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"we bear away
A mournful echo of other times and places,
And follow a dream . . . a dream that will not stay."
("this house of dust" - Conrad Aiken)
Cloud is waiting for him, just outside the inn, when Zack returns from the mansion where Sephiroth is still holed up, refusing to speak to anyone.
Having just been on patrol himself, he’s still wearing that gods awful helmet; the one that looks terrible on just about anyone, but somehow manages to be even more irritating when it’s Cloud wearing it. That, admittedly, has less to do with Cloud not being able to pull the look off - not that anyone could, mind you, not even Zack himself.
(It has everything to do with the fact that Zack just really kind of likes looking at Cloud’s face. It’s a good face, okay - all fine features, framed by that untameable hair, and eyes the colour of polished sea-stone.
And most importantly, it’s expressive - it’s always right there, whatever Cloud’s thinking, in the twitch of his lips, or the raise of an eyebrow, or the way he wrinkles his nose when he doesn’t like something. Zack’s keeping track of all his expressions; carefully catalogued in the corner of his mind that Cloud has somehow, without realising, claimed as his own.)
Cloud’s smoothing down the creases on his uniform before he spots Zack, and his breath comes out in puffs of smoke. His cheeks, from what Zack can make out under the offending piece of uniform, are pink.
“Zack,” he greets, “hey.”
“Hey yourself!” He bumps his fist against Cloud’s, and grins. “You still insist on wearing that thing?”
“Yeah.” It looks like Cloud might be biting the inside of his cheek, and Zack has to resist the urge to just grab the helmet and trash it. His fingers itch.
“You’re gonna be wearing that when we go meet your mom, too? You’ll give her a heart-attack.” He reaches out and pokes his shoulder.
“Oh, shut up.” Cloud swats his arm away, but at least he’s smiling. “I’ll take it off when we get there.”
Cloud starts walking, and Zack easily falls into step behind him, crossing his arms behind his head as they walk.
It’s well in the afternoon already; the sun’s long passed its zenith and is leaning down to kiss the mountaintops reaching out behind the village. It’s quiet too - just a bit like what he remembers Gongaga to be.
From here, Midgar, with its constant noise, feels a world away - machines whirring and pipes creaking and the chattering of busy people rushing up and down the streets - the sky tinted ever mako-green overhead.
Nibelheim’s streets are mostly empty, and, considering Zack spent his childhood just waiting for the day he’d get out of his village, finds he probably misses the city less than he should.
(With a twinge, he realises he hasn’t written home in a while. His parents must be worried. He’ll request leave, when they get back. They’ll be happy, when he comes to visit. Maybe he’ll even bring Cloud, if they get time off together - Zack’s seen his hometown, and it would be fun to show Cloud his own.
From one backwater expert to the other.)
“It’s cold,” Cloud states, breaking the blanket of silence that’s wrapped around them. “It’s probably going to snow later.”
Zack looks up at the sky, grey and blue, gradually growing orange at the horizon. “Snow? Really?”
Cloud nods. “It’s in the air. It probably won’t stick - it usually doesn’t. But yeah, I think you’ll get to see Nibelheim in its most glorious: grey and muddy and snow slush everywhere.”
“Huh.” Zack makes a contemplative sound. Then adds, grinning, “I look forward to it!”
There’s a hesitance in Cloud’s step he almost misses, lost in thought like that, but he does notice it, in the end. The way he’s walking slowly, in the way no infantryman really does, his feet almost hovering in the air for a split second before taking the next step.
Zack catches up to him in two big strides.
“What’s up?”
“Hm?” Cloud asks, and - yeah, there really must be something wrong, for Cloud to be distracted like that.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Zack bumps their shoulders together. The metal plates clink together with a metallic chime. “And not your usual brand of quiet. More like a worried kind of quiet.”
“My ‘usual brand of quiet,’ huh?” Cloud repeats, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “It’s nothing much, really. I’m okay.”
“But it’s still something,” Zack prods, “even if it’s nothing much.”
Cloud inclines his head, but says nothing.
Zack frowns.
“You don’t-” he starts. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I mean. But if I can help-”
“You’re helping.” Cloud tugs a strand of hair back under the helmet, and rearranges his scarf; his hand fingers playing with a thread that’s come loose that the edge. “You’re helping. I just- I’m just-”
“You’re nervous,” Zack realises. It’s a nervous tic, straightening his clothes like that. Everyone has them. SOLDIERs - everyone in the military is trained to look for them, in an opponent. A tell, a sign of weakness. Cloud hides his well, but Zack is attuned to the way Cloud shows emotions. He’s an open book, to those knowing how to read him, and Zack likes to think he’s good at it.
