such a shock…he was in the exact same spot as before. Hulking in height and glowering as if the sea had insulted him, his furrowed eyebrows made him look demented. The left one was slightly raised, but the deviousness surfed and surged from the center of his eyes. Obnoxious with the overwhelming quiet that was now suffocation itself and too toxic to be handled by the way of ignorance, he continued standing stationary until Cloud had enough of it and dropped his own reticence.

Hoisting himself upwards with a groan, prepared to face more grievous injustice, Cloud shielded himself from it using the cushion and protection of only an unruly mood. 

“Sephiroth,” he began, now at the alpha’s side, “what did the ocean ever do to you, hmm? Why are you so serious?”

…A man of many words, he was. Sephiroth still maintained his furious, derisive glare, time having passed substantially as the saccharine hue of the sun’s rays bounced off his now hairless, pale skin.

Admiring his glossy glow and hating that he was becoming more attracted to the damn, occasionally mute menace, Cloud lashed out due to his growing turmoil.

“I know you can hear me, you rude jackass.” The first pejorative didn’t bring much comfort, but he went on anyway since the fury train was now set in motion. “Ignoring me like you’re five is just plain ridiculous. Just stop.”

This was as fruitful and slathered in amicable results he wanted as much as training an elephant to tap dance. Sephiroth hadn’t moved at all, his breathing low as he visually mapped out the frenzied, churning water ahead. Slightly darker now, the waves crashed around it before shadows moved beneath, but he refused to blink, locked on for dear life.

Running out of things to spew, Cloud assessed the spear left by the boulders around their firepit and then turned to Sephiroth. Coyly grinning, he put on his best, most wanton voice as he asked, “Hey, what else do you have on you that’s thick, long, and hard?” Winking despite never locking eyes with Sephiroth, he supplied coquettishly, “I bet it’s pretty big. I’m dying to see it.”

This of course was another point to earn him monumental and epic loss. Failure shrouded him when Sephiroth continued studying the ocean, the body of water roaring as the newest tides swept in. On and on, they trickled around to escort more strange shapes and shadows underneath the surface, and the grating sounds finally plucked deeply, breaking Cloud out of his state of patience, limited as it was. He’d already made an ass out of himself for his stupid flirting, and now that Sephiroth hadn’t even croaked or grunted at him, he was done for.

Near a scream bastardized by a sob, he tugged at his own hair as he whirled around and rushed to throw himself on a pile of towels and blankets. “Fine then! You can stay mad and bitchy all you like, Sephiroth, but I’ll have you know, no matter how hard you try to act badass, it’s pointless!” Pointing at him now as Sephiroth gradually began pivoting, Cloud lambasted with one final roar, “You’re nobody anyway! Just a tall, useless prick! You hear me! You’re not scary, you’re not strong, you’re not smart! Just a big dummy!”

And there it was. The imperial, vociferous cries hammered on, reaching some pinnacle and mountain far off. Perhaps they would be responsible for an earthquake or volcanic eruption, but for the moment, all they’d done was satisfy Cloud to a temporary degree. Letting it all out like steam from a hot air balloon, he deflated then, nervous as hell when Sephiroth turned fully to cast a foul look his way.

That profuse glower rotted wood, discolored sand, and sent shockwaves through Cloud’s core to disrupt his system of recently spun equanimity. Now that he’d disturbed the equilibrium Sephiroth had been seeking, he knew he was utterly and royally screwed. Sephiroth was even moving towards him at least, but it wasn’t in the manner Cloud needed and wanted to see.

Predatory in his stance and gait rather stalkerish, Sephiroth kicked up and disturbed gravel and sand alike, twigs snapping and cracking under his immense weight. Massive shadow now covering half their campsite, he paused once he was only an inch away from Cloud and his harpoon-like spear. This was more than a cause for concern when Cloud noticed that Sephiroth’s eyes darted back and forth between his tiny body and the sharp weapon protruding.

Just before he could surrender, plead, beg for his life, Sephiroth deftly swooped forth. Darkness encased Cloud, tugging a pathetic, high-pitched whimper from his throat. Sephiroth’s large palm had enveloped not his throat as he suspected, but the spear. A murderous, bloodthirsty gleam of true crimson had tainted his pupils before those dark greens took over. Nostrils flaring to produce and replicate a man on the brink of losing all control, the tendons in his temples and neck were now exceedingly visible, akin to large roots of an old tree.

Backing away and cowering still, Cloud scooted far off, but the stunning death blow never arrived. Air whistled back, the ground shaking disastrously, but the deleterious notions weren’t saved for his plight anymore.

From where he stood between the rocks and the omega, Sephiroth didn’t even cease glaring at Cloud as he hoisted his arm above his own head. Left hand flexing mightily, he used all the force in his entire arm, flicking his wrist as he shot the spear back and out toward the ocean with a mild twist of his upper torso. Targeting the same spot where the waves were rapidly spinning, the spear whipped out, arching as it finally landed directly in the middle. 

This wasn’t a game of darts, however. A sick squelch spat out, parting the water, sending the shadows scattering about in every direction before bubbles spasmed and a scarlet tinge colored the otherwise deep blue sea. Something with a bleached belly flopped upwards, the fins and tail slapping across the water as it bled out profusely. 

Hitting his mark, Sephiroth’s savagery knew no bounds, his eyes locked onto Cloud until he broke off into a brisk jog. It was all so incredibly surreal, random, insane. Sephiroth was there one minute, hatefully casting a nasty glare at Cloud before he flew off towards the calm water next. Dicing and cutting through it, he dove deeply, making a beeline directly for the fish he’d cleaved through. The spear jutted upwards, beckoning to Sephiroth like a welcoming mast he soon easily collected along with his treat. 

Tucked under his right armpit with the spear still sticking up, Sephiroth’s left arm beat and churned the waves as he kicked off back towards the beach, making it forward in less than six minutes due to how speedily he’d been powering through. More like a bolt rather than a person as his potent sinew and joints coordinated akin to a work of art in the flesh, he’d trekked forward yet again, regrouping with Cloud, soaked and dripping to the bone, but with something to show for his efforts.

Snarling, he tossed the lifeless body of the weirdest fish Cloud had ever seen right by his knees. Double the size of a baby shark and reminiscent of a swordfish, its belly was indeed quite pale, but the navy-blue scales looked razor-sharp as its jagged, crooked, slightly chipped rows of many teeth. Its eyes were lifeless and dull, coated in blood like the rest of its form, a huge, gaping hole in its side emitting nothing but bright pink and red organs spilling everywhere.

Sephiroth had yanked its mouth open, the snout long and pointy, monstrously exaggerated now as it was disfigured. Keeping his emerald eyes glued to Cloud the entire time, he crouched, fingers sliding into the fish’s mouth as he then gripped the lower jaw from the inside and tugged backwards. In one clean go, he smoothly dislodged and broke the appendage off, the sickening crunch and pop smacking Cloud square in the chest.

As the ground became fused and besmirched with blood, salt, and coppery, tangy odors wafting, Cloud understood this message loud and clear. Sephiroth was brandishing the dislocated jaw full of teeth, dipping his head in a knowing way at him, and it all made perfect sense considering Cloud’s previous, boisterous antics. 

Insufferable as it was, Sephiroth wanted him to get the picture in a jarring display, and Cloud certainly faced no qualms doing so. Hint taken, Cloud knew he was symbolically warning and referring to him to shut his mouth, unless he wished to go through the same sordid experience as the now deceased fish.

Sheepishly recovering with a nod and a thick, audible swallow, Cloud then scratched his neck as he whispered, “I’ll uh…I mean, as hot and sexy as fuck as that was, I’ll keep it down. You’re right.”

This was seriously twisted. Both terrified out of his wits and horrendously turned on, he didn’t understand why he was feeling this way or what precisely the genesis of his unruly emotions were, but he knew undoubtedly that he absolutely had to leave the island before it turned him into something he hoped he wasn’t becoming.

Chapter Text

Grief, pain, arousal, listlessness, confusion, and fright of the worst kind constantly radiated through Cloud for the next several hours. Maybe it was all pent-up frustration since he hadn’t jerked off since three months ago…perhaps it was all because he hadn’t actively dated and fooled around even when he’d been given a few flavorful opportunities in school. 

Whatever the case, being around Sephiroth was apparently beginning to screw with him, not that it was his fault entirely.

Sephiroth just had to be extremely sexy all over, possessing one of the greatest, most sculpted bodies in the world. Perfectly chiseled abs were always stuck out with glistening sweat and moisture in the bubbling heat as he paraded about, mostly covered, but his apparel revealed the majority of his burly muscles in all the right places to tease even a nun.

Massive godly sensuality seeped off him, his bones sticking out appropriately in his jawline and cheekbones, his hips dipping, the barely hidden ‘v’ line of his shapely abdomen and dipping pubic bone sometimes sticking out until he sat, crouched, or turned away. Long legs going on for miles, the calves and ankles were practically begging to be massaged and bitten, just like his biceps and triceps.

Pectorals never flat but also not too busty, even as he sat still and breathed, he nearly had Cloud swooning, especially when he’d accentuated his muscular figure with water glistening off every part of his toned form.

While Sephiroth’s ‘social’ skills left quite a lot to be desired, physically, he was someone Cloud liked. Sephiroth was his exact type in a man, his body carved and crafted for his view alone, even if he had the personality of a broken washing machine quite often. Still, this was someone he was insatiably drawn to, but he didn’t wish to confess that anytime soon.

Checking Sephiroth out for the tenth time in less than half an hour, Cloud’s mouth went entirely dry, eyes glazed over as he thought to himself, “Dear heaven…if I didn’t think I was gay before, I definitely know I am for a fact now.”

They often said that virgins held the filthiest minds, but Cloud’s was definitely up there in the highest ranks of vulgarities. Abstaining from porn certainly wasn’t helping in the matter, but with Sephiroth’s long, mercury colored hair flowing past and over his crotch, Cloud couldn’t help but try to picture the shape, girth, and overall texture of it. Nothing was sadly visible with that mountain of thick hair protecting his lap, but his imagination did many loops and circled about until he felt dizzy from it.

“Umm…”

When had he even started speaking?

He didn’t know, but he evidently had, given the fact that Sephiroth was staring right at him. Caught like a deer in beaming headlights, this wasn’t the time to be reticent. Cloud knew he had mere seconds before Sephiroth went back to decorating this long bit of string with the bones of the fish he’d devoured, so he hurried on to offer something.

No, not something random…something useful. He’d made up his mind when he recalled the plane, his friends’ items, and recollected his family photos. A few clouds were already gathering across the distance, and the vital points hammered into his brain about the daylight hours and change of weather helped him seal in his final, fervid decision.

Rushing, but not to vomit out something incoherent, he blatantly expressed, “How do I leave this place?” Thinking on it to refine and re-shape his question with his own plans in motion, he corrected himself, “I mean, is there like, I don’t know…a small village or town with some way to call for help?”

Was this a grave error already? 

Cloud had to assume so, ready to draw up another childish diagram depicting what he wanted when Sephiroth blankly stared. However, right when the discombobulated omega wished to give up and take his own chances in the woods, Sephiroth stood and stalked over to him.

Holding out his hand, when the outstretched limb wasn’t taken as he wanted, he snarled and aggressively wrapped his arm around Cloud’s elbow. Tugging him onto his feet, he started pulling Cloud deep into the forest. It was mostly dark but the alpha was headstrong as ever, not relying on and needing any source of light as he marched them both another yard or so ahead and then turned right to hitch them both up a generously large hill. 

Stagnant no longer when he peered below and saw nothing of any important value aside from blue, green, more green, and even more deep green, Cloud yelped, “What the heck?”

It would make sense the way things were going that Sephiroth wanted to chuck him off the hill and watch as every bone in his body broke. They were cast under the inky canopy of the still, peaceful night, many nocturnal creatures chirping, hooting, and canorously serenading them with melodically peaceful music. Tranquil as the glittering stars above happened to be in their cosmic arrangement, the inner turmoil and outlandish anguish was starting to become too vexing for Cloud to tolerate.

Beneath the swathes of navy blue, cauldron-black, violent purple, and twisting silver, he was nothing short of dazed until Sephiroth snuck a hand under his chin and cupped it. The index finger of his opposite limb strung out, gesturing far off to the pointy tops of other trees and distant mountains. The giants loomed ahead, their needle points being encircled by large, feathered creatures twice the size of any regular eagle, mist and ghostly vapors surging all around to constantly create the pall of intrigue and mystery ahead.

Dipping his head in reconfigured focus and acquiescence, Sephiroth emitted solidly, “There. Town.”

Cloud thought he was joking at first, but then, when he squinted to make things clearer for himself, the bellicosity flowed out of himself. Spotting easily recognizable poles, long seams of rope and power cables strewn between major buildings constructed years ago, he even counted what looked like three round water towers between a watchtower and then made out the droves of disheveled, decrepit rooftops. Indeed, it seemed that the earlier settlers left their mark just well for them to follow without any issues.

Hyped up for that trip and thinking it was a lot closer than it looked, Cloud skipped forward and cheered, “Awesome! Time for a head start then and—gah!”

Hauled back by Sephiroth’s powerful grip on his shirt, as his spine collided into Sephiroth’s ribs, Cloud twisted about to free himself when Sephiroth asked one simple question even without using language.

Having expected it already and reading through the clues when Sephiroth’s lips parted and his facial muscles looked more relaxed, Cloud hissed under duress, “Oh, I was thinking of heading off to bake a pie!” Deducing that he didn’t have time for sarcasm, he changed his tone and replied more wisely. “I’m going to town! Where else?!” 

Eyes surveying the sky, Sephiroth’s greens rolled down right in time as he announced in a deep voice, “Dark, danger. Bright, safe.”

“How brilliantly intellectual!” came the spiralling hiss before another sibilant susurrus curtained the air between the young men. “What’s that got to do with anything anyway?!” Changing the direction of his question to be more pointed and direct now, with his hands bare inches apart, Cloud asked, “Is town far?” Showing that by spreading his hands a distance away, he then brought them close as he finished making his statement. “Or close?”

Eerily glinting at him, Sephiroth did thankfully release Cloud, but when he did, he only brought his own visage quite near until they were an inch away from rubbing their noses together. Bearing his massive presence all over Cloud just to be extra intimidating and knowing that he was afflicting his junior with panic and terror, he borrowed plenty of time to be extra dramatic even though he had no flair for it. 

Somber and poignant, he answered, “Walk takes days.” Index finger prodding into Cloud’s chest, he’d long made fun of him by that gesture alone before speaking to unveil more criticism. “Cloud. Slow. Maybe takes a week.”

Never signing up to be insulted by a bloody caveman of all things, Cloud used that as fuel before he fired out in a disgruntled way, “I’m not slow. I ran track in school and was better than everyone else on my team for three years in a row! I can be fast!”

Clearly disagreeing, Sephiroth shot that down as he sniffed and shook his head. “Must be faster and stronger.”

Livid as he was, when Cloud scrunched his eyes shut and then calmed down enough to survey the steep areas ahead, he knew he’d truly been the staggering idiot for assuming everything would be so simple. This went far beyond a matter of a hop, skip, and happy day trip.

There wouldn’t be much merriment when the paths were strewn in vines, barricaded by large logs and fallen trees, leaves piling up before deadly caves and boulders ended in mazes of curves. The sinuous paths broke off to serrated ledges, maybe quick to send him to his downward doom if he took one false step.

Picturing himself squashed down into ravines, his pale, bloated carcass washed up in another river perhaps, or maybe torn to shreds by other lurking beasts, never to be seen and heard from again, he wore his best and most convincing expression to get what he wanted. Fixing Sephiroth with it, he mewled, timorous only for show as he further dissimulated into the role of a helpless victim.

“Sephiroth, you must take me there! I can’t find my own way outta here even if I actually try!” 

It really was a damn jungle he was thrown into, and if he was on his own, his chances were extremely slim to none. There were all sorts of other bushes and foliage out there, and Cloud began envisioning plenty of gnarly, grotesque scenarios as he ranted about them.

“I c-could get like, some weird, incurable poisoning or deadly disease!” Seeing his lovely skin covered with blisters and scarlet rashes, he practically itched from the idea of them alone. “What about like, some bears or wolves!” Patting himself on the chest and arms, he whined, “I don’t want to be torn apart! I don’t want boils or cuts on me! I gotta get back to my parents in one piece!” 

Evincing more terror as he wandered into the uncharted territory of his tangential thoughts running wild, he saw himself trapped and squashed under heavy rocks, ground to a pulp with nothing but his clothes waving in the wind. Battered and bruised to paste, broken bones and teeth, discolored flesh, sunken in eyes, an emaciated body, dehydration, and sometimes, it would be a matter of just getting lost and dying as he surrendered to the brutally unforgiving hot and cold elements. 

Restless as ever now, he almost screamed his lungs out. “You can’t do this to me! If you do, you’ll be the worst man, err, I mean, savage person, beast thing ever, and I won’t forgive you!”

He’d let it all out, but Sephiroth only searched his soul through his eyes, leaving Cloud more open and susceptible to influence than he’d wanted to be. Silence was his most optimal tool, speaking volumes on his behalf as he let his substantial pull take Cloud under as if he’d been drowning and only recently realized it. 

Prone to inscrutable actions, with his impassive visage decorated as grand as a mallet, the way Sephiroth continued to stare at Cloud left the omega feeling more than cold. Sephiroth had transmuted to a purely immovable block of ice, a regal potentate as he waited another thirty seconds and yanked out something from a bulge in his pelt pockets. It was impossible to discern what it was in the mass of black blanketing them, but his sparkling hues held the mystical secrets to narrate the adventurous path beforehand and build intrigue.

Keeping up with the unsociable, stolid veneer, he raised his hand, shoving cooked meat past Cloud’s seams. Forcing Cloud to masticate as he pushed on his lower jaw and added simultaneous pressure on the top of his skull, Sephiroth’s dull comportment was stunning in its own way given how crafty he was never to emit a single clue by emotions.

After he’d pushed the generous portion of fish meat into Cloud’s mouth, while the omega raised both eyebrows at him and sputtered, Sephiroth tugged his hand back and licked off the remaining residue of flesh from his long digits.

“Eat meat,” came the grunt of a basic order, so barbaric but downright noteworthy since it was pragmatic. Nodding at Cloud and then down the hill to indicate where he wanted him to go, Sephiroth murmured in addition, “Keeps strength. Now, sleep. We leave early.”

All of that yelling and rancorous explosion had been for nothing. No longer raucous, Sephiroth had proven to him once more that he was far more cunning, mature, and sapient enough to know precisely what to do in a rocky situation. This was the person he had to cooperate with if he wanted to make it another day in the jungle, as much as Cloud both loathed yet admired him.

Lower jaw grinding and saliva mashing the cooked meat, angry as he initially was, he hummed in fervent approval, more than impressed with the zesty, addictive flavor of the fish. Pointing at his mouth as more of the smoky essence flooded into his taste buds and olfactory bulbs, lips oozing with the traces of the light pink meat, Cloud followed Sephiroth in a flash.

“This stuff’s actually pretty good!”

:-----: :-----:

As it stood, Sephiroth was a man of his word…literally. Particularly noteworthy was his unflinching portrayal of human endurance, suffering, and the visceral trials of survival. 

Up bright and early, he’d been the first to craft the gnarly scene. A monumental symbol of the hardship and psychological toll of a long, punishing trek through a wilderness that felt almost indifferent to human will, echoed the beginnings of struggle, disillusionment, and perseverance.

Sephiroth technically had the tools and physique to last for months in the jungle, but Cloud knew he was quite different. Taking his time to stock up on water bottles, changing to the hiking boots Cid brought, though they were a size too large, he wore warmer clothes for the night, packing everything else in one bag and only one to bring along. If they were to carry more, they would only be slowed down, unfortunately.

Awkwardly bidding farewell to the other belongings, but making a mental note to come back for them later since they were more than valuable forms of memorabilia, Cloud kept them in the cave he often slept in before joining Sephiroth at the threshold of the entrance to the humongous forest. 

The forest rose like a great, rotting cathedral, pillars of bark draped in festoons of moss and mildew. No path marked the way forward—only an endless tangle of limbs and leaves, where daylight struggled to pierce the oppressive canopy overhead. The two men, silhouettes drawn thin by hunger and heat, moved with the slow, trudging gait of those long since stripped of strength but not yet permitted collapse.

Sephiroth, naturally always in the lead, walked on, his camouflaging gear clinging to his form like a second skin, and eyes sunken, black-ringed from nights of sleepless vigilance. Behind him, still rather stout and not yet deflated by the wilderness, Cloud’s breaths came through with each step, rasping like sandpaper in his throat.

Breathtaking as the sights and sounds of life teeming everywhere on so many crisp, vibrant notes ringing out happened to be, the forest floor was no floor at all—merely a collage of decay and deception. Roots twisted like serpents beneath rotting leaves; brambles clawed at bare legs; the earth gave way without warning into slick hollows that sucked at their ankles with viscous glee. Each step was an argument with the jungle, a negotiation of pain, and yet they moved, one foot before the other, driven not by hope but by the sheer inertia of survival.

After what felt like hours of steady marching in one direction, Cloud grunted, voice hoarse, “Gaia, we’re walking in circles. The same damn fern—look at it.”

The waterfall they’d circled at least twice was Mediterranean-blue and magical, but far from lovely as it’d been the first time they’d walked by. It was swishing over the rocks joyfully, the massive rivulets thundering down into the pool like a gigantic water spout. When it toppled into the ecstasy-pool, it foamed it at the bottom. The rest of the pool was as clear as cellophane, enabling Cloud to see down into the rocky bottom. 

Fronds of forest-green plants waved gently in the depths. The waterfall looked like a sheet of blue velour as it swished down, its edges thoroughly hemmed with whipped-white lines and spurs of overgrowth.

From his position, Cloud could see a gaggle of geese grazing by the bank and the scene was picture perfect. A group of Amazonian ferns, edged with saw’s teeth and statue still, added a tropical flavor. Tempted as he was to stand under the waterfall to cool down, as it was catacomb cold, the sweat he’d been building up from hours of endless pacing was adding to his peckish, peevish mood. 

As the spray rained and slammed over solid rocks to bounce icy water over him, Cloud ended up quivering and shivering on the bank. The nectar sweet smell of the spring flowers couldn’t even perk up his crestfallen spirits. Monstrous for a moment of madness, he loathed how patience stitched itself so well to Sephiroth, unbothered as he was when Cloud kicked up another fuss and slowed down.

Bitterly, he lamented and pouted, “They all look the same. This is the same way you took me about an hour ago, Sephiroth!” Praying that Sephiroth wasn’t deliberately being obtuse to get him lost, Cloud cut back on another timely groan.

“It’s a goddamn maze,” he sadly spat, collapsing onto a log that burst beneath himself in a puff of ants and decay. He cursed when he was rammed onto his ass, brushing at his already gross, messy jeans in a panic. “God damn…I hate this shit.”

The air was thick enough to chew, a fetid soup of spores and sweat. Every breath filled the lungs with a heavy sweetness that soured as soon as it settled. Birds screamed high above like laughter in a madhouse, their calls sharp, deranged. Cicadas rattled like bones. The sun—an oppressive god—barely broke through, and when it did, it scalded. Cloud’s skin was blistered raw across the nape of his neck, the salt of his sweat stinging the invisible wounds like acid.

Tossing Sephiroth a withering glare and then blocking out the putrid, blinding sunlight from streaming into his retinas, he wondered more as a complaint, “Are you sure you know where you’re taking me?”

Chipped and robotic, Sephiroth tilted his head to the left, eyes raking to the side before he took a step to the right. Time passed in stretches of indistinguishable suffering on his own end when Sephiroth offered him steady silence. The light changed as Cloud glowered down by his own feet, but there were no hours, only miles. The forest was seismic in its silence, always shifting, never yielding, but he had to get back on his legs all the same rather than stewing in the dirt. 

The underbrush became a wall, the heat a cloak, and the air itself felt charged—almost malicious. They really had walked for hours, maybe days, through gnarled corridors of green, haunted by their own heavy breathing and the monstrous hum of unseen insects, and there was only so much more ground to cover as he determined by peering at the top of the shantytown far ahead every so often.

Once he righted himself and walked around the pool of the waterfall which descended into a tiny slope, Cloud found a stream—brackish, lukewarm, but wet. Taking a spot by the ledge and propping open his first water bottle, he drank in shaking gulps, uncaring of the consequences. It tasted like tin and algae, the result of the heat clashing with the plastic to boil it into the fluid, sadly.

Stomach grumbling a complaint already, Cloud paused and spat some of the water out before he dipped his face into the brook to rid himself of some sweat streaks and mud, his cheeks sunken, his expression gaunt. In the ripples, he barely recognized himself.

“I dreamed of being in my own bed last night,” Cloud muttered, his heart trudging on even though he was speaking to himself. “Gosh, I miss the city even though it reeks of smoke. Streetcars are everywhere and so damn loud, but it’s so beautiful because it’s my home.”

The memory hurt more than hunger, but he couldn’t see anything else lingering on the horizon to shape his plans, so he went on with that for bold encouragement.

“I can’t wait to shop again with my dad…he likes to go to this old, red-brick butcher’s shop sometimes, and the meat’s all gross, but worth the price.” All smiles as he closed his eyes and could almost taste the spices on the tip of his tongue, he sang in bliss, “Ahh, I miss picnics and barbecues with all my friends…Reno, Cid…”

Eventually, despite him getting up to pace around the straight and narrow path, Sephiroth’s legs stopped answering commands. Cloud wanted to collapse in a patch of clearing where the trees had bowed slightly, allowing light to spill in like molten gold, but there was no peace, only fatigue—the kind that turned muscles into iron weights and thoughts into dull shadows.

The forest watched him so suddenly with indifferent patience, leaving him with the notion that he wasn’t to fight it, for he wouldn’t be the last to lose to the supreme power it wielded over him. At least admiring it, he beamed around, seduced by the luscious foliage, so much that he decided to whip out his phone and do what he often did whenever he hiked and stumbled on something lovely and delightful.

As he made to capture the moment in time as an immortal memory on his phone, the first picture he’d snapped ended with a dangerous tremor shaking the ground. It was the ominous, daunting sign that Cloud had failed to snatch up, but it was a warning regardless as the rumbling vibrations zapped into the soles of his boots and clogged into his eardrums before his teeth clattered. It didn’t take much effort, genius skills, or lofty brain power to ascertain that something was seriously wrong.

The woods had grown dangerously tacent and frightening. It was much too quiet so suddenly, the abrupt dynamic rupturing Cloud’s confidence by the second. While there weren’t traces of smoke about to indicate that he was near a volcano, he noticed how birds ceased flocking about, the world on pause. Everything was spinning, yet it wasn’t, the peaceful cycle broken and the pieces long scattered in a sour breeze. 

A musky, tangy odor flew around, causing Cloud’s guts to roll and heave. It stank like rotten flesh and garbage left to roast in broad daylight for too long. Nauseous to see tears now, he turned about towards Sephiroth, taking only a few quick breaths as he shielded his sensitive nose with an arm.

“We should lea—”

Contrary to his wishes as it stood, desiring to be on his own wasn’t glorified, for when he looked back, Sephiroth was gone as swiftly and easily as dust in the wind. The tall alpha had indeed disappeared as if he’d never existed, leaving the young man alone in the sprawling darkness of an unfamiliar land.

Though it was still bright out, the trees seemed to be spelled to life, their haunting magic bringing their branches together to close around Cloud. In need of a way far from the unholy land of his terror, Cloud gingerly walked forward, hesitant, his footsteps hollow against the soft, uneven ground.

As soon as the initial, reactionary bite from the cold dread of being on his stinging into his torso settled, Cloud properly began getting lost and started loathing the freedom of the open world.

The air was sharp, biting at his exposed skin, sinking through his tattered clothes like icy needles. He exhaled, and a ghostly cloud of breath billowed outward before vanishing into the open air before himself. The wind was restless, whispering through the grass in soft, slithering hisses, carrying with itself the scent of damp earth and the distant, musky aroma of decaying leaves. Branches snapped and cracked, but it wasn’t the regular kind escorted by the force of the wind because it was rather mild.

“Sephiroth?”

What the hell was this?! Had he really been the brazen moron to be guided to his end by someone he never should’ve relied on?!

Willing himself not to reach that gnarly conclusion yet, not without concrete proof, Cloud bit his own tongue and steeled himself properly. “Dude, no,” he urged himself, “he’s probably taking a leak somewhere…dear God, please, please be taking a piss somewhere, Sephiroth…”

Feet careful of where they traveled, Cloud’s soles and heels crunched on the frozen soil, the sound brittle, like bones snapping underfoot. Patches of dead grass clung to the ground in tufts, stiff with caked mud, breaking under his weight with a dull, papery rustle. Small stones skittered away from his gingerly taken steps, tumbling into the abyss of shadows that stretched endlessly around him like rapacious spirits and invidious demons out to snatch him.

Face now cleaved by saturated tones of morbid turmoil and abject agony, he searched every bush within his own vicinity to no avail. Sephiroth never reappeared from them, and with the woods now unsettling in their hideous cloak of silence, Cloud knew he was being watched by multiple pairs of eyes. He knew it wasn’t his imagination and paranoia alone when something or someone was timing his feet shuffling around with their own, the snaps of twigs only a fraction of a second late next to Cloud’s moves.

Above, hovering between the manifold layers of yellow, green, orange, and red, the effulgent sun hung like a watchful, pale eye, peering through the skeletal branches of trees in the distance. A dense portion of the forest loomed ahead, an ocean of gnarled trunks and clawing limbs, shifting uneasily in the wind. The trees were like silent sentinels, their twisted shapes rising from the ground in grotesque contortions, their outlines barely visible against the dim, candescent hue scorching off the star.

Within the sum and each part taking on breathless potency, the forest pulsed and breathed with unseen life. A distant owl called, its low hoot echoing like a spectral voice through the trees. The chirping of crickets pulsed in a rhythmic lull, only to hush abruptly as if the unseen watchers had noticed his presence. Something rustled in the underbrush—a small creature, a fox perhaps, or something far less familiar. Eyes glinted in the darkness of bushes, scattered like faint embers, blinking at him with silent curiosity.

Cloud constantly felt their searching, searing gaze, unknown figures hidden beyond the reach of the moonlight, waiting, watching. They all disappeared instantly however, causing him to spin around as he was left prey to his own stormy thoughts. A tornado of insanity assailed him worse than any wickedness, playing with his senses as he falsely spotted many unnatural visions while aiming to keep it together.

And still, the not so noble, valorous Sephiroth was nowhere in sight.

Rooted to the spot and shutting his mouth to stifle even his breath, the more he stayed frozen there, the colder it became. The damp air clung to his skin, heavy with the promise of an approaching storm. Somewhere in the distance, a lone wolf howled, its mournful cry stretching across the vast emptiness of the darkness scaling around the forest, a sound that sent a shiver crawling down his spine. He was no doubt its next meal if he stayed stationary, but he didn’t want to go charging ahead without knowing where he would end up.

Cloud hesitated at the edge of the forest, counting the seconds between tentative breaths and cringing when he saw all the dreadful signs that Sephiroth had either been devoured and snatched up by the same monster stalking them or had run off entirely. The towering trees swayed, their enormously populated branches scraping against one another with dry, brittle clicks like whispered warnings.

The unknown path beyond the dense treeline was absolute, a narrow void that beckoned him forward yet filled his veins with an inexplicable dread to petrify Cloud’s soul.

He had no destination, no purpose—only an endless night stretching before his eyes, threatening to consume him whole. With a final glance over his shoulder at the distant silhouette of the way they’d come, now nothing but a black outline against the horizon, he stepped forward, right into the waiting arms of the bushes to be far from the abrasive sounds.

The moment he ambled into the foreboding foliage, the world behind him vanished. The beach, the distant hills, the open sky—all were swallowed by the thick, unrelenting darkness of massive trees. Even the air here was different. Heavier. The damp scent of moss and rotting wood filled his lungs, mingling with the sharp tang of pine and the faint, metallic aroma of wet earth, but those scraping sounds were now drilling into his molars and fingernails practically.

Ombré and dusky essences trickled in at all angles. The silence was oppressive, deeper than anything he’d ever known. A strange mockery of nature’s currents, the wind seemed afraid to enter, whipping at his back and causing him to curl into himself as he shook like a mouse. Sadly, he was being hunted down like a rodent too.

Desperate to get somewhere and find edifices resembling man made structures closer to the glimpses of land he’d spotted last night, Cloud walked on, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of decaying leaves and tangled undergrowth. Every step was uncertain, the uneven forest floor a maze of hidden roots and sunken hollows. The soil soaked his weight, presenting his footprints, caving around the stamped in weight to mirror the journey back. 

The foliage pressed in around him like a suffocating aura—twisting vines coiling over ancient trunks, gnarled branches stretching toward him like skeletal fingers. The trees stood impossibly tall, their crooked limbs interwoven into a dense canopy that choked out the sunlight. What little silver and orange glow managed to pierce through came in trembling slivers, shifting as the branches swayed, giving fleeting glimpses of the trail ahead before plunging him back into darkness.

Something snapped, and on the alert, Cloud’s breath quickened. The deeper he wandered, the more he realized how lost he was—not just in the forest but in himself. His mind reeled with a thousand thoughts, all clawing for space in his weary brain until he was throttling ahead into the harshly encompassing morass of conflict.

Sealed in the corrosive bubble so air-tight with the melting acidity affecting the marrow in his bones, he could barely even shudder, constantly searching for a trace of Sephiroth while also keeping an eye on his immediate surroundings.

Where was he even going? What purpose did he serve here, in this unfamiliar land? He was a stranger, nameless and directionless, drifting through the night like a ghost at best, and at worst, just a feckless city boy who didn’t know left from right here.

