Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In Plain Sight 

Life was quite tedious at times when someone was immediately given anything they wanted and asked for without consequence. People-pleasers, friends who always fought to impress, a regular abundance of money, all of it became stale and banal in no time. A copious amount of wealth and consistent access to many resources certainly provided different opportunities, but they all turned sour and dry eventually.

Maybe it would’ve been different if his parents weren’t busy and away from home all the time. Perhaps he had to come up with newer, clever ways to annoy them and the house maids. Either way, since birth, Cloud Strife knew he’d been handed things normal folks had to kill themselves for, but none of it really mattered, nor was any of it exculpatory anymore. 

Born with a golden spoon in his mouth, he’d played with every toy from any shop before he turned six. Video games were boring in his early teenage years, and it didn’t help that he had to attend rich, private schools. At least he’d met interesting kids somewhat closer to his socio-economic level, but life lessons warped and twisted those ‘friendships’ out of his control.

Before fifteen, Cloud realized that while polite and maintaining decent smiles and wondrous spirits, the majority of his friends only kept him around because of what he could offer them, especially in terms of financial rewards. His parents’ 5.5 million gil mansion became a hotspot for many swimming pool parties in the summers, and practically a clubhouse all the other months of the year. Sure, one could get lost more than ten times in that mammoth building, but to Cloud, it was just an empty place.

Due to his parents’ prestigious careers, he’d almost been raised by relatives and the maids, which made him rather resentful and distant. Holidays were spent alone, his father especially assuming that extra cash and many credit cards would keep him happy and sustained in his absence. His mother also knew how to guilt-trip her way around his temper, buying his better mood with trinkets he didn’t really value and need. 

Left to his own devices, as he grew older, Cloud gradually became colder and got into more trouble. Skipping classes became a regular occurrence, and one he took up with vehement pride. Along with the fervent approval of his friends, he started trying more drugs and alcohol, the parties extending whenever his girlfriends swapped. Never did he really stay loyal to anyone, even dating a few men when it fit his needs and interests.

If only he could find someone who wasn’t so damn annoying and boring. Men and women, it didn’t make much of an impression either way. They were all attached to him until he ceased buying and paying for what they were after. As long as he showered them with material things and money, they donned pleasant, magnanimous masks, and when he stopped that generous flow, their true colors were limitless.

At nineteen, following a typical, whirlwind romance more established for show, Cloud broke up with a classmate named Aerith Gainsborough. Never alone for long, when she went after his ex and best friend, Zack Fair, to even the odds, Cloud immediately chose to pursue Aerith’s friend, Tifa Lockhart. She was a more suitable match for him. Almost as rich, just as cruel towards others, she seemed to understand him more…or so he’d assumed.

The relationship barely lasted for a few months. Right around the beginning of spring, Tifa was rumored to be cheating on him with a few men. Cloud tried to ignore the gossip running about, but he started becoming suspicious when Tifa showed up at his home later and later. The money he gave her was spent within a day or two at the most, and when he started tracking it, he was stunned to discover that she was spending it on other men indeed. 

Confronting her did nothing, really. Tifa was adamant on keeping their relationship ‘open’, and all because she claimed she was quite young, full of energy, and worse, according to her snobbish opinion, Cloud was boring her. Set on her own short fuse, that ‘open’ relationship swiftly changed to her dumping Cloud the moment she found someone else more ‘exciting’. 

People honestly sucked through and through. It wasn’t as if he was a bastion of grace either, but he’d never really pretended that was the case. He simply just liked having her around because she matched his personality, and it was a significant boost to his ego having her hanging on his arm considering how she was the hottest and most desirable girl since grade school. 

Cloud also had a thing about being dumped. Usually, he was the one to initiate all breakups, and he didn’t like the fact that Tifa launched him out of her life too soon. 

Burning for weeks and practically obsessing over ways to get her back, when that failed, at least a few of his lousy friends tried distracting him. Zack took him to many bars and clubs around town, but given how mundane things were, Cloud never could enjoy himself. Plus, Kalm may have been a luxurious place to live in, but lately, due to social services being cut, more of the homeless population could easily be seen around more often.

Frequently, Cloud spotted older, dirty homeless people, some with pets, others with their allies and families milling around. They traveled far beyond downtown, which was quite bizarre, but at least Zack shared a love of distaste and hating on them in high doses.

Granted, a decent human being with strong ethics and valuable morals wouldn’t treat outcasts, misfits, and the less fortunate that way, but it wasn’t Cloud’s fault if being mean to people like that made himself feel better.

Out and about doing absolutely nothing important with Zack instead of focusing on his college applications, Cloud waited until his childhood friend finished seeing his uncle off at the airport. Zack offered to take him to lunch as soon as his uncle’s flight took off, which was a refreshing, rare treat. 

He could somewhat discuss his worries and distance himself physically from Tifa, if only the outer stimuli and circumstances were more optimal. 

The eyes of the looming scavengers were all over them the second they emerged from the busy airport. Hungry, vagarish faces fit rapacious hands constantly outstretched. Within the ruckus, beggars loitered, not sent away or dismayed by Zack’s corrosive sneers. 

Out by the hordes, dozens of vagrants, wandering souls, nameless, though remarkably consistent with the filth besmirching their faces could be found. Their numbers grew when Cloud and Zack drove a few blocks down to a fancy, high-end coffee shop, no doubt waiting for crumbs to be tossed at them.

Pathetic, really. No one had the time of day for them, and something uncanny settled in Cloud’s stomach as he gazed on at them peering over in his direction while he sat outside the coffee shop with Zack. Choosing to engage outside and enjoy the fresh air, they shut out the vultures right after their orders were delivered and Zack started speaking.

“I can’t wait for my uncle to get back from his business trip,” the raven-haired young man chuckled, holding his steaming cup close to his veneer, though never hiding his wide grin. “He’s such a cool dude to be around. Way better than my parents.”

“Ugh, speaking of, I’m not sure what to do this summer,” Cloud began, eyes darting involuntarily to catch movement out of his peripheral view to scan his environment. “I can’t stand it, dude. I just can’t. I’ve been to any country I’ve wanted to see, and this place just brings bad memories.”

“Yeah, not to mention the trash lingering around,” Zack spat, nose curling snobbishly in the air as he glared at a homeless woman dressed in drags as she walked closer to the other tables on the outer perimeter of the shop.

Not really recognizing her, but catching the same few men on the other end of the zone, Cloud sighed in agreement. “Yep. They’re becoming more regular. I wish the government would like, deport them or something.”

“Right? Why else do we pay taxes?” Zack shared in the humor, a growl however bubbling in the back of his throat when another woman came too close.

Wearing a torn, muddy coat, she hugged it to her skeletal frame, head hung as she whispered almost sadly, “Can you spare some change, sir? Please? I h-have a—”

“Last I checked, Kalm wasn’t a charity town, so fuck off,” Zack bit out, pointing crudely to the side and then hatefully cradling his coffee closer, as if the woman would swipe it out of his hands.

Not even bothering to be considerate enough to wait for her to be out of earshot, Cloud griped loudly, “I don’t get it. It’s as if once the snow melts, it brings out all the scumbags. Can’t even go ten steps without running into them. Total trash.”

“That’s why I point and laugh,” Zack offered, taking another sip then and dabbing at his moist lips. “Oh, shit, I almost forgot to mention, Tifa’s holding a party in another week.” 

At once, the early spring day which had unfolded under an auspicious sky seemed to change. The horizon brushed with apricot light that promised felicity at every turn. The air was crisp and clean, bearing the faint sweetness of budding lilacs. A gentle warmth suffused the terrace of the coffee shop, inviting patrons to linger in perfect contentment, but gradually, the ambience melted into something sour and sordid.

Cloud was perched on a wrought-iron chair, his gaze drifting across the somnolent street where storefronts lay in drowsy repose. Like Zack, he cradled a steaming latte, its froth dissipating in the rising sun, but now, he nearly dropped it. 

The few bites he’d taken into a savory sandwich that tasted of fresh basil and ripe tomato now seemed so rotten. Nearby, a pair of vainglorious tourists chattered with garrulous enthusiasm, their laughter punctuating the tranquil morning, soon drowned out when he coughed and shook spasmodically. 

Without warning, a halting screech sliced through the idyllic scents and sounds—his phone’s notification, abrupt and jarring, demanded his attention, but it didn’t measure up to the unsavory news he was hearing. The messenger app, ever feckless in its timing, displayed a headline that felt physically deleterious: calamity abroad, lives upended in an instant.

The news revealed a succession of contemptible betrayals and irrevocable losses, but he had major concerns now. His heart lurched, and the day’s warm glow curdled into something foreign. What had been a gentle ebb of joy turned into a violent surge of dread. 

In that moment, the young man’s mind descended into a downward spiral, a whirlpool of madness, darkness, and malaise overpowering all his senses gradually. The world he had savored unraveled beneath himself, and the morning’s promise dissolved into an abyss of despair when he thought of his most recent ex partying on with her new lover, going on as if he’d never existed.

The febrile paroxysm of agony caused even Zack to glance up from his phone, nudging the edge of the table to rouse Cloud out of his mini-stupor when he’d spent far too much time in pure silence.

“Cloud, people are staring…come on.”

More aware of his surroundings and ever so scurrilous and fractious, Cloud forgot about his sandwich and coffee. Spotting not only the same beggar woman wandering around diagonally and behind himself, there was another somewhat familiar face lingering in the background now as well. Someone Cloud hadn’t personally interacted with much, but a few times, when he’d barely had a second to park and exit his Lexus LC sports car and wander around, another homeless man kept to the shadows.

Strange, how dull individuals so forgettable could also be so unique to nab his attention at the wrong time. 

Perhaps it was because he’d never outright asked for handouts. Maybe it was because he normally hid his face, not on purpose, but because of his long, thick beard and various scarves. This man was an enigmatic magnet in every way, homeless or otherwise.

Clothes quite shabby and baggy, they hardly fit his tall, broad figure. Towering over everyone else and likely six and a half feet, his age was impossible to be determined. Hair color like moonlight, it was becoming oilier and stringy, much like his beard, but it gave him more of the appearance akin to a wizard, oddly. 

Mysterious as one as well, he didn’t seem to favor any hotspots and frequent areas by patterns detectable, but he was always somehow there, then gone in the blink of an eye, blending with the dreary, muggy backdrop as if he were a figment of the imagination and built from purely negative emotions.

Not that Cloud really cared. All he’d been told as a child was to avoid speaking to strangers, but for the moment, he couldn’t ignore the tall wanderer. He’d never spotted him talking to anyone else, and he certainly wasn’t now, but as he remained hunched over a corner by a few dumpsters and another building adjacent to the coffee shop, something twisted through Cloud and made his guts churn.

Shock wasn’t the label he could attribute to the feeling. Fear, disgust, and hatred didn’t even apply. Maybe ‘unease’ was more suitable, but there was something strange about this unknown man regardless of the title and description of feelings. 

