Skywalkers

3: Cracks in the Wall

He stood once again in the darkened dance hall, drink in hand, staring down at his feet. All around him, the rest of the entering freshman class chatted and danced and laughed and generally had a good time. He ignored all of it. He hated social gatherings. The only reason why he had come was because his roommate had dragged him.

"Hey."

He looked up at the voice and found a girl in front of him. She smiled sweetly and took a step closer.

"You're the best-looking guy here. Dance with me?"

His heart leapt with recognition. Yes, of course I'll dance with you. But his body remained still, and his eyes looked away.

"I see. You're one of those guys who'll only dance with someone they like, right?"

She shrugged and made to turn away, but at the last second, she whirled back and clasped him by the shoulder with one hand. The other waved in front of his eyes as if trying to hypnotize him.

"You're going to liiiike me. … You're going to liiiike me. …" She tipped her dark head to one side with a playful smile. "Did it work?"

Yes, it worked. I love you so much. I miss you every day. But, just as he had done in real life, he only shrugged a bit and ground out, "I can't dance."

He knew what was supposed to happen now. She was supposed to ignore his protests and drag him to the dance floor where he would discover to his surprise that he did know his left foot from his right. And then he would dance the next song with her, and the next, and at the end of the night she would force her number on him which he would find himself calling the very next day for reasons he didn't understand.

But she didn't reach for his hand. Didn't smile and roll her eyes slightly. Instead, her face blanked out, and she slowly turned away.

"All right then. See ya."

His internal self gasped. No, this wasn't how it was supposed to go. Desperately, he tried to reach out to her, to call her name as she walked away, but she just kept going and his body returned to staring dully at the floor.

No. Don't go. Please. Rinoa …

And then her voice whispered that terrible sentence into his head yet again.

"I don't think I'm going to make it, Squall."

The ceiling above them crashed down, and he could hear nothing but her screams.

"Rinoa!"

Leon jerked awake with her name caught in his throat. He blinked into the half-light for several frenzied heartbeats before his brain kicked in and told him it had been a dream. For the next few minutes, the haze continued to fall away from his senses, and when it had finished, he cursed softly to himself. Would these nightmares never end?

"Hey, you okay?"

A concerned face framed by golden hair hung above him, only a few feet away. Leon stared at it for a moment and let the situation return to his sleep-addled mind. That face belonged to Cloud. Cloud was in his bed because he was injured. Leon was on the floor, on the air mattress that Sora used when he visited. And Leon had slept in the same room rather than somewhere else just in case Cloud needed anything during the night. Right. That all seemed to fit.

"Leon?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," he finally replied. His voice sounded scratchy and deeper than normal.

"Because you looked like you were having a nightmare."

"I was having a nightmare."

"Oh. All right."

Leon glared up at those blue eyes which continued to examine him. Any normal person would have inquired as to the nature of the nightmare or tried to soothe him. But not Cloud. Nothing about the blond could be considered normal. Although, as Leon thought more about it, he was rather grateful that the other had not pried. He was usually a rather reserved person, too, so it felt almost nice to have Cloud accept his explanation without further questions.

After a minute where all they did was stare at each other, Leon remarked, "You rolled over by yourself."

"Yes, I did."

"Does it hurt?"

"A bit, but I'm dealing with it."

"All right then."

And the conversation died again. That tended to happen a lot with Cloud. But this morning, instead of grasping about for a way to start it up again and preferably guide it towards finding out Cloud's secret information, Leon let himself just enjoy the quiet. The blond seemed to be busy looking at him, so he returned the favor. Cloud really did have a perfect face for one of his sex-hungry heroes. Apart from the scratches on his cheeks, his skin was smooth and unblemished. His hair would look great in one of those fake wind-blown shots. And Leon could probably write pages about those eyes and what they would do to some unsuspecting virgin.

He was debating on the best way to romanticize their color - cerulean? No, aquamarine - when Cloud's finger suddenly appeared between his own dull-colored eyes.

"How'd you get this?"

It took Leon a minute to realize the other man meant the scar that traveled downwards across his nose. Gently, he raised his own fingers to trace it. "My little brother, Sora, gave this to me when we were kids. We were playing ping-pong at my grandparents' house, and he got mad. He threw the paddle down on the table, but it bounced." He smirked slightly at the memory. "It bounced just perfectly, and it smacked me here between the eyes. I'm lucky I wasn't blinded."

For some reason, Cloud's eyes had darkened, and he chewed his lip a little as if in thought. After a hesitant breath, he asked, "Ping-pong. Is that some kind of game?"