Another sharp snap sounded out from the depths of the woods, forcing his pulse to spike as instincts for self-preservation drove himself forth, even if he could barely see the end of his own nose in the bleak abyss.

Somewhere to his left, something had moved, cobwebs disturbed as they were strung between logs. Not the wind, not the shifting of branches—but something solid lay lurking…something breathing hot, rancid breath. He froze to assess his new surroundings, his body rigid, ears straining against the silence. System totally responsive and rife with terror in the mucky unknown, Cloud could hear his own heartbeat, loud and insistent in his chest. A bead of sweat slid down the side of his face, cold against his already chilled skin.

Then, another sound struck, muffled at first, but then tormenting the senses, like needles gliding across flesh. A low, rustling whisper met Cloud’s eardrums, as if something were sliding through the ferns just beyond the rigid treeline. He turned his head slowly, painfully, his fingers twitching at his sides, but he couldn’t discern anything within the nettlesome bog of obscurities.

More eyes seemed to peer at him, glinting from the shadows. They flickered in and out of view, some close, others farther, scattered like dim stars in the void. They were watching and tracking him, their hulking figures neither man nor beast, just as Cloud had feared most.

The sensation of being hunted prickled at the back of his neck. His skin crawled, and though he saw very little in his immediate surroundings, gingerly, he took a step backward, then another, his feet crunching on something brittle—another snapped twig. The sound echoed unnaturally loud in the still air, harrowing and jarring, but not enough to bring cause for concern.

This was far better than being trapped within the company of an odious person like Vincent, but he really was starting to regret trusting Sephiroth. In comparison to Vincent, while certainly way hotter, he wasn’t that much greater of a prospect. 

Still, he was on a mission, even if it meant he had to wander until daybreak through the inky cloak of night. 

After the eerie noises, another response abruptly followed to distract his musings. A growl—low, guttural, somewhere in the dark. It was distant, yet too close all at once to hammer and edge into his ears, reaching underneath his skin as if it would brand him. The forest had become something else, no longer just trees and undergrowth, but a living, breathing entity that wanted to swallow him whole after watching him for so long.

Panic began to bubble inside Cloud when he heard more padding footsteps squishing through the underbrush. Spinning in a circle to try and detect where they were approaching from and how many creatures were within sight, his breath came in short, uneven gasps. Unable to track anything, fear crashed into his breast and bloodstream. 

All he knew was that he wanted to run, but to where? He didn’t know the way forward, was left to fend for himself, not at all a well-versed explorer by any means.

The darkness was thick, suffocating, like ink spilled across the land, rendering everything unfamiliar and shifting. The tangled roots beneath his feet seemed to tighten, waiting for the moment his fear would make him careless and thrust him into a sinkhole, disappearing far beneath the epicenter of the earth.

As much as his legs trembled, he forced himself forward, repeating a somber mantra that he would be out and safe, when suddenly, the bushes to his right shifted. Leaves not only rained from their level with his waistline, but he was more concerned about the branches parting right above his skull as the putrid, pungent stench of rotten meat was now quite up close and practically vacuumed into his nostrils. 

Vines creaked like the old oak, claws scraping downward to pour into his ears, demanding his attention. As much as he knew what lingered, not wanting to look at it would be undeniably idiotic. Still, Cloud delayed it for all of a few seconds, his eyes tracing at least six large, furry toes on humongous paws before his vision wandered higher and higher to finally assess what was going on.

The anatomy and structure were fiendishly bastardized to abysmal degrees, testing the imagination beyond its limits.

Massive and muscular, it sat like a great predatory cat closely resembling a panther, the posture regal and poised, but warped with a quiet tension—as if every muscle beneath its obsidian-black coat was a drawn wire, humming with suppressed violence. The fur, what little was visible in the gloom, was the color of eclipse-shadow: not merely black, but a rich, devouring void laced with charcoal undertones. It seemed to absorb the dim light, not reflect it.

Its paws indeed were massive, brutal instruments of control, each digit tipped with claws like aged brass—yellowed and thick, hooked like scythes. They rested too calmly, with the eerie stillness of something that knew it didn’t need to spring to a chase quite so soon. Everything about its body suggested weight, patience, and absolute control due to its leanness.

Interestingly, while shaped like a jungle cat, it held the mask of death, its finer features like an insidious crown.

The beast’s head was a bleached skull after the fur blended and thinned out at the back and top of its head, fused directly into the flesh as though the skin never formed over the bone. Not simply a skull worn, but a skull lived. The cranium was cracked through the center like lightning had once kissed it, yet it held fast—a relic of ancient violence that didn’t kill, only transformed.

The surface was a dusty, weathered ivory, aged and pitted by time. No flesh, no lips—just rows of jagged teeth frozen in a permanent, predatory grin that was neither amused nor benign. Its fangs, especially the canines, were long enough to suggest they’d tasted something more sentient than prey, and it delighted in the thrilling sensations.

The most arresting feature lay in its eyes—wide, golden, and slit-pupiled like a serpent’s. They shone with a liquid intelligence that felt too sharp, too knowing. They didn’t even blink yet, unwavering as the beast watched, not like an animal, but like a judgment set to begin. The glowing yellow wasn’t warm—it was sulfurous, alchemical, forged in places where light and sanity didn’t belong. To meet that gaze was to feel something invasive crawl beneath one’s skin, something ancient and wordless whispering: you shouldn’t be here.

The atmosphere around the creature was thick, claustrophobic—like the air in a sealed crypt. Though unmoving, the ambiance it exuded was a seismic pressure, a threat Cloud felt before he comprehended it all. The monstrosity’s stillness however wasn’t peaceful. The aura it carried was best described as the hush before a scream, the held breath before the ground split open. At this propinquity, Cloud could almost hear it breathing in the silence, slow and deep, like the tide dragging something monstrous up the beach.

Even in darkness, it loomed. A riddle in bones. A catastrophe waiting for an excuse.

This was no beast of the natural world, but then again, this jungle was far from ‘normal’ to sport such a beast. Yes, it was the ghost of an ancient predator, the punishment of forgotten gods, or a harbinger draped in flesh and myth. It perched as if it were always there—before anyone’s eyes found it, before the mind could deny it, and in a second, the person would be long dead anyway.

Whatever it was happened to be a portrait of a paradox—equal parts elegant and grotesque, still yet unnervingly alive, like a thing dredged up from the mythic pits of the unconscious mind. Its presence demanded more than mere attention. Not with a roar or motion, but with the crushing weight of its silence, the way a room grew cold when something ancient and wrong entered it.

Then, after its barbed tail which looked akin to a serpent wagged once before straightening, claws fully unsheathed, it sprang.

Emitting a hoarse scream, Cloud flipped backwards, shielding himself as best he could, but the deadly creature was already on the ground inches away from him. Snapping its jaws once, before it could latch onto his leg and tear it apart brutally, a flash of white, brown, and black zapped by to ram into the monster’s side and bought him time to scamper far away from the scene of escalating violence.

Sephiroth dove forth seconds before the beast could aim and swipe at Cloud, stunlocking the predator as he landed on top of it. They both went rolling through the underbrush wildly, and in their scuffle, Sephiroth locked both muscular arms around the animal’s throat. Squeezing for dear life, he straddled its back and wrapped his legs about it, but the tail shot out, emitting a deadly mist before producing what looked like honey clinging to the tip. 

Ducking and weaving away from the oozing fluid while pinning the beast down wasn’t something even Cloud could dream of doing. Somehow, Sephiroth made it work, but it lasted for only a brief second or two before the animal bucked him off itself. Claws digging for purchase in the dirt, it hissed and snapped at him in retaliation, tail whirling repeatedly to keep him at a safe distance so it could recover and regain its energy. 

On his own feet now, Sephiroth braced himself well, shoulders and knees spread broadly apart as he then stood his ground. Moving in time with the hulking monster, he evaded a splash of the poisonous, stinging liquid, letting it splatter on a tree trunk nearby before he shot off his legs in the air in unison with the predator.

In mid-air and with only a second to react, Sephiroth dealt with the lethal predator in such a clean, quick fashion that it nearly went missed by Cloud. Possessing inhuman reflexes, Cloud gauged their speed and strength in milliseconds with his eyes. Sephiroth’s movements that followed were as quick and as smooth as liquid steel. In under a second, he hastily made a step forward, the twist of his torso sending himself surging, and Sephiroth managed to dodge claws and fangs as well as confuse the beast with his actions. 

Taking advantage of this move which not even athletes in their twenties could effectively pull off, while spinning to end up on the other side of the massive animal, Sephiroth used his own momentum against the aberration to fling it behind himself into the ground.

With a resounding crash and a few cursing bodies, Cloud knew neither the stocky fighter nor the one he landed on were too happy, but nothing helped barricade him from the sickening ‘crunch’ and ‘splat’ when Sephiroth sailed on top of the monster with a gigantic hunting knife spearing right between its eyes and piercing the bone. 

Claiming his target as he snapped its neck and put it out of its misery, it was clear that Sephiroth was rather formidable. He’d maybe even hunted his fair share of humans in the past, and though there had been some invigoratingly skilled individuals worth taking a trophy from, the bad taste this trip had left in Cloud’s mouth surpassed his desire to renew such hunts.

Resting an arm over the neckline of the deceased thing as though checking for a pulse, Sephiroth didn’t greet Cloud’s angry eyes as he commented in a droll tone, “This was young. Just a pup.” 

Approaching Sephiroth with incredulous steps and fire building in his heart, Cloud gutturally snapped, “Good thing I didn’t meet mommy and daddy then.” 

On his last short fuse, when he spotted Sephiroth’s heap of tools strapped to his belts everywhere, he had to assess one vital notion. Quick as the alpha had been to rescue him, Cloud suspected that this wasn’t a case of a knight in shining armor rushing to his assistance. In fact, this had been too timely…Sephiroth appearing in the blink of an eye and reigning victorious over this enormous creature. A thinking, planning man had to do something like this, as it wasn’t a feat one could attempt at random.

He’d made it look too easy, which was incredibly disturbing after he’d been gone for some time. Everything had a time and place, certainly, but this seemed deliberately plotted, and with Cloud functioning as a particular, nasty key role he didn’t want to openly admit…not without hearing it from Sephiroth’s lips first to confirm the worst.

Cocky, he didn’t even laugh, though it sounded choked and strained as he groused in a snippy way, “That was quite a long piss, frankly. Thank goodness you saved me, but I can’t help but ask one thing, Sephiroth.” 

Closing in on the seemingly stalwart man and crouching in front of him, Cloud noticed the split second Sephiroth took to glance his way and then face forward again. This was all he needed, the proof written and etched in stone and time to make him livid and sangfroid. 

“You uncouth pig! I know you tricked me! I know you saw that thing following us long ago!” Wishing he could pluck Sephiroth’s eyeballs out of the sockets, Cloud reasoned callously, “You’re not a virtuous human being, but you’re certainly ambitious enough to make me out to be your what? I know what it is! Just say it! Say it now!”

Judging by the restless stirring of Sephiroth’s shoulders, there wasn’t a sense to waste time lying. Resurfacing from the depths of oblivion was like treading up a mountain of knee-high mud under the blackest storm clouds. The darkness kept pulling down with every step, reluctant to release its hold. Agonizingly slowly, the light filtering through the thick clouds got closer, impending doom harrowing as it undid everything Cloud knew and felt pleased with, as did the pain.

Pulling off a gesture that was barbed and clipped, similar to a shrug, but resulting in an awkward fumbling of his shoulders rolling forward and back, Sephiroth growled, “Bait.”

Heat waves, steam, and scorching ruby was all Cloud knew, felt, and witnessed. Bashed over the head with the hammer of murderous rage, he could only hold back to tighten his fists. Torso rigid and stiff all over as his veins bulged, the confirmed stance that Sephiroth saw and thought of him as very little other than a tool to acquire whatever he needed sent him spiraling off the edge at last.

Temper incapable of being held at bay, seeing the red tide surging and smothering himself, Cloud transmuted into a feisty demon, tearing at Sephiroth like a bloodthirsty ghoul.

The world outside his deteriorating universe blurred, sounds turning to an indistinct hum, colors bleeding into a meaningless wash. A singular, searing heat began to build in the core of his being, slow and inexorable. Time, once a steady river, now congealed around him, each second stretching into an eternity, a deliberate, agonizing crawl. He was a vessel, and within his core, a furious, dark energy was being meticulously forged.

External stimuli—a distant roaring of water, a passing pack of other woodland animals huffing, the gentle breeze—registered as nothing more than distant, irrelevant whispers against the raging inferno rising within. Not yet on a rampage, Cloud was unresponsive, his gaze fixed inward, his senses honed to a single, terrifying purpose.

This wasn’t a reasoned anger, but a raw, unadulterated fury, bilious and corrosive. He felt his blood begin to simmer, a low, guttural rumble originating from deep within his chest. It boiled, then bubbled, a horrifying internal pressure building with each agonizingly slow beat of his heart.

Then, a faint, almost imperceptible haze began to waft from his skin, a precursor to the true heat. It intensified, growing visible, like steam escaping from a kettle, curling from his mouth, his nostrils, his very pores. Each pore felt like a tiny opening of a lava encased door, flung open to release the scalding pressure. He was a walking furnace, radiating an oppressive heat that seemed to warp the air around himself. The mounting pressure, the deliberate, agonizing build-up, all his fears had reached this critical point. 

With a silent, internal detonation, the last vestiges of his control shattered. He didn’t just explode; he unraveled, a visceral, terrifying release of everything he’d dearly held in. The world, which he had so diligently shut out, was now irrelevant, consumed by the blinding, all-encompassing fire of his eruption set to burn everything to a cinder.

Mindlessly induced by his lunacy rushing over to impossible levels, he charged ahead at full speed worse than a bull in a rodeo. Kicking and screaming, he jerked up and held his fists to reach Sephiroth, but before he could even land a single blow, Sephiroth stuck out his right arm. There were no brakes sadly due to him pulling it off at the last second. Cloud spotted the incoming train wreck a mile away, the pre-programmed accident already flaring in his colorful mind long before anything occurred.

Wincing inwardly, he felt the flash of agony jarring from his neck to his chin since he was quite short in comparison to the huge menace in his way. Bone rammed into bone, tears flickering in his rapidly deteriorating eyes as his condition worsened. Sephiroth hadn’t even physically exerted himself, but imagining him doing it wrenched even more abject pain from Cloud.

The pang of undiluted, raw brutality materialized even faster when Sephiroth ducked and tilted his shoulder into Cloud. Effective enough to stop Cloud from lunging at him, Sephiroth then draped his left arm around Cloud’s nape, and while he bent his knees and was more at Cloud’s level, he yanked him by his neck up and over his own body to powerfully slam him spine first on the ground.

The sky flipped over twice before the final ramming motion jarred into Cloud and he could only see thick, long blades of grass everywhere. By force, he had to shut his eyes, incapable of groaning or crying. The wind had indeed been knocked clean out of his lungs, the damn organs shriveling up like crinkling bags after aging horribly. Mangled and sprawled there with his mouth twisted and eyes wide, he was agape and aghast as Sephiroth’s face drew near until he was all Cloud could see.

His mind, a besieged fortress, had shut down all non-essential operations, clearing the decks for the storm. There was only one directive, one primal urge: to find something, anything, to tear apart, preferably after he could learn how to breathe and walk again.

Cranium throbbing and eyes covered with a melanic backdrop to look at, he didn’t wish to touch and cradle his head in fear that if he did, it would gush open. He seriously felt as if he’d been cleaved in half, the lugubrious notion never decreasing when Sephiroth glared at the bloody carcass of the beast mere inches away from the injured omega.

With a jagged lour at the beast, as Cloud scuttled away from it upon noticing that they were a few inches apart, his maladroit behavior significantly cost him. The exorbitant price was smeared in his face to wound his ego and upturn his pride as soon as Sephiroth gruffly barked an order at him.

“Carry it yourself.” With that, Sephiroth turned his back on the downtrodden Cloud once more, ambling ahead silently.

Taking his time to recover, even though he deduced he had no chance of any speedy convalescence either way, the best Cloud was able to achieve was the sky back upright above, the ground solid beneath himself. Turning his torso over, he emitted a confused wail which shifted to a disgusted groan as soon as his right hand casually and accidentally brushed the snout of the cold corpse.

Hatefully staring at it, he took the next ten minutes fighting back tears as he obeyed Sephiroth not out of reverence and courage, but outright concern. Before, he had no reason to be wary of the quiet alpha, but now, he really wondered if he’d taken his cushy lifestyle for granted.

“Yeah,” came the voice of his conscience, equally as enervated as he was on the inside and out. “I feel like I was way safer with that creepy Vincent, now that I think about it.”

Chapter Text

Cloud felt he deserved a manner of things, a great collection of unsavory and spectacular ideals his way. Sometimes, due to his carelessness, he had to pay a lofty price for his idiocy and lack of insight and research into a matter, but there were other occasions when taking risks paid off well.

Being bold and brash at times went either way in praxis. Usually, his courage wouldn’t be poorly spent, reaping whatever he’d sown to distribute evenly for the course and determined road of his combined choices and actions. Ramifications went along with his reasons or lack thereof, and he’d dealt with his fair share of punishments doled out due to his ineptitude, but this was something else.

He didn’t deserve to be misguided, begrudged, and pretty much physically abused like some battered spouse. Yes, he’d misjudged Sephiroth big time to think he’d go easy on him for being an omega. To be fair though, it was more or less his fault by the grand error of youthful hubris, and he loathed admitting it to himself each time his swelling and bruising kicked in whenever he ambled forth to keep up with Sephiroth’s strides.

“I should’ve known better than to pick a fight with this dude,” Cloud reasoned, sizing Sephiroth up head to toe and wincing from what he saw. “He’s like, 6’4” and 225 pounds of pure force…that was incredibly dumb.”

Yet, the petty, catty side to himself he often hadn’t released since his early teenage years wanted to take revenge. Vindictive and holding a penchant for disturbing the peace if he felt he was wronged and owed another point up, Cloud scowled the entire time at Sephiroth’s back as they navigated the rest of the messy forest all afternoon to early evening.

Thankfully, the sights along the way distracted him enough from considering bashing Sephiroth across the back of his head with a rock and making a break for it…after stealing his weapons and kicking him in the balls, of course.

This land held plenty of fresh wells of water at least, which was promising as a spectacle to momentarily cool things off. Cloud stopped and gasped in astonishment at the clarity of another Caribbean-blue waterfall, the third one he’d seen in hours. It was spurting over the basalt rock, spilling eel-like over the ledges. Its clamorous passage at the foot of the smaller mountain lining threw up bubbles of spray. They sparkled uneasily in the dying light and shimmered like the ghostly, blood drops of a phantom.

There was a whooshing vortex at the bottom to be marveled at for hours. It was caused by the plummeting funnel of water that spiralled from on high, and it looked like a drape of blue aluminium, such was its lushness. The cascade was sieved with silver at its fringes, lending a hallucinatory quality to each drop.

Wagtails were bobbing and dipping on a rock, foraging for juicy flies. The tip of the rock pierced the rhapsody-pool like the upturned nose of a dwarf. Run off water tingled the mossy stone as it seeped away, distilled as pure and clear as an angel’s tears. There appeared to be a cave under the arch of the waterfall, mesmerizing and equally inviting if one was exhausted, running from danger, or needed to sight-see. 

Quickly shedding his extra layer of beast skin and discarding it on the ground, Sephiroth being the bravest of the duo, eagerly plunged into the icy pool without peeking back. Stunned and left sputtering after him, when Cloud noticed that the headstrong alpha wasn’t slowing down, he knew he had to follow and also dove in after hesitating out of concern for the nasty temperature.

Taking the dip and smashing his teeth together as his flesh wrinkled due to the frigid atmosphere, the watery slide he passed through was so cold that his body was terribly quaking when entering the cave beneath the waves and crashing deluge.

At first, once his vision was accustomed to the dim light, his only impression was of a curtain of doom-black confronting himself. Then, in a split second, his senses became fully attuned. The air was musty and rank, like sticking his head into an old dustbin. The reason why became obvious as his night vision kicked in to gather intel only inches away. 

Grueling as the swim was, once he’d climbed on a few rocks to perch onto a rough landing, he found it was littered with fish bones, hundreds of them. Whether otter, heron, or bear had done this over millennia, he didn’t know, nor did he wish to go searching for clues. The sooty darkness at the back of the cave seemed gloomy and so dank that he felt that only impure, wicked things would be found there.

Thankfully, Sephiroth didn’t press on or mock him for not having the courage to delve any further. The bones seemed to manically grin up at Cloud’s hesitation as he crouched, crawling like Sephiroth out of a tight, low tunnel until they turned to completely exit the musty, damp cave. As soon as they burst through the wall of water and looked up to see a hopeful, Pole star-blue sky, Sephiroth took no more than eight extra steps before he located and squatted at a decently segregated clearing in the middle of shorter bushes surrounding a swamp.

Admirable as it was to remain distant from such a puissant force of nature, Cloud ascertained that he really was losing options around Sephiroth. Very much so a ‘my way or the highway’ type, especially with a preference for silence served properly and consistently, he didn’t make for an affable traveling companion at all. Their relationship was mostly based on reaching a goal, spending time beneath the procellous atmosphere which often propelled them both into bitter disdain and folly.

Yes, this was really tolerance, honestly, not anything superb to bolster comradery and a stellar, healthy bond.

Surprised that his limping had subsided after only another hour had elapsed, Cloud’s arms and pectorals stung far worse than his backside. Hamstrings burning from hauling the damn feline carcass around as Sephiroth had instructed, he didn’t require more evidence than that as far as understanding how and why Sephiroth was built like a bodybuilder. Even after his short stint dragging the beast, he felt winded, the workout rather decent, all things considered.

Well, there was that, but also the clueless, hapless factor, limned by woesome patterns established to make Sephiroth out to be far more of a tyrant than a kindred spirit. Tyranny and rancor wasn’t entirely the language he was accustomed to communicating in, but he was a formidable presence regardless.

Steeped with aggressive tension and the barely preserved authoritarian regime he paraded about in, to cooperate with him would only entail obedience of the strictest structures and any form of deviation would no doubt be commenced by brutality.

In short, Sephiroth was okay for the most part, but if and when tested, he could turn himself into a total maniac.

That wasn’t the ultimate deal-breaker for Cloud however, not in those exact circumstances. He’d dealt with plenty of maniacs and egotistical pricks before. His ninth grade teacher totally fit the bill for it, as did the summer camp swimming coach. Sometimes, when it came to specific roles and jobs in society, he could expect and dish out some leniency for dickish behavior, but then there were creeps who got off on power trips like Vincent Valentine and this Sephiroth.

Unique in their own ways of course, but both stubborn, chauvinistic, ruthless, and relentlessly rude. Cloud could handle Vincent to a degree, seeing as avoidance usually did the trick, but when it came to this recent accident enforcing a codependency for survival, Sephiroth wasn’t anyone favorable. Just like Vincent, the depraved lunatic had something to offer, forging a bond, temporary as it was between himself and someone weaker.

No matter how hard Cloud tried to wish that things were on a healthier, less toxic path, he was only wasting time treading through the river of utterly unbeatable delusion. Sephiroth was the very caricature of an gauche, uncivilized jackass jerk, albeit, still way too sexy for words and description.

Having enough common sense about himself to avoid another beating, Cloud kept his mood in check, holding the cards of his own volatility close, never revealing much on his mind. Obeisance would help get him somewhere optimal, so he used that to his own advantage as soon as he sat himself next to the deceased beast.

Having other things on his agenda rather than even stare back at Cloud in acknowledgement, Sephiroth reached for the barbed, slime-coated tail of the monster. Straightening it in his left hand and draping it over a rock, he hacked at it with his right hand, choosing to be ambidextrous to chop it in half. Once it split open and emitted more fumes and deadly poison, Sephiroth withdrew at least four knives and what closely resembled shuriken from a compartment in his wrist pouches.

Cloud had seen the pockets there bulging before and honestly assumed they were for show and to make Sephiroth look larger all over. Too shrewd for his own sake, while Cloud was naïve as ever, Sephiroth clearly had stored more ammunition there the entire time and was now offering two of the shuriken he’d kept to Cloud. 

When he caught them as they were tossed midway across the space between themselves, Sephiroth snarled, “Use poison.”

Rolling his eyes was all he could offer at first, but when he spotted pure myrtle daring him to repeat that caustic move again, Cloud turned meek and nodded.

Setting to work, he held the other half of the dangerous tail in his right hand, carefully squeezing the gaping open end to smear and cover the jagged tip and then the entire edge of the sharpest points of the shuriken while Sephiroth watched. Once the taciturn alpha was satisfied with that task, Cloud dared to take his chance and speak.

“So,” he began after coughing, pausing while Sephiroth also coated the spears and arrows in his possession with the honeyed poison. “This stuff will kill someone?”

Eyebrows tightly knotted as he worked to paint every part of his arrows and knives without wasting a drop, Sephiroth replied in a curt tone, “Paralyze. Always. Then makes it easy to kill.”

Eyes lowering to trace the gooey substance oozing off the shuriken tips, Cloud winced as soon as he imagined the object buried in the gut of some poor animal until it ended up like a withered carcass.

Sadly, knowing that his preferences wouldn’t make much of an appeal to Sephiroth, he only groused, “Aren’t you a ball of sunshine to be around…”

Fastening the arrows together in a knotted bundle in order to better hold them in one place, Sephiroth did well to avoid even glossing over the hot, steaming slime, withdrawing from his pocket what closely looked like dried grass and leaves. Spreading them over the sharp points of his now venom slathered weapons, he folded and crested them to wrap neatly around their tips, sealing the poison off and then moving on to the next one to repeat the cycle.

Naturally curious, a most quizzical Cloud asked, “Why cover them? I thought the whole point was to stun and paralyze?”

“Safe for carrying,” Sephiroth explained, eyes always on his own items and tasks before himself. Somewhat clipped, he finished gruffly, “Preserves poison.”

Realizing it would indeed aim for and hit two other goals, Cloud assessed, “Ah, and if it’s covered, you won’t accidentally poison yourself. Fair enough.”

That was more or less the end of that conversation. One-sided as always, Sephiroth went on ignoring Cloud, doing whatever he saw fit for the evening. Unstrapping an axe that was loads bigger than the one Cloud still had hidden away in the cave, Sephiroth used it to chop at a log nearby.

Collecting the pieces of fresh wood for fire, as he started setting them up while Cloud finished smearing grass and leaves as carefully as he could on the venom encrusted weapons, Sephiroth hoisted and then strategically placed the animal’s mangled body over the pit he’d dug.

Blinking up in heavy curiosity at him, Cloud stuck his chest and chin out in defiance when Sephiroth began burning the skin and fur off the beast and then cut through the portions he didn’t need. 

Moody, despite knowing he was kicking a hornet’s nest, Cloud held a barbed tone as he inquired, “Thought we had to eat that for good strength?”

A lack of concern and any smidgen of vacillation was all he had for his blunt reply. Sephiroth didn’t even react to his snark, stacking heaps of bloodied flesh and then organs around. Ropes of intestines coiled around before he shoved them so unceremoniously to the side out of his way, but as a means to break out of the despicable sights and having ruminated plenty, Cloud had reached one vital conclusion.

He wasn’t going to allow Sephiroth to constantly defend him, if one could even refer to whatever Sephiroth did as protection anyway. He was of sound mind, possessed a fit enough and healthy body. Cloud didn’t want to be a useless prop in the middle of the dangerous territory they had to cross, but more than that, he yearned for self-reliance and awareness. He could and would take care of himself, and hopefully, under Sephiroth’s rigid tutelage, he could pilfer a decent trick or two.

Wisely, before he could go on his marauding quest to filch all of Sephiroth’s skills, rather than appealing much to his supposedly ‘good nature’, he cut to the chase. 

Head held high and confidence rather than arrogance as his main aura, he crisply demanded, “Teach me how to fight! I can learn!”

There was no need for Sephiroth to laugh. Frankly, it wasn’t an actual requirement, the suggestion and Cloud’s thin build standing there being risible enough on their own. Mirth had mired those emerald depths, Sephiroth’s professional, stern mask rippling as his lips tightened in the same way anyone else would mirror when they were struggling to maintain their composure.

When Sephiroth eventually muffled a crude snort by pinching the tip of his nose with a few fingers, Cloud finally lost it.

Dropping his slender arms by his sides, he stood with one leg in front of the other as he rasped at the first wave of anger, “You think I’m a scrawny joke, don’t you?” On the tirade now, he belted out, “You think I can’t do it? You think I’m too small and weak?!”

Exhilarated and highly invigorated to prove Sephiroth wrong, Cloud hooted, skipping backwards after snagging a medium-sized branch he imagined to be a sword. Pulling all sorts of athletic moves with it, he twirled it around, tossing and catching it from his left hand to the right, then chucked it higher before completing a hop, spin, and deftly grabbing the ‘sword’ out of the air. Demonstrating his prowess as much and as quickly as he could, the rapid ‘swishing’ sounds of cutting through air rattled in his ears, and he giggled, hyped up by his own actions.

Becoming a cyclone, he felt he was unstoppable, a massively speedy spirit. Envisioning himself in multiple places at once, he momentarily abandoned his limits, soaring a few inches above the ground while whipping the stick as if it were a baton. With a dip to the right, then an upward kick to the left, he curled himself about, fitting in a rather sharp tuck and dive before ending back on both feet.

“I’ll have you know, I was always on every sports team in my school!” Posing with his back to Sephiroth, he faced the sky, dangling the stick forward as he crowed, “I’m short, yeah, but fit! It’ll only take a few days of getting back in the field, and soon, I’ll be able to kick your stupid a—”

Gallionic no more when a heavier, warmer weight pressed over his back, Cloud swallowed nervously when Sephiroth was practically meshed onto him. His blatant devilishness was galling at first, but the amusement that crinkled around his eyes made the corner of Cloud’s lip twitch upwards despite himself.

Clearly galvanized to show and teach him the proper way, Sephiroth stood like a huge post, arms moving up to the stick as he then eyed Cloud’s shoulder. “Flaws. Defense will fail.”

Eyes swiveling to his own ‘sword’, Cloud wondered if his strikes had really been irregular and clumsy, but then again, he had been showing off and playing. 

Choosing to show him precisely what he meant, Sephiroth imitated Cloud’s earlier motions as he shunted the stick forward while holding onto the omega’s hands. Like a canoe paddle, it gracefully cut through the air, the sinew collaborating with less force and more rehearsed prowess. Then, Sephiroth nudged Cloud’s shoulder, giving it a light push to expose his back.

Making his point concrete now after a demonstration, Sephiroth’s eyes widened as he began explaining in basic terms, “Cloud open for attack. Those few seconds…you pivot and move your body.” Plaintively, he nodded and gestured at Cloud’s feet, then the ground, leaning into it. “Plenty time for someone to slash to death,” he finished, rudimentary, but rather interesting.

Ignoring his didactic, verbose ‘instructor’, Cloud replayed his technique in his mind and drew a few blanks. Personally, pride aside, he didn’t think he’d made any mistakes. Spry, agile, and young, he’d successfully moved to disorient any attacker, which was the whole point of the move, but it apparently didn’t hold up to Sephiroth’s standards and scrutiny. 

Where had he gone wrong?

Lip caught between his teeth and brows creased, Cloud genuinely couldn’t see the flaw as he replayed it in his mind.

“But I didn’t…where did you see me mess up?”

Happy to take up the chance to prove he was superior, Sephiroth suggested, “I can show you.”

“Show me?” Pausing when that came out like a question he didn’t need to be heard, proud and eager to finally be given some instructions as opposed to nothing, Cloud corrected himself. “I mean, yeah! Let’s see! Show me!”

In no rush to spar yet, Sephiroth clenched his eyebrows briefly before wearing the visage of a calm individual. “You fight before?”

A calloused thumb absently rubbed a cuticle as Cloud thought of the days in gym classes where he technically had wrestled with his friends daily. At the time, he’d been too young to recognize the richness of those lessons, not that they counted in this manner. With the benefit of hindsight, he realized how seemingly trivial words of advice had matured into a wealth of knowledge. Each session yielded a deeper understanding of the art of self defence and the philosophy that gave birth to it.

Cloud loved the idea of being powerful and growing in it, but how much had he grown since then? Not knowing what to say, his expression sagged as unease fluttered in his belly.

“I may be rusty and have never even fought with my own mom, but still.”

Studying Sephiroth’s broad profile as long as he had, Cloud wondered why he told him about the flaw in his defense to begin with.

Flirtatious in order to thwart the encroaching force of jeopardy and the likelihood that he was being mocked, Cloud winked as he purred, “I bet you get off on the idea of throwing me around in this sweaty heat, huh big boy?”

Sephiroth’s lack of immediate response gave him doubt, no hints of amusement playing about his features. Cheeks flushed, Cloud tried to mimic his ability to appear detached, but the effort failed miserably. Fortunately, Sephiroth chose not to capitalize on the opportunity to make him squirm, but he really didn’t seem to understand the concept of flirting and teasing.

To save face, a bemused Cloud added, “Or are you just trying to tease me for not being as skilled as you?”

Once more, jarring silence was his only reply, making Cloud’s blood boil a bit this time.

Shaking his head, he muttered to himself, “Never mind. Forget it and just show me how to do this.”

Eyes bright and with the stick raised, the survivalist alpha was clearly ready for another exchange. Soothly, his eagerness to challenge Cloud and give him everything he had was a trait he found extremely attractive—if not more than a little arousing. The suggestion to spar with Sephiroth had just been an excuse to get close to him, and Cloud didn’t expect the routine to be quite as stimulating as it was, nor as enjoyable. He would have to make this a regular routine between them, if things went well.

