[meanwhile, cloud, aggressively: uh. because he knows what's next.]
[laughter.]
[and then roche leaning in with all the bemusement in a world of, in fact, a lover scorned.]
Clearly we must have a race! Your motorcycle and mine, engines revving evermore as we make a path! [there are dramatics here, like roche touching his heart and swinging his arms about, like he's in a musical rather than anything else.] We'll speed through the night, and beyond—
[Vincent frowns when the laughter bursts from Roche so loudly that he’s sure the whole building hears it. What follows is not something he’s certain sure he understands; something about motorcycles, blazing a path ahead — a challenge?
Vincent doesn’t even own a bicycle, much less a motorcycle. There’s no need to be mobile when you spend 90% of your time indoors, holed up in one’s own apartment, and therefore he considers the whole spiel inane.
Does this man ever shut up? It wouldn’t seem so.]
…
[Vincent closes the door in Roche’s face, locks it, and turns to face Cloud.]
He’s pleasant.
[Sarcasm, dry as a desert and just as unrepentant.]
[—immediately as vincent closes the door. he's frowning, even if it's hard to tell in the darkness. by now, he has let go of chaos and has sat up from the couch, turning on the only lamp vincent has ever given him the right to turn on at any given time.]
And don't you think I know that? Geez. He needs to fucking get over himself. [cloud shakes his head in resignation.] Why'd you say that? Now he's not going to leave you alone.
[as if on cue, roche is out there doing random motorcycle noises and another monologue, as if unaware that the door was closed on him. the man is incredibly self-serving, and it'll take him a moment to realize or to give up. cloud just sighs, rubbing at his forehead and heading for the kitchen. he needs coffee.]
Coffee. I'll make some.
[yeah, he's inviting himself in, flicking on the kitchen light against the sink (it's not as intrusive) and getting to it.]
[Vincent has plenty of practice ignoring what happens on the other side of his closed door. Though Roche continues to kick up a fuss with faux motorcycle noises and self-aggrandizing oratory, he shrugs it off it as if it were background noise, unbothered.
Crossing over to the couch, Vincent sinks into the cushion on the far side. Chaos pads over into his lap a few moments later, tail happily brushing against his chin. He nudges it away, automatically and as easily as any long-time cat owner.]
Say what?
[Cloud is free to make himself at home, to dig through Vincent’s appliances and belongings like they were his. He’s returned the favor in the other’s apartment more than once.]
[cloud gets to making the coffee, grabbing the french press and going about the whole process in careful steps. it gives him some sense of control, especially with roche still going on about whatever outside. it unnerves cloud, puts him on edge. it reminds him of his stupid mistakes, not to mention that the reason he decided to end things early with roche was how easily the man had dismissed zack. they both knew him—but suppose roche was only trying to take advantage of that emotional vulnerability to get in his pants.]
[his head hurts.]
[the smell of brewed coffee filters across the apartment, and some minutes in, cloud is bringing over a cup for vincent, too. he stays standing a moment, as if he's debating sitting down on the couch at all. hands around his own cup, he takes small sips at a time, careful of how hot it is.]
[The aroma of coffee is calming to him. The warmth, even more so as it coils around his nose, taking the mug from Cloud with an appreciative nod. Chaos settles next to him, lying down the way cats do, trying to press his entire dark-colored body against Vincent’s leg.]
No, I’m not.
[He peers at Cloud as he lifts the rim of the drink to his lips. The coffee is hot, scalding if he’s not careful, but Vincent takes only a small and testing sip. It warms him.]
But it should be enough to deter him. To know that you’re not available because you belong to someone else.
[The atmosphere has twisted itself into something strange. Like quietude and uncertainty hover around his friend who stands before him; heavy, lingering satellites.]
…You never told me you were dating someone. Months ago.
[stiffly, at the comment of not being told that he was dating someone, cloud sits down on the couch, just barely managing to not make a mess with the coffee swishing about in his cup. he's not awake enough for this, but it grips him so tightly, so heavily in his chest all of a sudden. he can talk about this, right?]
...it was a get together. Just a couple of beers, a speech or two, a toast, nothing fancy. I hadn't seen the guys in a while since I, uh, quit the force.
[he finds his hands shaking, and so places the cup just on the edge of the coffee table, pushing it gently with two fingers before he tangles his hands together.]
I guess it just got to me. I didn't want to be alone, so — [a shrug, and curling his hands behind his head and to the back of his neck. the knot in his stomach persists.] I know, terrible taste. I just... miss him a lot. Zack. It gets bad some days, and Roche just knew how to read me for the idiot I was.
[The coffee stares up at him, a dark shimmer as he listens. He gently jostles his mug to watch it ripple.]
Then Roche is an asshole for taking advantage of you. [Blunt, without heat, but harsh all the same. Vincent often tells it like it is, rarely softening his opinions for anyone. Especially when it comes to Cloud.
He glances at him, trails his eyes down his profile, up to his hands, to fingers that worry at themselves anxiously at the back of his neck. This is soft, raw territory. He knows to tread with a light step, even if he does not know exactly what the obstacle might be.]