Leon blinked at him. He didn't know what ping-pong was? "Um, yeah," he replied with more than a hint of disbelief in his tone.

"Yeah, thought so," Cloud said hurriedly, clearly embarrassed. "Okay then." And suddenly he was pushing himself upwards with his hands, his face contorting with the effort of moving.

"Hold on!" Leon cried, bolting upright. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting up," the other replied calmly even though his brow was breaking into a fine sweat. "I thought I'd visit the bathroom."

Leon quickly got to his feet and grabbed onto Cloud before he could stand. "Okay, stop that. You are not well enough to walk on your own."

"Then I'll crawl," Cloud returned, trying his best to shake Leon's hands off of him. "I put up with this nonsense yesterday, but I am not going to be treated like a little kid anymore."

"Oh for chrissakes," Leon growled. Abandoning all pretense of treating the other with dignity, he pulled Cloud to his feet, used one hand to wrap an arm around his neck, and grabbed onto the blond's hip with the other. When Cloud began to protest again, he interrupted harshly, "You're not a child; you're injured. You have a goddamn six-inch gash on your back. If the doctor and I say you're not walking, you're not walking."

For a moment, Cloud just stood there in shock. Then, he smiled very slightly and commented, "You're grouchy in the morning, aren't you, Leon?"

Leon stared him straight in the eye and answered, "Fuck you."

"I thought I was injured," the reply came straight back.

Now it was Leon's turn to stand in shock. But as he did so, Cloud's smile widened ever so slightly, and he soon found himself smiling back. And then they were both laughing, Cloud hanging onto Leon's shirt with his other hand to keep from falling.

When they had recovered themselves, Leon helped Cloud over to the bathroom and through the door. Once there, Cloud used the sink to ease himself over to the toilet. After watching a minute to make sure the other didn't fall, Leon closed the door and then leaned against the wall to wait.

"Sure you don't want me to come prop you up?" he called with a smirk.

"No thank you. My pride was damaged enough yesterday as it was."

"All right, but if I hear a splash, I'm coming in."

"Sweet Shiva, I think if you had your way, you'd hold it for me."

Leon chuckled at that and had thrown back a "I just might," before he realized what he had just heard. Wasn't Shiva a Hindu god? Was Cloud Hindu? With his coloring and features, he looked like a classic WASP. Leon knew that eastern religions were "in" these days, especially with celebrities, but that didn't seem to be Cloud's style. So where had that oath come from?

Leon frowned to himself. Just who is Cloud? God, it's driving me crazy. He felt himself tensing up with frustration, so, with great effort, he forced himself to let it go. Cloud would tell him when and if he was ready. As much as he hated to admit it, he would simply have to wait.

xXx

It could no longer be avoided. Pietro and Alexandra simply had to be dealt with. As he stood before the computer, Leon sighed and accepted his fate. He had left Cloud in the other room, asleep, and now it was time to earn his living. Slowly, Leon lowered himself into his work chair and once again dove into the frilly, flowery world of his chosen profession.

Somewhere in the middle of the obligatory sex, he realized he was enjoying writing the scene far more than he usually did. Alexandra had begun to take the form of his beloved wife in his mind, and for the first time in years, his own experiences had some say in his writing. Pietro made her gasp and writhe on the computer screen, but in his head, he was making love to Rinoa again. The words came out with an easy flow, and all he had to do was change the names and edit the personal descriptions. Little memories came back to him - the sounds she made, the way her head moved in pleasure, the rhythm of her breathing - and they all found their way into his manuscript. When the two lovers finally came together in a blaze of cherubs and violin music, Leon sat back in his chair, amazed at himself.

Where the hell had that come from? For the first few novels he had written, he had tried to do this very thing, but the memories had been too painful. After a while, he had given up on trying. But now, for no reason, they had all come pouring back and out of his fingers without the slightest trace of hurt. In fact, he felt warm inside, like she had just wrapped her arms about him from behind. And when he reread his work, he actually felt impressed by what he had done. Stupid romantic clichés aside, it was a decent piece of writing and something of which to be proud.

Leon propped his head in one hand and stared at the computer screen, unseeing. What had changed? Nothing, as far as he could tell. Except that he had volunteered information about Rinoa to Cloud last night. He blinked a bit at the thought. Was that all it was? He had offered up a bit of his pain, and therefore it had lessened. No, he had talked to many people about his loss since her death, and none of them had helped in the slightest. Cloud, however, was different. Unlike all the others, the strange blond had not fussed over him or tried to get him to cry or told him to move on or any of that. Cloud had just listened and then offered sympathies. Was that really all that Leon had needed?