Upon having a moment where he was nearly holding hands with Sephiroth, Cloud smirked inwardly. Suddenly, Sephiroth’s hard form tightened behind him, then he immediately thrust the twig outward and recoiled it into Cloud’s chest. Wise to read the move, Cloud easily flowed into a parry, then countered. The ‘sword’ was moving in a well-practiced arc, and Cloud forced Sephiroth to take a step backward and move into a defensive stance.

His strikes were well-controlled and precise, but Sephiroth was holding back from even using a fraction of his keen powers. He moved with a natural grace that most swordsmen struggled to acquire for years, and his ability to pivot smoothly was a benefit derived from his secondary gender because his center of gravity was different. 

If used effectively since he was smaller and lighter, that natural lissomeness could be used to his advantage in certain situations, but Cloud just needed to be reminded of that fact.

“There,” Sephiroth abruptly stopped to point out, causing an immediate pause in their exchange. 

A lack of clues and specifics made Cloud freeze in place and wait. When no deeper explanation came, Cloud extended his arms, head bobbing, eyebrows floating as he struggled to convey how he felt so frustrated.

Wise to pick up the trails of signs, Sephiroth remarked, “Left foot is weak. Use right.” In his haste, he knew he was awkward, so he sped on to supply, “You want me to defend against your counter on side.”

“I...well...yes,” Cloud reluctantly admitted. “Still, I thought it would be best.”

“I go first,” Sephiroth began with that single, verbal cue. Knees lowered, he squatted down to illustrate his point and then hissed, “Watch. Strike here.” Enunciating very little, he tapped Cloud’s thigh with his stick as he added with mild flourish, “Leg goes this way. Very bad.”

Cloud visibly witnessed the gears turning in his own mind as he processed the information, basic as it was. Anticipating the enemy’s reaction was always a risky venture. If Cloud insisted on using non-lethal means to defend himself, he had to be aware of every potential flaw. Even if learning about it was a blow to his pride, he had to confess that Sephiroth read him like an open book and had gone the extra mile to memorize his movements perfectly.

“Technique not wrong,” Sephiroth informed him, straightening and resting the stick against his shoulder. “Smart. Very smart. Bad because I see it.”

As Cloud again moved into an offensive stance and prepared to strike, Sephiroth’s thick voice suddenly forced him to pause midway.

“Stop.”

Irritated, but obeying, Cloud wobbled a bit as he balanced his weight on the ball of his left foot, then waited even though Sephiroth had ceased speaking.

“I guess I keep messing up,” he sighed and then pushed his bangs out of his eyes before taking a step back. It was difficult to stay focused with Sephiroth standing so near, but he felt it necessary to fill in the silent air. “So, I feel like you’re telling me that I need to improve my reaction time.”

“Mmm…speed comes later,” Sephiroth agreed, “but not solution for this problem.”

Fed up, Cloud gritted his teeth in a tight move to hide his frustration. Years ago, he’d performed that move exactly as he’d been trained during fencing, but it didn’t matter. Sephiroth exposed a weakness that suddenly made him feel like a trainee again, his finesse seemingly eons above even the most talented instructor.

“Then what would solve the problem?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking, somehow without much attitude.

“Both legs help,” Sephiroth began to elaborate, stepping toward Cloud again. Fond of brevity, though knowing it wouldn’t favor here, he missed how distracting he was to Cloud as he stated, “Too much weight and balance is on one foot. Keep your weight…still. Use hips to turn.”

Cloud forced himself to remain focused on the task at hand, rewiring his brain to plan a whirl without legs and instead with the energy spanning in his hips. Replaying the technique in his mind, though trying to find a way to prove Sephiroth wrong, he complained, “If I put more weight on my right foot, then I wouldn’t be able to put all my strength into my strike when I complete the movement. And besides, I use my hips fine.”

“Listen.” 

Freezing, Cloud naturally assumed Sephiroth was going to pick a fight. All too often, he’d heard schoolyard bullies start verbal confrontation with others this way, so he stopped what he was doing, even freezing the steady voice of his conscience. 

However, the more he gaped at Sephiroth, the less he found a genuine answer to the question he held in his visage. Warped and sporting tired wrinkles, he rubbed his face, opening his eyes to find Sephiroth still standing there, albeit super quietly.

Head throbbing and heart slowing to a lazy thud, Cloud whimpered against the beat, “I don’t hear anything.”

Finally disgruntled, Sephiroth suddenly lost it as he barked, “Because you don’t listen!” Becoming a bit of a dramatic whirlpool of rage, he spun in a full circle while opening his arms to the open field around and beyond the trees. “Fighting is to listen! Feel! Look everywhere, know everything before speed!”

Tired, still cold, and terribly hungry, all these discomforts were locked and sealed tightly within Cloud since the day before. Missing his own cushy bed, clean sheets, comfortable clothes, and a nice, warm dip in the tub, he couldn’t help but explode at last when he felt beyond tested by Sephiroth.

“Stop being a dumb edgelord for a moment! I do listen!” Chest heaving as he nearly started hyperventilating due to the anguish galvanizing his soul, like a liberal effusion, he poured out the rest of his contempt perfectly. “I listen, watch, and think better than you! All I see are trees and more grass!” Wishing he could be as petty to flip Sephiroth off, he didn’t, but ended his diatribe with a shriek. “And for the record, I at least know how to talk properly, you freak!”

At first, Sephiroth raked his eyes heavenward, turning to show Cloud his broad back. Chucking the stick into the ground and hiding his left arm as he crossed it over his front, the movements from his furry ensemble of clothes rippled in the wind, the breeze however dying down gradually. He wasn’t even breathing, but he was somehow plotting something when his elbow tightened sharply.

Given only seconds to react, a shocking blend of bile and acidic electricity warned Cloud that peril was on the way. Sephiroth’s eyes rolled to the side, peeking out at him, his shoulders tense and left arm flexing back. Wrist straightening then, he brandished the axe and in a most abrupt, lethal swipe, he flung the weapon to the side and over his own body.

Shrieking as the sharp, deadly weapon whipped through the air four times, Cloud ducked out of the way and then heard an unforgiving ‘thud’ whistling right over his skull. Sealed and effectively chomping through the bark of a tree directly behind the short omega, the handle of the old axe hung there like a mast, the blade buried in the moss and lichen coated bark. The air after the amount of force Sephiroth had used finally settled, but Cloud was far from pleased.

Heart skipping many beats as he recovered from his crouched position, as he took a long look at the axe in the tree, he thought between shortness of breath, “Okay! Axe in the tree! Clearly, that means I messed up somewhere, but he could’ve killed me!”

Over the brim with fury unconstrained, he tightened his hands into fists, then opened them to wipe the nervous layer of sweat off them as he jumped to both feet. Charging at Sephiroth, he emitted a stentorian, incoherent snarl first before pointing an accusatory finger right at his jaw.

“You stupid jackass! That could’ve been my head! How dare you!” Flinging his right hand back towards the tree, Cloud screamed and frightened a flock of birds nesting high into the sky. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Sephiroth?!”

Leering at him briefly before the expression broke away to a more impassive one, Sephiroth took one step towards Cloud with the calm demeanor of an undisturbed mountain to shut him up. Just as huge as one too, he took his time, gait steady as his stance, arms and hair shifting with his confident sway. Lazily looming closer, he held up his right hand when he was inches away from Cloud, but then lowered it a fraction as if testing a rabid monster.

Now, he ducked lower, his upper torso sweeping over. Eyelashes quite discernible this close up in Cloud’s face, while wearing the emotional appearance of a log, he didn’t blink as he kept searching Cloud’s eyes. Unnamed, masked veneer so unsettling, his hand once more crept up, then paused, then ascended higher towards Cloud’s cheek.

Dipping back, but refusing to relinquish his space and let Sephiroth dominate him, Cloud held his ground. Nearly close enough to feel heat steaming from Sephiroth’s nose to his own, he curved back with his neck and head, the muscles overstraining and tense in seconds. Keeping up with the no blinking game, he bit on the insides of his cheeks when he caught Sephiroth’s hand gradually closing in on him.

The fingers were massive as they drew near, and Cloud awkwardly hissed, “Ugh, what is this?”

Silent as Sephiroth was, freezing but then continuing with another step dragging his mass along with mud and leaves, he gazed through Cloud, rearranging his bones and sinew with just that blank stare alone. 

“He’s sexy for sure, but I’m not ready to be kissed!”

Noticing a lack of clogged pores over that porcelain skin, Cloud’s nostrils flared. Faring poorly the closer he was to almost meeting Sephiroth’s forehead, nose, and lips, he swallowed the dry knot in his throat, still refusing to budge, but at least finding energy to speak.

“H-hang on!” Cringing since he was balbutient, he was covered by Sephiroth’s shadow and hair, sharing the same oxygen now. Panic hidden beneath the surface even as sweat was beading and rolling down his temples and back, Cloud diligently argued, “I don’t know you like that yet! I don’t know what you’re about! Just wait!”

Cloud watched as the alpha approached for the last instance, a slow, deliberate advance that seemed to stretch the very fabric of time. At first, he was just a silhouette against the sunlit window of the trees, a shape defined more by absence than presence. But with each measured step, the details began to emerge, painting themselves onto Cloud’s field of vision with an almost agonizing slowness.

First, it was the broad set of his shoulders, subtly defined beneath the fine fabric of his furs and pelts strewn everywhere. Then, the strong line of his jaw, no hint of a stubble catching the light as his clean-shaven face reflected the lurid rays. A flicker of unease, a cold prickle of apprehension, ran down Cloud’s spine as he deduced that this wasn’t a casual approach; it felt deliberate, almost predatory. Yet, beneath the apprehension, a curious, almost illicit sense of fascination began to stir.

As the distance closed further, Cloud’s gaze was drawn to the man’s eyes—still too far to discern their changing color, but already emanating an unsettling intensity of blue and green. A tremor, barely perceptible, ran through Cloud’s hands, resting on the threaded seams of his jeans. His confusion mounted, a disorienting mix of alarm and an undeniable pull. There was something undeniably captivating about Sephiroth’s new gait, a confident, almost languid stride that hinted at hidden power.

Now, only a few feet separated them. The alpha’s long, rich hair, falling artfully across his forehead, framed a face that was undeniably striking. High cheekbones, a straight nose, and lips that seemed to hold a subtle, enigmatic curve were to die for. Each time he caught a glimpse, Cloud’s breath hitched, dragging and locking in his throat. He felt like he was caught in a slow-motion unraveling, each increment of proximity revealing another layer of the other man’s captivating presence. 

The tension in the air was palpable, thrumming between them like a taut wire. More than anything, Cloud wanted to recoil, to break eye contact, but found himself utterly transfixed, a helpless moth drawn to an impossibly bright flame. The fear was a cold knot in his stomach, but the admiration, a warm, forbidden bloom, was almost as potent.

The larger man had at least finally stopped, standing directly before Cloud, his gaze locking with an intensity that stole Cloud’s breath away. Every pore, every subtle shift in expression, was now in terrifying, exhilarating focus, refined and regal as a monumental example of masculine power.

Their eyelashes were about to be glued at this rate, and Sephiroth’s mouth was sealing closer and over Cloud’s, when he suddenly stopped midway. Gigantic now as he stopped when their feet were on top of one another, there wasn’t much of a stupor as the looming, ghostly shadow of his hand once more began hovering near Cloud’s nose this time.

As Cloud held his breath, not daring to shift and blink, in the most random turn of events, Sephiroth took his middle finger and thumb, pressing them together before he flicked Cloud right in the nose.

Comedically, akin to something in the average cartoon, Cloud’s eyes crossed to view the end of his own nose. Not in much pain as opposed to abject shock, the austerity of the move went beyond the act itself as Cloud sailed back a few steps to regain his balance after receiving that mild tap. Sadly, it appeared that it worked against him, the spot he was now standing the entire goal for Sephiroth’s cunning wit.

Feet crunching over mounds of imbalanced leaves and soil that seemed out of place, at the last minute, just when Cloud realized something was amiss, his weight struck against himself. Sinking deeper into the earth, the leaves caved at once, and in a violent gush, a trap sprang up and netted Cloud. It really was a net, crudely fashioned out of old fishing rope and other gear, but it did the trick very well to crash down on Cloud and bring him to his knees. 

“What the hell?! Hey!” Face-first in the leaves and grass, he sputtered, wiping the muck off and blinking frantically. “What the hell?! Get this shit off me! Get me outta here!”

Fingers and arms scraping to the sides and tugging in opposite directions, nothing could be done. The net was a perfect fit, designed expertly as it pinned him, and what made matters far worse was that Sephiroth had intended to do this.

Counting the many inches and feet of dirt below waiting for him, Cloud’s eyes became blurry as he started freaking out. “Sephiroth! You moron! Let me out! I want out of this! Now!”

The more and louder Cloud yelled, the more damage he only did to his own case. All the same, as if he was now free of a nasty burden, Sephiroth walked in front of the net, and perched right under the same tree Cloud’s crumpled form was, what looked like a crane on a pulley system was hoisted wonderfully in position. 

In a powerful move, Sephiroth snatched his axe back, and in a sweeping arch, he rammed it against a barely visible rope dangling along the tree trunk. Connected to the pulley mechanism, it released immediately, hurtling down and latching onto the hook at the top of the net. Yanking the rope seconds later once the hook snagged, Sephiroth’s final efforts were fruitful as he sent Cloud in the netted cage high above the ground.

Floored as more leaves and branches prodded and poked his sides as he swayed within the thick foliage, Cloud belted out with all his might to be released. Truly afraid of heights, even though the net seemed to hold, he doubled his efforts to cry out for help. It all fell on deaf ears, as was the plan and response for his brazen, callous idiocy, but he kicked, pulled, wiggled, and hoarsely cried out regardless. 

Cold as ice, Sephiroth marched over to Cloud’s discarded bags, opening the one containing one of his many water bottles. Shaking it at first, but then recalling how to open it, he sat on a chopped log, popping open the cap as he tossed his head back and took deep, massive gulps of the water while Cloud continued to scream himself raw.

:-----: :-----:

“Everybody knows that the dice are loaded, everybody rolls with their fingers crossed. Everybody knows the war is over, everybody knows the good guys lost…”

Boy, Sephiroth knew how to really hold and prolong one heck of a grudge. Far worse than anyone else Cloud had ever met and was accustomed with, the warrior with a penchant for serene silence had sat there on the same spot for two hours while Cloud did all sorts of unusual things to yank his attention and be let out of the cage.

Of course, every effort was a no-go. He would have a better chance making a rock cry at this point, but he went on because of the one percent chance that Sephiroth would show mercy. Soon, when pleading and crying didn’t do much, Cloud changed his tactics as he maneuvered everywhere psychologically and emotionally to be bloody annoying.

Reciting the alphabet forward and backward, he then sang every preschool song he knew. Calling out the catchiest movie titles and monologues for a bit still didn’t even cause a stir, so Cloud kicked up the annoyances several notches. Ensuring he sang everything out of tune, he exaggerated the most recent song, blasting it out to make sure even the animals nearby were disturbed upon hearing it.

“Everybody knows the fight was fixed. The poor stay poor, the rich get rich, that’s how it goes. Everybody knows.” Limited in space, Cloud used his entire body to swing the cage, howling on to no end. “Everybody knows that the boat is leaking! Everybody knows that the captain lied! Everybody got this broken feeling, like their father or their dog just died!”

Staring below, to his imminent joy, Sephiroth was beginning to grow weary of the cutting, crude noises. Palm squashing the defenseless water bottle until the plastic had folded over at least five times and then in variously smaller pieces, his veins along his temples reflected his temper soaring. Composure rather stale after Cloud started raising his vocal volume even more, Sephiroth started melting in the worst ways as his comportment dripped off like hot wax to reveal a more sinister glare now.

A songbird of his own now, Cloud smiled and howled on for the world to hear, “Everybody talking to their pockets! Everybody wants a box of chocolates, and a long-stem rose! Everybody knows!”

Peeking quickly down at Sephiroth, he wondered how many of his own teeth he’d cracked and crushed due to his fierce disposition. Statuesque to a horrific level, he acted as if someone had shoved his patience into a mortar and pestle to grind it up to nothing savory and desirable. 

“Good,” Cloud mused with a gleam of fervent approval reserved for himself. “That’s what you get for not letting me down earlier, jackass.” 

Turning it into a funny game for himself, he acted like the song had come to an end. Silent for some time, though he was at an angle and couldn’t properly and entirely spy on Sephiroth’s visage, he could tell that he was waiting to really see if the music was through. His head eventually came to full view, the enormous male leaning towards the tree Cloud was held in, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

Taking interest in another adjacent tree, Cloud examined its magnificent colors and majestic bark, counting to ten after that before he sucked in a deep breath and moved onto the next performance, though much louder and grating even his own eardrums with vociferous sounds.

“Can’t read my, can’t read my, no, he can’t read my poker face! She’s got—”

On high alert and slightly red in the face, Sephiroth sprang up, the water bottle akin to an axe ready in his hand. “What will make it stop?!”

“Ooh, that’s right…beg me for it, big guy.”

Coyly, Cloud twisted his lips downward to the left, pouty for show. “I mean, you could just listen to me and let me down like a good boy, Sephiroth.” 

At the end of his tether, the last few hours had worn Sephiroth out, his posture going from poised and elegant to twitchy and peeved. Sore-vexed and taxed beyond his corporeal form, he looked frazzled, his appearance quite haggard and disheveled. Out of options, time, and in need of a change of pace, the bedevilled alpha debated it briefly until he reached his decision and spoke bluntly.

“Talk nice to me.” Holding up an index finger, upon deducing that Cloud required more clues to piece together, he remarked in depth, “Say it all. Say it, and I cut you down.”

“Fuck sakes, I know just what this egotistical prick wants, and I hate it.”

Yet, he also wanted to be down on the ground, and he wasn’t in the mood to test the levels of crazy Sephiroth projected. If he dared mess with it, he knew there was a high chance he would likely be spending the night knowing what sleeping in a net within a tree would feel like.

Angst aside, Cloud felt cold already, the navy blue and violet streaks across the sky announcing that twilight was almost through. He wouldn’t make it through nightfall like this, so he sighed, casting his pride away as he wore his most coquettish visage ever.

Eyelashes fluttering, he started blinking quickly at Sephiroth, and while on his best behavior technically, it still was rather forced and phony. Anger was however deep-seated and heavily rooted in his comportment, and with nothing less on offer, Cloud started enacting the role of a somewhat demure person.

Far too silly by all and any standard, he cooed, “I’m so sorry for offending you with my lack of knowledge, Sephiroth. You were so right about everything.”

Of course, that was a pathetic, though fair start, but not exactly what Sephiroth apparently wanted to hear. Glowering at Cloud, though taking a few more steps towards him, his eyes glowed with pure energy and raw fire, targeting the cage mostly before gesturing at Cloud with a cold tilt of his head. 

Piecing together the scant clues, though he didn’t want to be too vainglorious and fall prey to his own pride, he still hammed it up quite a bit.

Lower lip protruding as he poured all his stamina into rolling forward with the act, he was closely crooning, “I see. I get it. Yeah.” Remembering the former point Sephiroth had been trying to teach about surroundings and such, Cloud sighed. “Kay. I promise I’ll look, listen, and be better. You were right. Okay? I wasn’t aware of everything around. Sorry.”

That had to be the entire purpose of the net trap and the other hook and pulley, no doubt. Cloud had issues assorting how the hell Sephiroth found time to stitch up a sophisticated trap like the one he was currently jailed in, but he had to at least give credit where it was due. Interminable awe was sustained when it came to Sephiroth and his prowess. This was more than the average survivor for sure, and Cloud wondered how many other traps laced the island.

Well, to spend time worrying about it now was immaterial and a total waste. Sephiroth was gazing intently at him, then glanced at his axe resting still embedded within the tree. A moment of contemplation bolstered Cloud’s genuine confusion, but as he started to suspect that what he’d stated wasn’t that impressive and moving, Sephiroth finally sighed and retrieved the axe. 

Dislodging it from the massive trunk, he barely even yanked his arm back to show physical effort. Hoisting it above himself, he then flung it with the handle deliberately bashing the crane, his right hand yanking the rope seconds later. Spry and swift in the deed, he managed to perch beneath Cloud as he sailed with the net downward, but tricked Cloud just the same when he changed his mind and simply let the net tear and crash rather than catching him.

Hurtling to the solid earth with a jolting thud reverberating through his ribs, Cloud was grateful to be back on ground level, but instantly annoyed with Sephiroth either way. 

“Ooow!” Shaking himself out of the crumpled net, he found a way out from beneath it in no time. “You could’ve just been sweet about it, Gaia,” came his feisty complaint as he brushed soil and dirt off himself before standing back up.

A glance back ahead showed him that Sephiroth had already found an interest in another taller, larger tree, one strategically placed to hold itself above many other bushes without other rocks stacked on each other obstructing a clear view. Spotting the tops of a few aged windmills and making out their powerful blades, Cloud felt a smile approaching to lighten the mood based on progress, when Sephiroth burst forth and started climbing the large tree.

Effective for the sake of a quick disappearance, his speedy relocation was astounding, but not without the nasty strings of detachment looping around Cloud. Sephiroth always made running away seem simple, and his long, powerful legs and muscular arms shot him up the length of the tree in less than four keen moves.

Unsettled by the leaves which fell and landed on his forehead and nose when he peered up after Sephiroth, Cloud groaned and removed them before he understood that shouting wouldn’t bear much fruit. He’d already spent over two hours using and abusing his poor voice box, and Sephiroth was more of the avoidant, personality type as it so happened. Screaming his head off would only cause more harm and bring exhaustion to himself, so he decided to take matters into his own hands.

Hitching up his sleeves a bit and massaging his knees to prepare for the ascension, Cloud grimly thought, “As they say, want something done? Do it your damn self.”  

Soles flat on the trunk, he jumped to grab the first branch, counting on before he yanked himself onto the second, third, then fourth branch up. Given a newer view, he still hadn’t spotted signs of Sephiroth anywhere yet, but he was one determined adolescent. It was quite the strenuous workout without any rewards gained other than bugs, twigs, leaves, and more bugs, but Cloud’s fingers and palms burned worse than his legs and arms after scraping along the seventh branch. Wise never to peer at the ground and assess his progress, he was midway onto the ninth branch, when he finally saw Sephiroth.

…Well, he wasn’t exactly alone, and the panic escalated within Cloud when he noticed a brunneous snake that was almost a little over ten feet in length perched and then descending from a higher branch. 

Having blended so elegantly with the bark of the old tree, it was on the way down, coiling and dropping from the branch just above Sephiroth, when it took a rabid fascination in the alpha. Skull lowering while the rest of its enormous, scaly body hovered above, its tongue flicked out, the elongated, sibilant ‘s’ rattling as its slitted, yellow-green eyes vibrantly glowed.

Anyone else would’ve of course dropped all the way from the top of the tree to the ground, but Sephiroth never did. Not even considering it as a possibility, he sat comfortably on his bottom, a knee bent and drawn up so his elbow could perch on it. Face to face with the huge snake, as it continued scenting the air and emitting scratchy hissing sounds, slowly, Sephiroth moved his head like a snake charmer from right to left.

Crazy as he looked with his eyes locked onto the snake and head swiveling and bobbing side to side, it held a great effect on the animal. Mystified, it too began imitating him, the last hiss now dying down as it nudged Sephiroth with its head in a mild tap. Bopping him on the forehead so tenderly, a few more times, it ghosted around, bearing the similarities between its own serpentine eyes and Sephiroth’s. With one final hiss which sounded as gentle as the susurrus of the wind in the distance, it rested its head against Sephiroth’s in what appeared to be a gesture and exchange of respect.

Greeting its move midway, Sephiroth didn’t take his eyes off the reptile, but seemed just as relaxed as it chose to turn over its own huge body and slither down the rest of the tree trunk without even glancing in Cloud’s direction. When the last delicate hiss sounded as faint as the dull, steady throbbing of Cloud’s heart, though he was far from calm, he shifted at least without realizing how long he’d been stunned there.

As green eyes languidly poured into his confused ones, Cloud whispered past dry lips, “On any other day, that would be weird.”

Huffing, Sephiroth’s fingers curled, his expression now back to impassive like ice. “Friend.”

“If that was your friend,” Cloud sardonically began, mindful of his balance while he crept over on his chest, “then I’d hate to see your enemies.” Confident that he wouldn’t slip and fall, he eased himself up on his palms, then asked while still staring below, “What inspired you to come up here anyway?”

Jerking his head out at the rest of the open world waiting to be explored, Sephiroth had already made his nonverbal cue. “On lookout.”

“Uh-huh.” That was relatively easy to stitch together, but the rest of the tapestry waited for Cloud to unravel. “Since I won’t be on guard duties all night like you, just curious if any of your other pals will join you?”

A rather dry, drab meeting of their eyes stabbed into Cloud, but he only smiled as he followed it through with more decent humor.

“I want to learn more about you, Sephiroth.” Finding peace and serenity in the sounds of birdsong as the avian animals began gathering in hordes over other trees, Cloud beamed at them and then at Sephiroth. “Were you born on this island, or did your parents come here and just stay?” 

Silent and now a bit testy, Sephiroth’s nostrils tightened like his eyebrows. In a rigid line of silver wire, his heated glare bounced off Cloud just the same since it wasn’t followed by a threat. 

Knowing Sephiroth only did it because he was being a nuisance, Cloud giggled. “I see you like being the silent-partner-type. Suits me well, because I think I need someone to balance my overenthusiastic energy.”

A lack of any acknowledgement and response coordinated Cloud’s playful nature to temper itself well. Patience wasn’t his strongest suit, but he was willing to make it a part of his repertoire now. Shoving himself though in a subtle increment in Sephiroth’s line of view, his upper body dipped ahead first, a welcoming, handsome smile always adorning his youthful visage. 

It didn’t melt Sephiroth’s frosty walls, but Cloud found the back and forth both petty, yet rather fun. Each time he would literally slide an inch closer to get in Sephiroth’s face, the derisive alpha would pull back and turn his head to the side, until he had nowhere else to go when Cloud shimmied until he was directly before him.

Perhaps curious even when he was trying to fight to maintain his standoffish demeanor, Sephiroth crushed minutes and seconds, altering the fabric of time itself when he steadied an inactive, inscrutable veneer and aimed it at Cloud. The aura gave off no unreal vibe alone, but the syrup and gooey essences coating Cloud’s heart snugly fit around it, working and seeping inside every ventricle and chamber all because of how strikingly attractive Sephiroth was in the twilight.

Alluring and colorful as the light was, it never defined Sephiroth, as he was the one to work his superior, transcendent aesthetics over it. Lurid rays crested and folded around him, his more masculine features springing forward and his eye color not one full hue, but many at times. Long, pale eyelashes sweeping with each blink like thick broom bristles, Sephiroth’s visage was the very product of nature’s godly blessings on man. Even his shadow was ever so pretty as it sailed across the ground. 

Caught in limbo while his entire hand tingled from simply ghosting it across Sephiroth’s supple, rejuvenating skin, Cloud audibly gulped as he then offered an explanation even for himself out of his current conundrum, “You kinda remind me of someone! Yeah!” 

That was the ultimate genesis for the absurdity. After glancing at Sephiroth’s hands and finding them too beautiful, against his control, Cloud did extend his own arm and lightly nudged Sephiroth’s forearm. Once contact was established, every butterfly, gooey, warm feeling ever described by authors and poets did bend and warp time. Emotions so syrupy and surreal, he felt giddy and encouraged to do more since Sephiroth had yet to react with derision at least. 

Unfortunately, when he tried acting slick to slide his hand from the wrist to loop their fingers, Sephiroth snapped up and yanked his arm away. 

Woefully trying to save face, Cloud lamented, “This is sad! I’m normally rather amazing with people!” The unfathomable, murky water for the first time was scary to wade into, but he rambled on speedily, “I recall so many years ago, I was trying to court and win the affections of this cute little boy I shared lunch with every day. This was in primary school though, the beginning of my love conquests, and I was listening to my new Celine Dion mix, and I had no idea he was into my kind of music!” 

Boldly, like a true warrior who had yet to discover his endowments of masculinity, akin to how he approached the hill to be tamed, he measured his challenges admirably now that he had an audience. 

“Back then though, we used to actually share cubby holes with other classmates, so it was easier to find excuses to get closer to this guy. He had the same color of eyes as a siren leisurely bathing beneath the exquisite sun on a lazy, summer day. It was like, rich green! Like yours!” Overwhelmed with the fertile soil of his thoughts burgeoning, he chanted louder than ever, “The lunch lady in particular used to spare extra sodas and sandwiches for me, because she started pitying me and—”

A divisive interruption of the swiftest kind arrived, shooting Cloud in the chest by bringing a tight grip and heat to his mouth. Sephiroth had physically shut him up by using three fingers to clamp down on Cloud’s lower and upper lips. Stifling his incessant rambling, there wasn’t any pressure there, save for the quick witticism working in Sephiroth’s advantage.

“Ah. I can take the hint…I should shut the hell up.”

Left there stymied but cluelessly enchanted, though his lips were closed, Cloud used the power and mysticism in his eyes to glisten forth a charming smile. If it had been anyone else who disrespected him this way, he would’ve thrown a fit, but Sephiroth was still quite gentle as he held onto his mouth and then gradually searched to find and meet his gaze.

A delicate ripple of mirth began to play across Sephiroth’s countenance, transforming the familiar landscape of his face with an almost magical grace. It wasn’t yet a laugh, but the exquisite prelude to one, a whimsically enchanting emotion held in perfect, tantalizing suspension.

His usually keen green eyes, now alight with an inner luminescence, began to twinkle with an almost mischievous brilliance, reflecting a delightfully internal calculus. The nascent joy seemed to gather at their very core, expanding outward, contagiously sharing such a lovely disease.

His posture, previously attentive, now softened into an attitude of profound comfort and poise. A subtle relaxation smoothed the taut lines of his shoulders, allowing them to settle with an innate confidence. His head tilted slightly, an effortless shift that bespoke a mind at ease, fully engaged in a moment of pure, unadulterated delight.

The initial flicker of amusement evolved into a slow, deliberate bloom, culminating in a foxy grin that spread across his features. This wasn’t however a forced or performative smile, but an organic unfolding, a genuine expression of inner satisfaction from the moment he touched Cloud.

Even the architecture of his face seemed to ease into this wondrous state. The subtle tension around his lips dissolved, allowing them to part just so, hinting at the breathy exhalation of a nascent chuckle. His jaw structure, typically firm, relaxed its habitual vigilance, accommodating the expansive gesture with the fluidity of fine art.

Every minute muscle seemed to align in harmonious concert, sculpting an expression that was both utterly charming and deeply captivating, a testament to the exquisite joy held precariously on the precipice of overt laughter.

The late evening sun, usually so bold, seemed to hesitate, casting long, shy shadows across the quiet space. Somehow more aware of the distance, Sephiroth and Cloud sat opposite each other, the comfortable silence between them suddenly charged, thick with an unspoken energy. Every breath felt audible, every subtle shift of weight amplified. A psychological tension, taut and almost visible, strung itself between them, a fragile, invisible thread.

Cloud’s gaze, a sky blue mirroring the fading light, was fixed on Sephiroth. Vividly, he saw the flicker of something profound in Sephiroth’s green eyes, something that both thrilled and terrified him. Time, usually a relentless current, seemed to impede its progress, stuttering and stretching, marked only by the frantic beat of Cloud’s own heart.

Sensations, too, became muted and exaggerated by the will of imagination based on things he missed. Oddly, he heard the familiar hum of a refrigerator, the distant rumble of traffic, all receding into a blurry background as his entire being narrowed its focus to the man before himself. Now, he felt an intense, almost painful pull, a gravitational force drawing them inexorably closer, and he obeyed instincts.

Shock arrived in a singular, potent form, reshaping their set roles. It was Sephiroth who finally broke the silent standoff. With a hesitant, almost imperceptible movement, he extended his fingers, only three easing off Cloud’s seams to hover and trickle along the entrance of his mouth while he fixated on Cloud’s rosy lips seriously. 

Never having been touched and looked at in such a voracious manner, Cloud’s breath caught, a silent gasp trapped in his throat. Slowly, with a tenderness that stole Cloud’s breath entirely, Sephiroth’s few fingers reached out with an ounce of more pressure, but still delicate as butterfly wings. They landed on the very edge of the omega’s lower lip to imprint nurturing now. A fleeting, quite shy, form of grace hitched itself to the type of contact that sent a jolt of raw sensation through Cloud’s entire being.

Then, with an exquisite grace, Sephiroth began to delicately trace and shape out the outline of Cloud’s lower lip until he gently tugged it open. His green eyes, brimming with liberal emotions felt and unspoken, poured their silent confessions into Cloud’s bewildered stare. The back-and-forth rhythm of his touch was mesmerizing; a gentle circle around the soft curve of the lip, then a slow, deliberate trail upwards, cresting the gliding ridge of the upper lip, the tip of a digit so close to prodding inwards. 

Occasionally, Sephiroth’s eyes would drop to Cloud’s mouth, a momentary, lingering stare filled with a yearning so potent it was almost unbearable. On and on, it brimmed desire, his gaze colorful, but dark, all before snapping back to meet Cloud’s eyes, a silent question hanging in the air.

Each brush of his fingertips brought with it minor dabs and taps of heat, small, electric sparks that ignited a cascade of tingling sensations over Cloud’s mouth. Body responding in a million ways and firing off so many signals at once, he held his breath, mirroring Sephiroth’s stillness, afraid that any movement would shatter the fragile, beautiful moment. 