Yes, he was dressed in uneven, discolored rags, hair overflowing with grease, matted to his skull. His face was angular, head craned down, but it wasn’t done out of submission. This man often kept his eyes on everyone and everything, a proper person totally aware and not mindless as some homeless addicts were. The flashes of what appeared to be emerald flared around as he scoured and prowled, but he wasn’t doing so like anyone else. 

Usually, the elderly and homeless, disabled, at a huge disadvantage, held another quality and air about themselves. Not quite close to leaving a decent, solid impression per se, but they worked hard to appeal to the average person’s ‘kind nature’. They struggled extra to be pitiable, lowly, desperate to have others feel sorry enough for them so they would receive money or food for the day.

He didn’t come off as the type to really be on drugs or addicted to anything else. Why, he never even seemed to have bags under his eyes and droopy skin. Substance abuse sometimes was the cause for homelessness, but this man didn’t really even look like he smelled that bad. If anything, he stuck out like a sore thumb, as if belonging to another alternate universe figuring his way out of this current one. 

Still, he gave Cloud the creeps whenever he was around. He was quick to appear and disappear within seconds like a specter out of mist and thick palls, that habit initially leading Cloud to wonder if he was imagining the man to begin with. 

Either way, it wasn’t at the top of his to-do list, but he kept a wary eye on the tall mystery while he loitered around the overstuffed dumpsters, milling about like some prop that would be useful later. 

“Sorry,” Cloud mumbled to Zack, wiping his eyes and somehow feeling even more exhausted. “This is just too much bullshit at once.”

“I know, but you should go to her party with a new girl or guy. If she could move on from you so fast, you gotta do the same. Rub it in her face and make her see what she lost.” Smirking less now, Zack winced and admitted, “I’m going because I’ve got nothing better to do, but she said she doesn’t care if you’re there either.”

Glum and despondent, Cloud leaned his face into his open palm once he rested his elbow up on the wooden surface of the table. Coffee and sandwich cold and inedible now, he would’ve otherwise abandoned them had his day not gone swirling down the drain. Cloud loathed not having control even over his own desired moments of utter chaos and wild antics, and this was like someone rubbing extra salt in his gaping wound.

Thinking about what Zack had suggested, he tossed that aside as he bemoaned, “Yeah, but first off, Tifa’s never really been the jealous type. Secondly, who the hell would I bring to her party? I’ve dated everyone we went to school with practically, and most of those people are losers and morons I can’t hang out with anymore.”

Cloud cared about his personal image and social popularity like any other teenager, but he knew he’d lost the war with Tifa ages ago. Not only was she extremely happy with her new boyfriend, but he really wasn’t ready to even pretend to move on for his own sake and inadequate pretense.

At a loss for words and without a quick solution ready to placate his woes, he lamented, “I wish I never met her. God, I swear, dating women can be way worse than dating a dude.”

Blinking a few times as he was thrown back in mild shock, once Zack got over that brief second of disbelief, he snickered and then winked flirtatiously. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I’m serious! You never gave me this much drama!” Cloud wept, pausing to add swiftly, “I’m not saying that to get back with you, just so you know and don’t get weird ideas in your brain.”

Waving him off, after a snort, Zack set his own record correctly. 

“Actually, there’s this one dude I met online, and he’s into guys as well, but each time I flirt a lot with him, he’ll go MIA for weeks. Yeah, Aerith knows about him, but we basically—”

Whatever else Zack was yammering about, Cloud easily and selfishly pushed out of his consciousness. Aware of the weary faces and gaping mouths eager for a free meal or two, while looking past them, his conundrum became as harsh and powerful as a drilling headache. The pressure was grating how, dueling at the forefront of his mind. 

The only way to put it to rest for sure was to sadly take Zack’s stupid suggestion, much as he hated even pondering it. Just because he’d been dumped, didn’t mean he had to lock himself in his room and live like a mouse hiding between walls. 

Girls and some guys genuinely wanted him, be it for selfish reasons. He was accustomed to being the cynosure of everyone’s attention, and he couldn’t stomach being undesirable to even one soul. Tifa could hate him all she liked, but he really would be fine with helping her detest his existence even more after ensuring she saw how significantly he mattered to another. Then, she would burn for sure and really drown in regret.

Yet, he was in another dilemma. How would he find someone to play that role? Where would he even begin? 

Tifa knew more people than he did lately, and all his former friends and dates also wanted him dead. He was above paying for a date, as it would only make him feel and look even more miserable than he already was.  

Cutting his hangout with Zack short because of that exact quandary, Cloud fixated on the best way to solve his new issue. Logically, seeing as he didn’t trust easily at all, he would have to scope out this potential date very carefully. To do that, he deduced that if he was to bring in a new individual, the best way to sort them out would be to discuss things properly and have an interview to determine if they were suitable for the role, basically. 

What a risky, ridiculous, idiotic, but well needed task. The sooner he got started, the better, but pickings were extremely tough. Everyone around was too old, involved romantically, and the other young adults closer to his age cohort had moved away. 

Who was left?! The homeless people?! 

Incapable to fathom how he’d lived nineteen years never drawing short on options yet now suddenly was, Cloud became ever so infuriated as he drove past the coffee shop and towards his mansion. Unable to accept defeat, he chose to put it off for another day, the war hardly beginning. Occasionally, as he checked his rearview mirror and vehicle cameras, he couldn’t shake off the ghostly pale visage of the man with long, silver hair and frightening, green eyes. 

|~|•~|•

Cloud recalled having his first and last, childhood Christmas photo taken at the mall. More of an incidental experience, it stuck with him and visited throughout the years in scattered dreams.

When Cloud had recently turned six, he remembered how his parents took him to the largest city mall for their yearly Christmas shopping. Malls were so large and scary back then since he was so small in the enormous city of Midgar. Each time they went, he often stuck close to his mother, squeezing her hand as his father always talked on the phone. 

The year they’d visited for the last time, a few college students were working in the mall. Between setting up the photo booths and fancy Christmas trees, the others hurriedly cleaned, stitched bear, elf, and reindeer suits and toys to draw in younger audiences. 

There was a long line leading towards Santa’s workshop, so Cloud and his mother avoided that area. His father hardly cared, arguing and saying things Cloud didn’t hear much. Christmas music blasting away covered his father’s bitter, stressed voice, but Cloud always knew his father was angry whenever he was on calls for work.

Work meant bad things for his father, and his mother tried acting as the glue to hold the cracks and growing fissures together. Her efforts were often squandered, but when she pointed out a new toy shop, Cloud’s father actually stopped for a few seconds. 

Many others were racing around, eager and excited to get their hands on the new merchandise. After being bumped into for a minute into their excursion when crowds grew too dense, Cloud spun around, nearly losing sight of his mother. He’d never been one to wander, and right when he wanted to break down and scream for her to rush to his side, he found a tall, skinny boy. 

He was close to the Christmas statues and photo booths. Much older, he wasn’t too frightening, his face encased in mystery. Cloud saw his smiles, heard his calm, soft voice, and happily accepted the candy cane he was given. The boy was wearing some colorful baseball cap. Maybe orange or red. The rest of his face was hidden, but he had a kind voice and polite manner which was warm and inviting.

Cloud couldn’t stand around and chat when his mother protectively charged in, but the older boy was ready. Quickly, he explained that he was setting up and taking family Christmas photos, with a special discount for children under the age of ten. Nice as that was, dismissively, Cloud’s father tried sending him away and shooting the offer down. 

His mother was the one who convinced him in the end. Complaining that all he did was work longer hours and ruin their family time over the holiday season by being so distant, all it took was a few minutes of whining and near crying. Cloud’s father caved and buckled, almost resentful as he snapped and gave the green-light to the older boy so he could arrange the Christmas photo.

Wearing a specially crafted Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer antler and glowing crimson nose set on his head, Cloud was posed between curling candy-canes taller than the sky. Nestled in Santa’s special sleigh, laughing a sincere laugh while his mother took her turn to make a quick call, it was just Cloud and the charming older boy after all. 

That had to be the first time he realized he technically didn’t need his parents to make him happy. Excitement bolstered and showed on his young visage as he sang and cheered, dancing to the flashes from the camera, the lighting adjusted as many photos were taken until the best one was produced. The older boy was funny and busy, showing that work could also be fun, which was the opposite of what his father made it out to be.

Sadly, the moment ended as swiftly as it started, as time always sped for him when he was a child. The photos were displayed to her when she asked, and his mother hurried back to select the one she felt was the most spectacular, while his father paid for the picture frame and service. Whisked away by both his parents soon after, Cloud never even thought of asking the older boy for his name, and he didn’t even introduce himself. 

All he had to remember him by was that lively Christmas photo and faded laughter.

|~|•~|•

If there was someone who’d serve as his ‘date’, the puzzle was finally complete, as Cloud had narrowed it down. Hating that he was basically now at the same level as a gross stalker, desperation in the end forced him to navigate through the streets in search of that weird man. 

Irony struck hard, because it took Cloud nearly two days to find him, and another three to watch him. For a guy who was constantly hanging around like a nasty rash, he certainly knew how to make himself scarce when he wanted. Or maybe he knew he was being watched.

In any event, Cloud tracked his daily routine and movement on the third day successfully, thanking the gods that the man didn’t travel too far. Like most of the homeless population in the city, approaching the more opulent, wealthy neighborhoods was out of the question and a crime. Trespassing was dangerous, so he seemed to glue himself to libraries, coffee shops, convenient stores, and small encampments reserved for addicts and the homeless. 

Cloud had found ‘his guy’ after he was through with his ambling around for the day, crazy and stupid as it was to even dare to try with someone like this. Patience was key, and Cloud sat in his vehicle, observing enough until the tall man entered one of the encampments and sat at a bench. Since he hadn’t moved in nearly fifteen minutes, Cloud chose to cease wasting time and started approaching from across the street.

Gazing out through a windowpane of opportunity, a scene was revealed of neglect and disarray in what appeared to be a barren lot or open field bordered by a road and several buildings in the background. The lighting was soft and warm, likely the effects of the fading light of late afternoon—that golden hour that would ordinarily bathe a landscape in peace, yet here, it all felt painfully ironic against the stark disorder below and ahead.

The makeshift encampment was built and maintained in what seemed to be an open grassy lot bordered by a suburban street. The scene was illuminated by the low hues of orange and yellow light, casting long shadows and bathing the grass in a soft, amber hue—a deceptively tranquil light that contrasted in near putrid shock with the bleakness of what it revealed.

Everything here was aged and worn out. Even the ground was rough, dusty, and mostly devoid of lush grass, its soil showing signs of overuse and trampling. Scattered across it was a wide sprawl of discarded belongings—a chaotic tapestry of survival and abandonment. 

A mix of dirty, ragged clothing, blankets, and sheets lay in tangled piles, their colors dulled by dirt and exposure: faded blues, whites, reds, and yellows, all intermixed and partly flattened into the earth. Some garments appeared torn or crumpled as if hastily left behind, others hanging there in the breeze, sadly waiting to be claimed and used.