A crash from the other room interrupted his musings. As Leon leapt to his feet and rushed to the door, he heard a string of low-voiced curses follow on the tail end of the original noise. The sound made him smile slightly. At least Cloud felt well enough to swear. He opened the door, expecting to have to clean up at least something.

Sure enough, half of his bookcase lay on the floor. In the center of the mess sat Cloud with Leon's leather-bound book of Dickens in one hand and one of his trashy novels in the other. Leon could just picture what had happened: Cloud, being bored, had hauled himself out of bed and tottered over to the bookcase. He had selected the Dickens to read, but the heavy tome had knocked him off-balance. Cloud had instinctively reached out to stop his fall and had instead brought down half of the books with him. Once the dust had settled, he had picked up a book, intending to start piling them up, but had stopped upon seeing the name embossed in swirly gold lettering upon the cover.

Noticing Leon in the doorway, Cloud lifted his eyes, locked gazes with him, and held out the romance, demanding, "Is this you?"

For the moment, Leon ignored him. "I thought I told you you weren't walking today."

"I was bored out of my skull. Is this you?"

Leon briefly considered saying that no, the young man with windswept ebony hair who had his nose practically buried in the ravished-looking blonde's cleavage was not, in fact, him. He thought better of it, however, and answered, "Yes."

"Your last name is Heartilly? Are you serious? That has to be a pseudonym."

With a small smile at the disbelief in Cloud's voice, Leon knelt down and began gathering up books. "Heartilly was my wife's maiden name. I took it when I changed my name to Leon. I agree, though, it is rather amusing for a romance writer."

"Changed?" Confusion pulled the other man's brows down in a expression Leon found pleasantly familiar even after only two days.

"Yeah. I was born Squall Leonhart. Leon Heartilly was my pen name, and then I just decided to go by it everywhere."

"Oh." Setting down the Dickens next to him, Cloud flipped the paperback book over and began reading the summary on the back.

"What's your last name?"

"Strife."

"You're kidding."

Cloud's eyes snapped up and flashed threateningly. "No, I'm not. Why would you think that?" The challenge was there again. That dare to make even the slightest bit of fun of his name.

Leon rose to his feet, arms full of books, and looked down on his impromptu houseguest. Cloud Strife. Like a thunderstorm. Fierce, unapproachable, and a touch dangerous. And yet beautiful to look at. It fit him well.

"No reason," he answered gently and turned away to put the books back.

Cloud stayed silent while Leon finished cleaning up the mess, but when he held out his hand for the romance novel, the blond smirked up at him and shook his head. "Nah, I think I'll read this one."

"Oh no," Leon groaned. "You can't."

The smirk widened at the embarrassment in his voice. "Why not?"

"It's awful."

"It was good enough to publish."

"Have you seen the garbage in the bookstores these days?"

"Can't say I have," Cloud positively grinned. He pulled the cover back and acted as if he were going to read it right there on the floor. "Don't worry," he added. "I like smut."

Sighing in defeat, Leon leaned down and helped the other man to his feet. As he guided him back to bed, he commented, "If you like that, you'd better check yourself for tits."

A snort escaped Cloud, but he quickly turned it into a cough. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied seriously. Once Leon had propped him up with pillows again, he lifted his head and asked, "Can I get a glass of water?"

"Sure," Leon replied. He fussed with a pillow for a moment more before turning away. As he closed the door, he heard Cloud repress a snort of laughter, presumably at his writing. Shaking his head, he made his way to the kitchen.

As he took a glass down from the cabinet, a thought occurred to him. It actually felt good having someone to take care of. He felt useful and needed, even considering Cloud's furious independence. Perhaps, when Cloud left, he would get himself a pet. Sora had been encouraging him to get one for years, but Leon had always resisted. Now, he wondered if he would in fact benefit from an animal.

When Cloud left. Leon paused in the act of turning on the tap. Why did that thought make him a little sad? Of course Cloud would leave. He had come from somewhere, even if he refused to tell Leon where that was, so he would obviously go somewhere eventually. Hell, Leon wanted the irritating man out of his house so that he could go back to his normal life. He had, after all, been perfectly content living alone, writing trash novels, and letting the rest of the world go by him. Cloud was nothing but a pain in his ass.

But still, it was nice to have company. And not the normal chatty company that he was used to from his brother. Cloud was quiet, reserved company. Someone much like Leon himself. That was company that Leon could get very used to very quickly.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Leon filled the glass with water and walked out of the kitchen. He was thinking far too much. If he wasn't careful, he would blow up this situation of his into some complicated drama worthy of one of his novels, and if that ever happened, Leon swore he would shoot himself.