Minutes stretched into an eternity, marked only by the feather-light pressure of Sephiroth’s touch until the center of Cloud’s mouth both burned and felt parched. Undone by this intimacy, Cloud’s lips, on their own accord, subtly puckered, a silent, desperate plea, a wanting to receive a sweet kiss that hovered tantalizingly close, a promise suspended in the charged air. 

From the moment Sephiroth had caressed his tender skin, the world outside had ceased to exist, swallowed by the profound intimacy of that touch. The sizzling bolts and flashes were welcome, circulating spools of pleasure to trickle all the way into Cloud’s heart.

And then, as abruptly as it began, the pressure vanished. Sephiroth’s fingers, having sculpted the memory of their wanting, slowly, agonizingly, withdrew from Cloud’s moist lips, leaving behind a lingering ghost of warmth and an aching, echoing silence. However, it seemed he was quick to ‘read the room’, lowering his mouth until a few inches remained between his lips and Cloud’s, but that was the ultimate wake-up call Cloud needed.

Reacting as if he’d been shot when Sephiroth’s exhale trickled over his lower lip, he yelped and pushed back, clinging onto the side of the tree branch before using it to scuttle over to the thick trunk. Scooting and sliding himself down the length of it as if it were a pole, he roughly made it all the way to the bottom, his heartbeat louder and faster than a dozen fireworks.

Weakly, he glanced up into the mass of thick, dark green leaves spread about, shaking as he held fiercely onto the thought of what could’ve happened if he’d let it. On shaky feet, he then quickly ambled away to bed down for the night.

Chapter Text

Noctiflorous violet, pink, and glowing golden plants cushioning Cloud wilted after the night gave way to the first glimmer of dawn. Skull bouncing lower to settle on the poor excuse for a pillow he was using, mainly his own bag, the adolescent sighed in nearly a maudlin manner. Engrossed in his emotions still leaving their residual effect from the previous night, when he blinked and felt how strained his eyeballs were, he deduced he really hadn’t obtained more than an hour or two of sleep after all.

Well, who could blame him for a bout of insomnia, really?

Recalling precisely how close he’d been to doing something outlandish, his mouth continued tingling with the phantom sensations of not only Sephiroth’s gentle fingers smoothly glossing over the puffy bits, but when he closed his eyes, he immediately imagined their mouths perfectly meeting. 

It was what they’d both yearned for, after all. Breaths would be held, eye contact ensnared and dictated by their natural desires to guide themselves forth until they didn’t need the power of vision but tactility to snatch the opportunity to become one. They would latch on and share oxygen for many minutes before tongues darted and soothingly parted the way, a simultaneous dance without much recital required as they poured sexuality, sensuality, and mutual desire back and forth.

When they would eventually pull away, their roaming hands would be responsible for creating a slovenly appearance on both sides. Sephiroth’s pale hair would be frizzy as his own golden strands jutted out unevenly, the similarities in their light-colored skin bearing more pink as they gasped out in unison and then gave each other a brazenly hungry stare. Then, they would go at it again, teeth biting and clashing this time until they were beyond dizzy from the escalation of passion.

Damn it, Sephiroth really was everything he’d desired in a man.

Lepid, agile, shrewd, strong, brave, fast, and self-reliant, he was built like a true force of nature, not a foe to be challenged. Ludibry applied in proper doses when he needed to, as his cunning wit paired with the stony, icy glare sometimes did more than simply scare Cloud. While he still could’ve been more largiloquent, it wasn’t a strict requirement. In fact, Vincent was often verbose and mouthy enough, and it was more of a turn off to hear a man blabbering for hours non stop.

Turning his lissome, lithe body around twice until he forcefully sat up, Cloud scowled at his hands and then used them to bash his fists against his forehead to knock some sense into his damn skull. There wasn’t a logical need to draw a single comparison between Vincent and Sephiroth, but they were literally the only two ‘suitors’ Cloud had ever known.

Lancinated by where his mind was going, he figured it had to be the jungle hay fever or something. It wasn’t as if he’d never entertained crushes and had desires for other men before, but those seemed like playful, childish notions now. Those giddy, grade school urges never went further than wanting to hold hands, share lunches during recess, and walking home together. This time, this was different, far more visceral, raw, and highly perverse as far as sexual urges were concerned. 

The facts were that he was supposed to be finding a way to call for help and leave the jungle, not use it as a vacation trip, no matter how relaxed he was becoming around his benefactor. That, and he was also technically engaged, and while he loathed Vincent with every ounce of his being, they were still betrothed, which meant he’d been close to cheating.

Even if it was a ‘fake’ and forced arrangement, the sensible, wise thing to do would be to break things off and make it clear to Vincent that he was interested in someone else before pursuing other options. Otherwise, he really was cheating.

Kinda.

“God, last night was dumb!” Bashing himself in the forehead again when he suspected he’d cast Sephiroth a needy look better matching that of a thirsty, needy brat, he wished he could go erase that moment.

This was wrong and some serious Stockholm Syndrome type of stuff…no?

Not technically. Sephiroth hadn’t abducted him to hold him hostage. He was the rescuer, the succor Cloud needed, and certainly, he wasn’t supposed to be dreaming of making out with his helper. Yet, it was tricky when Sephiroth clearly reciprocated those feelings and wanted him too.

…Did he actually yearn for him as well, or was it an action of imitation and desperation since he’d been alone in the jungle for most of his life, though?

Freezing on the spot when he felt genuinely upset if Sephiroth’s feelings didn’t run as deeply as his own, Cloud then slapped and pinched his thigh to admonish and punish himself. Either way, it didn’t and shouldn’t have mattered what Sephiroth wanted!

“This whole thing’s a mess! One which I started, but still! Wish I could forget it all and disappear!”

Since he really was the key factor when it came to intimating the issue, Cloud searched for the pieces to glue things back together as they once were. The good news was that Sephiroth seemed to understand him, even if he didn’t have an extended, in-depth vocabulary. He was fast when it came to grasping other things at least, so he had to be forthcoming and explain his circumstance. Sephiroth probably would get that his situation was tight and complicated, and after hoping for the best outcome, once he was safely back home, they could both move on with their lives.

…Move on? How? With Vincent, playing pretend, only to be stuck in a loveless void of a marriage? Or breaking things off and sending his poor family back to a world of doom? 

“At least Vincent has money and is into me though, but then again, isn’t Sephiroth also digging me, or am I just so messed up and out of it that I read the signs wrong?”

Conflicted either way and abashed that he was willing to latch onto Sephiroth more than Vincent, Cloud determined that it simply had to be because of his youth and adventurous spirit. As a young omega, he hadn’t explored anything romantic and sexual. Not even experiencing his first kiss yet, he wagered his lack of wisdom and care when it came to leaving himself open and vulnerable around a full grown alpha was only stupidity in the making.

He was neck deep in the wilderness, without a map, compass, proper hiking, climbing and camping gear. As an unmated omega, he didn’t even have suppressants, birth control, and contraceptives, and the way he was headed, sure enough, he would end up being paired and pregnant before the week was through. Being ground up and torn apart by beasts somehow was becoming a lot more sensationalized now.

Going through with the rest of his morning routine was like clockwork, his body on autopilot as he used only a meager bit of water, his toothpaste, and brush to cleanse his teeth to the best of his limited abilities. As he swished and swirled the spearmint flavor around to rejuvenate and freshen his breath, he wondered if he should do less of this. 

“Maybe if I stink like hell, Sephiroth won’t approach me?” Set onto a trampoline of funny ideas and results, Cloud giggled, barely capable of gurgling his mouthwash. “That’d be kinda hilarious, breathing rank breath in his face, but what if the smellier I am, the more he likes it?!”

Shocking as it would be, he figured it could apply and be quite logical as an end. Most alphas supposedly were at the more primitive side when it came to nature and behavior, getting off on the weirdest and grossest crap. After all, that was how their species originated and operated.

Body odor told someone a lot about that individual, and alphas held three times more olfactory bulbs and sensory nerves than omegas. By the origins of their design and structure, they were meant to seek one another out by pheromones, and not bathing would speed run the arrival of something disastrous.

Cheeks puffing out as he continued rinsing his mouth, Cloud bent over to spew the saliva and watery mixture onto the grass as he thought, “On second thought, bad idea. Prissy and prim as I am, I can’t even imagine going a day without hitting water, shitty and cold as it is here.”

Bordering on tempestuous and a bit mercurial when he thought of the tiny possibility that Sephiroth was probably toying with him, Cloud suddenly straightened his posture as if preparing for a battle. Somehow, despite not even a leaf being out of place, without an inkling of a sound misplaced, he felt he wasn’t entirely alone.

Spine curving and flesh bubbling with anticipation, he turned his head left, then right, back all around behind himself, seizing up as soon as his eyes landed on Sephiroth’s muscular bulk. Lingering there for who knew how long like some demented creep, he didn’t seem quite upright and peeved as Cloud thought he would be.

Misery loved company, as the cliché went, and Cloud hated how swiftly he’d turned into concrete proof of that statement holding high efficacy. Frankly, he wanted Sephiroth to be as annoyed, sexually frustrated, and pushy as he was about the tension, but it merely looked as if any other day had passed and begun for Sephiroth.

Puckish at first, but then downright pissed off when he could practically see and confirm by the sharp powers of his memory how refined, rough, and viciously set Sephiroth was, Cloud was at a loss for words. Muscles flexing even as he stood there listening to the forest, Sephiroth looked even larger because of his stupid assortment of pelts, fur, and weapons all strapped and hanging from various limbs to be in quick reach if he needed to use them.

Losing his mind by the second, Cloud wrenched his hungry gaze away and pinched himself again on the leg. “God damn, I hate you sometimes, Sephiroth…you sexy bastard.”

Despite how torn he was about his nagging predicament, Cloud gathered his guts and acted normal, before things really took a turn in the most abhorrent direction. 

Clapping his hands together, he stood tall and cheerfully orated, “Good morning! What’s for breakfast?”

As usual, with anything and everything else he spewed, fatuous joke or mildly jocular statement, it lassoed more around thin air than Sephiroth’s reply. Silence was always steady and constant from the monolithic alpha, so Cloud switched the mood up a bit just to garner a response and reaction without having to provide one for himself like a loon.

Eyeing the slight bags Sephiroth held around his eye sockets to indicate less than adequate hours of rest, Cloud evinced a moue of concern, and it was rather sincere. 

Earnest and bedazzled both ways, he pointed at Sephiroth and asked, “Don’t you sleep?”

Dabbing at his right eye and dragging his fingers low to circle the skin darkening there, Sephiroth eventually huffed, “Not much.”

This really wasn’t going anywhere but disaster planet at this point. Sephiroth’s facial muscles were now marginally creased and a distantly ireful light resonated from the center of his eyes. Tight-lipped but obviously annoyed about something, the drawn out quiet encouraged Cloud to ponder on whether Sephiroth was miffed because he’d rejected his attempt at a kiss.

Feeling troubled and quite guilty for reacting so harshly when Sephiroth had only been navigating his behavior in a reasonable manner, Cloud wanted to start with an apology, when his conscience reared up. 

Chastising him right away for his silliness, it hissed angrily, “Hell no! You won’t feel sorry for this guy! What’s the matter with you?”

In truth, there was some veracity to that abrasive statement after all. Nice and helpful as Sephiroth was, there were times when he’d proven how lethal and unforgiving he could be. Relying on him for survival was fine, but smearing the rigid lines to stand on the opposite side of the fence was an error in the making. Sephiroth already thought of him as slow and weak, and he didn’t need his urges getting the upper hand and screwing things up.

“Ugh, Cloud, get your shit together! You can’t go around feeling pity for random jungle men, hot as fuck as they happen to be!” 

Sephiroth had done well to kick his ass once before, and if he felt he was being friend zoned, however right it was, more bruises and cuts would no doubt be on the way. Cloud had to sever his losses, not sink into the trap of making more intimate connections, and stop living in the land of his boyish dreams. This wasn’t playful fun time, and the more he wedged himself in the pit of expectations that something would be built between himself and Sephiroth, the more insane he would drive himself.

Clearing his throat once the horizon of opportunity was open, Cloud stood closer to his personal items like he wanted to pick them up. “So, the uh, the town?” 

Reminding Sephiroth and himself of that original plan, he gestured with a thumb behind his shoulder, but then stopped when he realized he’d fallen asleep and had been standing in that same wrong direction once he’d woken up. Wincing, he spun around almost ninety degrees to correct his childish mistake, keeping an eye on the tops of the trees and windmills far in the distance as he rooted himself properly now.

Something uncanny had shifted then in Sephiroth. Subtle and building from the monotonous minutiae, it started out as an infinitesimal twitch of an eyebrow before it caused his left eyelid to also jerk. Opening his eyes wider, an odd, lazy hue erupted to blanket over the verdant so pure, but it dissipated, blending into his bloodstream as he stood even taller with his shoulders ever too broad.

Tersely, Sephiroth walked by Cloud and ordered, “Come.”

A blush he didn’t need nor want rose from his neck to his cheeks as soon as all the wrong images floated to his mind, and Cloud clasped onto one as he whispered, “I mean, you could also pick like, another word to—”

The most potent, deep, dry, but corrosive growl no man alive should’ve ever even dreamed of replicating was the only jumpstart to Cloud’s actions instead of dawdling taking place. That guttural noise blasting past the roots of the earth were astounding as they rolled many octaves deeper than hell itself. Sephiroth had given him that warning and only that one, his eyes narrowing as a red pair of orbs which seemed to bleed out of the corners to solidify an apoplectic rage that didn’t need to be challenged.

Custom-made for his sake as that monstrous growl was, Cloud knew better than to test Sephiroth. Evidently, the man had woken up on the wrong tree branch that morning, holding a nasty grudge against him. Not wanting to hear that abysmal sound ever again, Cloud swiftly snatched all his bags and bottles of water before cowardly sucking in a breath and ducking his head to fall in line after Sephiroth.

“Yep! Coming right away! Understood!”

:-----: :-----:

Majority of the land mass was covered by waterfalls connected to large caves. Cloud had taken the opportunity to wash his face and bits of his upper body in a few whenever Sephiroth wasn’t looking. The icy water helped shake himself to fill lucidity thankfully, but there was still so much ground to cover every time he peeked ahead to assess the progress they’d made.

He never wanted to be a negaholic, nagging cynic, but the reality was that even if they walked all night into dawn, they wouldn’t be that much closer. The goalposts were always shifting, the power lines and windmills still so tiny in the horizon, mocking them no matter how hard they strove to push themselves.

Not only was the torture constantly there like a foul stench and black fume clotting the otherwise rich, clean air, but it was filled with loathing and too contemptible to even be ignored.

At least the fragrance of the marzipan sweet flowers added to the peace. It tasted unearthly and Arcadian after the experience of the caves and waterfalls, but there wasn’t a whole lot to look forward to and be encouraged by when they had miles upon miles still to travel.

With Sephiroth changing positions and hanging behind him to be on guard, Cloud ran on ahead until he grew a bit tired. Measuring his steps properly, he ambled along the arduous path, instructed to head straight only. An unusual humming sound vibrated in the air the further he walked, and it sounded like a swarm of bees. Then, like a xylophone being hit, the buzzing transferred to the rock beneath Cloud’s feet. It travelled through his body and he felt a tingle that ran up to his fingertips, but not in an ominous way. 

After checking whether Sephiroth was still lurking behind, Cloud skipped ahead and the source of the mysterious sound revealed itself immediately. 

At the precipice of the precipitous cliff at least sixty or so feet in the air, Cloud stood transfixed, a diminutive figure dwarfed by the sheer, unyielding immensity of the natural world. Below himself yawned a chasm, its depths obscured by a swirling mist, an abyssal fissure that seemed to swallow light and hope alike.

On the opposing side, a labyrinthine concatenation of wooden platforms and planks awaited, ingeniously engineered to extend from the boughs of gargantuan, ancient trees. These arboreal structures formed a perilous, multi-layered obstacle course, designed for descent into the verdant depths below as punishment if one slipped and misjudged distance.

His apprehension, initially a prickle, rapidly escalated into a debilitating terror, his former fear of heights now tugging his heart right out. The sheer scale of the undertaking, the palpable risk inherent in traversing such a void, rendered him diminutive beyond measure, reducing his perceived stature to something less than a mouse cowering in the face of an apex predator. A profound sense of exposure and vulnerability enveloped himself next, leaving him feeling as fragile and defenseless as a rabbit caught in the crosshairs of an unseen hunter.

Sweating nervously, Cloud’s respiration, once a steady rhythm, succumbed to the encroaching panic. He began to hyperventilate, each shallow, desperate gasp drawing inadequate oxygen into his constricting lungs. A visceral, self-preservation instinct compelled himself to avert his gaze from the yawning abyss before he ended up passing out and falling to his end. The mere thought of looking down was anathema, for when his eyes inadvertently strayed to the vertiginous drop, his visual acuity catastrophically blurred. 

The familiar clarity of the forest across the gap dissolved into an indistinct haze, leaving him acutely prone and susceptible to the grotesque machinations of his own fear-addled imagination. He conjured vivid, abhorrent tableaux of plummeting, of limbs splaying at unnatural angles, of the sickening crack of bone against unforgiving rock, culminating in a grotesque tableau of utter annihilation.

The vibrant hues of the verdant and enriched jungle around himself, previously a source of grounding, began to suffer a chromatic dissolution. Like water inexpertly poured over a meticulous oil painting, the distinct greens, browns, and golds of the foliage bled and smeared to oblivion, coalescing into a besmirched, sordid mess. This visual entropy served as a grim, symbolic representation of his internal turmoil, a chaotic canvas reflecting his sorrows and plights. 

Concurrently, a profound, gastric distress manifested; his stomach twisted into a visceral knot, radiating a sharp, persistent ache that mirrored the compounding disarray of his psychological state. He was a vessel overflowing with dread, utterly incapacitated by the enormity of the task, and the terrifying fragility of his own existence as he paused and cursed inwardly.

Crawling back, Cloud’s spine met Sephiroth’s chest, the alpha’s broad sternum expanding as he inhaled. When Cloud rapidly spun about and gasped as if he’d been choking, Sephiroth scowled, an eyebrow then flocking into his hairline.

Bewildered, he asked, “What?”

Terrified out of his mind, Cloud’s fingers trembled horribly, and he could only point across the chasm for a brief second. “Th-that’s…we’re h-high up!” Pinching his nose and then wiping his sweaty face and hands back and forth, he winced as he yelped, “P-please don’t tell me w-we…we’re supposed to go across that!”

Truthful, but to a crude, blunt fashion and lacking discretion to soften the announcement, Sephiroth nodded and snapped, “Yes. Jump.”

Howling in agony, Cloud screamed as he stomped a foot onto the ground, “This isn’t funny! I c-can’t make it across! It’s so far!”

Assessing the huge, long gap, Sephiroth’s gaze was steely, but he still orated, “Yes. Run. Jump.” Waving his hand forward, he again urged, “Run. Jump.”

A superfluous set of instructions or even gibberish would’ve sufficed. The context was rather uncanny as it was, but the brief, half-hearted way Sephiroth explained his woes off sent Cloud in a pot of boiling anger.

Imitating his hand gesture and waving his arm, Cloud exaggerated his hateful expression as he snapped, “Run! Jump!” Not even a bit at ease after his outburst, he rabidly supplied, “You make it sound so easy, but I’ll have you know, Sephiroth, I’m not a professional athlete!”

Yes, he’d done well to stay in the top five during track and field competitions, but Cloud often struggled with the running long jump techniques. His legs were toned, but a bit on the shorter side. Perhaps more suited for agile climbing and trekking, but there was no way he could run and just fly across the enormous gap. 

Unfortunately, he had nowhere else to go. Sephiroth made that abundantly obvious, planting his massive form like a wall behind Cloud. Side-stepping and getting in his way when he inched aside, Sephiroth emitted a stern growl, an elbow nudging Cloud in the center of his back. Pushing him ahead, he stared at his feet, creating some space for him as he then glared at the space behind themselves to indicate use of dashing for momentum.

It would provide something to kick off for sure, but what waited for him on the other side wasn’t that fantastic either. Scraping back and standing an extra four feet back to prepare for his run, Cloud studied the path ahead, planning before coordinating and executing his force and drive, but the power had already dwindled within when he surveyed the land stretched out before himself.

Across the chasm, the opposing cliff face was festooned with a precarious, almost disquieting array of man-made structures, defying the organic curves of the colossal trees to which they clung. These weren’t elegantly crafted architectural marvels, but rather primitive, though eminently useful, platforms—stark, angular extensions of human ingenuity against the primeval wilderness.

From Cloud’s vantage point, they presented a visual dissonance, an almost surreal mosaic of wood and rope that seemed to tease and torment the eye with its sheer, unsettling peculiarity.

The wooden planks, weathered and darkened by countless storms, were affixed at bizarre, seemingly illogical angles, some jutting out almost horizontally, others pitched at steep, disorienting inclines. They formed a non-Euclidean geometry against the verticality of the jungle giants, creating a disorderly architectural tapestry that defied conventional expectation. 

Countless nails, thick and rusted with the island’s perpetual humidity and wild seasons, were visible even from this distance, their dark heads puncturing the aged timber like malevolent eyes. They were driven in with brute force, often bent or protruding slightly, testament to a construction borne of necessity rather than precision.

Some platforms were mere narrow ledges, barely wide enough for a single foot, seemingly suspended by nothing more than willpower and a prayer. Others were broader, square patches, acting as nexus points for the thinner planks that radiated outwards like the spokes of a broken wheel. The overall impression was of a colossal, haphazardly assembled skeletal system, clinging desperately to the emerald and dark titans surrounding the structures. 

From afar, they possessed a tormenting, almost hallucinatory quality, their sharp, unnatural lines clashing with the fluid forms of the jungle, making the eye ache to reconcile their existence. They were a testament to human will, yes, but also a stark, almost unsettling reminder of the crude, insistent efforts required to tame, or merely traverse, such an untamed landscape.

Yes, they were a bizarre representation of a desperate engineering, an improvised, organic-mechanical hybrid that only served to amplify the sense of peril awaiting any who dared to attempt the crossing.

And now, it was up to Cloud to simply shoot off in the air as if he was Nathan Drake from Uncharted to land on the other side. Yeah. No big deal for sure.

A desperate, primal surge of defiance coursed through Cloud then, momentarily eclipsing the paralyzing fear. Looking at Sephiroth quickly told him all he needed to know, so he took a single, ragged breath, and then he dashed. His feet, propelled by a sudden, frantic resolve, tore through the space, covering the ten or so feet from his starting point to the edge of the abyss with a terrifying, almost reckless speed. The wind whipped past his ears, and for a fleeting instant, a wild, intoxicating burst of momentum and excitement flared within his veins. He was a projectile, an arrow loose from a bow, aimed directly at the chasm.

But just as his leading foot reached the very brink of the ledge, as the air thrummed with the exhilarating promise of the jump, a wave of sour, rancid concern for his own life kicked in with a visceral, sickening force. It was an involuntary, absolute command for self-preservation, ordering him to stop at once.

His legs, seemingly independent of his conscious will, slammed to an automatic, grinding halt, his momentum arrested so abruptly that his body lurched forward, only to snap back. Breaths replaced by a relentless pounding, his heartbeat was no longer a rhythm but a frantic, chaotic drum solo against his ribs, each beat a painful, desperate throb.

Gasping, he stumbled backward a step, then, compelled by an morbid fascination, peered over the ledge once more, his eyes struggling to penetrate the swirling mist below. The imagined fall was instantaneous, sickeningly vivid: his body, a ragdoll, plummeting through the void, hitting the unseen bottom with a wet, grotesque thud, reduced to a bloody, unrecognizable pulp. The image was so potent, so horrifying, that he turned back, shaking his head as if to dislodge the grotesque vision.

Cringing when Sephiroth gave him a death glare which seemed to suggest he was close to pulverizing him, Cloud quickly explained the issue away as he got into another running position in the same spot as before.

“That was a test run!”

Embarrassed over his reticence, he braced his weight on both legs, inhaled, and tried again. Steeling himself, he took another deep, shuddering breath, the dryness in his throat now a palpable ache. Standing tall like a mighty mountain and a giant over the earth, he began to run, gathering speed, his gaze fixed on the tantalizing platforms across the gap. Legs pumping up and down and arms moving in tandem, he was as free and wild as the wind itself.

The second attempt was a mirror image of the first: the building adrenaline, the surging hope, and then, the abrupt, automatic stop. Too frightened that he would fail, he shut his eyes, legs locked, refusing to propel him into the terrifying void. He hesitated and stopped himself twice now from going over the edge, an internal battle raging between desperate will and primal terror. Sweating bullets and dry heaving, Cloud simply didn’t trust his exertions or his body to carry him across the void.

Nervousness, sharp and corrosive, ate through his head and heart, leaving him feeling utterly turned inside out. Coughing and feeling both a headache and an odd sore throat coming on, his hands clenched into tight fists, knuckles white, nails digging into his palms, small anchor points against the rising tide of despair. He hovered once more on the precipice, physically trembling, mentally adrift, feeling small and lost like a child before a huge, indifferent beast that was the chasm itself.

When Sephiroth’s shuffling feet approached, the alpha bitter as he glared at Cloud, the blond retorted with a keening whine, “Practice run number two doesn’t count!” Pointing back, he then slid away, eager to be near the comfort of the bushes. “I’ll just try once more. You gotta just be patient with me sometimes to—AAAACK!”

Fed up with his dawdling and squandering of time, Sephiroth rolled his eyes, teeth firmly clenched and posture stiff. Robust, though eternally rigid beneath the shiny surface of refined temperament, he’d lost the last vestiges of his composure and exercised his real energy unbridled.

A sudden, galvanizing surge of exasperation tightened Sephiroth’s jaw. It was obvious that he’d watched Cloud’s protracted agony at the precipice, witnessing the fugacious flashes of courage dissolve into repeated, ignominious retreats. The fractious hesitation had gone beyond frustrating the alpha now; it was an active impediment to their dire progress, and he’d tolerated it plenty.

Holding onto Cloud, he treated him like a figure of utter despondency, making him appear smaller than ever against the caliginous backdrop of the stormy cliff as he dangled a few inches off the ground.

With a decisive, almost brutal efficiency, Sephiroth lunged forward using all the power in his left arm. Muscles stretching with grace, that massive hand, powerful and unyielding, closed around the back of Cloud’s neck, a grip that was both firm and unceremonious. Without a word, he spun, planting his feet, and began to run forward.

The ten feet separating them from the edge vanished in a blur as Sephiroth, gathering an essorent momentum, didn’t break stride. Then, with a raw, almost primitive grunt, he hoisted Cloud with a prodigious surge of strength and chucked him clean across the space as if he was only a feather.

Uncourtly and rude as it was, Cloud became a sudden, airborne projectile, soaring in a dizzying arc. The lambent light of the occasional lightning strike seemed to etch his terrified ascent against the stormy sky. From his terrifying bird’s-eye view, the world below telescoped into a swirling, vertiginous nightmare.

His stomach bottomed out, a sickening void that sent his internal organs lurching and shaking, threatening to force their way up his throat. His brain, suddenly a fleshly, pulpy mass, struggled to comprehend the surreal displacement and process of speed. The wind, now an insistent, high-pitched whistle, tore past his ears, and rain-lashed leaves whipped against his flushed, horrified face.

Before a true scream could erupt from his constricted throat, before the full terror of his involuntary flight could settle, his airborne journey came to its abrupt, jarring conclusion. Matching the velocity of his frantic thoughts, he landed with a bone-jarring impact on a rough, moss-covered plank platform, his body protesting every fiber of the landing. He was safe, if utterly bewildered and profoundly sore, sprawled on the other side of the chasm, the terrifying void now behind him as Sephiroth had intended. 

Eyeballs popping open and almost bulging out of his head, he clung to the wooden platform he was draped on, rearing up as he shouted mightily this time with nothing held back. 

“HEY! YOU STUPID GOON! WHAT THE HELL’S WRONG WITH YOU?!” Slamming on the edge of it and not even registering the pain flaring into his fist, he instead channeled it all through his burning throat. “YOU GEORGE OF THE JUNGLE MOTHERFU—”

Ice, hail, rain, and snow wouldn’t have been as cold and elegant. Exuding only significant amounts of grace, Sephiroth didn’t require the extra space to leap ahead. Like a rocket, he shot off his soles, springing into the air, firing and propelling himself forward in one smooth arc. Hair billowing back behind himself as if it were some superhero cape, he flew on, mapping his landing so beautifully as he crisply let both feet meet the scant space of the platform vicinal to the one Cloud was gripping. 

Somehow, despite his mass, he didn’t even jolt and make much of a sound on impact, merely turning to the side and grinning triumphantly at Cloud when he knew he had him under his majestic spell. Cocky as ever, Sephiroth’s vulpine smirk enveloped his whole face. Brushing his hair back, he straightened his posture as he continued staring at Cloud in a silent, but celebratory way. 

“Humph.”

Lower jaw kissing his neck practically, Cloud scuttled away from the ledge, vowing not to look down or throw something at Sephiroth…not until they were at the very bottom of the gigantic, tall trees and super safe. 

He did show a mercurial attitude however, triggered by Sephiroth’s attempt to reach out and offer a helping hand to get him onto the wooden plank he himself was standing on. 

Ignoring him and thwarting Sephiroth’s confused stares, Cloud gathered his guts, springing up and making the jump that wasn’t too far from Sephiroth. Rooting himself by the solid wood beneath his feet and the bark next to his back, he hung onto it, shielding as much of his terror as he could by masking his visage into a standoffish one and then moving onto the next platform.

“Humph yourself, you show off.”

:-----: :-----:

The open valley was rather blissful as far as the foliage and gifts of nature were concerned. No other tricks lay ahead, the road decent and salvageable for their sakes, save for the most hideous, warped monsters Cloud had ever seen. Apparently, the island was a construct of the most insane, depraved imagination, the majority of its beasts and creations so absurd to test the limits of the human mind. 

Most of the animals paid them no heed, attending to their own matters and needs for survival. This at least granted Sephiroth and Cloud a safe passage for a few hours, but issues were still brewing between both men. Not only was Sephiroth rather snarky, bitter, and rough, but Cloud ascertained that due to the unpredictable weather and exposure to the icy rain, he was coming down with a cold.

The symptoms were all there. His entire torso was covered in gooseflesh and needlepoints, his body hot and feverish. Vision blurring a bit, he fought to keep his balance at times, seeing double of everything. Teeth clattering, the heat was replaced by frost, brimming and stemming within. Fingers and toes clammy, he could only coordinate them for a short period of time, feeling numbness mounting with each step. 

To make matters worse, his burning throat tightened to expel many coughs, most of which Sephiroth initially ignored until Cloud snorted and sniffed back phlegm. His nose was running a bit, but he pretended to be just fine whenever Sephiroth stopped and tossed him a bizarrely warped look over a shoulder. 

It wasn’t that he wanted to maintain a ‘manly’, strong aura. He simply didn’t want Sephiroth’s pity, even if he could actually extend it. Sephiroth had already shown many signs that he wasn’t willing to take him seriously, and Cloud pledged not to offer more fuel to the scorching flames. 

They resorted to quietly walking on instead, moving down a hill before Sephiroth’s right arm flung out and horizontally. Not seeing it since he was wrapped up in his own thoughts, Cloud walked on, ramming his chest right into Sephiroth’s appendage and being tossed back by the power of it. Harshly stopped by force, he emitted a grunt, trying to slap Sephiroth’s hand away, when he noticed what Sephiroth had been pointing at. 

A few feet away, the ground sloped downward, a huge, circular dip opening to a muddy pit. It wasn’t optimal, but the distance straight across showed broken, jagged steps made of rocks which elevated the narrower path to the tight exit. The only way to really access it was to climb down into the pit, where the last edifices and signs of human life once lingered in the forms of a few sheds, broken down tools, boats, and heaps of crates.

However, there was another problem. The provisions were gone, but hideous creations had been drawn to them. Many paw prints surrounding and stamping in the mud revealed a carnivorous horde, the most insanely ugly beasts sniffing around and having made the deep pit a feeding and resting nest of sorts.

Numerous grotesque, nightmarish creatures roosted there, a study in duality—an abomination split clean down the middle, embodying an unbecoming clash of exposed, biological rawness and ancient, primeval scale-armored might. A few crouched low to the ground, like a lizard twisted by unholy forces, their emaciated limbs bent and poised with a predatory stillness, ready to spring forward at the faintest sign of vulnerability from prey.

The left side of it was abysmally ugly. That half was a disturbing symphony of muscle, tendon, and sinew. The skin was entirely stripped away, revealing layers of glistening, raw red tissue that pulsated faintly with life, like something not quite dead but far from natural. Veins coursed like blackened tributaries beneath translucent fascia, while taut cords of muscle flexed and twitched with restless tension. 

A large, unblinking eye—glossy yellow with a slitted pupil—stared out with manic hunger, the beast accommodating for its odd vision by swiveling its head fully akin to an owl. The bizarre eye gleamed wetly, hyper-aware and twitching, scanning the environment with an almost intelligent malice.

Its mouth gaped in a skeletal grin, jagged teeth too many for its maw and sharp enough to rip flesh in ragged, screaming strips. The gums, raw and purpled, leaked a faint ichor that dripped steadily to the ground, appearing to give off more of a warning that whatever substances it produced happened to be deadly.

Scaled Dragonform however was what made up the opposite side of its face, a nasty fusion of a humanoid and reptilian. 

A cruel contrast to its fleshy side, the right half was armored in obsidian-black scales, rough and serrated like ancient stone, glinting faintly under even the dimmest light. These scales formed overlapping plates that chafed against each other with a sound like crushed glass. This side of the face was murky, possibly blind, a milked-over, sightless orb sunk deep in its reptilian socket, but that blindness didn’t seem to hinder its menace at all.