Among the debris were scattered objects that told fragmented stories of daily struggle: a bicycle wheel detached from its frame, pieces of cardboard flattened into makeshift bedding, an overturned black suitcase, a small, blue plastic bin, as well as miscellaneous containers and plastic bottles. Everything was misplaced, strewn in a way that suggested impermanence—a temporary life upended and delegated to abandonment, a space that once served as shelter now reduced to remnants.

To one side, a pair of thick wooden posts protruded from the ground, part of a broken or half-removed structure, now tilting and overgrown with sparse weeds. The foreground, framed by the edge and sill of narrowness, subtly emphasized the divide between Cloud and scene—safety and exposure, stability and collapse.

The background showed a normal world continuing undisturbed: cars in motion, buildings intact, and people unseen yet implied—a functioning society existing only a few yards away, yet disconnected from this small enclave of disorder. The light grazing across the litter almost beautified it in tone, casting long, golden shadows that made the contrast more painful—sunlight illuminating disarray and ruin.

Emotionally, the image evoked a complex mixture of sadness, helplessness, and quiet unease in Cloud, but he upheld his resolve, staunch and stolid as one had to be in this space. There was a sense of abandonment, both physical and human—as if this space once held traces of someone’s fragile routine, now reduced to aftermath. The randomness of the scattered items spoke to instability and loss: lives uprooted, possessions devalued, privacy erased.

A part of himself felt sorry for the desolate, destroyed lives, but he had his own plans and mission either way. Derelict and broken, this part of society indeed was frightening, but he wasn’t involved with it. None of anything here was his fault and responsibility.

The ambience was heavy with transience and forgotten struggle. It embodied that silent, aching loneliness of homelessness—not only the absence of shelter but the erosion of belonging. The mess became symbolic: not simply garbage, but the residue of human existence, a testament to displacement, poverty, and true invisibility.

The sunlight, though soft and golden, felt bittersweet—illuminating beauty upon what society overlooked, making the tragedy more palpable precisely because it occurred in plain sight.

Like a man on one set path, Cloud ignored the perplexed looks the other homeless individuals tossed his way. Locked onto the figure seated at a cracked, termite-infested picnic table mere feet away, he took the last few steps, approaching the hunched over man at last. Hanging on a bated breath, his expensive shoes dug into the heaps of dirt, and while avoiding clumps of other disgusting things he couldn’t identify and label, with a tense wince, he finally reached the man and hung back an inch away from him.

Spinning to the left and rounding on him, Cloud cleared his throat and awkwardly coughed out, “H-hey.”

The hood of his thick sweater was drawn over to shield his face, but he did indeed raise his eyes to Cloud. They weren’t the similar depressing, hopeless sheen as could be found in others, much to Cloud’s shock. The world seemed to freeze and then take its time to resume rotating, but the axis was definitely off once realization seized control over Cloud’s frozen brain.

Beard so thick and long that certain parts of it were broken hairs and curled about, he also had an extremely thick mane atop his skull. Ropes of silver bled and cascaded over his shoulders, curtaining his broad bulk. The sweater engulfed the majority of it, but this man was still somewhat emaciated. His skeletal frame proved he’d once been in magnificent shape, broad and powerful, inflated by pride. Now, there only sat a husk, a mere shell of that person, though not smothered by defeat.

Still, for some reason, his eyes were the most untouched, ravenous shade of emerald Cloud had ever seen. It was as if nature’s cruelty and society’s harsh grasp had overcome him physically, wearing out his corporeal form, but his survival spirit remained intact. 

His eyes definitely held an impervious tale, projecting great charisma and something hidden beneath it all. Face certainly oily and grimy, covered with the day’s worth of smoke, soot, and some sweat streaks running down his angular cheeks, his bones were sharp, as if he’d been chiseled for better conditions. Every feature he possessed was in wonderful proportion, as if he’d walked through hell and war itself, coming through even stronger despite appearances.

Normally, a man’s nose, lips, and jawbone weren’t a major turn on for Cloud, and while he couldn’t see much of this man’s chin and jawline, he knew it had to be relatively impressive. The thick beard hid it well, but his mouth was shapely even in a pursed, dour mood, those serpentine slitted eyes twinkling with something else other than misery and confusion as he stared well past Cloud’s soul and into another realm.

Zeroing in on him and forgetting about a few more onlookers emerging from a compact blue-and-gray tent, the weathered, creased, and slightly sagging object shifted, but the universe was now created to hold both Cloud and this man at the very center. 

Around the picnic table, the ground was strewn with a chaotic sprawl of debris: discarded clothing, plastic bags, paper waste, empty bottles, cardboard scraps, and fragments of daily survival, all background props now as they stood on stage at odds with one another. 

Sheets and blankets brushed past, rumpled and dirt-stained, scattered as though hastily abandoned or left to the mercy of the wind. A few flattened cardboard panels appeared to have served as makeshift flooring or insulation, now soaked and misshapen from exposure to the elements. To one side, a crude wooden platform lay uneven on the ground, perhaps once a base for sleeping or storage.

The area around the tent and picnic table was barren in patches, the grass thinned and replaced by dirt and mud—a sign of prolonged occupation and harsh living. The detritus of daily existence presented all traces of desperation and endurance: improvised shelter, the remnants of meals, belongings with no home but the barren earth.

None of that took precedence, even if it was ‘home’ to this person. Not when the homeless stranger had already lost interest, those coruscating green eyes lowering to the surface of the table while Cloud fidgeted. 

On borrowed time, he hurried to push forth while hiding his fears, “Uh, h-how are you? I mean, I’ve been…looking everywhere for you. Err, I mean, not like…like that.”

Why was it suddenly impossible to speak? He’d known what to say to practically anybody for basically all time, and now, a simple nobody had his mind reeling and tongue in loops? Why?

In the background, beyond the lot, the ordinary world continued much like nothing had happened: neatly kept houses, trees tinged with green and crimson, cars passing by on a quiet road. This juxtaposition—the encampment’s raw disorder against the tidy suburban normalcy—deepened the ingrained sadness. 

Weariness and neglect reigned here; the scattered litter became more than refuse—it was all evidence of displacement, of people whose every possession existed in a transient state, exposed to the elements and indifference alike. The golden light only heightened the poignancy: beauty and despair coexisting in a single frame.

Fragility itself screamed back and forth everywhere—a testament to survival, but also to how easily human life could slip into marginality when stripped of stability, shelter, and dignity.

The misfortune heaped on, signifying the isolating invisibility of homelessness: a life lived on the edge of society, seen yet largely ignored, but for unfathomable reasons, it didn’t entirely apply to the man Cloud wanted to get to know.

In short, he was getting embarrassed when the silent man went back to examining his exposed, bare fingers through the various holes in his black gloves. Not because of how awkward things were, but due to the fact that he really wasn’t supposed to be around people like this.

Already, a few men and their dogs were gaping at him, perhaps excited about someone new being introduced to the mundane scenery, or maybe they were waiting for a damn opportunity to rob him. Either way, Cloud knew he was wasting time, plus, something or someone far away really smelled.

Giving himself a swift reminder to stay on track and just finish his thoughts and statements so he could hopefully manipulate this dude and get the hell out of there, Cloud forced such a weird smile onto his face that it genuinely began hurting his facial muscles to pull off.

“Look, this may sound like the fakest and biggest lie on the planet to you, but it really was hard to track you down, and that basically should tell you that I really wouldn’t spend all my time on trying to find you if I was just going to waste it all by lying in the first place.”

Thankfully, this did wrangle a response from the mute man finally, his eyes clouded with bewilderment, which was to be expected for the moment.

Voice so soft that Cloud almost didn’t hear, it was engulfed with an almost leathery kind of ice, the initial bite wearing off however when the sonorous, though deep octaves ground over his eardrums and settled into his cranium to rattle his brain and even teeth. 

“You were looking for me?” Sounding it out to make it even more unbelievable, the man asked, “Why would you be looking for me?”

This was a tricky start of course, but Cloud was determined to continue weaving the tapestry of his fabrication just the same. Inviting himself to sit right across from the man, he’d barely gotten over the shivers creeping into his back from coming into contact with a disgusting, germ-infested table countless other gross people had sat on, when an older couple walked over to him. 

Leaning onto each other and looking extremely hopeful, they studied him thoroughly, but Cloud went ahead chatting with his target as if they didn’t exist. 

“Well, you’re well within your rights to not take a word I’m saying seriously, but the fact of the matter is—”

Identifying the opportune moment to strike, the woman begged gently, “Sorry to interrupt you two, but would you be kind enough to give us a few gil?”

The automatic, abrasive response to that was tingling on the tip of his tongue. Cloud wanted to throw out a barbed expletive as he often would, but a salient point featured swiftly in the recesses of his mind which encouraged him to think twice before resorting to old habits. 

More than likely, if these people lived here around his target, that would mean that they communicated routinely and cared about the same goals. If he immediately took issue with this couple and offered them nothing but colorful epithets, it would only be harder for this guy to take his side. Insults would get him expelled faster than lightning striking the ground, and as much as he wished for an explosion to strike the couple from where they stood, it was all simply wishful thinking and dreaming. 

Judging by the way the man with green eyes was carefully observing his every move, the bastard was obviously just waiting for a slip-up so he could put Cloud in the category of a monster. 

Extra cautious now, as he burned and swelled up from within, Cloud fixed another contemptuous smile onto his face, smothered by what he prayed looked like sincere kindness. 

“Of course!” Heartbeat skipping in the worst way, as he reached into his pocket, while scalded by his own ego, he grunted, “As a matter of fact, I’m feeling generous, so here you go!”

Would thirty gil get them off his case?! Even a few thousand was technically pocket money to someone like Cloud, but he loathed giving stuff out freely either way. 

As soon as it required everything in his control not to wildly throw the money at the couple, while they swooned over it and dished out at least a dozen words of praise and worship, the other man continued watching him like a hawk. 

Eyes so sharp and tongue just as vile, he looked through Cloud and speared him from bone to bone as he gently stated, “If I wasn’t here and you didn’t need something from me, you’d have told them to get lost.”

Taken aback by how brazen and blunt the guy was, Cloud draped a hand over his chest and gasped in a bit of an exaggerated fashion. “That’s kinda harsh…no need to judge me like that without getting to know me first.”

Rolling his eyes to the right, the man dipped back, hands sliding across the table and held flat, as if bracing himself for take-off. “Mm. I know your type. Seen plenty of rich, snobby people like you around to know that you never do anything out of the decency of your own heart…plus, if you were a philanthropist, you wouldn’t ever refer to yourself as ‘generous’.”

All the crude barbs aside, he really actually had a very pleasant voice to listen to. Each vowel, syllable, consonant, even the guttural growls at the end of some emphasized words, all of it rolled off his tongue and resonated nicely past his lungs. He was a master of the chords and vocal reach, knowing how and when to apply certain amounts of pressure and different intonation all to reel in his listener. 