You miss how things were?
[Was Zack representative of that? The bonds of a friendship unbreakable, until it was gone--? Cloud speaks as though it belongs utterly in the past. He has the look of loss in his eyes.]
[there's a faint smile at calling roche out, something cloud can appreciate. as if on cue, there's the banging of the man going down the stairs, eventually fading out as he'll unequivocally leave the apartment building—hopefully to never return. reflectively, cloud pushes back and presses against the back of the couch.]
Zack, he... died over a year ago. [his throat feels tight, but he says the rest with some kind of clinical steelness.] Died in the line of duty. Shot ten times.
We were best friends since the academy, even though he had a few years on me. When we ended up in the same precinct after I graduated, it was just... it was just really great. He was engaged, and he was looking forward to — to so much. [he looks up at the dark ceiling, his eyes glassy.] I was there when he died, protecting me, as always.
[he snaps his mouth shut after that, lips thinning into an upset frown, like he's trying to keep himself from downright sobbing. but he retrieves the usual calm soon enough, shaking his head, curling hands into fists on his lap.]
It makes sense, then. Why Cloud looks like he's about to fly apart, barely held together by what willpower remains in the wake of loss. He knows the feeling, as well, to lose someone important to him; though their traumas were made of different degrees of hurt, and even Vincent is not sure he can adequately compare his to Cloud's.
But that does not stop the swell of empathy threading through him. The pang of his own heart, to watch him struggle to speak of it. A part of him feels terrible for it, and guilt (that old friend) gnaws at his bones.]
...Yeah.
[He is. An asshole. In case that wasn't driven home enough.
Silence again. Chaos purrs beside him.]
Sorry, I didn't know. We don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable. I... understand. But-
[Ah. He's no good at this.]
At the same time, you could have told me earlier. I would've listened then, too.
[because cloud kept everything very close to his chest. the memories of zack felt too precious and too fragile, and at the same time he wanted to forget everything about it. which is why he moved to this part of the city, opposite of the area where it all happened. it takes him forty-five minutes to make it to tifa's for his shift, but he doesn't care; it takes him even longer to be close to anyone else who knows about it, who knew zack, who knows how it affected him. but it doesn't matter.]
[here, he can be alone, and he can easily bury away the shame and guilt deep inside his closet and forget it's there at all.]
I moved here to get away from... all of that.
[except that fragments of zack where littered everywhere. in the books with Z.F. written on the cover, the figurines that belonged to him, the movies that they'd watch together, the picture framed in his room. the unopened text message that cloud refuses, still, to check. hovering always on his notifications list. zack fair hey cloud! there's this before cutting off on the preview.]
[but zack would have said so many things, too, about keeping cheery, always doing his best towards others. which is why when he was giving the unlikely task of befriending vincent, he took it on in stride. what's the worst that could happen?]
You would have gotten along with him. [it takes him a moment, but cloud turns his face towards vincent, once he's sure he's not going to look stupid.] ...completely different energy levels, but he really liked fantasy novels. He didn't look it, but he read a lot. It was difficult for him but he wanted to publish a book one day. His own fantasy world, his own characters... that kind of thing.
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finalflight2020-05-21 12:59 pm
no subject
[laughter.]
[and then roche leaning in with all the bemusement in a world of, in fact, a lover scorned.]
Clearly we must have a race! Your motorcycle and mine, engines revving evermore as we make a path! [there are dramatics here, like roche touching his heart and swinging his arms about, like he's in a musical rather than anything else.] We'll speed through the night, and beyond—
[he's just going to keep going. cloud facepalms.]
no subject
Vincent doesn’t even own a bicycle, much less a motorcycle. There’s no need to be mobile when you spend 90% of your time indoors, holed up in one’s own apartment, and therefore he considers the whole spiel inane.
Does this man ever shut up? It wouldn’t seem so.]
…
[Vincent closes the door in Roche’s face, locks it, and turns to face Cloud.]
He’s pleasant.
[Sarcasm, dry as a desert and just as unrepentant.]
no subject
[—immediately as vincent closes the door. he's frowning, even if it's hard to tell in the darkness. by now, he has let go of chaos and has sat up from the couch, turning on the only lamp vincent has ever given him the right to turn on at any given time.]
And don't you think I know that? Geez. He needs to fucking get over himself. [cloud shakes his head in resignation.] Why'd you say that? Now he's not going to leave you alone.
[as if on cue, roche is out there doing random motorcycle noises and another monologue, as if unaware that the door was closed on him. the man is incredibly self-serving, and it'll take him a moment to realize or to give up. cloud just sighs, rubbing at his forehead and heading for the kitchen. he needs coffee.]
Coffee. I'll make some.
[yeah, he's inviting himself in, flicking on the kitchen light against the sink (it's not as intrusive) and getting to it.]
no subject
Crossing over to the couch, Vincent sinks into the cushion on the far side. Chaos pads over into his lap a few moments later, tail happily brushing against his chin. He nudges it away, automatically and as easily as any long-time cat owner.]