Monstrously, the entity appeared to ‘see’ through the other half of its torso, or worse, through some supernatural means. Its mouth mirrored the other side’s malicious grin, packed with rows of dagger-like teeth, interlocked and crusted with the remnants of past kills. A row of jagged black spines ran creepily down its lean back, twitching and shifting as if sensing the air for prey, their tips quivering like antennae.

The creature walked on all fours with a lurching, deliberate gait, clearly an adept predator. Its limbs, mismatched in muscle and texture, somehow synchronized in motion—its gait was unnatural yet graceful, like the pendulous swing of a metronome set to a heartbeat too slow.

Its rapacious claws dug into the earth as it moved, scraping, tearing small grooves in the ground wherever it tread. Each movement was accompanied by the sickening crackle of bones grinding or tendons snapping back into place, more akin to an old machine than anything organic.

Its tail, long and whip-thin, though littered with barbs, flicked with erratic tension behind it, curling and uncurling as if to balance its warped form or lash out when least expected. As it stalked, it emanated an avaricious sound that wasn’t defined as quite a growl, not yet a hiss—more like the rattling of wet leaves and broken windchimes in a funeral breeze.

To see such a thing was to feel a primordial fear ignite in the belly—a sense that something had gone terribly wrong in the universe to birth this aura of horror. Odious and a treacherous form of nature, it didn’t simply hunt; it waited with eerie stillness, a statue of dread, letting terror bloom in the silence before it sprang for the kill.

Time itself seemed to distort around it, the air pressing heavy, thick with the scent of blood and rot. Shadows clung to its body unnaturally, as if darkness itself was drawn to cloak its shape, making it hard to see until it was too late.

Hideous and errantly set to violate any rational law, the creature wasn’t simply a predator. It was a walking nightmare, a manifestation of a world unhinged, a whisper from the void between life and death. When it lurked for prey, it did so with intention. When it stalked just to be intimidating, the very earth seemed to shudder in anticipation, and when it struck—jaws clashing from both sides like twin scythes—there was no time to scream.

At least twenty of the same hideous beasts were pawing their way around, scenting at the dirt, sniffing the air, jaws snapping at flies before they lost interest and continued milling around. No set pattern was established, but they were in an odd way guarding and completing some rounds. Running into each other, when they occasionally bumped into a brethren, they would snarl, spit, hiss, and then give up before lazily prancing around once more.

Disgruntled as soon as he noticed that they were mostly surrounding a platform which would lead them out of the hellish pit, Cloud didn’t want to hear that they had to head forward, but his hopes were brutalized swiftly.

Spotting the demented, wild look looming in Sephiroth’s eyes, he still was brainless to ask what they were doing. 

“Sephiroth?” Knowing that his mind was set up either way, Cloud nudged him and lamented woefully, “Ugh, no...please no! There has to be another way around!”

Peeved by the lack of lauded behavior, Sephiroth crouched, and when Cloud mimicked him, he snarled, “No other way! Through them, but quiet!”

“Hell no!” Peering over at the beasts and noticing their barbed tails, terrifyingly sharp claws, Cloud stayed low and began trembling harder than ever. “They’re all over the place, and they’re literally right in front of the exit! We can’t do this!”

“We can.” More optimistic, Sephiroth held himself steady, hiding most of his weapons however rather than using them.

Confused when he’d spent an hour dousing everything he had in poison, Cloud asked, “No poison arrows? Wouldn’t that help?”

Shaking his head, Sephiroth demurred, “No. Poison makes enemy stronger. More will come.” Tapping on the left side of Cloud’s head, he then explained, “Blind here. Right can see. We sneak past. Slow. Quiet.”

There were plenty of hiding spots within the gladiator pit, the few sheds, rotten, destroyed canoes, barrels, and other remnants of long forgotten, abandoned human life under surveillance by the weird vermin, but Cloud wanted a quick passage up and over the obstacles regardless. He was already scared as heck, sweating bullets, and the signs of a stupid head cold were only getting worse each time he swallowed and felt his throat and tonsils stinging in the aftermath.

Begrudgingly, he tightened his fists, taking as many breaths as he could as he mentally sobbed, “Let’s just get this shit over with!”

Putting forth that idea and plan in motion, Sephiroth waited for eye contact from Cloud, a knowing glare flashing as if to check if his companion was of sound mind and aware enough. When Cloud gave him a nod of confirmation, Sephiroth returned it, holding up an index finger over his lips to signal for total silence.

Understanding that the beasts were at a minor disadvantage from being blind on one side of their body, Cloud fell in line behind Sephiroth, crawling down and stepping inside the pit. Gluing himself to the filthy wall, especially the left side, he took the same amount of steps, all through the familiar pace and without pressing his weight into the ground, just like Sephiroth.

Sucking his belly in and making it mesh with his spine almost, the move didn’t entirely instill himself with courage, but he at least provided himself some comfort that he was way too far from even glossing and grazing over the beasts. They weren’t exactly close, two of them keeping their ugly heads down, snouts buried in the dirt until they found a glass bottle and began playing with it.

The item glistened, mud coating portions of it, but the gleam ricocheting off the twilight and the bottle distracted two of the monsters to give Cloud and Sephiroth enough time to squeeze past. Another three were relaxing as if bathing in the cooling temperatures, their heads swiveling to reveal the left, charred side of their skulls. The dark, necrotic flesh presented itself before Sephiroth first, and he waited, fingers wiggling to signal to Cloud that he had to hurry before the beast circled its head and spotted them with its good eye.

Bumbling and awkward due to the partial handicap, the beasts thankfully didn’t seem to possess alarmingly acute noses either. Merely digging and spooning around in the dirt, they were however spinning their heads around, and just when the rotation ended and then began again from left to right, Cloud and Sephiroth would finely tune their crouching and ducking on time.

The blind animals didn’t sense anything amiss. Merely going on through their regular, quotidian lives, they turned on each other at times when one of them encroached on the other’s space, growling, yipping, and snapping in a dire warning. Saliva spilled everywhere, dirt and mud flung about, but Sephiroth and Cloud continued tiptoeing along the walls and odd corners any chance they got.

A few times, his lungs and throat began to tighten, heaving out what was only a disaster waiting to happen. His damn cold was seriously getting worse. Throat scratchy, tonsils inflamed and nose burning, he stifled as many as he could, taking breaths only through his mouth. Closing it then, nostrils flaring, he had to hold his position when Sephiroth signed to him to wait behind an upturned wheelbarrow. 

Knees lowering himself, Cloud’s unsteady hands crept to his mouth, containing another cough threatening to emerge. Eyes flowing with heavy, hot tears because of the repression, he gazed ahead so feebly, wincing and almost close to giving up. The distance they had to still cover was at least fifteen feet, and with their snail-like pace, he was feeling as if he was growing weaker and running out of oxygen.

One of the gnarly beasts suddenly slumped onto its back, rolling about in the dirt as if it was happy to give itself a mud bath. While it tossed about, mere inches from where Cloud and Sephiroth were hiding, Sephiroth signaled with a hand held out to Cloud to get in position. Due to its head whipping around from side to side, they would have to spring away from their spot at the right time in order not to be seen. 

Flicking his fingers down, Sephiroth began the dreaded counting, watching as the mutant turned its head to expose its blind side. When it did, he did well to leap and slide ahead to the next rock, hiding behind it, and then turning to gesture to Cloud. Simple as it looked, Cloud didn’t suspect he could pull it off even in his best, most optimistic dreams for good reasons.

He could proscribe his nasty cough and wish it away in thought, but in reality, the three or so feet of a distance Sephiroth had crossed was done by a spry, nimble man...one in good health, too. Not only was Cloud starting to feel exhausted, high-strung, and dazed, but his throat and nose were his worst enemies. Sniffles kept to a minimum, he wiped his eyes with his forearm, getting into a crawling position and glancing to time the move with the animal’s head motions.

As usual, it looked easier in his head and by Sephiroth’s example. Twice in a row, Cloud got down, covering himself with the edge of the wheelbarrow still, but then froze. The beast was still enjoying itself in the mud, and when he peeked up and across, Sephiroth was starting to get weary. Waving at him to hurry did nothing but slow Cloud even more. Throat clogged with inflamed germs and thick saliva, he clutched it as a means to soothe and massage, but then refocused on just getting the deed over with.

Annoyed when it felt like his nose was seriously about to wither and fall off due to how much it burned, Cloud clamped his lips together, slamming a hand over them just in case for extra measure. Two seconds zipped by, the pattern of the hideous mutant carrying through as it predictably churned its head left and right. As soon as the charred, inoperable side was left exposed ahead, Cloud crept outward. 

Heart banging against his breast bone between the steps, he jolted and froze when another nearby monster snarled before yawning. That pause was totally unnecessary, and he didn’t need Sephiroth’s hateful glower to tell him that. All he had to do was hurry the hell up, because he could see only two more feet waiting now to be covered before he was in the ‘safe’ zone.

Picking up his feet, but using his toes to balance his weight and not crunch or sink down on anything hidden beneath the leaves and mud, he heaved himself forth a few more inches. Rocking when his bent knee gave an inclination that it could lose balance, before he caved, automatically responding to the threat of a fall, his hand darted forth to regain posture. Such an involuntary action cost Cloud significantly. The exorbitant price came at the expense of jeopardizing his location and Sephiroth’s, much to both their chagrin and terror. 

The restraint was too much for Cloud to handle. Short on air, his hand shook away from his lips, his eyes going wide, tears flooding as his throat accidentally squeezed out just a tiny cough. 

That was it. The moment the bitter noise scraped up by his tonsils and teased past his tongue, despite how quickly he tried banishing the grating sound by jamming his tongue between his teeth in a deadly tight bite, even a tiny decibel was potent enough for the menacing beasts. 

Auditory senses refined and superb, they all perked up in perfect unison, sparking the domino effect immediately. A vibrant, vociferous chain linked all the harmonious virulence, the deadly, bloodthirsty ghouls salivating as they turned their heads so their working eyes peered at Cloud. Grotesque jaws snapping, the bestowals of their viciousness was set to smouldering degrees, their hideous bodies twitching as they began leaping right for him.

Cloud saw nothing short of crimson and darkness, spinning himself in another direction to get away. Keeping a close eye and ear on what was going on behind himself, Cloud focused his gaze on a few items for the use of cover ahead, relying on instincts for survival. A large monster was already barreling towards him while another leapt at the side where he was most vulnerable. 

Springing at him from a rock and quite ferociously set given the advantage of a plunging attack, the beast came down faster through air, and Cloud was forced to duck low when Sephiroth shoved him out of the line of fire. Unprepared for someone else to intervene when death had yet again been close, Cloud screamed when the predator whooshed above his head, indicating how close of a miss it had indeed been.

Wrestling the large animal, Sephiroth was thrown back, legs kicking up and weaving between himself and the creature, when he turned his head and spotted yet another nipping at Cloud from above. Rocking upwards, Cloud was about to straighten himself to emerge from the spot beneath the rock, only stopped when Sephiroth snapped loudly at him.

“Down! Stay down!” 

Seeing Cloud hold himself in position, hands covering his head protectively, Sephiroth wrenched his right hand away from the monster he held at bay from his face, flinging out a small dagger which harpooned through the other one right before it could close its jaws on Cloud’s nape. The rewarding ‘thud’ sounding out as the body crumpled like paper was worth it, but not something in the point of a win to be celebrated for long.

Cloud’s breath was knocked out of his lungs all at once as his knee connected soundly with a rock, then, to add insult to injury, he was rammed by another beast drooling over him. Doubled over instinctively, while seeing stars, Cloud’s attempt to dodge was futile. His options considerably narrowed, and he was forced to slash blindly once more, his smaller dagger aiming at the paw which lashed out at his eyes. 

Cleverly and narrowly avoiding being blinded, the weapon sliced nicely across the animal’s knuckles and skin, forcing a hiss out of the creature as it jerked its entire body back instinctively. Not yet giving up, it crouched and darted forward then, a clawed foot aimed at the side of Cloud’s neck.

Stumbling out of the way and giving way more room than necessary for his exit, Cloud almost tripped over himself as he staggered back to dodge it. Sadly, the hungry beast simply stepped up, following as he backed away, continuing with its lethal snarls as well as the vicious physical assault.

There wasn’t a moment to extol the virtuous reflexes Sephiroth possessed, even if he really had rescued Cloud at a distance. He had to rely on himself, and now, Cloud was more aware of his surroundings than he’d ever been. In fact, he became one with the earth, like liquid lightning and a thunderous gust of wind floating as he gathered himself and embraced his capabilities, limited as they were.

Every carefully controlled inhalation and exhalation he made gave himself pain. The dull throbbing on his side like it was being cooked on a low heat, the feel of dry moss that scrunched under his hiking boots as he shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other, and the unnatural silence all around himself was truly stunning even with the morbid events on high-speed passing himself by.

Cloud kept his eyes on the tall and gloomy rock face he had to climb in order to escape, peeking through the small gaps one of the beasts had punctured into the roots of the massive fallen tree. Planning to use it for cover, for whatever reason, he was sure the next monster would emerge from the cliff.

He might not have been able to explain why he thought so, but he wasn’t about to ignore the strong feeling and instincts guiding himself. Soothly, though he had little faith, he really was counting on his speed, agility, and wisdom just as much as keeping a level head to save his own life.

Every now and then, while Sephiroth was surrounded in the background, Cloud lowered himself slowly and picked up anything he could find. Utilizing whatever was around, be it a cone or a small branch, he decided on flinging one to the bushes with a quick flick of his wrist. The faint rustling that, to Cloud’s sensitized ears, could’ve as well been someone hacking at the shrubs with a gas-powered string trimmer, hadn’t yet caused anything to move up on the rocks, much less to attack.

Still, Cloud was starting to feel doubtful about a swift exit. What guarantee did he have that the predators had even noticed his attempt at luring them away to Sephiroth? 

For that matter, guilt aside, Cloud had a sudden vision of Sephiroth with his muscular arms folded across his chest, shaking his head in exasperation over his antics. A mental image that probably wasn’t too far off given how terribly he was doing on his own to make progress.

Well, as long as he didn’t see an assortment of organs and flesh scattered anywhere around, he was fine with whatever he was doing.

Despite the apparent calm, Cloud felt more and more in danger every second that passed. Feeling air rushing at himself, he began stealing glances all around the area he was crossing, disappointed in finding nothing. Still, he knew better than to blindly trust in what his eyes told him, with all the shadows surrounding him and playing tricks with his imagination. For all he knew, these beasts could have learned to camouflage, and he wasn’t completely healthy and prepared enough for an even fight.

As brave as someone could be when they didn’t hold much experience in combat, Cloud focused just as much, if not even more, on listening. There was bound to be a snap of a cracking branch, pebbles rolling with a faint clatter, claws scraping against stone or...anything in the way of a clue would help!

A long, ear-piercing screech that almost gave him a heart-attack sent him jolting forward, holding his knife tightly to his chest as if someone would steal it out of his grasp instantly. Forced to adapt, as he began dropping lower to a crouch, Cloud took a two-hand hold of the weapon, eyes darting wildly around the jagged rocks where the sound had echoed from.

A sudden surge of adrenaline boosted Cloud’s heart to new, thunderous speeds, and left his muscles tense and ready to explode into motion at his command. Wise not to do anything he would regret, he diligently searched the rock face up and down frantically, finding no trace of the creatures, which only heightened his bouts of frantic distress close to panic.

All the while, he was distantly aware that he wasn’t thinking straight and that not thinking clearly could indeed be fatal. It took Cloud a moment to register the insistent voice nagging in the back of his head as he wondered why the beasts wouldn’t announce their presence before attacking. They were abhorrently loud and demonically sinister to do so, but the muted quiet didn’t bode well for time wasted in speculation.

At the rush of air whistling behind his neck, on edge, Cloud’s eyes widened and he whirled around with the sharp knife pointed in front of himself. The move was made just in time for Cloud to see one of the larger shadows crawling down the length of a nearby gnarled tree, preparing to jump and tear his flesh off bones.

The sight was more than enough to make blood freeze in Cloud’s veins, but not his damn body, as it moved on its own, scrambling back just before the shadow detached itself from the tree and leaped towards him. Feet scraping and sliding to evade it, his back hit the thicket of roots and he ducked to the side, escaping to the other side of the earthy wall. Seconds after, Cloud heard the heavy thump as the scraggly monster landed right where he’d been hiding in wait.

A blade-tipped tail struck through the easily breaking cover, bursting out with a hail of dirt and soil, and a brief, cutting pain flashed below Cloud’s ear, making him cry out. Acting more out of reflex than a premeditated action, he ducked and jabbed the knife upwards through the roots, feeling it hit and bounce off something hard. Grunting and snarling sounded out, musical chimes to his ears after his wild slashes better suited for a blind man lunging out.

Still, as much as he heard sounds of something in pain, he didn’t stay to find out if the hasty attack had done anything, for there wasn’t even a chance if he wanted it. The powerful tail shot out again, this time lower, but Cloud had already pulled himself up on the fallen, fungus-covered tree, desperate to keep moving and to keep something, anything between himself and the creature intent on killing him. 

Steps light and quick, he deftly rolled over the thick trunk, his feet touching the ground again, and found himself staring up at the eyeless, elongated head and the tall, skeletal figure of the newest monster that had just circled in front of him. 

The omega’s first and only instinct was to get away, too terrified to have any time to think or pay attention to his immediate surroundings. Something in the treacherously uneven ground caught his foot as he tried to run and he fell with a gasp, hitting the ground hard. Not yet giving in, Cloud spun to his back as the nightmarish apparition lunged towards him, and prepared for a retaliation, he raised the knife still in his hands towards it.

Air rushed about as his right hand was slammed aside along with the knife, followed by long, conjoined claws pinning his arms to the ground.

The strength in the beastly hands was immense as they pressed him deep into the soil. Drawing a bit of blood in the process, Cloud’s frantic twisting and pushing did nothing to make them budge, but he tried relentlessly, screaming and kicking. The knife was still in his hand, but it was no use when he couldn’t move his arm to cause even a scratch as far as damage was concerned. This way, with his back squashed into the dirt, he found the irony lambasting his woes, his coffin practically made as he was forced into it.

Sinister as it loomed over him on all fours, with the hideous thing up close, Cloud unfortunately got a good look at it for the first time, better than anyone would’ve ever wanted, mostly of the white teeth covered with a transparent layer of thickly dripping saliva.

An odd clarity washed over Cloud then as it seemed sure his miserable fate had been sealed. There wasn’t anything he could do as he weakly lay back and watched, as if outside of his own body, the insidious thing turning its head away and letting out a low hiss. A passing thought made Cloud wonder if it had sensed Sephiroth’s presence nearby.

He was almost fascinated to notice that the near paralyzing fear that had dominated himself just a moment ago, was still there, but feeling detached as he slipped and wondered if he had a moment to breathe while Sephiroth wrangled a monster off his back and dove at them.

It was as simple as day and night. Though he hadn’t come there to fight for his right to exist and get by, he’d accidentally caused all this havoc. If he didn’t start fighting for it right away, he was going to lose it, but at the same time, there wasn’t even an inch left for wiggle room.

To Cloud’s imminent shock, Sephiroth shifted his free hand to retrieve something hidden from his left side, clasping the weapon he’d tucked under his belt the entire time. Without shaking, his determined fingers released the safety notch of what appeared to be a crossbow. Working the mechanism perfectly, he braced a hand under it, steadying his aim before he fired an arrow right into the animal’s spine. 

After the first sickening crunch, the wounded beast turned its attention back to Sephiroth with a quick jerk of its long head. Pointing the hefty weapon without thinking towards what he hoped was the same leg Cloud had lunged out at, Sephiroth reloaded another arrow into the barrel, fixing the strong string next before he squeezed the trigger. Repeatedly.

Equally hearing the vengeance storming out, Cloud’s heart shuddered to the core with every deafening bang that reverberated in his ears, but the successive roars of the high caliber weapon hitting every monster surrounding the omega still didn’t drown out their rounds of high-pitched screaming.

The inescapable weight on Cloud’s arms vanished as the surprised creature fell back from the prey it had thought incapacitated, still voicing its agony with horrible sounds that resembled more of someone torturing a trumpet than any animal Cloud had heard. Rolling to the side quickly while he had the chance, he escaped under the cover of the fallen tree next to himself in a hurry. 

Scrambling forth and snagging an extra spear from Sephiroth, he pushed his knife through the tight space and crawled after it with the spear in hand, gathering layers of cold dirt under his fingernails as he pulled herself through. Throughout the narrow, tight squeeze, he felt the rough bark shredding his back and shoulders raw, but a dull thump behind himself of something embedding into the wood with enough force to shake it, spurred him to go even faster.

Then, in a diving roll that hurt to pull off as soon as he reached the end of the tunnel, once he espied the gap, Cloud emerged from the other side with Sephiroth’s spear and his own knife. Springing to his feet and steadying himself, he aimed and flung the spear again, just to hear an empty click as it crashed into the side of a barrel instead of flesh.

“Shit!” 

The crouching animal had stopped its wild floundering for the briefest of moments to openly gape at the damage the inanimate object sustained before snarling at Cloud. Squaring off angrily, both of them surveyed each other in dead silence over the large tree.

For an instant, Cloud thought he heard the faint hiss of acid dissolving the undergrowth, though it might’ve been only his imagination hyper-sensitive to anything in his surroundings now. Sick as he was, his strength and stamina ebbed on, the perseverance he bestowed upon himself quite a stretch for his beleaguered body, all to survive. 

Then, as his courage heightened his prowess and energy to keep going, Cloud’s senses returned to himself, overpowering the primal part of his brain that had guided his actions so far. Discarding the attempt and thought of retrieving the spear, Cloud spun on his heels and sprinted full speed away from the creature and towards the rock face. Unsure if he had his wits back for doing somehow so foolish, he also realized what a stupid thing it had been to fire so carelessly at a creature that bled acid. 

Had he aimed upwards at its torso, he would’ve been splattered with it and that wouldn’t have made for a pretty scene, but now, he was dragging four enemies behind himself as they nipped at his feels in a violent reminder that he wasn’t far from the clutches of death.

So far, he’d been lucky his instincts guided him as well as they did, though he still regretted emptying his hands of weapons right away. Now, he had only his knife to use and only one place where he might gain an advantage with it.

Behind Cloud, the angry wail of more panting monsters followed him, while Sephiroth shredded his way through two trying to bite into his legs. Still making a beeline for the rocks, Cloud didn’t dare risk glancing back, in fear of tripping again, but he heard the heavy rustling and thumping gaining on himself sounding considerably less graceful compared to the earlier stalking. 

If his pride hadn’t been hurt notably before, it undeniably was now. To save his breath, he might have even slowed it down a little. It wasn’t a cause for celebration, but it was at least a decent start compared to wrestling in the grass and mud all day long.

Struggling to keep his nerves intact, before Cloud lost his courage, he continued towards the intended path and ravine waiting above the pit. Soothly, he didn’t exactly like the thought of possibly trapping himself in the narrow area between the collection of rocks, but out in the open, the odds were set more against himself.

Even a single monster could overpower and outmaneuver him even with his senses compromised. Not only did he really need a better place to defend himself, but he didn’t want to fight for much longer when Sephiroth was also tearing after him at high speed.

With every strained push of his feet feeling like it would be his last, dragging himself along through the soil, Cloud was almost surprised to find himself in front of the dark crevice that split the tall rock face in half. There was a short climb, which he practically flew straight up, collecting more bruises he didn’t even notice in the process. Desperate to get out at any cost, as his chest scraped over the dry surface, he reached the narrow opening and hurried inside, turning sideways to move faster in the tight space.

Vision adjusting to the darkness that greeted himself, Cloud’s eyes fell on a pitch-black tunnel. When the rocks above shifted, as if threatening to squash him, he stopped in his tracks, suddenly hesitant of going further. What he’d thought to be an open ravine going through to the other side of the rock face, proved to turn into a tunnel with the walls of craggy stone curving to form a ceiling not far above himself. He wouldn’t see a thing if he ventured any further, but the alternative was so much worse.

Gingerly, he looked back towards the opening and the shy light it offered, realizing it was too late to change his mind. Black, pointed claws crept into view like shadows, gripping stone with a drawn out scratching noise and making way for the long head and strange back-tubes that emerged next before teeth would eventually find his supple flesh.

Yelping, Cloud held his knife, ready to slash at the thundering sounds of something approaching. As he kept side-stepping away, moving further into the lightless tunnel, he began hoping in the name of everything good and holy that it would lead somewhere other than a dead end. By the entrance, the crouching monster stood up to its full height, contemplating a moment before inching into the narrow corridor. Soon, what little light there had been was blocked, making the suffocating darkness complete.

Rows of ugly teeth chomped at Cloud, and just as he’d been terrified of his worst fear coming to fruition, the invidious thing was looking for him. Head circling to target him with its good eye, it snapped up once it located Cloud, hungry to rip him apart. Charging at him, it became quite an unstoppable force, pushing Cloud to the back of the tight tunnel.

As his chest and lungs were feeling like they were festooned against the rocks rather than his ribs, he held his knife, trembling as it was because of his hand, though he vowed to get one good hit in before he perished. 

The aim was lost, but it didn’t matter. Swooping at him, its teeth and claws snapping and scraping around created the haunting fusion of a death knell. Cloud pressed himself upwards as soon as he spotted some light, the only way out between the small crevice. It would be plausible to exit through, but not with the ravenous monster clawing at him. 

Sucking in his stomach, he evaded the scratch prepared to slice his abdomen open, fingers flailing as he dove up. Clasping onto the upper, outside rims of the zone waiting, he felt soil and grass, his safe haven, but then, the beast snarled and aggressively lunged once more. 

Cloud didn’t shut his eyes. He wanted to, but he just couldn’t. If the voracious creature was to bite him through, it was a matter of the deed being so horrendous that he couldn’t look away. Death was approaching steadily, and he was much too weak to even swing himself up the rest of the way to safety. Everything else was a task and goal wasted, but right when he considered giving up and admitting defeat, he heard a distasteful ‘crunch’ which brought a painful hissing sound from the monster.

Releasing a terrifying bellow, the beast was pinned, and when Cloud looked closely, Sephiroth’s axe was buried right into its back. Securing the position, he snagged the monster closer, grabbing it by the tail and tugging it as if it were nothing but a toy. It howled demonically, throwing its head back as it was yanked while scratching at the rocks until Sephiroth removed the sharp axe and then brought it down on its skull in seconds before it had a chance to retaliate.

Another was ready to land on Sephiroth since he had his back braced towards it, but the wise warrior wasn’t an easy mark in the least. Without even properly looking back to make his estimate a confirmation, he swung the axe behind himself and sideways, and it cleaved the approaching monster upwards from the chin to split open its charred head.

Blood gushed everywhere, the geyser avoidable, but Sephiroth didn’t appear to care. Knowing he had the rapt attention of several other monsters lurking and waiting, as they all began circling him, they seemed far more hesitant than before. Smart enough not to attack, they held their spots back by the rocks and walls of the pit, all eyes on Sephiroth as he turned to face them.

Sephiroth was truly reckless, fearless, and commendable. The actions he’d pulled off were brutal, but ones exercising high amounts of calculation. Communicating to the beasts that he wasn’t to be messed with, in the most barbaric way ever, he dipped a hand into the pool of tar-like blood still oozing from the open skull of the corpse inches away from himself. Scooping up a generous portion, as the other beasts continued watching, he coated and spread the spilled blood of their brethren all over his face.

War paint at best, insanity at worst. He was out of his mind as he dragged his own hand across his face from his forehead to his chin, but the message was made loud and clear. It worked wonders, the man eating monsters hissing, but the grating noises made were softly as if in remorse. Paws carrying themselves backwards, they bowed their heads, one by one disappearing in various nooks and crannies until only their shiny, glowing eyes remained constant.

Tenacity won at the end. Sephiroth was the ultimate predator they had to be frightened of. That much, Cloud knew without a shred of doubt. Mentally thanking every God and goddess he knew and had heard of for this insane King of the jungle being on his side, he ascertained that this was the only law of the forest and animal kingdom to be obeyed, revered, and never challenged idiotically.

Exhausted as he was, he too adapted fast, adopting a more meek and sheepish regard as he sadly lowered his eyes and head as soon as Sephiroth deemed it safe to enter the tunnel.

Cocking his head up, stiffly and rather doused with bitter emotions, Sephiroth gruffly grunted, “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Something was terribly wrong. Cloud deduced it was natural to feel so enervated and drained after a nasty, rough battle and even longer journey on foot, but with his head cold nagging at his system, there were other putrid signs that he wasn’t quite himself. 

Thankfully, Sephiroth didn’t pressure him about it either way, content to remain a brick wall as he marched up ahead. He genuinely seemed irked with Cloud for getting them both in trouble with the beasts earlier, and while Cloud couldn’t blame Sephiroth for his anger, the cold shoulder treatment was becoming annoying as well.

It wasn’t as if he’d actually planned on getting himself sick, for crying out loud. He had no way of adjusting to the rapidly shifting climate and odd temperature on the island as it was, his body feeling feverish, but also achy and frozen. Without any way to find and obtain medication, he had to persevere, something which he wasn’t known for, yet Sephiroth was insisting on being a silent jerk weed.

Rude. So bloody unnecessary and rude. 

Talking would in fact help, right now, but any attempt he’d made at creating a conversation was instantly shot down. Cloud was left to hug himself, rubbing his arms for extra warmth despite feeling sweat sliding and beading off every inch of his body. Uncomfortable, in need of a break, hungry, and with a massively sore throat now, his emotions warred within his bosom and mind to spin such a toxic outcome.

Clearing his throat despite his tonsils and nostrils feeling jaggedly cut apart, he then sniffled, wiping his slightly runny nose. None of that sadly did much for him, Sephiroth’s long legs continuing to carry himself forward, silver hair swinging behind his broad back.

Thus, it sparked an internal debate, the grueling monologue within Cloud reaching no solid end in sight. Unsure how and what to say as a beginning, the various offerings of an apology were chipped away after and closed off as his haughtiness got the better of himself. 

Teeth clenched, damning his youth and arrogance for the moment, he mewled at Sephiroth, “Look, about back there...uh...”

A green eye slid to the right, peering at him and daring him to go on. Sephiroth’s muscles were flexed, holding that stance even as he walked on calmly. Tall, menacing, ominous, the sinister aura warned Cloud that he had to shut his mouth if he knew what was good for him.

Also in no mood to be a pushover, Cloud rolled his eyes as he hissed sibilantly, “Fine then. Stay mad. I was at least trying to be nicer.” Phlegm crept to his mouth, tingling across his tongue, and he coughed it out by a bush before he snarled, “I’m legit trying to show some gratitude here! Hello?!”

On and on, as his heart rammed over and hit every bone in his sternum, Sephiroth’s steady tempo became the insufferable metronome Cloud began despising. Nothing seemed to shake and move this man. Appealing to him sincerely and emotionally was as useful as reading poetry to shrubs. Feeling hollow and empty more than he initially had started out as, Cloud still gave it one last shot.

Feet scurrying over, the scurrilous omega maintained his barbed, fractious demeanor, fremescent only for a few seconds. Rounding Sephiroth’s huge body, Cloud deliberately placed himself in the way, moving left, right, back and forth several times with his arms held out to the side when Sephiroth attempted to circumvent the fissure, quite literally.

“Please, just stop and listen to me,” implored Cloud, keeping the maudlin begging out of his eyes and tone when it had no place there to begin with. “I’m sorry for getting us in trouble. I appreciate what you did for me back there. I really do.” 

The removal of anything ostentatious at least helped Sephiroth stand still. Visage hardened into a placid mask of mild derision, he detained his anger for the moment, sparing Cloud more seconds to gather his guts and words sensibly for a genuine reprieve.

Trying not to fawn over Sephiroth’s smooth sheen of hair and alabaster flesh like living marble, the flakes of dried animal blood somehow made him look and smell more...masculine and fiercely attractive. Perhaps it was a more physical appeal based on years in the past between an alpha and omega, but whatever the origins were, Cloud chose to stop fixating on them.

Setting aside the incoming threat of a jeremiad lacing his phrases, Cloud swallowed with difficulty and then placed a hand around his thin neck. “I’m just sick. I’m really sorry...I just...I never meant for us to get caught like that, Sephiroth. Please believe me.”

An absence of mendaciloquence thankfully rescued and salvaged whatever lurked in the way of some character and presentation for Cloud. The impression he’d yearned to stamp into Sephiroth’s mind had been achieved to a degree, the alpha no longer as mercurial, even if he wanted to surround and lambast Cloud with acrimony.

Niveous hair and complexion untouched by the shadows of doubt and shades of cruelty, he raked his eyes skyward, but then gave one solid, plaintive nod. Acknowledgement over what Cloud had offered ossified in a less tense expression, his eyebrows less furrowed, lips panning out over his teeth as he relaxed the rest of his body next.

Adding insult to injury, Cloud’s body betrayed him right then, an annoying sneeze tickling his throat and nostrils, brimming along until he failed to contain and stop it. 

“Achoo!” 

Sneezing twice more in succession, after he recovered enough to wipe his nose and eyes, when he straightened his posture and glanced up, Sephiroth had breezed on by him.

“Ack, wait!”

Taking off after him, Cloud was swallowed by a dominant array of greens—ranging from deep emerald to olive and jade—blanketing the scene, from the canopy down to the forest floor. The greens all over were rich and saturated, indicative of high humidity and a thriving ecosystem still to be explored and tamed.