The air wasn’t clogged with decay when he spoke, nor was his inflection slimy. He had his poignant message to get across to his audience, and he certainly did the job well, even with sarcasm applied. The man had a unique way with words, seemed highly intelligent, intuitive, and possibly humorous as well. 

Yes, this was the right choice. If they took some time, this person could be better and more appealing. From where Cloud sat, he scented pungent alpha pheromones, which was different and refreshing. He’d never been around an alpha, for even his private school didn’t allow any to attend. Not that he was intimidated; he simply didn’t care for any alphas, not as a privileged, protected citizen, omega or otherwise.

Even more focused than before, Cloud beamed, surprised that this man didn’t even reek of cigarette, alcohol, and weed. “Look, I need you to do something for me. I’ll pay you for your time, but hear me out first.”

Shaking his head, the man with the leaden constitution started rising from his spot, much to Cloud’s horror. “Have a nice day.”

“No! Wait a minute!”

Feet dragging back, he lifted one long leg out from the long bench, a growl cloying the crisp air seconds later as he cocked a silver eyebrow. “I’m not for sale. Move along.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Cloud cried after him when the man showed no signs of stopping. Leaping to his feet, arms extended, Cloud held him back as he stood right in front of his path. “You mean to tell me you don’t want any money?”

Sternly, the man snapped, “No.”

Knowing how to play his cards right, Cloud purred as he rocked on his soles, “Not even a nice, warm, clean place to stay? A shower? Not even for a few hundred gil? Maybe thousands?”

A giant, but a calm one, thankfully, the man swayed in threads of doubt, but eventually froze. Once more, he gazed down at Cloud, towering over him by a few feet, but holding his confused sheen steadily.

Seconds of heavy silence caused Cloud to grin, deducing he had the upper-hand at victory if the man was still here and ready to listen. “Thought so. Everyone needs something from someone. I was at least honest to admit it to you, so just hear me out.”

Giving no indication that he wanted to flee again, the tall man kept watching Cloud with such a ferocious intensity that it was astounding. He seemed to possess a special ability to even track Cloud’s breathing, eyes hooded and zeroed in on his chest, wandering over his visage while Cloud smiled even wider.

“See, my ex dumped me out of nowhere, and I want to piss her off and make her understand what she lost.”

“A revenge quest?” the man gawked, close to raking his eyes to the sky before he stopped himself. “No. I don’t want any part in helping you get someone back.”

“Oh, I don’t want her back,” Cloud argued. “I just want her to feel like shit since she made me feel like that. All you have to do is pretend to be my partner for a night. She’s holding a party in a few days, which is where you’ll be useful.”

This time, with his hands on his hips and a toxic glare overpowering Cloud to shove him into the dirt if possible, the stranger presented the first clue of alarm and perplexity.

“You do realize I’m a man, right?”

Failing to see his issue, Cloud parroted in the same barbed tone, “You do realize what year we’re in, right?” Snorting, he added, “Besides, I’m bi. It’s fine. I just need you to show up and pretend you’re dating me. That’s really it.”

Thinking aloud for the man when he remained quiet but a vigilant observer, to strike the iron where it was hot, Cloud’s eyes roamed over the man’s pale face as he pictured him without his matted, scraggly beard. He had defined cheekbones, a wonderful nose bridge, nice eyebrows, and supple lips. He really had the makings of someone attractive if he kept up with his hygiene. Although it was tricky to tell what age he was, beneath it all, there was a handsome person there somewhere.

“It sure beats sleeping in a tent outside around a dozen other people, right?” Dangling the opportunity before him, Cloud sang on, “You get a warm shower, clean clothes, good food. All paid for, dude. Just agree.”

The internal struggle somehow was still on-going. Cloud had stupidly thought that the minute his proposition ended, the man would definitely take him up on his offer, but for some reason, this stranger maybe preferred his current lifestyle. He seemed in no hurry to hop on board, looking back and forth numerous times and shifting from foot to foot. Hands curling up and down as if he didn’t know what to do with those limbs, he grimaced and held the position of pain for nearly a minute before he exhaled slowly and loudly.

Shutting his eyes, he almost whimpered, “Fine.”

Close to cheering and dancing, a gleeful Cloud hummed and nodded. “Sweet! Let’s go get you shaved and clean, then, we can get you some new clothes!”

Reaching for the man’s hand, he paused midway, thinking better of it when he spotted grease and dirt in his glove-covered palm. Careful not to pull a nauseated face, Cloud brushed himself off, stepping back to make room for the man as he swept by and began walking away from the encampment. 

“Here’s to a new life, huh?”

Chapter Text

“Hey, hey, not there, dude.”

Ignoring the man as he pointed to the last salon and instead driving into the secluded, enormous parking lot of his mansion, Cloud hoped he could clean and air out his vehicle once the smelly, homeless man had exited it. Already, he was positive that the abundance of body oil had ruined his seats, but he shut his mouth and held his opinion to himself as he drove past the open gates.

Where the oddball in the passenger seat had been rather sparse with his words for the first ten minutes of the journey, suddenly, it was as if he’d become his own encyclopedia, thesaurus, and dictionary all in one to voice whatever was on his mind.

“I don’t understand why you passed every hair salon in town,” the stranger complained. “You said you wanted me to be clean…”

“Well, the beauty of being a bit wealthy is that I have my own private hair dresser,” Cloud showed off, shutting down the engine and hurrying out of the car once it was parked. “I trust them way more, and as I said before, it’s all covered. Come on.”

Having the courtesy to receive instructions and obey them well and in a timely manner, the man exited and gently shut the passenger door, but he only took a few steps behind Cloud before he grunted as he stopped moving.

Spinning around, Cloud extended his arms and raised them like his eyebrows. “What’s up?”

Glancing at the enormous mansion hovering even above birds and the canopies of the spacious garden surrounding it, the man didn’t appear to have a major problem with the huge place, peering back at Cloud before he sadly shook his head.

“You didn’t even ask for my name, and you didn’t tell me yours.”

Indeed. He’d been in such a rush to prove his worth to Tifa that he’d made a few mistakes along the way. While none were so grievous, the errant ways he was acting in left a lot to be desired, especially by someone who wasn’t the average moron on the street. He wouldn’t forgive this cretin from making him really work for every second, but then again, he was an adroit liar when he had to be.

Biting the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from making a rude comment, Cloud nodded in acquiescence and played along. “I’m Cloud Strife.”

“Sephiroth,” the man whispered, not sounding husky, but like touching melting dark chocolate and gliding over silk. “I’m Sephiroth.”

“That’s a neat name.” 

Tapping on the door resulted in one of the many employees of his parents to open it and grant him entry. Speedily, Cloud rushed in, chucking his shoes off and letting one of the workers collect it. Sephiroth was a foot or so behind him, gasping at the radiance and effulgent abundance that wealth could provide, not that Cloud blamed him for his reactions.

From top to bottom, gold and marble encased everything. Statues and water fountains rotated, various chandeliers glinting to blind someone, even when shut off during the daytime. Many rooms with luxurious red carpets and satin overflowing at all angles curtained around rich musical instruments on display. Coats of armor hung on walls, HD TVs flared to heighten the ambience beneath domes and skylights. 

Many spiraling staircases led to extremely high shelves beneath spectacularly engrained gold and glass ceilings. Murals which were found in museums bore down on them, exotic plants swishing in the air. Rugs from the Middle East smothered their steps, the embroidery of other lavish furniture glistening after hours of polish. Everything else was hidden in glass cases, the paint crisp and meticulous as the rest of the waxed floor and many mirrors beaming about.

“This way,” Cloud called to Sephiroth when he was still in the process of removing a boot.

Taking him to one of the many elevators of his mansion, Cloud brought them to the basement level, ignoring Sephiroth’s audible gulp when the hair salon greeted them. 

Everyone working there was already busy, engaging in conducting routine cleaning and maintaining their tools and equipment. The walls were all made up of a large aquarium, the wild, rare fish swimming through bubbles and coral, eyeing Sephiroth until Cloud nudged him with an elbow.

Making their way around a porcelain island where a sink and a tub lingered, they stood on the raised platform while a young man with flaming red hair tied back in a ponytail wearing a white dress shirt and dark dress pants greeted them warmly.

“Good afternoon, sir! How are—”

“Reno, can you de-toxify my new friend here?” Flinging himself on a huge massage chair before a dresser, Cloud dipped his head back and kicked his feet up on the table next to the station. “He needs the entire work. Shave, shower, maybe haircut. I don’t know yet though, but good luck, and don’t catch lice or fleas, or whatever the fuck this dude may have.”

Happy to do anything productive, Reno escorted Sephiroth beyond the massage parlor of the mansion and down a few more steps. Spotting them from the glass walls, Cloud tried not to laugh as Sephiroth gaped at the gigantic hot tub in the center of the pool room. No one was occupying it yet, but the churning, bubbling water seemed to terrify him, as if he hadn’t touched water in years. 

Scraping over the carpeted floor from one sauna to the next, Sephiroth stared around at everything, frightened out of his wits when Reno removed his brown and grey jacket so suddenly. The disgusting cloth barely held together by a few seams and rags hit the floor, and as Reno murmured something to Sephiroth, Cloud raised his voice and made himself heard from halfway across the parlor. 

“I’d recommend burning it all, Reno!”

The complicated, five dial shower system terrified Sephiroth. Undressed but still having his underwear on, his body drew attention from the other employees as well as Cloud. Approaching but keeping a distance so he wouldn’t be spotted as steam flew and enveloped all around the room, while the water was being adjusted to the right temperature, Cloud noticed that while Sephiroth was sadly a bit too skinny, he really actually had the best body. 

It would all be better once he gained some muscle back, but dear God, those arms and legs were already long and chiselled as it was. He hadn’t been stupid at least to get any ugly tattoos, there weren’t any scars, bruises, or weird birthmarks. Like a walking god, he was intact, filled to the brim with excellence underneath sweat and grime eventually washing away.

If Cloud had something to pick on, it was that his hair was quite long, reaching his ass, but holy Lord, what a nice ass. 

So tight, full, and toned. Cloud wanted to grab it until his hands were full of those white cheeks. No, he could picture himself swatting them, leaving his hand prints in the aftermath for hours. In fact, every inch of that alabaster skin deserved bruises and welts…and bites.

The shower stall held no curtains and partitions, letting Cloud see everything. He almost giggled when Sephiroth winced, knowing he had to remove his underwear at some point. Water crashed into the tiles below, but without his heavy jacket and hood, the mane of pale hair was the first to be doused with the fluids.

Covering himself was idiotic. Sephiroth stared at the shower-head, hiding under the liberal streak of water as it engulfed himself. Steam barely hid him when Cloud walked a few feet closer. Hanging on the silver and gold plated handrails a few feet away, he ogled Sephiroth in the shower, almost salivating when Sephiroth raised his arms and washed his armpits. 

He had ribs showing, but not to a grotesque level. Each time he flexed, a decent amount of muscle stretched over his sides, revealing his strong chest and broad rib cage. Two other men along with Reno handed him shampoo and hair conditioner bottles, and Sephiroth had to go through three of them just to scrape and scrub every strand of hair. Where it had been slightly yellow before, now, it glistened like the luminous moonlight.