Say what?
[Cloud is free to make himself at home, to dig through Vincent’s appliances and belongings like they were his. He’s returned the favor in the other’s apartment more than once.]
no subject
[his head hurts.]
[the smell of brewed coffee filters across the apartment, and some minutes in, cloud is bringing over a cup for vincent, too. he stays standing a moment, as if he's debating sitting down on the couch at all. hands around his own cup, he takes small sips at a time, careful of how hot it is.]
[his stomach's in knots.]
You're not my boyfriend.
no subject
No, I’m not.
[He peers at Cloud as he lifts the rim of the drink to his lips. The coffee is hot, scalding if he’s not careful, but Vincent takes only a small and testing sip. It warms him.]
But it should be enough to deter him. To know that you’re not available because you belong to someone else.
[The atmosphere has twisted itself into something strange. Like quietude and uncertainty hover around his friend who stands before him; heavy, lingering satellites.]
…You never told me you were dating someone. Months ago.
no subject
...it was a get together. Just a couple of beers, a speech or two, a toast, nothing fancy. I hadn't seen the guys in a while since I, uh, quit the force.
[he finds his hands shaking, and so places the cup just on the edge of the coffee table, pushing it gently with two fingers before he tangles his hands together.]
I guess it just got to me. I didn't want to be alone, so — [a shrug, and curling his hands behind his head and to the back of his neck. the knot in his stomach persists.] I know, terrible taste. I just... miss him a lot. Zack. It gets bad some days, and Roche just knew how to read me for the idiot I was.
no subject
Then Roche is an asshole for taking advantage of you. [Blunt, without heat, but harsh all the same. Vincent often tells it like it is, rarely softening his opinions for anyone. Especially when it comes to Cloud.
He glances at him, trails his eyes down his profile, up to his hands, to fingers that worry at themselves anxiously at the back of his neck. This is soft, raw territory. He knows to tread with a light step, even if he does not know exactly what the obstacle might be.]
You miss how things were?
[Was Zack representative of that? The bonds of a friendship unbreakable, until it was gone--? Cloud speaks as though it belongs utterly in the past. He has the look of loss in his eyes.]
no subject
Zack, he... died over a year ago. [his throat feels tight, but he says the rest with some kind of clinical steelness.] Died in the line of duty. Shot ten times.
We were best friends since the academy, even though he had a few years on me. When we ended up in the same precinct after I graduated, it was just... it was just really great. He was engaged, and he was looking forward to — to so much. [he looks up at the dark ceiling, his eyes glassy.] I was there when he died, protecting me, as always.
[he snaps his mouth shut after that, lips thinning into an upset frown, like he's trying to keep himself from downright sobbing. but he retrieves the usual calm soon enough, shaking his head, curling hands into fists on his lap.]
Roche worked with us. He's such an asshole.
no subject
It makes sense, then. Why Cloud looks like he's about to fly apart, barely held together by what willpower remains in the wake of loss. He knows the feeling, as well, to lose someone important to him; though their traumas were made of different degrees of hurt, and even Vincent is not sure he can adequately compare his to Cloud's.
But that does not stop the swell of empathy threading through him. The pang of his own heart, to watch him struggle to speak of it. A part of him feels terrible for it, and guilt (that old friend) gnaws at his bones.]
...Yeah.
[He is. An asshole. In case that wasn't driven home enough.
Silence again. Chaos purrs beside him.]
Sorry, I didn't know. We don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable. I... understand. But-
[Ah. He's no good at this.]
At the same time, you could have told me earlier. I would've listened then, too.
no subject
There wasn't much to talk about.
[because cloud kept everything very close to his chest. the memories of zack felt too precious and too fragile, and at the same time he wanted to forget everything about it. which is why he moved to this part of the city, opposite of the area where it all happened. it takes him forty-five minutes to make it to tifa's for his shift, but he doesn't care; it takes him even longer to be close to anyone else who knows about it, who knew zack, who knows how it affected him. but it doesn't matter.]
[here, he can be alone, and he can easily bury away the shame and guilt deep inside his closet and forget it's there at all.]
I moved here to get away from... all of that.
[except that fragments of zack where littered everywhere. in the books with Z.F. written on the cover, the figurines that belonged to him, the movies that they'd watch together, the picture framed in his room. the unopened text message that cloud refuses, still, to check. hovering always on his notifications list. zack fair hey cloud! there's this before cutting off on the preview.]
[but zack would have said so many things, too, about keeping cheery, always doing his best towards others. which is why when he was giving the unlikely task of befriending vincent, he took it on in stride. what's the worst that could happen?]
You would have gotten along with him. [it takes him a moment, but cloud turns his face towards vincent, once he's sure he's not going to look stupid.] ...completely different energy levels, but he really liked fantasy novels. He didn't look it, but he read a lot. It was difficult for him but he wanted to publish a book one day. His own fantasy world, his own characters... that kind of thing.