Subtle bluish-cool undertones bled into the shadows, especially where light faded or was obstructed by the dense vegetation. Browns and muted earthy colors peeked through in the soil, fallen leaves, and decaying foliage. A gentle haze of misty grey filled the air, softening the overall vibrance and hinting at moisture or residual rain still on the way.

The jungle was almost claustrophobically dense, filled with overlapping plant forms reaching out so vastly. Large-leafed plants dominated the midground and background, their broad leaves forming layers and giving a sense of thick natural shielding. Ferns and tall grass filled the lower regions, their thin, spindly forms brushing against each other in tangled disorder. Vines hung from above, adding vertical tension and a slightly ominous air, like organic nooses suspended in waiting.

The forest floor was chaotic and uneven, thick with moss, ferns, decomposing material, and the occasional glimmer of something artificial or foreign resting amid the natural—suggesting disruption. Depth held itself steady in the enclosure of green, everything within sight closed in by vegetation, with almost no clear horizon or sky. The jungle created ever the natural amphitheater, enclosing the viewer and dampening any sense of escape or perspective.

A diffused, ambient light filtered lavishly from above, possibly from a clouded sky or a sun obscured by the jungle canopy. This light appeared to hit soft and indirect, casting few hard shadows, contributing to the moody and introspective tone of the environment which could be seen for miles. 

Backlighting subtly glowed through the higher leaves, catching in mist particles and making the distant center of the land appear faintly illuminated. The light emphasized the moisture in the air, giving the scenery a slightly foggy and vaporous effect, which enhanced the sense of depth and obscurity to approach in a nearly suffocating manner.

The foreground often remained dim, almost enveloped in a greenish twilight, reinforcing the foreboding nature of the setting. Easing in at every angle and creeping along the edges of one’s vision, it all seemed so different yet similar, playing tricks on Cloud’s mind to torment him endlessly.

Feelings of suspense, secrecy, and latent danger bolstered, as if the jungle was holding its breath and simply waiting in strained anticipation. It was both beautiful and unwelcoming, a character in its own right—alive, dense, and watchful. The atmosphere suggested more than a story of confrontation, isolation, or a pivotal moment hidden under the thick canopy of nature’s raw, untamed heart.

Massive with endless mazes, branching paths, and peninsulas that were rather picturesque, Cloud otherwise would have stayed to relish in the sights. 

Regularly so aspirant to delight in anything nature had to offer, he would usually bask in the gifts with a decent camera. Videos and photos for his social media pages however would have to be on pause, the cruelty of his own fate and sordid experiences responsible for imputing such awful ends.

This unfortunately wasn’t an auspicious vacation. Sephiroth wasn’t by any means a magnanimous individual, showing less favoritism and quite the intransigent monster. It kept things going anyway, but the progress was rather draining. 

Cloud’s feet were brutalized. Victims to the elements of both strain and nature, his skin was chaffed, bones and knuckles swollen, knees feeling overused. The abuse his body had sustained since the battle with the overwhelming beasts lurked within his core and mind, the exorbitant price to pay for being so out of shape leaving the rough, indelible mark on his muscles.

Shoes covered in mud, leaves sticking to them to give out consistency in the form of crunching sounds, the timing was key as Cloud paused to push out another cough every so often.

All around, the forest stood in perfect stillness, a vast and endless cathedral of towering trees, each an ancient sentinel, their branches locked in quiet communion with the sky. The air was heavy with the scent of moss, damp earth, and the faint sweetness of decaying wood—a perfume only the wilderness knew to cherish. A magnificent hush draped itself over the land, wrapping around every leaf, every blade of grass, as if the world itself was preserving time and peace.

Every sensation weaved into the fabric of the universe—feet sank into the yielding soil, soft and cool, the faint crunch of distant footfalls swallowed by the vastness. The taste of the air was sharp, metallic, laced with the crispness of pine and the must of unseen fungi. Here, silence wasn’t the absence of sound but a symphony of foreign whispers: the distant call of a hidden bird, the faint scrape of insects in unseen burrows, the wind pressing through the thickets like unseen hands tracing the edges of reality.

Then, the shift—imperceptible at first, but undeniable, finally wallowed out from the center of the world. A breath of something sour tainted the air, curling in the nostrils like the scent of rot beneath fresh pine. The world seemed dull, as though drained of its vibrancy. Leaves, once brilliant with autumn fire, flickered and dimmed, their hues twisted into lifeless browns and greys as they spiraled downward in erratic, unnatural patterns. They fell without grace, some tumbling violently, others sinking as if weighed down by unseen forces.

The wind turned brittle, no longer a gentle wanderer but something with jagged edges, snapping through the canopy with the sharp, decisive crack of breaking bones. Twigs splintered beneath its passage, their fragments skittering across the ground like dead things fleeing an unseen predator.

There was movement now—small, furtive, just beyond reach. Shadows flickered between the trunks, the silent observers with eyes unseen, watching, waiting. A scampering in the underbrush became too quick, too frantic, the scrape of clawed feet fading before it could be fully understood and traced.

Yet the illusion remained so constant like a terrible omen. The tranquility didn’t shatter—it held steady, unnerving in its persistence, stretching like a too-tight skin over something rotten beneath. The forest didn’t scream, nor did it warn, only watching as something not quite right slithered through its depths, unseen, unspoken, but undeniably present.

Like an inebriated person suffering from a bleary attack after hours of interrupted sleep, Cloud swayed this way and that. Awkwardly, he threw his weight about, hitting a tree and then stumbling forward into a bed of thick cattails. They caught his form thankfully, cradling him as he shuddered against them and felt the vibrations rattling back. Stuck thigh-high in swampy water, he groaned, nose wrinkling in disdain as he turned his searching eyes up to Sephiroth.

The alpha in charge signaled to Cloud with head nods, eye blinks, grunts, hisses, snarls, and his wrist whipping against the foliage decorating the swamp. Refusing to allow them to bog him down, he made his own progress substantially, knives in both hands whittling the blades to nothing. Green, yellow, and moldy brown whipped around from his forceful work, and akin to blades of a machine, Sephiroth fanned the chopped bits around.

Following and then waiting at his heels, the increments of his pace were quite slow, but for someone as ill as Cloud, it suited him just fine. Repetition was established well in the pattern of waiting for vegetation to fall out of his way so he could walk those measly three or so steps and then park himself right behind Sephiroth.

Nose and eyes watery and burning, Cloud took turns wiping them both, moaning in agony and disgust while Sephiroth split his way through the swamp. Fearful that he would feel even worse since he was wading in the murky, unsanitary water, Cloud rubbed his arms frantically over his thighs. Reeling back when he flung mud accidentally over himself, he hissed in annoyance, irritation mounting so much that he brought his fury out in the open.

“Ugh…h-h-hurry…God!”

Atimy and all the insults on the planet sullied Sephiroth’s disposition. Demeanor compromised by rigidity and an overwhelming sort of stiffness, when he bulked up, he resembled the most arrogant, haunting scarecrow. Condescension sternly festooned onto his visage, eyebrows clenching so firmly that they looked much thicker. Muscles warping to pull off some of the most deranged faces ever, the expressions were grotesque, mirroring clay bunching together in a sinister, disorderly fashion at best. 

Elbow locking and fingers still tightly clenching around the knife handles, Sephiroth once held them extended, only, when Cloud had barked out his order so derisively at him, he gradually seemed to give up on aggression as he draped his hands by his sides. Head craning a bit, he then turned it to the side, casting a disappointed, withering glare at the omega initially, but when Cloud sneezed, that gnarly appeal melted off Sephiroth entirely.

Catching himself softening the blow both internally and externally, Sephiroth’s eyelids blinked before growing wide, his breath hitching. Barely audible, he only caught it himself before he corrected it with an errant huff to keep up appearances. Cocking his head left, then right as if curiously examining something novel, he approached Cloud for the moment, but then crept back when Cloud fished out his own dagger.

“Fuckin’ hell,” groused the incensed omega, swinging his blade and chipping away at a nearby stalk of weeds. “Gotta do everything myself.”

Shockingly, despite feeling ghastly cold and sick to the last bone, that depletion of health genuinely served Cloud well and proved to be his ultimate encouragement. Motivated to hurry and find a place to bed down for the night, he became the leader now. Placing himself before Sephiroth, together, they whirred and swirled their upper torsos and arms, clipping the grass, cattails, weeds, and other rotted, soaked logs out of their path. 

Faster and faster, left and right, up and down, Cloud and Sephiroth swung and cut. Energy draining much quicker, every deep, long breath Cloud took never came without a jeopardizing cost to his sanity and health. Weaker and slower after ten minutes, he glanced up as soon as he perched on a rock to better assess how far they’d come and how much greater of a leftover distance they had left. 

Piles and heaps of greenery floated by from behind, but judging from the thick curtains of bushes and leaves still waving at them from ahead, there was too much in the way to go. The occasional rock sadly also dragged away visibility for land, but the rows of a few of them to the right led to a bluff past the peninsula.

Sweating less and feeling like he was honestly oozing out frozen water instead, there wasn’t any way to tell whether he was even experiencing hot and cold elements. Everything simply felt…surreal, destructive, messy, and unrecognizable at the same time. If he was even able to smell and discern a damn thing, it was just that he was so stuffy, clogged with too many germs, while his lower extremities were slathered and heavily weighed down by caked mud and slime.

Talking to himself mostly, Cloud spat hatefully, “I swear on my mom, first thing I’m gonna do when I get back is sleep in my tub! For…for six days straight!” Giddy, he smiled as he imagined that he was in his own comfortable, steamy bathtub before ranting on. “It’s so amazing what we take for granted. I normally hate doctors too, but I really miss mine now that you know, there isn’t even a single pharmacy around here!”

Interrupted by an abrupt sneeze, the force of it damaged the leaves and grass brushing by his nose more than his blade did, and he took that as one point of victory at least. 

Yearning to still vent out his nagging frustrations and vehemently lash out at Sephiroth in any verbal, non—confrontational manner, he barked while wiping his eyes and nose, “It better not be far! I seriously need a freakin’ break! I’m already stressed out enough after fighting those…those…whatever the hell those ugly ass things were back there!”

Scared of Sephiroth potentially plotting something against him due to how bloody silent he seriously still was, Cloud snuck in a breath and the chance to glance over a shoulder at the tall alpha. Quickly peeking back, he thankfully found him hovering close by, nonplussed, however.

As usual, this was the polar opposite to what he longed to see and how Cloud desired him to behave. Sephiroth was always calm, eerily rational, glowing with some kind of massively otherworldly, sentient fire from old gods. He’d cracked knowledge centuries ago on how to achieve and practice the most spiritual and ethereal kind of nirvana, and it was frankly infuriating. Unless he was being directly attacked and physically assaulted, Sephiroth was simply not the type to harp on the same things which got to Cloud.

“I kind of envy him,” Cloud had to openly confess to himself once he had a moment to reconsider screaming himself hoarse. “Imagine having only to worry about slaying monsters, eating, sleeping, and being George of the damn Jungle all day long.”

Still, as annoying as Sephiroth was, the way he shifted in the water, his long legs moving the waves and creating larger ripples to trickle around and reflect the approaching moonlight and stars was sensual all on its own. His ‘clothes’ were even a marvelous sight to behold when they became soaked. The more drenched they were, the better they clung to Sephiroth’s bulging muscles, leaving very little to the imagination.

Yes…suffice it to say, he looked mad sexy when wet.

Sick as he was, at least he could still appreciate a mighty fine, half naked, soaked man. There was no crime in that, engaged as he was, inexperienced and all that. Surely, no one would begrudge a sick little omega with dreams his time to ogle and visually grope someone sexy, right? 

…On second thought, he really had to take some time and rest. Delirium was often a sign of fevers getting way worse, which meant that he was losing more time and strength wandering. If he didn’t bed down for the night, he likely would have to run the risk of getting way worse in the morning, which would set him back at least a few days. 

Wringing water out of his shirt wherever and however he could as soon as he crept along the edge of the swamp, once Cloud was on dryer land, he surveyed the zone and decided it had to be decent enough for a rest. Flicking the disgusting sludge off himself, he gazed at Sephiroth in a bit of a flustered manner, only to then pinch himself out of it.

Knowing he had to kick up an effort not to be frivolously inclined and perverted to sneak many wanton looks at Sephiroth was one thing, but he was really taking it overboard. Close to drooling and overheating because of his imagination and colorful thoughts, he knew he was acting completely out of character, but he at least had some decency and control.

…For now.

Ignoring how badly his bones felt like they were going to burst out of his frame and skin, he squeezed over them as a means to displace the agony elsewhere. Dragging his feet and hating how wet and heavy there were, much akin to termite infested logs, when he noticed Sephiroth zipping by, he sighed in dismay.

“Wait.” Flagging him down with a brief hand wave, Cloud bemoaned as he grew even whiter in the face, “I think I need to sleep for a few hours, Sephiroth. I can’t just hike on overnight like you.”

That seemed to have some sort of effect, cryptic as it was on the alpha. Sternum expanding, he seemed sternly set, but the discountenance wasn’t permanent. In fact, he seemed open to having a soft spot for Cloud, decreasing his powerful speed as he rounded on the omega rather gently instead of aggressively.

Hands splayed on his knees as he bent down and emitted many coughs, Cloud squinted, wheezing and massaging his sore throat. When he saw less tears, he blinked up, forcing a wanly smirk onto his veneer before shaking his head sadly.

“So convenient, I know.”

Though he’d not expected a response and exchange in conversation, between his huffing and puffing, Sephiroth’s inquisitive nature took a chance to make an astounding appearance.

With a coy eyebrow raised, deep, sonorous voice bringing heat to Cloud’s chest and muscles bit by bit, he humbly asked through repetition, “Con…convenient…what…what is that?”

Thrilled to not only hear that dulcet tone and social ensemble, but to have some sort of amicable distraction, Cloud this time genuinely felt his face warming up with a real smile.

“Convenient,” he sounded out correctly again, noting that Sephiroth had some sort of odd accent for sure. “Convenient means…uh, like, suitable or agreeable. For example, it would be convenient if I didn’t have a cold right now. That means it is something that would benefit and help make me feel good.”

Since he’d been rather generously inclined to have someone to talk to, caught off guard, as Cloud beamed away, Sephiroth threw him off course as he pointed at himself. 

The edges of his attractive lips shifted up and down, stretching out while he openly gestured towards himself in a knowing manner. Connecting the dots, he awkwardly began, “Convenient…I’m convenient for Cloud. I help make Cloud feel good.”

The innuendos going around Cloud’s brain were honestly to die for. Innocence was the coat Sephiroth often donned, which was ironic considering the likelihood that he’d preyed on and hunted hundreds of animals throughout his years in the wilderness, but this was truly spectacular. The vivid imagery Cloud was given rather easily did indeed send tingling and numbing sensations from his chest to his fingers and toes, his cock twitching and hole quivering before loosening.

At this rate, he was going to be just fine, for Sephiroth technically was helping him feel many things aside from ‘good’. In fact, so damn fine that he could wade back into the icy, disgusting water just as a means to wash off his pheromones. Deducing that he was releasing them profusely, Cloud knew he was going to be screwed very soon…figuratively and possibly literally.

He may not have known a lot about Sephiroth and his past, but it didn’t seem to matter. Nature dictated everything here and ruled. According to basic science and biology, Cloud was an omega, and Sephiroth was a rather fertile, handsome alpha. Both men were young, in their prime, way too deep in the woods, bonding and relying on each other for company, and frankly, after what Sephiroth had tried to do as far as pulling romantic moves went, it was quite obvious that he was just as attracted to Cloud as the youth was to Sephiroth.

If things progressed beyond this point, he was going to end up in deep trouble…that, or pregnant, which was basically the same thing. Already so deeply resentful for not just throwing caution in the wind and allowing himself a chance to touch Sephiroth in any capacity when it was obvious that Sephiroth also desired it, instead of wasting more time he didn’t have in the realm of wondering, Cloud decided to gather items for building a small fire just to the right of the swamp.

Locating his makeshift bed spot under a group of large, wide trees and bushes which would hide his smaller body relatively well, Cloud visually scanned his immediate surroundings, crunching wetly over soggy grass and leaves. Gathering some for the fire, he then eased his bag off his shoulders, easing himself into a sitting position as he searched through his various items for a lighter.

Cautious about where he tread just in case Sephiroth was too touchy, Cloud wiped extra small stones and dirt off his fingers as he inquired, “Sephiroth, have you um, have you ever…you know? Been with a man or woman?”

Kneeling across from him and dipping himself in the darkness, Sephiroth’s handsome qualities were still so easy to feast on in the cloak of blackness surrounding him. Long, silver hair dangling all around, his smooth, clean-shaven face pointed at the pit Cloud was digging a bit too hastily.

Holding the countenance of a teacher and a mirthful one at that, while never interrupting Cloud’s work, basic as it was, Sephiroth leaned into the opening just well, hands on his knees as he steadied himself there. Unmoving for a few moments, he never made Cloud feel uptight in any way, however; more so, he borrowed more silence necessary to bide his time and meet Cloud’s quizzical eyes before breaking away with a tiny grin.

Vulpine as that smirk was, it suited Sephiroth just fine to convey that the muted response would have to suffice rather than disparage and stultify Cloud. 

Sighing in protest, Cloud chucked dirt around, using sharper rocks to dig deeper as he mumbled dryly, “Fine then. Leave me guessing.”

Coughing and sniffling, he sat back and retrieved his robe from his messenger bag and spread it out over his still form as soon as he tucked his coat and bag in place for his skull. Numbly, he traveled around the perimeter of the area, gathering sticks and some larger branches that he found along the way. Fingernails almost blue as his lips, he set the bundle of twigs into an organized pile, then took the novel he’d packed for the trip out of his bag next. 

Wincing prior to causing damage, Cloud then ripped out and crumpled up several of the pages, and used them to try and start a fire. As the remainder of a violet-pink dusk turned almost completely to darkness, he saw that the wood and papers were beginning to burn, and started to feel warmth emanating from the blaze. Crawling on his hands and knees back to Sephiroth, covered in bits of dried up blood and dirt and not even caring, he slipped under the robe and imagined he’d laid his head on Sephiroth’s firm chest. 

Listening to the sounds of Sephiroth’s deep breathing and steady heartbeat would indeed be sweet, but he wouldn’t allow himself to fall into an exhausted sleep on that lovely note, for he didn’t require it. All throughout the night, he knew he somehow was safe when Sephiroth was his personal guardian. 

:-----: :-----:

Verdant was such a noble color. Green came in a variety of artistic shades, so mesmerizing, auspicious, scandalous in other lights, and often pure. Unadulterated beauty filtered everywhere, twisting the senses, flirting with memory, it tugged, pulled, drew back, and then reassembled the thin veils between reality and fantasy. 

Emerald was constant in Cloud’s mind, never tormenting and haunting him however. Wrapped around him like his makeshift bed and blankets, it snugly fit, engulfing, never suffocating and bewildering as it cradled him. There was more than familiarity to be found in it, especially when he looked up and saw not the usual blue, clear skies, but feline slitted pupils gazing so fondly at him. 

This was on an entirely new level of framing his dreams around one man. As a teenager and now adolescent still discovering his body and sexuality, Cloud certainly wasn’t a stranger and novice to what he enjoyed and preferred, but his dreams had normally been carnally inclined. All for the purposes of simply relieving himself and feeding into his desires, he could count on many occasions freeing himself from any physical burden. This time, however, he’d hungered for a man’s soul and heart more than his body.

It may have been reprehensible to gear and festoon his thoughts to something so primal, but Cloud wanted Sephiroth to take him, regardless of the ruination he left behind.

A few times, unbeknownst to himself, Cloud leaned in close to Sephiroth, and he felt his angular figure beneath the enveloping weight of his furs, smelled the combined scents of pine cones, firewood, metal, and crispy, cold night air. His silken voice was barely a whisper, stirring the hair against the cheek each time he breathed, guttural and without sensible words lacing along coherently. 

Admiring how animalistic he was, Cloud flushed as he mumbled under a defeated breath, “Well, I have wants, too, dude.” 

Another more barbaric voice suddenly echoed in his mind, “I have no qualms about taking what’s rightfully mine.”

Frightened as Cloud felt over whatever was happening to determine his new course in life, he drew back, flared eyebrows drawn together in a thin line as he gazed at Sephiroth without amusement. Looking for any reason to lash out as usual, he cleared his throat, tonsils freshly on fire which made him wince.

“Did you just watch me sleep all night, you freak?” Suspecting he wouldn’t get an answer either way, he changed his tone, his voice fainter than softly falling snow. “Or maybe you just want to piss me off just because you can.”

Within the encroaching quiet from a neutral Sephiroth, Cloud knew he couldn’t deny that the prospect of simply throwing caution and control aside had never appealed to him more than it did now. Sephiroth was looming over him, staring deeply at him like a predatory big cat, literally hovering above while lazily draped on a thick branch.

He paused for a moment to let his eyes run over Sephiroth appreciatively as he deduced mentally, “Be that as it may…” His slanting eyes snapped back to Sephiroth’s glowing face and he automatically got sucked into his beauty and smiled. “It’d be nice to tell him how and what I feel…I know we just barely met, but for some reason, I know that Sephiroth’s a cool, decent guy.”

The vacuum of his estranged emotions and thoughts were kept in such a tight, vehemently stronghold. Cloud’s errant ways and musings weren’t his downfall yet, but the velocity of his nascent attraction was quickly getting the better of himself around Sephiroth. He should’ve been treading forward with caution; not openly flinging himself into Sephiroth’s arms, literally and even rhetorically. He trusted the man for propelling himself to survive and leave the island, and that should’ve been it, yet he desired more.

When Sephiroth entered the way of seduction by emitting a grunt which broke off into a trill, his low voice sent a pulsing vibration through Cloud’s ears. The alert, cautious part of Cloud’s omega brain told him that it would be a very bad idea to let the alpha come near, but he found himself honestly unable to move.

A hoar frost seemed to be stealing over Cloud’s mind, making him quite lethally oblivious to everything but the hyper-sensitivity of his own skin in proximity to Sephiroth’s. 

Perhaps realizing it but on another level, Sephiroth made a curious, sweeping gesture with his hands after his long, dangling hair strands tickled Cloud’s entire face. Causing the air to ripple, and falling into his arms was a mantle of dark green that he gathered up and swathed around Cloud’s shoulders. His hands, tying the emerald-colored ribbon, brushed against the hollow of his throat like the icy touch of metal. 

Sensation flooded Cloud’s frozen limbs, and when he glanced at Sephiroth, his eyes glittered, starlike and beautiful. The moment he drew back and regarded Cloud with consideration and admiration, it took a while, but Cloud eventually learned that the mass of green now wasn’t as much for the sake of embellishing his figure as it was for the sake of keen wisdom and survival.

Fingers fiddling with the object which wasn’t a ribbon, but a scarf, Cloud sniffed at it, noting pine and other leaves within the bundle. Sighing, he then fondly mused as he slowly rose up, “Aww. How cute. But you shouldn’t have.”

Lord, even this man’s hands were lovely, graceful, deadly. Entwined in his fingers was what Cloud imagined as a twist of ivy, white berries nestled amid the dark green leaves. If he wanted to, he could make it seem like he was weaving a wreath and placing it as a diadem in Cloud’s hair given how unusually sensual and tender he was acting, but then, Sephiroth threw Cloud for a loop.

“Pretty…no,” he whispered as he removed himself from the branch, his breath ghosting the space between them. Plaintively nodding, he then elaborated in his own special way, “Color of forest. Good for hiding. Not easy to see.”

There was magic in his voice and enchantment in his touch despite him technically missing out on another flirtatious opportunity. His skin glimmered like trapped moonlight, leaving Cloud suddenly wanting to touch it, wondering if it would feel as smooth as it looked. 

At once, the omega felt a sudden, vivid flash of their reflections; the tall, pale alpha akin to a regal king of frost adorning his ice-white hair, facing a much smaller version of Cloud shrouded in rippling emerald silk and wearing the same sort of gear Sephiroth did after each conquest. A beautiful young man who radiated grave power and quiet majesty…someone totally Cloud Strife’s opposite, given his lack of decorum and thrill for fighting.

Only somewhat miffed, Cloud puffed out his cheeks, rolling his eyes as he took on a playful demeanor. “Oh,” he purred, stifling a giggle before nudging Sephiroth with an elbow. “Guess it’s too much to ask for a compliment?” 

That strange, starlike glitter had returned to his elder’s sapient eyes then, and Cloud swallowed hard, fighting down the overwhelming urge to back away. Anger and hatred from Sephiroth he could deal with; it was the potential for his own love that was truly frightening. That was something he still couldn’t grasp nor comprehend…not when this was so new.

A huff escaped somehow, sounding like a genuine noise of a grating complaint before Sephiroth ushered out, “I…no. No. Waste of time.”

That damn tone was dismissive, almost bored. It all cemented when he began to turn away, as though he were merely some toy Sephiroth had grown tired of playing with. Up and down, as he rocked back from the incredible shock, when his eyeballs stung, Cloud finally blinked and then winced. 

Repressing a shudder, he bemoaned, “Yikes. That hurt, handsome.”

Sadly, that didn’t apply the brakes for Sephiroth anytime soon. Scuffy, but rather sharp and clean in the mornings as usual, he only left Cloud there gawping at his antics. No other qualms and objections needed to be stated, Sephiroth relying on his torso as he began ambling past their camping spot.

He was really leaving? After everything he’d tried and the feelings of being so close like they were developing something? Had none of it meant anything? 

Struck by the questions all arriving by the boatload, Cloud felt something painful tighten inside his chest. Rejection seriously sucked, but being neglected and shunned aside was even worse, especially when there was a spark there between them.

No, he wagered he couldn’t let him go like that, not with such coldness and disdain. He could tolerate Sephiroth’s standoffish and reclusive behavior, but being downright officious and flippant was intolerable and a nuisance if they were to rely on one another for companionship and comfort, brief as it was.

“Hey, wait,” he barked out so suddenly that Sephiroth’s broad figure stilled and he looked at Cloud curiously. Shooting away the timorous nature enmeshing himself, Cloud didn’t waste time to speak. “Honestly, I know I can be a bit annoying and too much to handle, but I really am grateful for your help, Sephiroth.”

It came straight from the well of his heart, earnest and sincere in presentation, yet all it garnered was Sephiroth looking at Cloud again. Not in a way that asked to be noticed, for he never sought after that, but in that silent, unwavering fashion he always seemed to observe the world. His gaze lingered, thoughtful and unhurried, like he was trying to read something between the lines of Cloud’s being that even he hadn’t discovered and written yet. 

The late morning light spilled across his serene face, catching in the deep emerald richness of his eyes, turning them gold around the edges like sunlit sap. He didn’t blink often, not yet even fidgeting. Sephiroth simply watched on, perhaps expecting something else from Cloud between the rush of seconds and oxygen that was growing scarce.

There existed a sort of mysterious steadiness to him—an anchored presence Cloud had never quite encountered in anyone else. The way Sephiroth lingered, it was as if he’d made peace with some secret truth and carried it in the quiet hush of his demeanor. It was quite empty…it was the fullness of quiet thought, like a lake so still that one would feel guilty for skipping a stone across its surface.

Every small movement—his hand brushing against his knee, the subtle pull of a smile barely forming at the corner of his mouth—felt deliberate, part of a unique language he spoke so efficiently with his whole being instead of words.

It really was strange how calming it was for Cloud, spearing so coolly over his system and in his bones like balm. Just sitting near him slowed the rhythm of the world. His mind, usually racing with half-formed worries and inner monologues, quieted to match his racing pace. Genuinely, he found himself breathing easier, grounding unconsciously to his elder’s soothing presence.

There never was a mounting pressure to speak, no expectation to perform and impress. Only the warmth of unspoken understanding broke out the challenges and helped gain solidarity—as if to suggest Sephiroth understood Cloud was tired and he was open to offering the kind of companionship that didn’t demand anything in return.

And still, akin to a mountain overlooking a peaceful, snow-covered landscape, Sephiroth continued to watch. Not in a piercing way, not to unnerve, but to understand. To simply exist with Cloud in this pocket of stillness they’d somehow created together was one of his greatest pursuits. 

It made Cloud wonder what he really saw…was he potentially memorizing his fleeting expression? Was he noticing the shifts in his fluctuating mood before even he himself did? 

Certainly, it was possible, and Cloud didn’t want to omit the chance that there was a significant type of otherworldly, gentle care in his silence, a kind of affection that didn’t beg to be named but settled in slowly, like dusk creeping across the radiant sky.

Swept up by the rapid whirlwind, Cloud didn’t utter anything. He just let himself be seen, and in that stillness, something inside his soul unclenched. Relaxation, grace, and ethereal calm informed him that he didn’t have to hold everything together all the time to pass social standards and fit in. Maybe the quiet alpha in his company with the contemplative eyes was showing him how to simply exist—and that, maybe, was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for him.

Strangely, as socially awkward as Sephiroth was, the moment was refreshing to not have to wear and flit between many types of masks just to suit and please someone else for a few hours. That garbage was draining and grating, with heaps of judgement on either side afterwards, but here was someone Cloud felt confidently secure in. Sephiroth didn’t appear to be the type to lavish unnecessary judgement and cruelty on him if he didn’t conform to his agenda and comply…this was…amazing.

They hadn’t even tried to speak yet. Words would only ripple the stillness blooming between them like mist. Instead, they rose and moved together—neither leading nor following—and stepped into the lush embrace of the jungle, where the air thickened with warmth and the wild spirits of other beings pulsed like a slow, ancient heartbeat.

The forest wrapped well around them in numerous and interminably grand layers of green, glistening and alive, where snake-like, thick vines coiled like whispered thoughts and leaves fluttered like half-heard confessions. Their feet pressed gently into the damp earth, each step sinking into the loamy breath of the world beneath. Dry leaves and grass crackled softly, a quiet percussion to their rhythm, joined by the sighing hush of branches above swaying in slow-motion choreography.

An exotic bird thrilled in song with supremacy as its orchestration—a high, crystalline note that seemed to split the heat—and then another answered, weaving a conversation that flitted through the canopy like laughter between old souls. The deeper they moved, the more the jungle enveloped them: fern fronds brushing against their arms like affectionate ghosts, the heat sliding like silk down the nape of their necks.

Sweat began to bead gently on their brows, not uncomfortable, just present—like the jungle’s way of anointing them, welcoming them deeper into its green lungs without harsh assessment.

The quiet, silver-haired alpha walked on beside his shorter companion with the same reverent presence he carried in silence. Every movement Sephiroth created was intentional but effortless, as if the jungle was parting for him like the welcoming of a Lord. Something about that—how nature seemed to listen to him, how he listened back, convinced Cloud of Sephiroth’s prowess.

The ambiance void of any critique had settled and eased, giving him the assertion as if they were following someone not just through forest, but through some quiet portal into something holier, an unspoken kingdom.

Between them, the jungle too soon became a metaphor in the living elements. The vines above teemed with life; their unspoken thoughts twisting around the same branches. The roots beneath quaked with vibrant energy as their shared pasts anchored them into the same soil. The birdsong reflected the echo of feelings neither man could ever confess aloud, but the ceremonial performance was at least a gift and blessing they both cherished.

Although Cloud swore he kept his distance, when he did sway to the right, their arms brushed once, lightly, and though they both pretended not to notice, it was enough to send tiny sparks pulsing beneath their skin. The wind shifted again, warmer now, almost breath-like as it trailed across their backs to stem and sprout temporary relief. Even that felt intimate—like the jungle itself exhaling for them when respiration became a struggle.

The path eventually narrowed, but they didn’t fall out of steps aligning properly. Structure only pulled them closer while they pressed forward, side by side, hearts beating with the rhythm of falling leaves and distant rustlings. The silence between them—far from empty—throbbed with unshed meaning, waiting to bloom with unique opportunities if they could be bold to snatch them.

Soundscapes that breathed with life and mystery were suddenly in a lavish abundance; the syncopated drip of water from high vines onto leaves below turned into a ticking clock counting time in a forgotten rhythm. Low, throaty hums of insects rising and falling in invisible waves—like nature’s own pulse rushed back in the embrace of time.

Distant howls or whoops from unseen primates, echoing like laughter warped by distance and foliage. The tender rustling of treetops, as if the canopy was gossiping quietly about the two men beneath it cradled and shielded them, bringing with itself solace whenever Cloud’s skin felt like it was singing from the garish sun rays.

Touch that blurred the boundary between world and body was now reaching torturous degrees. A film of sweat forming on skin, sticky and intimate, mingling with the earthy residue of bark and leaves became entirely a part of Cloud, clogging his better and more rational senses.

Occasional invisible threads of webbing brushing across his cheeks and arms—gentle and ghostlike, sent him reeling when his colorful imagination vividly replaced it all with Sephiroth’s touch. A breeze gushed past like a hush over skin, light and sudden, making him quite delirious and prone to yearning for more than he should have.

Reaching out when his balance was almost gone, his digits hit Sephiroth and then leaves that were leathery, waxy, and velvet-soft—each with its own silent language.

Scent tormented him as memory and omen in turn. The humid, fecund tang of soil, stirred by every step, was becoming too rich and almost sweet with decay and rebirth. Bursts of floral musk—wild orchids and unseen blossoms that hid well between thorns began teasing him as heady perfume mingled with his pheromones beneath the surface.

Occasional sharp notes—crushed citrus and a dash of a peppery sap—released from snapped twigs or bruised vines. The unmistakable, grounding smell of each other—sweat, soap remnants, fabric—rooting their connection in something deeply human stood out the most like water in the desert Cloud needed to imbibe in. Sephiroth was the oasis, somehow, and Cloud was nearing the precipice to kneel and worship him.