Sephiroth enjoyed the water more than Cloud often did. Where he’d appeared apprehensive of it at first, now, he rested back, massaging his neck, washing his private parts thoroughly, and letting more suds run from his shoulders to his toes. 

Watching a man shower hadn’t ever been exciting to Cloud, but Sephiroth made it out to be something so rare that it was a godly gift. The appreciation he showed, the value he had for the water as he washed his face at least six times was seriously amazing. He even smiled from ear to ear, lips dripping with water droplets making the rosy seams fresher than a closed bud at the first sign of rainfall.

Each rotation of his wrist, his nose scenting the potent aromatic fumes from the expensive shampoo, the water rolling and dripping from his fingers flicking through his hair, the way it clung to his flapping eyelashes, it was sensational. Why, someone could film it and make the ordeal into an hour long documentary, a real work of art in cleansing.

The timer was set to only twenty-five minutes, however, and when the water ceased flowing, leaving the dots of golden light to stream over himself, Sephiroth looked quite defeated as he stood there like a soggy mutt. 

Soaked and spinning around while waiting for more water, his sadness was cut short when the men suddenly grabbed him and covered his body with a long, wide towel. Hair shielded by one as well, the men worked to dab at his silver locks, shoving him out of the stall and into an adjacent room.

Still draped in his body towel, Sephiroth was thrown onto a black chair in front of a dresser and mirror. Cloud joined in seconds later, watching quietly as Reno smeared Sephiroth’s entire face and chin with soap. An electric razor charged on, the other two men holding Sephiroth and angling his head as Reno set the razor onto his face and began shaving him down from the cheeks.

“I want it all off, but keep his hair the way it is after trimming the split ends.”

Cloud smirked in full pride and confidence when the other two of his workers brought out scissors and a comb. Measuring and snipping the split ends, the rest of the piles of white hair were amassing just fine. For many minutes, the sounds of feet shuffling, the steady, harmonious hum and buzz from the electric razor, a few whistles, and the clipping of the scissors hammered around the salon. Bubblegum and apple cider hung around from the application of the soap, moisturizer hitting Sephiroth’s hair as the other men got started on drying and combing it perfectly straight.

Patience was key. Reno had done a brilliant job, not even grazing Sephiroth’s perfect skin. Lower and lower, he sheared every rough edge, cutting down the beard and revealing the most beautiful complexion in a man Cloud had yet to see. After rinsing the stray hair from Sephiroth and applying the aftershave, it was so surprising to discover that such a young looking person had been bogged down by mountains of disgusting, overgrown hair.

From start to finish, the grooming process took almost an hour, but it was well worth every second of waiting, agonizing as it was. To think that the cruel, horrible streets had been hiding such a precious, rare gem all this time.

Sephiroth had such a striking, statuesque look: very angular and refined, with an almost sculpted quality to bone structure and skin. The combination of very long, silver hair, pale complexion, and precise features gave him a dramatic, otherworldly elegance rather than a casual, everyday attractiveness.

Now clean, everyone could see he had high, prominent cheekbones and a strong, well-defined jawline creating a classical, chiseled silhouette. The lower portion of his face tapered into a narrow chin, giving his profile an elegant, triangular harmony. A smooth, broad forehead with subtly arched brows that were neither heavy nor thin—they framed the eyes with an intent, slightly predatory focus, just to die for.

Pale hands rested in a folded position by his lap, posture wide, straight, shoulders quite broad, he looked quite like a gentleman now. Hair silver as a great moon in a clear, starless sky, his emerald, slitted eyes glowed mystically, the coruscating depths enchanting but equally lethal if one got lost in them. Clean shaven, meticulous in his composure, his skin glowed brightly, an odd contrast to his impassive veneer.

Those eyes…large, almond-shaped, and very direct. The irises caught light and appeared vivid, so green and earthy, lending an intense, penetrating gaze. The eyelids held a slight hood, which sharpened the expression and added mystery. Long lashes softened the rough edges he’d once had, but the absence of so much facial hair did him wonders.

Straight and well-proportioned, his nose—not wide, with a refined bridge that suited the symmetry of his face, complimented everything else. His lips, full but controlled, brought too much attention. The upper lip was slightly defined and the mouth often rested in a subtle, knowing line rather than a full smile—that restraint increasing the magnetic pull of his expression.

Given the moisturizer and other cream to add a lovely glow to his skin, even though he was still pale, his skin was with minimal visible pores or blemishes—it read as porcelain-smooth, which amplified the sculptural quality, enough to make Cloud envious.

Layer after layer, while being dried piece by piece, his long, silver-white hair was a dominant element: sleek, flowing, and well-kept. It framed Sephiroth’s oval face and contrasted beautifully with the skin tone, adding both softness and drama, a flair of beauty after it was straightened and blow-dried.

When combed back, his long neck and the visible edge of a broad shoulder suggested a tall, commanding carriage—introducing a heroic or martial context to his appearance. Symmetry and proportion, often associated with attractiveness, came so easily for Sephiroth. Every feature about him was memorable, standing out despite how aloof he still was as he stared at the transformation in the mirror.

Style and presence intact, once Reno stopped touching him and went on to clean the hair off the floor, Sephiroth seemed afraid of himself. Hands trembling, they neared his own visage, inches away from touching the bare skin before he let out one long sigh of utter disbelief.

Mirroring that sigh as he crept close, Cloud looked back and forth between the mirror and Sephiroth, knowing how dumb it was when he was viewing the same, but new person there.

“Neat! Not my type, but god damn, you’re one hot catch!”

This gave Sephiroth immediate pause. Dropping his sour expression and hand from his face, he snarled, “Then why ask me to be your date?”

“Because, as I said,” Cloud began, wrenching Sephiroth off the chair and yanking him out of the salon and into another elevator, “you’re hot, and that’s all I really need. So shut up and let me find a good outfit for you.”

Nearly nude, but dry and not shivering, Sephiroth waited until Cloud let them off at the fifth floor. Patient as he was, he fidgeted when Cloud opened the double doors to a gigantic room that was simply one enormous closet. 

Mannequins wearing the most expensive and top quality hats, scarves, and suits posed neatly beneath pot lights. Statues from Greek mythology hung in other corners on pedestals of silver and gold. Chrome cabinets and shiny handles opened when Cloud pressed a few buttons, bringing forth a navy blue, black, and grey tie. Putting them one by one near Sephiroth’s throat, he decided on grey and black at last before selecting a black, Italian designer suit from the left of the closet. 

Picturing Sephiroth in that suit wasn’t ultimately tough, but Cloud needed the visual confirmation regardless. 

“Kay. Give this one a shot.” 

Once Cloud turned his back to him, Sephiroth used the privacy to drop the towel on a red and gold cushion sofa near a window. Hurrying on, he squeezed the shoulder pads, swishing his hips into the pants. Without wrinkles and not even a stitch out of place, the pants slid over him well. The upper portion of the suit was bulky since Sephiroth was a bit on the thin side, but once he settled and worked the buttons up, he cleared his throat, ready for inspection.

Right when he turned around, Cloud cocked his head a few times, eyes widening before he started smiling. The undershirt was off a bit, but he fixed it as he slid a hand between a few buttons. Touching Sephiroth’s warm skin made the other man jolt a bit, but he immediately calmed down while Cloud tugged on the hem and flicked a bit of hair over the shoulders since it was in the way and frizzy. 

“I like it. It’s like this was designed for you.” Imagining a belt and the shiniest shoes to go along with the ensemble, Cloud smiled even more. “I’ll make sure it’s clean and ironed again, but it shows off enough of you without really going so far.”

Peering at him from the edges of his wispy bangs, Sephiroth awkwardly asked, “How much is it?”

Focusing on polishing one of the buttons and pressing the tie in place, Cloud mumbled, “Four thousand.”

Snapping out of his reverie, Sephiroth’s breath hitched as he leapt away from Cloud’s prodding fingers. 

“Four thousand?! Excuse me?! I can’t…oh my…I can’t afford that!”

Risible as Sephiroth’s traumatized expression in the glass ceiling and walls was, Cloud felt his patience wearing thin after the ridiculous antics.

“I already told you that you don’t have to worry about that.” Standing a few feet back, he stared at Sephiroth’s feet, looking on at his midriff then. “This is just right for your height too. Thank God, because I’d need a few days to order a taller one.”

Snapping his fingers at Sephiroth as if he were a trained dog to do his bidding, Cloud couldn’t wait for the dumbfounded man to take the hint. Clearly, he was too shaken up by the news, so Cloud hurriedly took off his three-piece suit, stopping when he noticed Sephiroth wasn’t wearing underwear.

Curious as he was about the man’s genitalia and the size specifically, like the depraved pervert he was, Sephiroth stopped him in the end with another stupid question tumbling out of his mouth.

“Uh, how old are you?”

Rolling the tie back onto a hanger, Cloud pulled a disgruntled face, looking more like a mouse. “Nineteen. How old are you?”

Less amused by the second, lips curving upwards and to the left, Sephiroth looked even more uncomfortable than ever.  Bangs of silver styled and fashioned to fall into those mystical eyes, his lips eventually curled to reveal his teeth, not much of a yellow tinge taking over them strangely. 

“I’m older. Plenty older than you, and way old enough to know better than to do this.”

Squinting, an incredibly incredulous Cloud fished for answers better, albeit, with a smarter strategy since Sephiroth was upright about giving an exact number. 

“Are you younger than forty?”

Alarmed, Sephiroth stood taller, however possible it was. “Of course I am! What do you—”

“Older than between twenty-five and twenty-nine?”

Nodding, chopped as it was, Sephiroth groused, “Yeah. But let’s just stop there.”

So, that placed him somewhere around thirty to thirty-seven or so, Cloud guessed. It wasn’t too bad. Older people were far more mature, and it wasn’t like they were really dating anyway. This was all play acting.

Tucking away the selected clothes and making mental notes for undergarments next, Cloud pushed Sephiroth out of the spacious room, right on time for another employee named Rude to show up down the hall from where they stood. 

Making his rounds down and back through the halls, Rude wore a tuxedo, his thick, dark sunglasses still on his nose bridge despite how much it annoyed Cloud since they were indoors. Carrying a few pairs of shoes and other accessories, he balanced them under an arm when Cloud signaled for him to stop.

“Sir.” Hiding his sigh at the last minute, Rude held his composure, voice extremely thick and laced with exhaustion. 

Gesturing at Sephiroth in the original suit, Cloud then shoved the extra one at Rude. “My buddy Se…uh…Sethfir…”

“It’s Sephiroth,” the long-legged male nearly growled like an animal.

“Uh huh. Anyway, Rude, can you please get Sephiroth’s dental care started now, because he isn’t fond of dentists, and after that, I think we should check him for other stuff.”

No nod of confirmation came through, Rude’s eyes concealed behind the shades as he grunted inelegantly, “Yes sir. This way, Sephiroth.”

Scared of many things, especially regarding his own body, with his arms covering his chest, Sephiroth looked and acted sullen as he questioned, “What other stuff? What do you mean?”

Winking at him and not even caring that Rude was nearby, Cloud answered, “Ah. Stuff like STIs, your blood work. Don’t worry about it.”

Rising anger portrayed with his vocal volume reaching a little higher, Sephiroth barked, “Sexually transmitted infections?! Why would I have those, and why do you need to check if we’re not going to—”

Checking his phone for the time, Cloud interrupted while stalking off, “Aaaand dinner’s gonna be ready soon, so we’ll take this up later, Sephiroth! Have fun!”

Complaining the entire time, Sephiroth still obeyed and followed Rude, a hilarious enough sight on its own, and when Rude whispered to Sephiroth that it was smarter to shut up because it worked for him, Cloud broke out into a sadistic laugh.

|~|•~|•

Miraculously, for a guy who hadn’t been to a dentist in some time, Sephiroth had no cavities and signs of tooth decay whatsoever. A thorough cleaning and plenty of whitening products did the trick for the sake of general up-keep and flash, his teeth in a healthy condition which shocked Cloud. 

While waiting for the other results of the tests to pull through, having nothing else to do until the party started shortly before ten that same night, Cloud deduced that he had to at least offer Sephiroth a bite to eat. 

Well, the chefs and servers could, anyway. That was what their role was, and food had always been prepared and waiting for him whenever he asked. Treating Sephiroth to the same benefit wasn’t something he obsessed on, doing nothing productive aside from playing around on his phone, while Sephiroth marveled over the majestic, clean kitchen. 

It was after all an extraordinary, palatial kitchen that exuded regal opulence and classical artistry—a masterwork of grandeur and architectural finesse.

The layout centered around a magnificent marble-topped island, perfectly square and ornamented with intricate carved corbels gilded in a soft, bronze hue. The cabinetry, finished in a muted ivory with faint golden undertones, breathed luxury yet restraint—each panel framed with meticulous molding, like the façade of a European palace. The drawers and cupboards featured aged brass handles that gleamed subtly under the light, adding a refined patina to the composition.

Above, the ceiling rose to an awe-inspiring height, framed by coffered panels richly detailed with gilded edges and recessed lighting that cast a warm, honeyed glow through the entire room. The ceiling’s crown jewel—a resplendent crystal chandelier—cascaded downward like frozen rain, scattering prisms of light that danced upon the polished marble and golden finishes. It blended a celestial luminescence that heightened the aristocratic atmosphere, providing so many spectacles to beam at.

Dominating the far wall was an extraordinary fireplace and stove alcove, a baroque-inspired masterpiece. It held sculpted columns, ornate reliefs, and a central crest framed by cherubic figures and floral scroll-work, all in ivory stone dusted with antique gold. The back-splash gleamed with intricate mosaic-like carvings that resembled a Renaissance altar, suggesting divine craftsmanship even in the heart of a kitchen.

The windows—towering and cathedral-like—stretched nearly from floor to ceiling. Their arched tops and mullioned panes invited pools of natural daylight that flooded the space in golden brilliance. Beyond them, the greenery of tall trees glowed in contrast, adding serenity to the palatial setting. The light streaming in at an angle warmed the pale cabinetry and caused the veined marble to shimmer softly.

The flooring, composed of wide planks of honey-toned oak, grounded the richness with a sense of natural warmth. Its faint gloss reflected the interplay of light above, balancing the lavish upper details with an organic touch.

Subtle ambient lighting—recessed in the cabinetry and coves—enhanced the marble surfaces, accentuating their veins and luster. Each light source contributed to an orchestration of illumination: sunlight mingling with chandelier glow and golden recess lighting, forming layers of depth and atmosphere.

Overall, the room’s ambience was one of majestic serenity—both glorious and inviting. A masterpiece of light, geometry, and classical refinement that was both sunlit and eternal. Every surface glowed with polish and precision, and every corner seemed orchestrated to amplify a sense of grandeur balanced by serenity.

Perhaps, to Sephiroth, it felt like a royal kitchen transposed into modern times, where every detail—from the carved moldings to the way the light kissed the stone—evoked the grandeur of Versailles or a Renaissance villa. 

Admiring the quiet reverence of beauty and craftsmanship, while dressed in the elegant, grey and black suit, he sat next to Cloud by a glossy, marble counter-top, frightened to do anything but fold his hands on his lap like some statue.

Peckish since the volume of his game rattled everything, coming through even louder than Sephiroth’s sparse breaths, Cloud resorted to a complaint when Sephiroth had yet to budge from his side. 

“You know, you can do whatever you want here…like…I don’t know…eating?”

Sephiroth had done well to ignore the lavish, bountiful feast set on the elongated table a few feet adjacent to the counter, much to Cloud’s dismay. He wanted space, somehow finding it ironic that in such a gigantic kitchen, he felt smothered.

Rows of perfectly roasted beef, lamp, pork, and well-seasoned, top quality fish tucked between fancily organized vegetation did nothing for Sephiroth. The extravagant wine, silverware, and polished plates stacked with fruits and vegetables smelled divine, but never invited him. As if tone-deaf, he gazed at the ceiling, vacillating between calm and confused, muttering incoherently until he found his words.

“To be frank,” Sephiroth fought to get out, little wrinkles of frustration working in his forehead, “I’m scared to touch anything. Everything’s so clean and perfect here. I’d just ruin it.”

“You’d be giving the maids something to do.” The joke didn’t make Sephiroth laugh, so Cloud hurried on to say, “It’s fine. This is the worst kitchen we have, so don’t panic.”

“Wait what? The worst?” Sephiroth parroted, shifty eyes glancing around. “How many kitchens do you have?!”

Easing out the crinks in his neck, Cloud frowned for a second. “Two more. Why?”

“Three kitchens…who the hell needs three kitchens?” Holding up a hand, Sephiroth corrected himself. “Scratch that…why would you need one like this to begin with?”

Stupefied when he’d hardly thought of it himself, Cloud shrugged, looking everywhere but at his phone or Sephiroth. “I never really considered it. Ask my parents if it bugs you so much.”

Taking him up on that, Sephiroth didn’t let more than a second fly by before he inquired, “What do your folks do for a living?”

Playing ignorant, blue eyes glued to his screen, Cloud replied, “Stuff.”

“Stuff. Right.” Reading the signs and deciphering that he had to put an end to that conversation quickly, Sephiroth changed course soon. “Uh, so what about the date thing? Is it—”

“It’s tonight,” Cloud cut to the case, hating that he wasn’t bound to get any peace. “Wear the black suit like I picked for you, don’t run your mouth a lot, and this’ll be over before you know it.”

Remembering the suit he was presently wearing and showing much displeasure at the idea of more of them, Sephiroth’s nose wrinkled as he scowled at his clothes.

“Why do I have to wear these?” Tugging at the long, large sleeves swallowing his arms, he lowered his voice as he slammed both arms down by his sides. “Suits make me itch…”

Dull and monotone, Cloud’s fingers slowed down over the screen, pausing his game at least to show more disdain for Sephiroth. “Would you prefer wearing that crap I found you in?” When Sephiroth gave him a rotten glare, Cloud sighed and started fresh. “Look. You’re a handsome person. And if you wanna be seen around me, you gotta wear the part to play the role. You’re attractive in suits.”

Plucking at the collar of his outfit, Sephiroth began to gripe, “I know, but you—”

“Ughh! It’s just barely 6:30! I don’t know what I’ll do for another three and a half hours until the party!” Smacking his phone down on the counter-top, Cloud nudged Sephiroth as if he really was a prop for his amusement. “Tell me about yourself! Any cool secrets?”

Scouring the omega’s kitchen well enough before looking at him again, Sephiroth wasn’t too keen on answering. For the sake of conversation, as he inhaled and held his breath, seconds later, Cloud leapt off the stool he’d been seated on.

“Actually, hold that thought…I didn’t pick my own shit to wear.”

Racing off for his bedroom and leaving Sephiroth there was extremely foolish, not to mention rude, but he really didn’t care. Fashion was at the top of his priorities, especially to show that his breakup wasn’t getting to him and that Tifa was long forgotten, even if it was a lie. He wagered it would take a few hours to select something, shower, and fix his hair, then, he could maybe grab a bite and start heading out.

Lost in his closet which was practically the size of the average bedroom, he didn’t hear Sephiroth walking in until the older alpha emitted a sharp, abrupt gasp. 

Strangled because of the awe-struck emotions induced by the state of the gigantic bedroom more suitable for a political figure than an adolescent, the pale-haired man looked up and down at the intricately woven tapestry, was mesmerized by the spectacular artwork placed about, and highly impressed by the display of technology at the top state. 

Gaming and workout equipment was cast in one area, arching to the left in another room. The main bedroom and connecting bathroom had their lights shut off, but the beautiful decorations and design could be seen from a distance regardless.

Beneath a high balcony, tucked by the long, large bookshelves, a black, grand concert piano with the hood was open, begging for talented, musical hands and fingers to give it attention. Small cleaning robots moved around the glass and tiled floor of the balcony upstairs, sparkling items blinking beneath the chandeliers. 

Drapes and other sheets hung from walls, fluttering in the wind, fantastic lighting setting the mood but never taking from the off-white and eggshell grey furniture and theme. There were too many trinkets Cloud gathered from friends and souvenirs he’d collected when he was younger and had traveled more frequently, but nothing held significant, rich value of the soul for him.

Stepping around the golden hot tub built into the floor, Sephiroth crept on the other side of it, mere inches from Cloud. 

“Is this really your bedroom?”

Sardonic as he went through the well organized drawers for the best outfit, Cloud didn’t even laugh. “No, it’s a gift shop.”

Sarcastic right back, though not aggressively so, Sephiroth snapped with a nasty mood, “God forbid I try to strike up a conversation. Let me just be another useless piece of furniture in this place.”

“Had me at ‘useless’, because it fits.” 

Rotating mirrors and other screens showed the clean room in a speedy format, a set of security cameras reflecting the view outside as well. Huge and tall as the windows were, as a flock of birds flew and perched on the rows of nearby trees, their hulking forms made them look like large beasts suddenly.

After searching for what felt like fifteen minutes, his picky stance and tendency to change his mind at the last second thankfully brought on no interruptions for Cloud. Settling for a black top and pants he’d purchased recently, he could at least match Sephiroth in color. 

It was a fitted, long-sleeve shirt in thief-black and deep charcoal threads, possibly made of a synthetic or leather-like material. It had a high collar and structured shoulders, adding to the sharp silhouette. A prominent chest harness and strap system crossed over the torso, suggesting a utilitarian or combat-inspired design. It was more decorative than functional, like something seen in a cyberpunk or espionage setting.

Cauldron dark gloves came with it, enhancing the stealthy, action-ready aesthetic. To coordinate the outfit, he chose freshly-ironed dark pants, the overall styling quite minimal but intentional, with clean lines and a monochrome palette that emphasized his cuteness for sure.