Sight that shifted between vivid clarity and dreamlike haze blurred at the edges of Cloud’s sanity. Shafts of golden light filtering through the canopy became his haven, turning floating dust into glittering threads.

A riot of color—ferns, lichen, leaves, in every imaginable green, birds with iridescent feathers like jewels, fungi in coral shapes served as the prism and panorama of the wondrous displays the forest had to offer and left Cloud in a trance.

Occasional fluttering glimpses of hidden creatures clashed with auditory and visual powers as a flash of silver scales in a stream glimmered before the flick of a tail vanishing into underbrush warped everything else thereafter. Their shadows cast on the soft earth in larger swathes, moving as one and then drifting apart, like a dance Cloud and Sephiroth were only half-aware of.

Taste wasn’t just in the air, but in feeling as alpha and omega pheromones seeped out of their pores quite naturally. Their DNA was constantly striving to remove obstacles and barriers, seeking to fuse and procreate even during stressful, intensely dire times. The metallic tinge of breathlessness, when their eyes met and then when their arms brushed once more confirmed it easily.

Sips taken from one of the many water bottles Cloud carried tasted of warm plastic and shared survival, passed between them without words. Even the flavor of unspoken questions building behind parted lips, just on the cusp of being asked was priceless, a nudge here and there, eyelashes fluttering shyly, blushes rising, steam billowing, all of it became magnetic.

A thread wove through as ambient details so prolific drew them close into the emotional lens—making the jungle feel like both a sanctuary and a mirror to whatever was growing, undefined, between them. Becoming more powerful and disturbingly unbeatable by the second, the magnetic and enigmatic attraction could only be categorized and defined by one thing.

Animal instincts…quite spectacular for even Sigmund Freud’s tastes.

The jungle deepened around them, thickening like a dream that refused to end. Sunlight streamed down in broken shards, fractured by leaves the size of open palms, turning the air into a gold-tinted fog. They walked in rhythm, their steps a dialogue—the soft press of soles into yielding earth, the brittle crack of dry twigs, the wet slap of half-decayed leaves folding underfoot. Each sound rang out, then dissolved into the dense breath of the forest, but the sweltering heat was becoming problematic without a solution.

Loathing that he was shorter and of a tinier build, with a lightness to his frame and movement, Cloud couldn’t offer anything else for the moment, not when Sephiroth kept his massive stride. Indeed, the strain had begun to whisper through the way his shoulders sagged more with each step until he spotted Sephiroth studying him intensely and rectified his posture following a blink. 

The air grew heavier—as though the jungle itself wrapped around his lungs, and Cloud knew it had very little to do with his cold. Sweat collected beneath his shirt like rain trapped in fabric, and every inhale tasted of hot copper and fermenting orchids. Still, he didn’t communicate and express anything. Not yet.

Above, a trio of jovial birds shrieked—sharp, angular notes that sliced through the humidity. Their iridescent wings flickered against the green like brushstrokes from a fevered painting, rattling and dislodging leaves as they flew by. Below, their shadows followed the men along the soil, stretching long, as if the jungle were trying to pin them there, imprint them into its memory.

Vines dangled like long, elegant fingers from unseen branches to tickle their skulls as they crept under them, some adorned with tiny clusters of red berries that glistened like drops of blood. Ferns kissed against their thighs as they passed, velvet-soft, but their touch lingered as though tasting them. And there—at the edges of hearing—the wind moaned low, curling around trunks like a story being whispered in a foreign, exotic language only the leaves understood.

Somehow, Sephiroth summoned the courage to go beyond noticing issues bubbling within Cloud. First, he targeted the way the other man blinked harder than usual, eyes fluttering like grass blades and petals in an uncertain breeze.

“You alright?” he asked, though his voice was little more than a hush beneath the canopy.

Cloud nodded, but his balance tipped for half a heartbeat, and one hand reached out—without thought—to grasp his companion’s wrist. The contact was brief, but it pulsed. Not with panic, not with desperation, but something more vulnerable, more human. Skin on skin, damp with sweat and something unspoken. It startled him more than it did Sephiroth, but not because he loathed physical contact, but because Cloud was truly burning with a high fever.

“I just...yeah, I need a second,” a grateful Cloud murmured, voice gravel-soft, breath carrying the taste of warmth and sap. 

Pleased to have Sephiroth speaking to him, he fondly hooked onto the notes until he had to cease for more than air alone. Knees bent, folding gently into the ground, and he sat back against the roots of a strangler fig—its twisted limbs curling like protective arms around his back.

Content to fall in line with Cloud, Sephiroth crouched beside him, communicating nothing verbally, but his presence pressed close—solid, sheltering. The jungle kept moving on: insects hummed in harmonic spirals, branches above trembled with some unseen passage, and a gust of wind, balmy and sweet with decay, swept through, kissing sweat-soaked skin and fluttering loose strands of hair like a lover’s exhale to torment the senses and warp reality for Cloud as he was next to such a powerful force of nature.

Once Cloud’s breathing steadied, he tilted his head back to gift himself with a new sight before he lost control. The canopy above swirled in greens and golds, dancing in slow eddies through the blur of heat. His constantly silent companion still watched—not intrusively, but with that same, anchored calmness. For the first time, the young omega let his head fall lightly against the other man’s shoulder, just long enough to feel the breath syncing between them all without knowing what he’d precisely done.

It came through like something he would do involuntarily with anyone else after strenuous exercise. His mother, father, friends, they’d all sustained and received that gesture, but when Cloud touched Sephiroth’s shoulder in that manner, he immediately leapt back as if the alpha had doused him in an excoriating bite.

Rubbing his temples and then pinching the bridge of his nose, once he’d been levied the unnecessary fee of pain and tears from the pressure, he groaned, “S-sorry about that. I didn’t mean to use you as a pillow or something.”

The jungle, in all its overwhelming symphony, seemed to dim just slightly as Sephiroth gazed in an inscrutable way at him. Or maybe, it bent around them, letting them carve out one small sanctuary among the wild. Either way, everything about Sephiroth always was punctured by the unreadable, cryptic mass of scant clues he gave, but he was at least partly smiling, his handsome lips tilting upwards to the right.

Conflicted and overrun with emotions, no inhibitions circling his brain to stem his thoughts and limit words, Cloud felt like venting, and so he did. 

“Sephiroth, can I tell you something personal?”

No nod of acknowledgement was required for Cloud to deduce that he had Sephiroth’s rapt, undivided attention. Those myrtle eyes only zoned in on him more, Sephiroth’s long, muscular legs stretching out before himself as he stared on at Cloud intently.

Sighing and then rubbing his eyes for the tenth time, Cloud lamented woefully, “The whole reason why I ended up here, accident aside, was because I thought in some way that I could escape a really bad engagement.” Foreign as it sounded to himself, once the bricked wall sealing his sordid fate was partially busted through, he continued. “I hate the dude I’m engaged to. I absolutely hate him. His name is Vincent Valentine. He’s my parents’ employer and friend, and he’s just disgusting. I don’t care for him and love him, but he…I don’t know. He just wants to possess and control me, and he’s not really giving my parents a choice. Or me. I hate the son of a bitch so much!”

When he peeked up at Sephiroth, there was a distinct shift even in his demeanor, reflected and highlighted perfectly. 

The light began to shift—first gently, then with an urgency that made the jungle seem to lean inward, drawing its breath to magnify Sephiroth’s efforts at keeping quiet. The late afternoon sun, once spilled in ribbons through the leaves, was now clotting into sullen pools of shadow. Overhead, the vast canopy shimmered in uneasy hues—deep green giving way to pewter, as if the foliage had begun reflecting the mood of the sky above. Perched beneath the tree as both young men were, internally, they were both now at an unrest within.

Cloud awkwardly stirred from where he sat against the gnarled fig tree, wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead when the odd glare Sephiroth sent forth became too much to bear. The air had thickened, clinging to his skin like a second, more deliberate layer. Each breath dragged deeper now, laced with the mineral scent of distant lightning, the smoky sting of ozone promising that the sky was about to break open.

Understanding that Sephiroth wasn’t incensed with him, in full appreciation, he declared, “It’s such a sad, shitty thing not to love someone yet be expected to share your entire life with them. I hate it.” Gathering his knees into his chest, Cloud’s eyes darted to the side once more as he decided to fish instead for more information about Sephiroth. “What about you? Have you uh, have you ever had your own family, Sephiroth? Ever been married or engaged?”

The older male then rose slowly, offering a hand to Cloud, which he did take. Their palms pressed together, warm and damp, the touch bringing both of them a decent amount of suppressed shuddering. It wasn’t an urgent gesture, but a quiet tether, something that said: We’ll move forward, but we won’t rush. 

As soon as Cloud had received his grip and held on firmly despite the lingering weight in his limbs, Sephiroth faced a new direction as he began walking and conversing with him.

“In my…village…we had…hmm.” Searching for the appropriate, effective words, he tried again, “Wife. I had…wife.” When Cloud squeezed his hand, Sephiroth grunted in correction, “Not yet married. Village chief…my grandfather chose. He chose a wife for me when I was young.”

As they resumed their slow passage through the foggy jungle, the world around them began to hum with anticipation, the unspoken news of novelty trickling into every vein and pore of Cloud’s body to shock him senselessly. The insects had gone quiet, as if hiding from something larger. Birds flitted through the trees with sharper cries, darting low through the underbrush before vanishing in feverish flashes of color. Every leaf seemed to tremble, not from wind, but from knowing, on pause to observe Cloud’s reactions.

“Oh…neat…wow…” Chin and jaw quivering when he brushed by a tree and felt his clothes sticking to his sweaty figure to produce a bit of a colder temperature, to distract himself from that, he asked, “Did you…like her? I mean, love her?”

“Hmm.” Cogitating for a second, Sephiroth shrugged and then replied bluntly as ever, “No. Childhood friend only. No love. Grandfather chose for young ones born to replace warriors in village.”

Their footsteps fell heavier now—mud sucking at their soles, leaves sticking to calves, their path dampened by a subtle mist that hung just above the ground like a ghost caught between weather and time. The scent of petrichor—that wild perfume of earth yearning for rain—rose with intensity. It tangled with the breath of flowering vines and distant fruits turning overripe on unseen branches, all dancing to the tempo set by the flourishing wind.

Baffled, but not frozen enough to never speak, Cloud squawked, “Really?” Squeaking on once more, he winced and barreled on, “Your own grandfather picked a wife for you when you never even loved her?”

Nodding, Sephiroth then audibly confirmed, “Yes. Grandfather was chief. Made all choices. Wisest of us was grandfather…respected…trusted…grandfather picks brides for strong babies, survived village many years.”

Someone older making unwise, uninformed decisions and imposing them so brazenly on their children for the supposed betterment of their future? Goodness, they really did have a lot in common after all.

Intervention came when thunder grumbled, deep and slow, like a god rolling in his sleep behind the mountains. And in that moment, the jungle turned fantastic, the overcast, grey skies rolling in from the West, not yet shrouding everything in a pall of misery, but the unification of purity and sustenance for the land to stay vibrant.

Fronds became curtains, parting for their passage, leaves lifting like fingers that had waited to touch them. Tree trunks took on the grace of sentinels, watching with ancient patience, bark sweating from the pressure of what approached. A flash of lightning stitched a silvery thread through the canopy, and for a breathless second, the world lit up—their shadows, elongated and reaching, appeared to be holding hands. 

In the far distance, a storm was indeed brewing, the quaking of the earth dictating that the tremors would soon mount to something grand and powerful to cleanse the soil and vegetation. Clusters of dark clouds were zapping with bright light, the breeze picking up gusto, the distinct scent of water and mud flirting with the olfactory bulbs in a warning of majestic rainfall. 

The two men moved closer, not out of fear but out of instinct and in search of body heat. The threat of another storm—it wasn’t just by a biased delivery of cruel weather. It felt like a godly revelation, similar to the eerie crescendo of some long-held silence finally daring phantoms to speak as it once more embedded itself by force to bring Cloud and Sephiroth together in another standstill.

“Does it ever stop raining here?” Cloud protested by a nagging question, gesturing ahead at the darkening atmosphere. “Don’t you get sick of it?”

Humbling himself to another grin, Sephiroth countered, “No. I like rain.”

“Well,” came the grating half-sigh, half-yawn, “at least we have some differences, but I gotta ask, Sephiroth, who taught you how to fight?”

The storm gathered itself in slow exhales, and in the lull, something passed between the two men—not spoken, not yet—but carried in the way their bodies leaned and the way their breath synchronized once again. Cloud was well on the way to yanking more pieces for the puzzle from Sephiroth, and just as agreeable and affable, Sephiroth opened up to the young omega.

“Grandfather and mother.” Reverent pride and glory honoring his visage, he added in vehement reverence, “They were warriors…true leaders. They showed me.”

Like the forest itself, Cloud was beyond conspiring. Desiring for great knowledge and power in silence and calm, he dug deeper when he had the chance.

“I see. What about your…bride? Were you actually married to her? What happened to her?”

Soothly, he hadn’t seen a single sign and concrete trace that anyone else ever existed on the mysterious, crazy island. If someone else did, the possibility that they had to be just as tough, if not even wilder than Sephiroth, weighed like a truck of nails and bricks over Cloud’s head. Never wanting to meet such a group of tyrants, he hung back, chewing the insides of his mouth and biting his lower lip as the anticipation became substantially high due to Sephiroth’s countenance shifting drastically. 

Lower jaw tight, but then loosening, Sephiroth’s delivery of speech became a lot slower as he processed what he was about to say akin to someone tasting spices for a hearty meal. “No…she was to marry me…it…didn’t happen.”

His breath was a whisper swallowed by the cavern of the path they were entering, and in that void, his body became a question mark—taught muscles coiled like wires just before they snapped. His face was the mask of an actor in a half-lit theater: the skin stretched thin over cheekbones that could cut glass, the eyes two opaque pools where fear dripped slowly, crystallizing around the rims.

In the stuttered silence, the lines around his mouth were speaking volumes—an atlas of hidden agony—each crease a testament to memories too heavy to bear aloud.

Contagious as the emotions were, uncanny and too raw, Cloud couldn’t prevent himself from gushing out in alarm, “What happened to her?”

Under the wavering lights, Sephiroth’s jaw clenched and unclenched as if chewing on unseen shards. There was a tremor there, at the edge of control, like melted silver slipping off a ledge—so quiet Cloud almost missed it. His pupils contracted, expanding, tracing the walls of his inner turmoil as though each inch of realization might erupt into a confession. But no sound emerged so soon. 

Cycling through them, Sephiroth’s emotions were a subterranean river, dark and slow, gnawing at the embankments of his composure. A single bead of sweat crawled down the temple, glinting malevolently, carrying with itself the salt of nightmares that refused to stay buried and forgotten.

He wore his silence like armor, but the edges were becoming jagged. His thoughts were a racing storm behind his eyes, thunder rolling beneath a placid sky. Every inhale was borrowed from a moment he couldn’t dare afford; every exhale relinquishing some fragment of the self he so desperately shielded. In the dense atmosphere of internal threat, the lines between predator and prey blurred—he was both stalking and hunted by the ghosts of what he couldn’t even begin to forget.

Yet, despite the deeply buried tempest, he remained statuesque, a sculpture carved from ice, so brilliantly still that anyone glancing his way might see only perfection. But beneath that flawlessly frozen exterior, fractures spiderwebbed outwards: the memory of a scream caught in his throat, the shadow of a hand reaching for him from the darkness, the echo of something broken.

There, in the space between heartbeats, his silent confession was written in frost: trauma unspoken, fear undiminished, agony hidden behind a mask that threatened to shatter at the slightest touch.

“Death.”

Pale and baleful in temperament with that solid, single word uttered, he glowered not at Cloud, but in his general direction, long, thick hair curtaining his face as he began walking off once more.

Chapter Text

Nose digging into his long scarf when it felt too nippy, Cloud hid and buried an oncoming sneeze just fine. Hating that he had to use the item of clothing for something so gross, the relief which entered his head and somewhat provided clarity was still mostly worth it. The temperature had sadly dipped as evening nearly prepared to give way to nightfall, and the scarf was seriously coming in handy more than he initially thought.

Even so, time dilated in the hush before the storm, as if the jungle itself had paused on the inhale, and the two men, tucked beneath the moss-veiled stone overhang, became part of that breathless stillness. 

An edifice which resembled the lower part of a small castle was the ideal place they settled on without question. Cloud, happy to finally place his feet up, rested with his back against the bark-slick wall, eyes half-lidded, his face dappled in the green shadows of rustling leaves. Sephiroth sat close, legs stretched, fingers loosely laced over one knee, but his gaze was distant—lost in the tangle of roots and thought.

There was a pressure now—not physical, but between their ribs, where emotion collected when it had nowhere else to go. The progress they’d made so far—through mud, through heat, through silence—wasn’t just of distance, but stapled in understanding, of pulling back the layers of self neither had expected to offer. And with that came the weight. The question of what now. The awareness of how fragile it all was. That closeness could crack open wonder—or undo everything.

Stuck with Sephiroth constantly testing the boundaries he held without doing it in an obvious manner, Cloud maintained his distance. Occasionally, while he kept an eye on Sephiroth, he shifted slightly, adjusting the bundle of damp cloth at his back. The motion brushed his shoulder against the coldness of the wall at his spine, light as moth wings, but it sent a tremor through them both when Cloud leaned against Sephiroth.

Pools of warmth bathed them both immediately. Time didn’t move forward so much as press sideways, curling around them with the heaviness of everything left unsaid.

The wind began to turn. Not sharp, but deep, threaded with the scent of rain that had yet to fall—wet stone, crushed leaves, the electric tinge of something about to break. High above, the canopy ruffled with warning, leaves shivering like nerves exposed to air. Even the birds seemed to hush, as though the sky deserved reverence, the entire jungle on a cool-down as the rain picked up and refreshed the planet.

Out from the tiny gateway, once the portal from the sky had parted, the first drop finally came sailing and splattering to earth.

It hit with a soft smack against the overhead bushes, treetops, ferns, and dotted every pond and river. Then another pulled and pelted down, and another, the beginning of the orchestral ensemble fitting for a storm. Soon, the rhythm began—a liquid heartbeat, a thousand fingertips drumming on leaves, on bark, on their little hollow of shelter. The patter swelled around them, warm rain cascading in veils that hung between trunks like silk unraveling from the sky.

They watched together, two silhouettes carved into one curve of stone. As the downpour thickened, the edges of their shelter grew blurred, softened by sheets of water that fell in silver threads. The jungle was no longer something they traveled through—it surrounded, enveloped, claimed them with a ravenous hunger for more. Each raindrop thudded into earth and puddle, into leaf and skin, until the entire world was saturated with the scent of renewal and rebirth, both magnanimous but also deadly if pushed and tested.

Going through what he’d learned so far about Sephiroth, Cloud relished the scant minutes in silence, listening to the soundtrack of the rain until he yearned for other stimuli. Softly, he exhaled, long and slow, like releasing something he hadn’t realized he was holding. The older alpha by his side then turned slightly—not all the way, just enough that their arms aligned, that warmth traveled the small distance between them without ever needing to touch.

Orchestrated each time to behave shyly whenever their eyes locked, Cloud knew his feelings of sexual hunger were efficiently expedited. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt more awake,” he accidentally murmured out, wanting to quickly slap himself silly for releasing such stupidity aloud.

Thankfully, the other man, observant as he was, didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His stillness, so full of understanding, spoke louder than anything the storm could wash away. A master of explaining most of whatever was centered in his mind while at ease and nonverbally effective in hammering his messages home, nothing acerbic and bitter left room for interpretation, with Sephiroth’s eyes twinkling a playfully shiny sheen.

Weak and powerless not to challenge nature, a part of Cloud still let the rain fall. No, he was allowing it to drown thoughts, permitting it to quieten the lingering tension until it became something softer—a pulse shared, a truth unspoken but deeply, undeniably known.

Pursing and then popping his lips outward with a tiny noise of air escaping, he replaced the oxygen he’d spent to channel out half-heartedly, “I know I’m being weird, but I feel like most omegas can be like this sometimes.”

Head twisting left, then right, Sephiroth held onto that dipped angle, exuding total bafflement long before he grunted, “What’s omega?”

A nasty, scary revelation briskly descended upon Cloud, not as a gradual dawning, but as a sudden, brutal cleaving of his reality. The unsavory news embedded in Sephiroth’s serious tone, delivered with an almost chilling dispassion, didn’t merely alarm; it struck him with a mortal terror, a primal, existential dread that threatened to unravel the very fabric of his being. His internal landscape, moments before composed, was now a burgeoning maelstrom, a chaotic eddy of burgeoning panic and visceral revulsion.

Praying that this was some odd joke, he snickered, pointing at himself as he clarified, “I mean…I’m an omega, Sephiroth…”

Confused as ever with this added to the mix, Sephiroth frowned and posed, “No…you Cloud. Cloud.”

He really wasn’t kidding at all…Sephiroth totally didn’t know what the hell an omega was, and chances were, he had no damn clue that he was an alpha.

Grasping for clues before the final straw burned away, Cloud cleared his throat as he sat up and began asking questions slowly. “Sephiroth, your mother, father, grandfather…err, all in your village, what…I mean, aren’t they also…aren’t there any omegas?”

Nose wrinkling, Sephiroth snorted, then pinched it before waving Cloud’s puzzlement off into the depths of dread. “Just…people. My people.”

“But…alphas? Are they…err, I mean, I guess, weren’t they all alphas?!”

Once more, like an innocent pet, Sephiroth cocked his head and parroted, “Alpha? What’s alpha?”

Eyeballs wider than golf balls, Cloud felt his heart sinking to his stomach, shooting up to his throat, making it astringent as if many more stones were lodged into it to choke him. Blood running hot, then purely forming icicles to pop out of his pores, he shivered on the spot as he felt as if he was shrinking into the soil.

“...I am actually SO fucked.”

Yet, even as the cold tendrils of fear began to coil around his vital organs, as the insidious whispers of impending psychological dissolution assailed the periphery of his consciousness, a remarkable, almost anomalous self-possession asserted itself. A tiny, yet adamantine core of rationality, buried deep within the roiling tempest of his emotions, issued a silent, yet unequivocal command: ‘remain calm’. It wasn’t a plea, but an urgent, imperative directive, born of a desperate, inherent will to survive the onslaught of tension blanketing his mind.

His breath, initially hitched and shallow, became a conscious, laborious effort to regularize, a deliberate act of defiance against the autonomic chaos erupting within his core. His musculature, which had begun to tense into a rigid, defensive posture, received a mental countermand, urging a forced relaxation. He could feel the insidious creep of hysteria, a bilious wave threatening to inundate his cognitive faculties, to drag him into the abyssal depths of unreason. 

Yet, with a monumental, almost superhuman exertion of will, he seized tranquility at the absolute last minute. It was a precarious, hard-won serenity, wrestled from the jaws of impending madness. This fragile calm wasn’t at face-value an absence of fear, but a deliberate, internal barricade against its overwhelming force, a desperate gambit to prevent the final, irretrievable loss of self.

“Okay…sadly, I gotta tell him, for his own good, because it’s clear he doesn’t even know what the hell he is…shit pancakes, this blows and sucks…pun so not intended.”

Coughing and casting his fear away, Cloud held up both hands, morphing them into the necessary shapes for symbolic representations. Crude as it was, he hoped Sephiroth would comprehend it faster this way, so he went ahead and curved his right hand to an ‘o’ shape, making a tunnel before he flagged down all the digits of the opposite hand until only the index finger was erected.

Burning with mortification already, Cloud hated how he squeaked even before he vocalized his next important question. “Okay, s-so, Sephiroth, have you umm, you know?”

…

Not even a stir. Sephiroth only raised his eyebrows marginally, not remotely interested in Cloud’s hands winding around in ridiculous patterns.

Now, he had no choice but to go the extra filthy mile. Words weren’t doing it, so Cloud bit down a groan, bringing his limbs closer together until he poked the opening of the tunnel with his index finger.

“Err, look…Sephiroth, have you done…this?” In an agitated way, he pushed the prodding finger in and out of the hole his fist formed, and when Sephiroth blinked in more bewilderment, Cloud lost it entirely.

In and out, his finger went inside the scant space to mime the lewd act of penetration, but then, he yanked it back, forming a tighter fist. Teeth clenched, veins bulging, the embarrassment was palpable as he encapsulated himself in ire, but not unceremoniously to usher epithets. Instead, he hurried on, waving his arms, then turning his finger inward as he bashed his fists together.

Pounding them, he shot out, “You know! Have you smashed? Banged anyone? Chicks? Dudes? Both?” Close to gyrating with his hips since it was so natural, he used his hands to do the dirty deed while he ranted, “Everyone does it! It’s fine! I haven’t, yet, but I will soon! Just wanted to know if you’ve uh, pounded any behinds or vaginas! Don’t be shy! It’s fine!”

Sticking out his tongue mildly, he once more opened his left hand, digits extending like the right as he pointed out both middle and index fingers, scissoring them harshly together. Meeting them midway and creating hissing sounds, he then groped the air around himself, back to shoving a few fingers inside another hole he created, when that seemed to do the trick at last.

Peeved and flustered, Sephiroth cringed through his pearly teeth, bringing a large hand down over Cloud’s joined ones as he begged, “Stop.”

Chest shooting up and down, eyelids borrowing the same inclinations as they hung low from exhaustion, Cloud sniffled, using his hands instead to rub his sore, cold face. Thankful that he didn’t need to resort to such barbaric, vulgar things more than this, he shuddered to straighten his mood and posture, sharing the same uncomfortable wince Sephiroth constantly wore. 

Disparity seized the attractive alpha as he murmured weakly, “Don’t understand. Cloud is tired…rest.”

That was something Cloud could temporarily agree with. They’d already been through the ringer one too many times, and now wasn’t the opportune moment to be pedantic and didactic. They could worry about the semantics of reproduction another day, but Cloud deduced that he had to really strive and keep a distance now when Sephiroth obviously had no idea what alphas and omegas were, how they were primed and geared to procreate, bond, and live together.

Even worse, as sensual and harmonious as he seemed when he’d gone for a kiss earlier, he no doubt was a clueless virgin too.

Sooner or later, nature was going to move forward with its agenda, whether they wanted it or not. Scientific developments and specific tools to prevent and circumvent issues weren’t acquired here, which meant that whenever Cloud’s heat hit, he really was going to be screwed.

…Literally.

For now, they had little options but to stay close, the rain floating down in relentless waves, a steady, symphonic downpour that blurred the world beyond their mossy shelter into streaks of grey and trembling green. Leaves shivered beneath the weight of it. Thick vines dangled like dripping ropes, swaying in time with the hush and thrum of the storm. All around them, the jungle moved—not outwardly, not loudly—but in subtle creaks and sighs, as though the rain was unlocking some deep, buried breath the earth had been holding for decades.

Against his logical decisions, since Sephiroth was radiating too much warmth like a furnace, Cloud leaned more fully against the quiet alpha, not because he had to, but because something in him wanted to. Needed to. The ache in his limbs had faded into something warm and languid, lulled by the steady rhythm of rain and presence. His temple pressed to the alpha broad’s shoulder, and he listened—not just to the sound of the storm, but to the heartbeat he could feel faintly through layered fabric. A rhythm. A sign of life and strength.

Feeling eyes on himself, Cloud slowly glanced up to find a glacially perplexed stare meeting him halfway before an affronted Sephiroth posed as a grumbling complaint, “Lots of touch. Cloud likes touch.”

For a long stretch of quiet, they watched as droplets rocketed from the canopy, some catching shafts of light that still slipped through the storm-dark clouds—each drop like a crystal thought tumbling through space. The jungle was saturated now, scents rising in thick, sweet layers: earth and bark, soaked ferns, pulpy flowers yawning open with the wet. The air was so moist that it was practically drinkable, filled with steam and the vibrant soul of mother nature.

Flaws highlighted by someone so observant, though Cloud was puckishly inclined and prepared to bicker, he swallowed it down when his throat began burning worse than before. Closing his eyes, he buried his face into his new scarf, then nuzzled his nose up over Sephiroth’s shoulder.

“Can’t help it,” came his weak croak of a confession. “You feel nice…you smell so good too.”

“Hmm.” Contemplative, but not donning a forever ponderous comportment, Sephiroth swapped his countenance for something more down-to-earth. Smirking, he adapted to Cloud’s demeanor as he lazily rasped, “Cloud smells good too.”

Thoughts moved between them in silence, but Cloud’s were the loudest as they shrieked warnings and philosophical questions to make his brain pulsate and heart turn to mush.

“He wonders if I know about his intentions…yeah, it’s clear in how often I catch him watching me. He must feel how steady he becomes when we’re near, but I don’t want this to end. Not yet. Not ever, maybe.”

In and out, the rhythm of respiration went as if many unseen hands of fate had orchestrated it as such. Their breathing matched the rain’s cadence, slow and pulsing, a dance between life and pure grace that was thriving.

With a casual tint in his eyes, Sephiroth turned just slightly, enough for his cheek to catch the scent of the younger omega’s damp hair. Nostrils flaring, Sephiroth sucked in the warm rain, fabric, something sunlit, and a hint of a spirit forever searching. He didn’t speak yet, but his hand, resting between them, curled the faintest inch closer. It didn’t touch though, just offered nearness, like an open door, digits extending and grazing the air more than Cloud himself.

In the suspended hush, casting his doubts and insecurities away to carve room for something profound, Cloud considered so much more than the sheer surface of the moment. He thought of how silence with anyone else would feel awkward. Strange, how he’d grown used to building sentences like bridges to escape discomfort, but with him—with this man beside him—the quiet felt like a whole language. 

Like a place to live…a safe, perhaps happy place…where he could be himself and not fear backlash and misjudgement. Technically, he had no one else to please here, no phony shows to attend to, no fake smiles to paint on his face just to help his parents sleep better at night. Here, he could indulge a little, all without the constraints and shackles of law and social expectations.

Abrupt in how it clashed against the horizon, thunder rolled again, louder this time, a low and holy growl that vibrated the stone behind them. Droplets raced down the overhang in rivulets, threading like tears along the rock, falling onto their boots, soaking their fingers, spraying into their hair. 

Accepting it, Cloud smiled and gingerly lifted his face slightly, letting the rain catch his brow, trail down his cheekbone. Meanwhile, Sephiroth calmly glanced at him, signifying plenty of strange things with that look alone. But their eyes caught for longer than necessary, in the way not to begin a feast within a spark—but a glow. Long-burning. Smoldered and hauntingly silent as if two rivals were about to embark on a novel journey.

The moment held them…no, it mostly saturated them. The jungle around them wasn’t just watching anymore, it was witnessing their moment as they lingered longer in their unique, sacred quiet, the bed of discovery, pondering, and feeling welling up to conflict with whatever origins of countenance they had ingrained. 

The sacred stillness held them a while longer, nestled within the curve of stone like two seeds tucked deep in soil. The roar of the storm swelled and softened in waves, a vast breath exhaled by the heavens. Rain sheeted down the jungle, painting rivulets onto the bark, soaking leaves until they gleamed like mirrors made of emerald. Time became unfixed—stretched thin like gauze, each heartbeat a steady anchor in the wild song of sky and earth.

Though at the zenith of odds, an uncanny state of nirvana and camaraderie fastened onto Cloud and Sephiroth, chaining them to the sparse seconds. Even if they’d wanted to do it, neither man moved. The essence of time glued them together, warm, gooey, but also sharp, arcane, and crisply cresting into muscles, bones, and blood. 

A magnitude and wealth of emotional contribution zapped into Cloud when he felt the press of a rough, broad shoulder leaning into his side heavier, but not from weariness now—from presence. It was dominated by the kind of closeness that didn’t ask to prevail, nor did it take, but shared closeness and tranquility. A low rumble coursed through the sky—not angry or fierce, just deeply resounding, like the final note of an old hymn.

Hugging everything in plain sight with dew drops, slowly, almost imperceptibly, the storm began to unlace its magnificent grasp and power over all tangible things.

The rain softened from wild and messy cannonfire to a clean rhythm. No longer a siege, but a lullaby which was steady and consistent to echo back the plopping sounds gracing the soil. Each drop found its place—on moss, crooked roots, on the curled leaves of flowering vines that bowed like dancers at curtain’s close. Mist drifted low along the ground now, curling and folding like breath made visible, weaving around their ankles as they rose.

Phantoms emerged from the hollow like dreamers waking, blinking through veils of steam and drizzle. Bedazzled specters floated around as the jungle was changed in the aftermath—not stripped, but cleansed with the promise and praxis of rebirth. A deeper green pulsed from every leaf, the scent of rain-soaked life clinging to every surface. Insects began to hum again, tentative at first, then braver, their whimsical chorus rising like curiosity returning tenfold in bombast.

Idly, as they were seated beneath a humongous tree to view it all, their boots squelched softly into the moss, and they didn’t rush the rush of their next steps. The air was heavy, yes, but not oppressive—marinating with renewal. Between the trees, persistent raindrops still clung to branches like beads on prayer strings. Light shimmered wonderfully in puddles of various sizes, casting gentle gold onto their faces as they passed beneath a gap in the canopy.

Daring to do so when he felt he had the gumption, Cloud glanced up, his wet lashes fanning his cheeks, and after a coquettish moment, he finally caught Sephiroth’s gaze. There wasn’t a smile exactly—just something open in his expression, though indelible. Something newly vulnerable had left its mark there…not too soft, but akin to the way bark sometimes peeled back to reveal the brightness of purity underneath.

The sea of provocative yearning had already opened so vast and wide. There was an imperial language enough in the way they once walked shoulder to shoulder, hands almost brushing as the mist pooled between trunks. It carried through until now, especially whenever Cloud tried patting himself dry, only to pause and intentionally glide his hand across Sephiroth’s leg, just to extend a reason to touch the alpha.