Holding the hanger up by his throat and showing it off to Sephiroth, despite not caring deeply about his opinion, to humor himself and pass the time, Cloud chose to pry.

“Do you think this looks good?”

Carefree as much as Cloud was while he twirled around a bit, Sephiroth eventually sniped, “Sure. Whatever.” Index finger flicking a stray piece of a dust particle out of his eyes, he reiterated, “I just want to end this. Maybe it’s playtime for you, but I’m really not enjoying myself.”

Judging by his own thin patience as well, Cloud thought of showing up a bit earlier. Huffing and stacking his clothes on the edge of his bed, he stated, “It’ll be fine. Just go get something to eat and leave me in peace to shower.”

No delight shed light on Sephiroth at the sound of this prospect, and he was quick to spew that with a pained growl. 

“I’m not really hungry. Your chefs are polite, but I don’t feel comfortable with—”

Whistling and slamming the bathroom door shut, as soon as Cloud locked it, he gingerly began shedding his clothes. Flipping on the dials and timing the shower for half an hour, he took his time in his nudity, closing his eyes and imagining how livid Tifa would soon be when she saw him with Sephiroth. In fact, anyone would be enraged upon seeing such a hot man at his side, and if Cloud were more open-minded, he wouldn’t have thought twice about giving Sephiroth another glance.

To be fair, he would be badly out of place in Tifa’s party. He wasn’t even trying to act like he was a teenager, and that was the top of their mammoth levels of issues on the horizon. At the zenith of them was the likely fact that this outcome would be terrible. Tifa had made her choice as it stood, and if Cloud knew her recent boyfriend like rumors depicted, he really was a top of the line jackass.

Perhaps they had something in common then, for Cloud was already at the pinnacle of his career in epic failure and ridiculous antics. There wouldn’t be any sense in competing, really. Not for Tifa, or anyone else. All he longed to do was head in there with his pride cocooned around himself, make a point, then go away. She deserved to see him happy as well, even if it was all fake. He couldn’t wait super long as it was, so the faster they put up the charade, the better off they would all be.

Thoughts hooked on Tifa and how silly she’d look the minute he walked into her home with Sephiroth as his hot date, Cloud this time worked harder not to rush. There really wasn’t anything sweeter than revenge, and he needed to take time to cook and serve the icy platter to the best of his abilities for himself. He would reap the rewards of his bountiful harvest indeed.

|~|•~|•

To remark, on the better side of his advantages over Tifa, at least his house was bigger and better than hers by a long shot. He could always easily access and find her home because it was in an affluent neighborhood, but it paled in comparison to the houses doctors, lawyers, and judges owned on his street.

Sephiroth sat in the passenger seat, but this time, the car was much cleaner. Personal mechanics had vacuumed and recently shined the glass, the polish slathered to exercise expertise and control. With full energy, the hybrid vehicle began running, the trip taking a little over ten minutes since Cloud was driving slower than normal.

Traffic was getting hectic and busy for that time of night, which wasn’t extremely out of the ordinary. If only his companion wasn’t set on self-imposed silence. Sephiroth unfortunately was fond of the practice, turning it into an art form, which made things even more disorienting and annoying.

Well, he wasn’t interested in being the one to have enough guts to initiate the conversation. Turning on the radio was better, and Cloud fiddled with a few stations, right until another driver abruptly cut him off at the end of a highway as soon as he exited the second ramp. 

Slamming on the brakes and honking, Cloud barely caught a glimpse of the speeding vehicle, his headlights blinding himself more than anyone else. All he knew was rage upon being taken there to that level, resorting to childishness in the blink of an eye.

“Fucking maniac!” Sensitive to the wide-eyed glance Sephiroth threw at him, Cloud relaxed his grip on the wheel, knowing that Tifa’s house was close. “I know I’ve got a temper. Idiot should learn to drive though.”

Appreciatively gazing at the black suit Sephiroth was wearing and noting how the rest of the night eased around him, but never ceased complimenting his figure, Cloud smirked, not even flinching when he was caught and Sephiroth corrosively sneered. 

“Don’t give me that look,” he sighed, studying his own getup in the mirror. “We make such a cute couple and match.”

“Am I expected to shut up all night as well, or is there anything I need to know now?”

That sounded far more like a bitter complaint since Sephiroth had basically ushered it out of one corner of his mouth. Cloud didn’t react badly to it, grateful that the rock music didn’t drown out and blast over their conversation.

“Refer to me as babe or baby. Do it after tonight though, and I’ll fuck you up.” Warning one leveled out and leaving the rest of the journey paved for himself, Cloud elaborated, “Don’t answer too many private questions. Leave it to me. If someone asks you to dance, do it. I don’t care who it is. Act like you’re having a good time. Eat. Drink. Smoke. Do whatever. Just fit in and act younger than you are.”

Annoyed with him already, Sephiroth looked out the window as if he wanted to hoist himself clear through it. 

Lips barely moving, he mumbled in confirmation, “Fine.”

“Here we are.” Rolling into the driveway and noticing about twenty or so other people from the brightly lit windows, as Cloud parked, he turned to Sephiroth and offered, “Care for something now? I’ve got a lot of good shit here. Cocaine, Percocets, Delta…I sell them. Side hustle.”

This time, Sephiroth genuinely gave Cloud an angry glare that was powerful enough to rot flesh off bones. Cloud only beamed, not at all intimidated while Sephiroth let himself out of the vehicle and slammed the door behind himself. 

“Keep your drugs to yourself. Most I’ll have is a regular cigarette.”

“So old-fashioned, babe.” Rushing to loop their arms, Cloud was wearing celebrity smiles, whispering at Sephiroth while a few people stared in utter shock. “Stay close for now and be cool.”

To Cloud, this was nothing new, yet it was dangerously fascinating. He’d been to nearly fifty house parties since turning fifteen, and he was relatively comfortable with many of the guests. Those few fresh faces were people who’d shown up from another town no doubt, but everyone was roughly the same age, aside from Sephiroth. 

Glued to Cloud as if his next intake of breath depended on it, he began timing even his footsteps with Cloud. There was no real reason for his concern aside from basic anxiety instilled when happening upon a new environment with new faces. He was nervous though, his palms sweaty, his muscles tight even when Cloud greeted the security team and walked them both deeper inside the main foyer.

Not so crowded, the place hadn’t changed much either. It was sinking into shiny sheens, everything smelling faintly of tobacco and chemicals, but all else was relatively the same until Cloud spotted Tifa and her new lover. 

When he found them holding hands by a refreshment table, he really wanted to turn back and run out. Glowing and proud, Tifa had every reason to be when her new boyfriend was someone Cloud should have, yet never suspected in a million years. 

Smack dab in the center and the unconsumed cynosure of attention, he was their former classmate, Johnny’s not-so-exact twin. Aside from his hair being blue-black, this young man was identical to his brother. They literally could have been twins, but they weren’t. Still, seeing him laughing and smirking with Tifa looking like a doll donned in a flashy red and pink dress right next to him was seriously disturbing and horrible to Cloud.

Nestling by him, Sephiroth began to wonder while staring at all the women openly, “Which one’s your—”

“Cloud! You actually showed up!” Rounding a corner with her boyfriend, Aerith Gainsborough called out to him first. 

Effectively scared, but also blushing as soon as ten pairs of eyes looked at him when Aerith had successfully isolated him, Cloud reached out to her, embracing her thin frame. Breaking out of that snug enclosure, he then hugged Zack, pausing quickly when Zack and Aerith both took a deep intake of breath the moment they noticed Sephiroth really close to their friend.

Pointing back and forth between Sephiroth and Cloud as the lights flashed on in his head, Zack’s mouth opened more, lips forming an ‘o’ shape until he asked, “Waaaait…are you two…together?”

“Oh, yeah!” Quick to assimilate and simultaneously dissimulate, Cloud nodded at Sephiroth and then at his former exes. “This is my new boyfriend! Sephiroth!”

“Ha!” Accepting a handshake from Sephiroth, Zack pointed on, an eyebrow raised as he pondered aloud, “Where do you two know each other from?”

“Yes, Cloud! Do tell!”

Wanting to crawl inside himself and die, Cloud recognized Tifa’s cheerful voice a mile away. She’d somehow snuck up on them, holding hands with her boyfriend, driving the final nail in the coffin for Cloud. She didn’t appear jealous and stressed, her hair tied up in a neat bun, the rest of it flowing past her neckline which was covered in sparkling jewels and hardly hiding one enormous hickey. 

Glowering at Johnny’s brother, Cloud almost snorted before gathering himself and responding in kind. “Quid pro quo, girl. I’ll tell if you do.”

Cloud sincerely hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but he was quite prepared. By all accounts, Sephiroth had done well to transform himself from a rugged, greasy homeless person to a top tier, desirable socialite in less than seven hours. Yes, he had plenty of assistance on the way to clean up and look snazzy, but he was much calmer than Cloud, observing and learning rather than impulsively reacting.

Open to introduction without requiring permission from Tifa, Johnny’s brother nodded at Cloud, vaping and assessing on his own terms while the music changed in the background and a thick pall of smoke enveloped everyone.

“I’m Tristan. Most just call me Trist, though.”

“Trist is also French for sad, but with an ‘e’,” Cloud started, eager to chew out this Tristan fellow already. “Must be sad to date my leftovers, huh?”

Breaking the tension with a dry laugh which turned nervous, Aerith repeated Zack’s question, tugging on Cloud’s sleeve in a subtle warning that he had to tread with more caution moving forward. 

“So, uh, you were talking about how you two met?”

Thumb motioning sideways at Sephiroth, Cloud adopted a tired, lazy approach to the formulation of his response. “He hit me up one night because he was fixing to buy. Last minute deal, and we just got along, so…yeah.”

Fist pumping ahead, in vehement approval, Zack cheered, “Ah, nice! Real slick move, both of you!”

“Well, you do look nice together!” Tifa commented in joy next, wringing her hands and giving Cloud a knowing look. 

For a moment, Cloud came close to freaking out. The narrow stare Tifa gave him was enriched with problems only he knew how to spot. Acquainted with Tifa on a much more intimate level than most, Cloud could easily differentiate between the types of glimmering in her crimson eyes and what they signified. Questions bloomed in her blood-red, doe-round eyes presently, suggesting that she wasn’t buying into what Cloud had stated, but was cautious regardless of her own thoughts.

“Hmm, now, I might be tweaking a bit, guys,” Tristan began to assert, eyes taking in Sephiroth’s ginormous height in comparison to his own. “Something doesn’t scream out druggie about Sephiroth to me, though. Maybe I’ve lost my mind, for real, for real.”

“No cap there about your pathetic mind,” Cloud fired away, poison slathering the putrid, sharp arrows of derision he held for Tristan. “Maybe try not being a fucking gooner in your next life, Tristaun.”