And above them, the last drops fell—not harsh, but reverent, as if the encroaching storm itself had bowed in recognition of what had been quietly, irrevocably changed. The universe pivoted, its developing axis capable of being retrenched to satiate both Cloud and Sephiroth without any liabilities.

All of it was too dangerous to embrace, especially the intangible, the will to allow his companion the compelling allure of whispers, frost, and rippling glass to work its elusive magic upon anyone he set his sights on.

Evening unraveled across the canopy like spilled ink, the vibrant greens of the jungle dimming into shadowed hues of blue and charcoal. The last of the rain fell in soft pinpricks, a lullaby rhythm tapping gently on broad leaves overhead. The air, once thick and warm, began to cool—subtly at first, then with a breeze that slinked through the undergrowth like a hush given form and raw substance.

Stones shooting coldness into Cloud’s spine and hips forced him to sit up after another break, navigating his new position beside a cluster of trees bent inward as though forming a natural alcove. Moss-lined stone curved beneath his boots, and above, the boughs arched tight, forming a vaulted ceiling of dripping leaves, darkening by the minute.

Each breath misted faintly now with the slow encroachment of cold—not biting, but present enough to seek comfort. The cycle of day to nightfall wasn’t a force he could handle, but he didn’t feel like a victim of the dark either.

“Time flies here, huh?” Cloud chuckled while he shivered once, almost sheepishly, and then gave another small laugh under his breath. “I feel like I’ve been here already for a few weeks!”

Whether Sephiroth emitted a chuckle or a grunt was immaterial. He didn’t even offer a muted form of griping while he reached out and drew Cloud close—not commanding, not urgent, just to ensure Cloud stayed there by his side. It was effortless, like gravity had simply guided them into alignment. Their arms fit easily around each other, bodies molded into the curve of the moment. Damp clothes pressed together, and still, there was warmth blooming at every point they touched, as if they were meant to fit together seamlessly. 

Suffocating, it was…shared heat. It was ignition, passion flaming and whirring apart the gears of self-composure, if Cloud even had any left.

Envisioning that he was chest to chest with Sephiroth, the inexperienced omega could feel the steady thud of the other man’s heart—solid, anchoring him to a safe place like home. His own beat ran quicker, though not from exertion anymore, but anticipation swirled in tenderness. The closeness wasn’t desperate. It was reverent, as if both individuals knew something was unfolding here, just below the surface of words, looks, gestures, stolen breaths.

A hush settled over the world, the kind smeared only twilight, bathed in the type of wilderness the jungle could carry. Fireflies began to emerge like falling stars reversing direction—glimmering in the thickening dark. One flitted near their faces, hovering briefly between them before drifting upward, its wings slamming and humming along with the tempo of the other nocturnal insects chirping away to their own bright melodies.

Boldly taking any chance he could, still without words, Sephiroth stunned Cloud as he gently lifted a hand to brush a wet curl from the younger man’s golden brow. Gingerly, his long fingers moved to the side and then lingered at his temple, just long enough to imprint reality and safety in one measure . In that moment, the jungle didn’t feel foreign…not when Sephiroth, someone who was made to be one and whole with it was now caressing Cloud. 

There wasn’t a fortress here, but the contact transported Cloud instantly to a resplendent realm like a living cathedral. The abode within his mind was now giving quiet blessing to the joining of two hearts that had circled each other through silence and storm, and he automatically closed his eyes, damn near close to purring in glee with each up and down stroke Sephiroth’s hand brought him.

The air in the space between them, previously heavy with unspoken anxieties, seemed to take on a new, languid quality the second Sephiroth reached out. There was no urgency in his movement, only a deliberate, calming intent that began to garnish the tense atmosphere with a delicate layer of serenity.

He laid a hand gently on his junior’s forehead, the warmth of his palm a stark, reassuring contrast to the earlier chill of fear. Splayed there and basking in the gold locks, his fingers, almost instinctively, began a slow, soothing pattern, tracing the soft contours of Cloud’s temples and the sides of his head.

Each stroke was a deliberate act of comfort, imbued with a quiet power that began to galvanize a profound relaxation in the other man. The touch was so exquisitely gentle, so devoid of any laxity in its tender precision, that it verged on the incalescent, generating a warmth that radiated deep beneath the skin.

It was a touch that threatened to send his junior spiraling into a deep, contented sleep, a sense of blissful oblivion pulling at the edges of Cloud’s consciousness. An almost ethereal swoon threatened to take hold, his body feeling light and untethered.

Cloud leaned in first—not impulsive, not even intentional at first—but as a response to the sheer warmth, the lull of gravity, and the way time had bent around them. Sephiroth was doing a mighty fine job clearing the liquid spray from the rain off and replacing it with unadulterated warmth he was sorely in need of, so he chased it. 

His forehead touched Sephiroth’s at an odd angle before he stirred out of habit, only making it worse since Sephiroth jolted from the contact. Their noses brushed along the way when they repositioned, misfortune bleeding out. Breath mingled again, not fast, not heavy, just steady—like they were building something sacred from the air between them, but once more, Cloud yanked back and left a baffled Sephiroth studying his own palm.

Burning still as if he’d been doused in boiling oil after such a gentle touch from someone rather stern and austere, Cloud’s cheeks flared, and as he coughed to clear his anxieties, he squirmed on the spot. Reimagining the event which had just transpired, he added his own twist to it and nearly felt delirious enough to beg for more.

A delicious, almost fulsome contentment bloomed, rendering him utterly addicted to the flavorful touch. From the point of contact, fulgorous sparks seemed to emanate, dancing across his scalp and cascading downwards. These tiny, electric shivers radiated across his entire torso, a subtle yet insistent current that spoke of both profound relief and an undeniable, tender hunger for more of this exquisite solace. 

In that moment which had ended too soon and ruptured his equilibrium, Cloud found it once more in the world outside. A mere reflection and a sad shade compared to what he had before, he still cherished their shared bubble of tranquility even as it faded, leaving only the profound intimacy of the touch, a silent language of care and unspoken devotion.

As it stood, Sephiroth perfectly knew how to seduce someone, even if he really wasn’t intending to do so, and it drove Cloud up the walls and plummeting into the last level of a deep, dark hole near hell itself.

In the growing dark, the charismatic alpha finally spoke. Just a whisper, barely more than a breath, and it almost went unheard when Cloud’s eyes drooped, his body meshing with the tranquil lull and promise of sweet sleep with heat always provided.

Though with a tardy pace and deep hum, Sephiroth commented, “Everything feels different now.”

It was a randomly produced though intriguing comment to which Cloud replied with the faintest smile, his voice hushed but sure of how he felt. “It’s because we finally stopped pretending it wasn’t. Sometimes, it’s fine to just chill and go with the flow, even in a crazy place like this where everything is out to kill us.”

Then, they just stayed—arms around one another, a move initiated by a no longer diffident Cloud as he hugged Sephiroth like he would a body pillow. Using him as his support, Cloud anchored himself further and deeper in warmth, surrounded by jungle mist and the occasional crackle of leaves, as night drew its velvet curtain slowly across the sky. Nothing more needed to be explored and analyzed by that moment in the still ambiance, but he could tell that a million questions went warring within Sephiroth just by how tense his body was. 

At least the storm had passed, but something far deeper had just begun, the seeds already sown by two pairs of hands rather than one, even if there was one slightly reticent participant in the act.

:-----: :-----:

Night unfurled fully now across the land, dipping the jungle into a prominent, indigo hush, but their warmth remained a quiet defiance against the chill slowly threading through the air. A few lingering drops still fell from the canopy—not plagued by icy rain anymore, but shared devotion of rejuvenation—soft plinks echoing into the underbrush like notes from a forgotten lullaby.

Cloud never let go of Sephiroth, and to his imminent glee, Sephiroth didn’t appear to request separation either.

Lacking more of the type of design quality necessary to bolster and trap heat, Cloud’s jacket, damp and clinging, was opened and drawn partially around them both, a small, almost shy cocoon. Within it, the heat between their bodies bloomed—not a fire, but an ember catching slowly. Amazed to find such a comfortable spot on the solid, cold ground, Cloud pressed his cheek lightly to Sephiroth’s thick collarbone, feeling every subtle shift of breath, the warm cadence of presence that held himself steadier than his own thoughts.

Around them, the jungle adjusted to night, amping up the decent dose of music that occasionally wandered into his tangential dreams. Cicadas began to pulse their harmonious tunes in hypnotic rhythm. Somewhere in the distance, frogs croaked low like throat-song. Leaves glistened in the low light—silver-edged, mysterious—and tiny glowing insects drifted lazily in the humid air, painting motion into the darkness like soft sparks.

Debating if this was the right thing to do, fully awake after a few hours of deep rest, Cloud tilted his head up, just slightly, eyeing Sephiroth’s mouth twitching. Their noses brushed again when the alpha turned to glance at him, and this time, the look Cloud held wasn’t of decision, but bravery. Composed not of something new, but something known and long-carried, the kiss he imagined they shared came rushed and unguarded in his mind, a shared breath drawn from the center of the forest itself. 

Lips would mesh perfectly, saliva traded in measured increments to ensure they were addicted to the taste of one another rather than to smother passion. Their mouths would move slowly before exchanging nibbles, as if savoring not only the softness but the sheer astonishment that such stillness could hold something so tender, so electric.

It was a shame that he could be courageous enough to picture it, but never take it for himself. The best he could scrounge together was dreaming side by side in the new haven of green and gold, reverting to his earlier teenage years instead of moving on to adulthood.

Firelight certainly enhanced desire as he studied Sephiroth’s features properly and at closer angles, but the flare inside his heart matched the swelling of his veins and another demanding member in question more so than ever. Two hearts no longer were set on orbiting, but had arrived to flagrantly obvious devotion.

Night passed in soft murmurs, with nothing but the jungle’s lullaby to mark the turning of time—a rustle here, a distant splash there, the quiet rhythm of insects tracing songs against the dark. Their newest shelter, still cradled in ferns and stone, was warmed by the slow exhale of the enticing form of sleeping bodies curled close, legs tangled under the shared drape of a jacket now damp only around the edges.

When he finally pulled away from staring Sephiroth down as if he were some rare animal, there was no need to name it. The jungle, the storm, the silence—all had already whispered it for Cloud to be more aware, cautious, and perhaps prudent if it meant saving himself.

Rather than nestling into each other again, quiet as prayer, and letting the night hold them, they simultaneously drew away, eyes surveying ahead and to the side as they both began massaging and rolling their limbs to break themselves out of the stupor and statuesque precipice.

Swallowing and feeling his throat burning a tad less, but with his nose still runny, Cloud bemoaned, “Still feeling like crap.” 

Since he was too embedded in his own woes, to get away from them, when he raised his thin arms and stretched out of his cramped spot, he accidentally roused more air around himself, scenting something not too pleasant emanating from his armpits. Double-checking if it really was wafting off his own form, he smelled the right one and then the left for comparison, groaning when he did indeed confirm that he was badly reeking.

Of course. This wasn’t a magical, cryptic mystery of the world. He hadn’t really bathed in days, and the thought of sleeping in his own funk was enough to send his stomach churning.

Coyly, when he remembered that he wasn’t alone, he lowered his arms, and once he recovered from the awkward look Sephiroth tossed his way, he blinked and purred, “Sorry. I just realized I’m…uh, in need of a bath. Hehe. I don’t suppose you would know where I could get one?”

Sephiroth strangely never smelled too bad. Even after having a go at bizarre creatures, chucking and flipping them in the mud, kicking up a sweat under the broiling sun, trekking all around the uneven mounds and slopes of the woods, he really had no potent stench, which meant he definitely had ways of cleansing himself. Cloud was highly interested in learning of those methods, and he thankfully didn’t have to wait on bated breath for long.

More courtly about the subject, Sephiroth threw back with a raised eyebrow that lacked any acerbic disposition, “Steam wells. Many hot pools…not far from here.”

“Steaming pools? Nice!” Cheery, Cloud sat up on his knees, hands clasped by his chest to steady his racing heart. Excited beyond all reason, the enthused male sang on, “Sounds like your own natural Onsen, huh?”

Twitching his head, Sephiroth began to frown darkly, clearly lost in translation, but it wasn’t much of a threat to Cloud’s serendipity. He was always one to snatch fortuity and create his own semblances of felicity, scarce as they were, so he sighed, rubbing his entire face before standing to his full height.

“Nevermind,” the intrepid male began, holding out his hand for Sephiroth, but to beckon rather than ease him off the ground. “Show me where it is, because I really don’t want to smell like this all the time.”

The perverted voices in Cloud’s head thankfully kept themselves and their bland, insipid comments out of the ordeal when Sephiroth nodded and began to initiate the short, brisk walk towards the area in question. Leading the way, as calm and refreshing as the soothing night was, when it pressed in over and around his head in a delightful way to relieve pressure, Cloud couldn’t help but ground himself in the serene atmosphere.

A few times during the hike, Cloud played with sticks and stones, and then tickled himself with leaves he’d plucked from the tall, dark green grass. Everything had a blue-green tinge in the dark, and as the full moon bore down upon them, it lit the way up to a new zone populated by bushes quite nicely. 

All bugs and sounds of nature seemed to serenade them as they walked on, and Cloud reached out and touched the greenery and foliage while the majority of it danced along the soles of his feet. No longer wearing his boots as they skidded to a stop, the cool, refreshing ground added on to the lovely experiences. The view was scenic and peaceful, and as they both padded along the length of the path, Sephiroth suddenly halted to take a long look through the darkness.

A few times, as out of character as it happened to be for his nature, he longed to reach out and grab Sephiroth’s hand. Burning it into his vision and bolstering it by the course of his fruitful imagination, he repeatedly pictured himself snatching Sephiroth’s hand in his own dainty one, as if being one with a lover.

Demure as he was acting, he felt it getting worse, the bubbling temperatures having little to do with the new puffs of steam shooting all around the tightly clustered bushes they’d now happened upon after another ten or so minutes of pacing. 

That was the ultimate genesis for the absurdity. After glancing at Sephiroth’s hands and finding them too beautiful, against his control, Cloud did extend his own arm and lightly nudge Sephiroth’s left forearm. Once contact was established, every butterfly, gooey, warm feeling ever described by authors and poets did bend and warp time. Emotions so syrupy and surreal, he felt giddy and encouraged to do more since Sephiroth had yet to react with derision at least. 

Unfortunately, when he tried acting slick to slide his hand from the wrist to loop their fingers, Sephiroth snapped up and yanked his arm away. 

Expressions dry but on alert, he stretched his neck, uptight as he grunted in alarm, “What?”

Caught in limbo while his entire hand tingled from simply ghosting it across Sephiroth’s supple, rejuvenating skin, Cloud audibly gulped as he then offered in whatever pathetic way he could, “I saw a…bug. Was just…yeah.”

Mustering himself for more quiet on the way when he was swift to detect the lie, Sephiroth barely repressed a crude snort as he then turned back to face the round dip in the earth, the opening parting when mist pushed away to reveal one of many enormous pools.

Nestled within the dense, nocturnal embrace of the woods, one of the larger, natural pools of warm water beckoned, a clandestine haven that offered an irresistible invitation to both senses and soul. Its layout was an organic masterpiece, an oval basin carved naturally into the earth, roughly twenty feet in its longest diameter, tapering gracefully towards a depth that plummeted to a tantalizing twelve feet at its center.

This profound depth rendered it profoundly alluring for both languid floating and adventurous exploration, its unseen bottom hinting at submerged secrets begging to be unearthed.

The textures of its edges were a study in natural artistry. Smooth, water-worn boulders, dark and glistening, formed a gentle lip, seamlessly transitioning into the surrounding earth. Just beneath the surface, the rock face descended steeply, occasionally broken by ledges carpeted in a fine, silken algae, a texture that promised a curious tactile sensation for probing toes.

The predominant colors were deep, earthy tones–the rich, almost black obsidian of the wet stone, the velvety emerald of the moss that clung tenaciously to every crevice, and the muted olive of submerged weeds that swayed in the gentle currents.

In the middle of the night, under the overarching canopy of leaves, the pool became a mesmerizing focal point. It was a beacon of seductive warmth and light, standing out against the deeper, more uniform blackness of the surrounding foliage. A delicate, pearlescent steam bubbled off its shiny surface, rising in diaphanous tendrils that caught the ambient moonlight, giving the water an almost otherworldly glow.

The top, remarkably smooth and perfectly planar, was occasionally disturbed by the soft, sensual dance of ripples and tiny waves, created by unseen subterranean currents or the gentle drift of the rising steam itself.

The ambiance was a testament to nature’s profound unity. From the unseen depths of the surrounding bushes and trees, the nocturnal symphony of the woods began its performance, soft, but then enchanted by beauty. The rhythmic chirps and trills of crickets, the erratic buzzing of unseen insects, and the haunting, ethereal calls of nocturnal birds wove together into a harmonic blend, a constant, low murmur that underscored the serene tranquility of the pool. 

The very air around the pool was heavy with the rich, earthy scent of damp soil and decaying leaves, interspersed with the cleaner, mineral tang of the warm water. Surrounding the glorious pool, the irregular shapes of moss-laden rocks, the sinuous forms of wild ferns, and the shadowy masses of diverse, typical plants formed a natural, protective amphitheater, completing the experience as an unblemished gift of nature.

Still acting as if he’d been doused in boiling oil rather than briefly touched, Cloud held onto his limb to shield himself without much aplomb, eyebrows tightly knotted. Staring up and down at Sephiroth several times, he backed away, making room for Sephiroth to slide around him as soon as they reached the end of their journey and had approached the large baths of the forest. 

In confusion, as Sephiroth exposed his back before Cloud, while scouring the environment in case other beasts were lurking, Cloud started to bemoan breathlessly, “Yikes! After letting me hug you for a few hours, now we’re back to the cold shoulder technique?” 

The unfathomable, murky water he had to wade both metaphorically and literally was more so irritating than scary, but at least the actual water itself looked so clean. Transparency begged him to just hop right in with his clothes, but he knew better, waiting for Sephiroth as the cautious alpha stood on alert, glancing and inspecting everything.

Still needing to vent, Cloud groused not too loudly, “I recall so many years ago, I had to take swimming classes in school every other week, and I knew from then how awkward and not to mention gross it actually is to share the same water with a dozen other sweaty, smelly kids! Err, not that you’re sweaty and smelly, you know! I never would think and say that! I just hope, you know, that you will let me go in here by myself? You can go swimming in another one of these pools, because I’ve so far counted like seven! Ha! Lucky number seven! This is good! This—”

Intervening quickly, Sephiroth snarled madly, “Shut the hell up, Cloud.”

Not even capable of collecting his jaw off the ground, Cloud hung back in displays of glee rather than complete awe, skin covered in needle points that had seldom to do with the overpowering mist and heat wafting from the many pools steaming around.

“Gaia, I’m so amazing to be around that I somehow already taught a caveman how to swear at me. Skills.”

Infuriated with his fumbling, Sephiroth moved toward the edge of the biggest of the pools and knelt, while Cloud was stuck wading through degradation and insults based on his lack of finesse. The volatile thoughts and velocity of his confusion ended as soon as he accidentally turned to watch his most significant horrors coming to life before his very eyes; Sephiroth changing out of his clothes, shredding off every layer possible, including what appeared to be a dark bundle of cloth which had to be his ‘underwear’.

“Oh my entire god! You’re naked!”

The space around them had the chill of forgotten spaces within modern invention—clean this wasn’t a shower room Cloud could hide in. Out in the open, there were no clammy tiled walls slick with faint echoes of past conversations and splashed water, but yards of open zones waiting.

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead in his mind in a lucent hum, unrelenting in their white intensity, casting angular shadows across the logs and stones like stage lights on a minimalist set. Everything was too damn perfect, much like a scene directly out of a romance movie, yet he couldn’t do much but turn away.

Nearly crashing into a tree before himself, Cloud frowned, but as he squinted ahead into the darkness while an owl hooted nearby in a tree, he saw that Sephiroth was standing tall and statuesque. 

What was going on? Was this a dream?

It didn’t appear to be when he checked to confirm his suspicions breaking off to the most exquisite fantasy lived out…

Long hair resting past his ass cheeks and sadly hiding the toned globes, Sephiroth stretched upwards, and as a hungry Cloud watched in silence, he took off the rest of his gear tied to his thighs and ankles. At first, with all the sluggishness clogging his veins, Cloud assumed he was just going to strip down to his shorts to swim easily, but Sephiroth really had gone and surprised each and every single one of his doubts by stripping right now to his bare skin. 

His clothes fell away from his strong, masculine body like leaves falling off branches of trees in the autumn season. In seconds, he really stood bare naked, and as every alert voice began lightly whispering questions back and forth in the recesses of his skull, Cloud scowled deeply to the point where it hurt his facial muscles.

This damn man stood barefoot on the cold soil, his thick hair parting when the wind gushed on. Creating the perfect image of desirable manhood and art, his locks slung over one shoulder, already accentuating his raw form. His limbs were lean and tensed, his skin pebbled slightly from the forest’s almost volcanic air as he froze and even stopped breathing. 

There was something almost morbidly fascinating about Sephiroth in that moment, as though he were observing a painting not meant for public display. Torso built for agility and truly sheer strength, where Cloud was svelte, his frame narrow and pliable, Sephiroth was built to noble savagery. Each motion made by his breathing was precise but unselfconscious, unaware of the eyes that now followed the unfurling lines of his body like scripture to worship him.

Broad back certainly holding deeply cut scars which had long since faded and healed over, the chiseled cords and sinew flexed when he shifted until he held his posture. With the vacillating awkwardness of someone unsure whether to sit down or stay standing, he acted as if he were precariously perched on the edge of something invisible—perhaps shame, perhaps fascination, and for many good reasons where Cloud was concerned.

There was no sense in arguing, not when Sephiroth leapt up gracefully and then dove right into the water, a large ‘splash’ sounding out next. The beauty of the dark waters rippling beneath the moonlight gave off a luminous after-glow of black, blue, grey, and white. The hues were radiant as the distorted images and reflections faced Cloud to harmonize unity. Sephiroth suddenly burst forth through the water after his deep dive, disturbing it once more before it settled.

Next to himself with agony and torture, not yet aware of the rest of his surroundings, Cloud knew he had no other choice when Sephiroth tossed him a glare and beckoned to him with a wave. 

Hands and fingers doing the job for him, he was halfway undressed, pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his torso in segments—the pale line of his stomach, the birdlike angles of his ribs, the small of his back, curving in with an almost gaminesque fragility. His shorts were still in his hand, the rest of his divested apparel in a pile at his feet, revealing the curvature, dainty and slim, but not in the way a woman’s torso was, yet still so ravishing and elegant in design.

Burning with mortification when he felt Sephiroth steadily studying him, Cloud shut his eyes, holding fiercely onto his underwear since it was the last barrier he truly had left before being so vulnerable and exposed to another person for the first time in his life. He really did tremble under Sephiroth’s intense gaze, but a part of himself hoped that the alpha was ogling, mouth wrenching open as he feasted on Cloud’s wondrous features.

It didn’t appear to be the case when he checked, with Sephiroth maintaining a more detached, professional sort of gleam in his eyes, thankfully somehow a gentleman not to stare at Cloud’s thighs and crotch.

Shuddering from head to toe, fingers tugging the elastic band of his underwear, Cloud emitted a painful sound and then coherently cried, “I don’t wanna get in with you! Please! This is so awkward for me!”

Practically nude aside from his flimsy underwear which was close to peeling off regardless of what he was spewing, Cloud felt it first like a typhoon curling low in his stomach, slow but gathering, pulling at something primal and unwelcome. His mind flooded with thoughts that refused to remain innocuous, instantly bringing out more obscene fantasies he’d normally entertained with other men of his yearnings. 

Something succulent in how Sephiroth’s body moved brought a tender lucency to his skin, like it was too pure, too soft, too uncorrupted by bulk or pretension. There was no equivocation now; his thoughts had turned, unmistakably, and he knew it, but he also longed for it…to possess and be possessed by this monumental alpha in his sexual prime.

Sticking out like a sore thumb however while Sephiroth stayed afloat, Cloud stood frozen, his jacket clutched to his side like a forgotten prop. His stare had gone slack with reverie, his shoulder propped against the tree adjacent to the next boiling pool as he straightened up. Sucking in a breath and holding it, he knew he was wasting time, the tremors of a low growl Sephiroth produced warning him of just that.

Without wasting more time, Cloud hurried on to finish with his task of neatly placing his clothes on a few rocks, when he suddenly noticed Sephiroth leaning closer and immediately stopped. In the middle of undressing, he then turned his head to get a better, broader scope of view, slowly, just enough to catch the slant of Sephiroth’s gaze from the corner of his eye to confirm that Sephiroth had managed to approach him without being noticed earlier.

“What the hell?” Cloud asked, voice sharp as a sliver of broken tile. Clutching his jacket closer and even using it to shield his upper body now that Sephiroth was indeed out of the water, he winced as he crept back to hide behind a tree trunk. “What’s the matter with you? How’d you sneak up on me so fast?!”

Tilting his head like a lost dog, a soaked, but out of water Sephiroth blinked, startled back into himself. “What?”

“You were watching me.” Irritated to even declare that fact, Cloud awkwardly bent down and yanked his jacket from almost hitting the ground, wrapping it quickly around his waist with all the fervor of a man barricading himself. “Like...seriously watching, a-and how did you get out of the pool so fast without making a sound?”

Sephiroth naked and dripping with water wasn’t any less sexy than Sephiroth sweating off anger and aggression as he did in combat. Liquid silver locks soaked and hanging by his front, though it barely did well to conceal his gigantic cock, Cloud only caught a glimpse of it, rounding behind the tree just to ensure he wouldn’t be tempted to take an eyeful. Tantalizing as it was, if he saw Sephiroth’s cock up close, he knew he was going to go ballistic and seriously end up jumping the dude after hours of touching, rubbing, stroking, nuzzling.

Erasing the image of Sephiroth’s flat, but well muscled belly from his brain was impossible, so he stopped trying. Although the man was sporting bruises and cuts from many recent encounters, he wasn’t any less attractive because of them. Scars and wounds at times made men what they were, desirability shooting sky-high.

Legs going on for days were mighty fine, as were his arms and abs even in a relaxed form. He was cut right out of a male model magazine and charmed to life with the refreshingly glorious breath of truly spectacular sexuality and dominance anyone should’ve desired.

Recalling Cloud’s previous statement, Sephiroth scoffed, too fast, too loud. Nose in the air snobbishly, his eyes glistened as he beckoned to Cloud again. “Water warm. Come.”

Biting his tongue and knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere with the obvious statements linking to sex, Cloud screwed his eyes shut, fists equally as tense and tight. A bit on the dramatic side, he yelped, “I will whenever I’m ready! Leave me alone!”

Hell, it just so happened that humans were blighted with the hedonic treadmill and status seeking at a dozen other toxic traits. But that seemed totally contingent on culture and human biology. There was no reason to think it was inherent to consciousness or the universe, but the facts stood that Sephiroth had already obeyed, his footprints mashed in the grass and soil, leading up to the edge of the pool he once more basked right into.

In full and vehement disapproval, Cloud stepped back behind the cover of the dark tree, eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed red with either fury or embarrassment—it was impossible to say. Glancing around his own vicinity as if others were also peering at him, he turned even more scarlet, hands moving under the waistband of his clothes as he began sliding his underwear down his thighs and ankles before stepping out of them nervously.

Sephiroth was watching still as if he wanted to sketch him while he stood, but Cloud was just as keenly swift to cover his member with both hands before completely closing in on the edge of the pool. Nervous as Cloud was, he gazed behind himself now, trying to regain control, his voice, usually confident, now forced into casual tones that didn’t quite fit the occasion. 

“You’re overthinking all of this, Cloud,” he tried convincing himself. “I spaced out and maybe lost time. Besides, people glance. It’s not illegal to look at another person.”

“Kay,” Cloud announced, toes eating up the space and dipping into the water, though not before he gave out a jerk of a perfunctory nod at Sephiroth and acted too moody. “Don’t look at me while I wash myself, else I’m going into another pool.”

Combative, Sephiroth argued immediately, “Not looking. Never looked.”

Stringent as he decided he had to be for the situation, golden hair falling over his forehead and adding a sense of mysterious shadow to his eyes, Cloud’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “It wasn’t a glance. You looked at me like I was some kind of...like you were studying me. Don’t play dumb.”

“I wasn’t,” Sephiroth orated, shrugging with a practiced malleability. His whole posture became something evasive, something shifting as he waved Cloud’s concerns off and shook his head. “Cloud still sick. Imagines things. Wrong things.”

Clasping onto his lap as if it could save his life, Cloud scoffed, incredulous, though instantly cruel as he shot back, “I’m making it weird then? I’m imagining things? Piss off, dude!”

Sephiroth’s jaw twitched, fingers tightening around the thick bundle of drenched hair still hanging from his shoulder like a shield. This time, he didn’t speak, but the deadly glow shooting from his slanted pupils and narrowing eyelids encouraged Cloud to think twice about flinging more insults and hateful epithets.

Correcting his wayward ways before Sephiroth did it for him, Cloud swayed and lowered his vocal volume tremendously. “Sephiroth. Look, I get it. You’re self-conscious. Whatever. I’m not trying to be licentious here. This is just two guys going for a night swim.”

Biting his lower lip, Cloud peered over the top of the huge body of water, his expression tight, unsettled. Knowing he was lying, he cringed at his own musings when they came.

“Yeah, well...don’t be weird yourself, Cloud. Alright?”

For a moment, the silence in the area became deafening. Just the distant splash of the other pools beyond the bushy walls was heard, the occasional hoot, growl, pile of leaves rustling, branches moving, all of it soon shaking Sephiroth and Cloud. The two men stood there—one behind a barrier of his own limbs, the other behind a mask of nonchalance—each unwilling to take the next step toward honesty or retreat.

Finally, with an internal snap, Sephiroth shifted, gradually turning away, kicking off to the other side of the enormous pool. “Let’s swim,” he suggested flatly, biting on the insides of his cheeks and nodding at Cloud to break off the friction mounting.

Incredulous and skeptical as he kept his distance, Cloud didn’t answer right away. When he did after more strange birds blasted on above the protective canopies, his voice was clipped, wary. “Yeah. Sure. Weirdo.”

Although his feet made the choice for him, walking out and ready to slide in, the tension clung to himself like a second skin—pliable, but impossible to shed. 

The slap of his own bare, slightly wet feet against rocks echoed down the first slope as Cloud trailed a few paces behind where Sephiroth had tread, keeping his eyes fixed ahead with a deliberate intensity. The air was shifting now, warming, thickening with humidity as he successfully passed down into a more effective bathing area, close to sighing in abject relief when the water coiled up to his throat, smearing heat he needed so badly.

Steam ghosted across his field of vision like slow-moving phantoms, curling against the pale wooden slats of other ropes, bridges, and trees in the distance, and beading on the grassy panes that lined the far horizon, beyond which the outdoor onsen steamed like a bowl of quiet fire around the decorative foliage.

Inside the shared washing station, Cloud stood and started the almost ritualistic spiral, hiding himself far from Sephiroth. Hands now flying to cover his head and face with the first splash of water, he dipped down and then quickly bobbed back to the surface. The scent was clean and herbal, something sharp and slightly minty cutting through the heat, clinging to the back of Cloud’s throat. Each time he inhaled, now that Cloud’s pores weren’t covered by his clothes, he could scent his pure aroma much better.

Dirt and grim fell and came off himself easier in this heat, but he could always see Sephiroth nearby. Knowing he was completely nude and driven insane by it, at times, Cloud struggled to move, but eventually found his spot across from the alpha, folding his woes and setting them all aside with mechanical care. His reflection in the mirror essence of the settling water was vague through the mist, warped slightly by condensation, transmuting into something foreign. It didn’t feel like him. Not exactly.

Sighing for the second time in minutes, Cloud cupped more water in his hands and hurried to splash it over his chest, the heat biting into his skin—first shocking, then soothing, like punishment turned into balm. He scrubbed himself robotically, as if cleanliness might bleach out whatever strange impulse had coiled into himself earlier. Jumpy and skittish as the water sloshed around, his body felt like it was covered in needles even as innocent things touched it.

“What the hell is wrong with me?”

That thought had been looping in his mind since Cloud’s own voice snapped across the pool like a cracking whip. The way he’d been staring at Sephiroth hadn’t been lust, not in the crude, obvious sense, but it hadn’t been innocent, either. It was somewhere in the middle—some liminal, vacuous place where fascination tilted into hunger and beauty became utterly dangerous to behold.

Vividly, though he didn’t try to do so, Cloud remembered the angle of Sephiroth’s spine, the slight inward curve at his waist, the way his skin stretched so seamlessly over his frame. His own would always be so svelte and boyish, like something unfinished but divine. Fragile. Precarious. Still, Sephiroth’s form was a thing he didn’t realize he wanted to touch until he already was, at least with his vagarish eyes.

Stomach rolling at the thought of what else he wanted to do to Sephiroth now that they were shrouded by pure water, Cloud fought to keep still as he rinsed his arms, rubbed his neck, aiming to clean out the vulgar thoughts along with the suds spiraling down the drain of insanity.

Hopelessly confused, he swore to himself, “I wasn’t supposed to notice. Not him. Not like that.”

He vacillated between self-loathing and self-denial, scared to spoil the moment now that Sephiroth had settled and wasn’t provoked. Maybe he hadn’t really been watching. Maybe they’d both overreacted. Or maybe Cloud had been studying his companion the way one might examine a flame—fascinated by the heat, not realizing until too late how close he’d gotten to being burned.

Here he was, playing with fire, but he loved it enough not to stop.