Floored by the exaggerated accent on the last few vowels of his name, Tifa’s boyfriend showed how bothered he was, set on arguing immediately. Feet scraping over towards Cloud, he took a more aggressive pose akin to a viper curling before revealing its deadly fangs and striking, when Zack imitated Aerith and her peacekeeping ways.

Reaching into his fancy dress shirt pocket, he produced a carton of top brand cigarettes, deliberately jutting out his arm between Tristan and Sephiroth. “Hey, Sephiroth. Want one?”

A look of pure relief flooded over Sephiroth’s visage as he breathed out in joy and then snagged the offered cigarette with ease between two fingers. “Thought you’d never ask.”

One by one, other guests crept over, fond to start getting to know the new man among their group. Someone was happy to pass over a lighter and actually light Sephiroth’s joint for him, as if he were some Mafia mob boss or something. A few young men were of course trying to piece together where he was from, gathering around him and chatting too loudly while their girls giggled and whispered as they devoured Sephiroth with their bright eyes. 

Cloud heard specific words that stuck out such as ‘college’, ‘scholarship’, and ‘work’, but the rest became hot, verbal mush when the music roared on and more people showed up. 

Knowing how strange it would look to eavesdrop on their chats, especially the entire time, he fetched himself a drink, bringing one back for Sephiroth right on time to discover Tristan warming up to Sephiroth. Initially, Cloud was under the impression that they were engaged in an altercation since they were close and seemingly glaring. However, Tristan was only showing off something he wished to be between himself and Sephiroth, he eventually learned. 

Johnny’s side girl. From where Cloud stood and peered between Tristan’s shoulder and neck, he was excitedly presenting her photos. The slideshow was getting worse from photo one to number five. On and on, the young woman who’d taken the series of selfies lost her clothes as the photos went on until she wore only a black thong and was without a bra in the final one.

Emitting a surprised whistle, seeing as her breasts and the dusky pink nipples were barely hidden by her long, wavy brown hair, Sephiroth looked highly alarmed, feigning interest as he nodded along with Tristan. 

“Right? Isn’t she smoking hot?” Tristan asked just to seek approval, not waiting for a response either way. “She’s my brother’s girl.”

“Nice,” came Sephiroth’s comment, a bit too sharp and abrupt before he smiled and nodded again at Tristan.

“She’s got a husband! Can you believe that?” Tristan laughed, shaking his head and then pocketing his phone. “Johnny’s a class A homewrecker!”

Heels clicked on past a disgruntled Cloud, weaving between Aerith and her flashy, blue dress until Tifa secured Sephiroth in her arms like a prize. 

Cheerful disposition coloring the entire abode, she sang out, “Sephiroth! Dance with me! Come on!”

Cloud may not have had the privilege and luxury of time to react. Half his attention had been fixated on Tifa and Tristan, and while he was still in shock about the near naked photos of Johnny’s girlfriend, Sephiroth acted much quicker and in a classy manner. 

Smiling and gently removing Tifa’s hand off his person, with that same limb, he put out his cigarette and then scooped Cloud by the waist and pressed the silent omega against himself before tugging him towards the next room.

“Maybe after I have a dance with Cloud!”

The grand room they were in was larger and more crowded, other swaying figures helping the transition as Cloud suddenly snapped and glowered up at Sephiroth. Triggered by the man in every way, everything moved by so swiftly that it somehow pissed him off even more. 

Scenting the perfume of other women and Sephiroth’s expensive cologne, it wafted in his nose, kicking him upwards in sheer rage. Sephiroth was holding him by the midriff, his hand soon wandering towards Cloud’s upper back, and his chest was glued to Cloud tightly. 

Legs almost twining, Cloud would’ve slipped had he not rooted the soles of his shoes firmly and used a hand to press onto Sephiroth’s chest to keep him at bay. 

The music was softer, but not too much to keep their conversation unheard between themselves. Cloud didn’t know what to say at first, but when Sephiroth’s lower abdomen ground over his, a fuse went off in his brain, alarm bells ringing on next since they were too close now. 

Reactionary rather than wise, he snarled while Sephiroth held onto him, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Moving to the beat lulling everyone else into a relaxed slow dance, Sephiroth smiled but only for the sake of appearances. Still sharing oxygen with Cloud and nearly brushing noses and lips, he loomed over another inch, unfocused since he couldn’t decide entirely to gaze at Cloud’s mouth or his eyes.

Just as frustrated with Cloud as Cloud was with his random antics, he whispered calmly, “Doing whatever felt normal. As far as everyone here is concerned, I’m just dancing with my boyfriend. Not a crime.”

Trying to stomp on Sephiroth’s feet and missing twice, Cloud gave up on that childish task as he continued to lash out verbally but softly between struggling movements concealed as they swayed as one. 

“Get the fuck away from me, before I kick you in the balls. I’ll absolutely do it.”

“Hmm, threats don’t work on me.” Palm of his hand massaging Cloud’s back as if he were an infant being rocked to sleep, Sephiroth lazily smiled and really seemed thrilled. “If you were serious about doing that, you’d have done so already, so drop the tough-guy act.”

The room spun when they did, and Cloud caught the stunned veneer of both Aerith and Tifa. Eyeballs wide and their pink, glossy lips moving as they gossiped with each other, they hardly blinked, watching Cloud and Sephiroth’s every move. Cloud couldn’t tell if Tifa was perturbed yet, but he was fine with letting her stew in the intoxicating wave of mysteries for the moment.

Assuming the position and pretending to give a warm smile back at Sephiroth while he sweat profusely and was close to combustion, the conflagration point had already been crossed, but infinitely challenged when Sephiroth took it another step too far. 

Face up close with Cloud’s, as he led the shorter male during the tender, close dance, his poreless, porcelain visage was overwhelming. Those green eyes were searing, piercing past layers of tissue and harrowing when they grabbed their target fiercely. Both handsome and deadly, his charisma was being overshadowed by his dangerous aura when he disassembled Cloud’s barriers again.

Ambivalence had no place here, and Cloud was on the verge of shoving Sephiroth and simultaneously strangling him. To hold him off, his right hand was on his throat, the other somewhere on his broad sternum, but it really was no good. 

After his own prize, Sephiroth’s eyes burned with new intent, glazing over Cloud’s mouth and feasting on the cry that he released in horror. 

Leaning into him still as Cloud did his best to hitch himself back, Sephiroth’s shadow fell over Cloud long before he asked, “So, are we just boyfriends, or are we boyfriends who can kiss and do more in public?”

On the one side of things, Cloud was getting what he wanted. Tifa, Zack, Aerith, and many more of their school friends were watching their actions with too much zeal. Fully buying into the new lovers charade, they were mesmerized plenty, but Cloud was feeling rather mortified and terribly uncomfortable.

Legs straining to hold his balance as his arms burned while shoving Sephiroth back the remaining inch or so before his mouth engulfed his, when his neck muscles were signaling that they could only bend and his back felt like it was on the verge of snapping in half, Cloud’s hand seized Sephiroth’s chin and squeezed violently.

Between clenched teeth, heart feeling like it was going through a cheese grater, he hissed thinly, “Stop. Just dancing’s enough.”

The threshold had been teased, but brazen acts remained split for Sephiroth. Daring to only go so far and do so much, his boldness ended right there, to Cloud’s satisfaction and good fortune. Only a sigh and a shrug came out of the flippant alpha, his eyes glancing around Cloud’s entire flushed face before he removed his larger bulk off the shorter male.

Silver eyebrows arching and giving Cloud a sign that he was through with his notions of kissing and touching, Sephiroth’s arm slipped off Cloud, so Cloud in turn removed his hand from Sephiroth’s chin and neck. Disengaging, their limbs were the last to let go, the throbbing and burning Cloud especially felt sticking deeply past his clothes and bearing on his consciousness as he slinked off. 

Sephiroth muttered about needing another cigarette, and Cloud drowned him out as well as the catchy tune now on blast. Walking through the crowd of people kissing and dancing, he swerved and tried avoiding Tifa, but she was fast to snag and pin him to her body.

Fondly staring at Sephiroth moving around, she enunciated succinctly to Cloud, “He looks a bit older than us, Cloud! Really!”

Nearby to hear them, Zack set his shiny glass of alcohol down and supplied pleasantly, “Yep! Never thought I’d live to see the day that Cloud became a sugar baby! Haha!”

Scoffing, on the brink of initiating a verbal diatribe, Could was slow to spot Tifa’s dreamy stare as she eyed Sephiroth. Still, the petulant side of him located the insult he wanted to project, heaps of failure and loss too heavy to tolerate for one night alone.

“Aww, you sound jealous!”

Not even a second brushed by, and Tifa openly confessed as she glanced back at Cloud, “Of course! He’s cute, for one, and two, it must be nice having someone mature who doesn’t necessarily need taking care of!”

Tifa Lockhart was envious…of him…Tifa was actually and seriously pining for what she didn’t have, which made him the lucky winner and her the loser…it actually was the case…

Lower jaw almost at his knees, Cloud gaped endlessly at her, checking for deception yet finding no trace of it. Tifa really was smitten, an unknown goal Cloud never knew he had, yet loved hitting. She genuinely was fond of Sephiroth, literally on her toes with excitement just to be close to him, blood-red eyes locked onto him the entire time. She wanted someone she couldn’t and didn’t have, which meant in some way, her current relationship was a disaster. 

Blood rejuvenated by the sight of someone as drop dead gorgeous as Tifa openly gazing at and desiring Sephiroth as if he were a novel treat, Cloud grinned and suggested, “Well, I gotta go pee, so why don’t you dance with him, Tifa?”

She didn’t need to be asked again. Encouraged by her own whims, she raced over to Sephiroth, the mannerisms and flow of their hushed conversation naturally progressing. Sephiroth seemed fine with her approach, allowing her to wrap her arms around his muscular frame before he turned her around and began dancing a bit faster since the song had changed. All the while, as they danced with heightened energy, Tristan sat lazily chatting with a few other unknown college-aged men, vaping and drinking until they were almost blue in the face.

For Cloud, this was an early Christmas and birthday gift. He couldn’t even believe he was witnessing Tifa drooling over Sephiroth, someone she’d acutely noticed as being older. Yet, she somehow appeared out of his league, chasing after him and locked onto his face without blinking as they danced. She really liked him, forgetting about Tristan for the moment, and it was a major point of victory scored for Cloud. 

Proud of his accomplishments, he turned around and pumped a fist in the air. Feet heading towards the bathroom where he could properly yell and cheer for himself, he was slowed down by his phone vibrating twice in quick succession.

Recognizing the pattern of two texts sent only by Reno, Cloud leaned against a statue under an alcove as he withdrew his phone and began reading the information Reno had promised to update and deliver based on his findings of Sephiroth’s medical history. 

Nothing at first surprised him, the elementary rundown of details boring, until he noticed a key feature he’d never expected to discover. 

Sephiroth: Male, 32, Alpha 
Occupation: Unknown
Blood type A-
Hepatitis, influenza, COVID, and rabies vaccination dates: 2000-2002
No history of STIs, no other irregularities found in blood

Other surgeries: vasectomy 4 years ago