“Yeah.” His hand falls away and he bows his head, purposefully avoids meeting his eyes. It takes a moment before he speaks again. “I moved away to become a SOLDIER,” he says. His shoulders sag a little when he breathes out, and it looks like defeat. Zack doesn’t like it. “But I’m not. She’s not expecting a member of the infantry tonight. I don’t know how to face her.”
Zack rounds him, and places his hands on Cloud’s shoulders.
“Hey,” he says. “No. Listen, Cloud. Just because you aren’t a SOLDIER yet, doesn’t mean you’ll never be. You’ve still got years to go! You’re expecting too much of yourself. And comparing yourself to people like Sephiroth breeds misery. Believe me, I know.”
“I-”
“Nope. No ‘I’s and no ‘but’s. You’re gonna make SOLDIER, Cloud. As long as you hold onto your dreams and your honour, you’re gonna be just fine. You want to know how to face your mother? That’s how. You walk up to that door, with your head held high, and the conviction that you’ve got what it takes to get what you want. Because you do.”
“‘Dreams and honour’,” Cloud murmurs, and the corners of his mouth raise ever so slightly. He lays a hand on top of Zack’s where it still rests on his shoulder, and nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I can do that.”
The atrocious helmet is in Cloud’s hands when he knocks on the door, and his fingers drum an irregular beat as they wait for an answer.
As it turns out, he’d told his mother about their visit in only the absolutely necessary information - namely ‘I’m coming to Nibelheim and will stop by when I have the time’ and then ‘I’m bringing a friend.’
At least Zack hopes Cloud had told her about bringing a plus-one. He wants to be there for moral support, but he would hate to intrude.
His mother opens the door after a moment, expression completely blank as she takes in the two of them standing there, and for just a heartbeat, Zack worries. But then she’s reaching out, slender arm grasping at Cloud’s wrist, and pulling him close in a fierce hug - effectively smothering any worries Cloud might have had about facing her before he can say so much as a word.
Cloud’s mother looks, at first glance, like a small woman. She has the same fine features as her son, and the same unruly hair - it’s pinned back in a messy bun, but a few strands stick out here and there, falling into her face, and down her back.
“Hi, mom,” Cloud mumbles, into her shoulder.
“Cloud,” she replies as she steps back. “Welcome home. “
She takes in her son, from head to toe, before finally looking over to Zack.
“You must be Zack,” she says,eyeing him with a thoughtful expression, and he wonders if maybe he should have dropped the buster sword off in their room in the inn first - it does look intimidating, probably, to a civilian.
Claudia doesn’t spare it so much as a second glance. Instead, she smiles. “It’s good to finally meet you. Come in, both of you. It’s getting cold.”
Cloud first walks in first, with Zack prodding in after him in slow steps. It’s interesting, how people’s stance changes, when they’re on familiar ground - he’d been so worried just moments before, but now Cloud’s shoulders are straight, and there’s a confidence in his steps, one that comes from knowing a place by heart - knowing which floorboards creak and which don’t, how many steps it takes before rounding a corner, which corners to give a wide berth lest you run into them.
He follows them to the kitchen first, small but cosy, with stone tiles on the floor, and a rack with pots and pans hanging from it next to the oven. There’s a bread dough left out to prove on the counter, and the smell of something delicious cooking fills the room - spicy and, somehow, a bit like home.
“The stew isn’t quite done yet,” Claudia tells them, “but make yourself at home in the meantime.”
Cloud nods. “Come on,” he says, and leads Zack to a small dining area. “You can take off your gear, if you want” Cloud says, “I’ll put them into my room, and they’ll be safe?”
“Great, thanks!” Zack removes the sword from the mount on his back, and then takes off the shoulder plates and harness before handing them to Cloud.
“Are you okay with me taking that…?” Cloud’s eyeing the buster sword.
“Oh, sure! Why wouldn’t I be?” Zack holds it out. “Careful, it’s kinda heavy.”
“I just know it’s important to you.” Cloud takes it with both of his, and even despite its weight, he holds it like it’s something precious. “I’ll be right back.”
(He walks back into the room not five minutes later, dressed in baggy sweats and a long sleeved black shirt that seems rather tight fitting across his chest.
“Guess I did fill out a little, this past year,” he says, giving him a sheepish smile.
Zack feels heat rising to the hollow of his cheeks. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, looks like.”)
Dinner is a steaming pot of deliciousness - every bit as good as Cloud had promised that it would be.
It’s some kind of beef and potato stew, rich and hearty, and served with a crusty soda bread. Zack wolfs down two bowls and is about to ask for a third before he considers that maybe that’s rude, but Claudia catches his look and pushes the pot closer to where he’s sitting.
“Go ahead,” she smiles. “I made enough.”
So he helps himself to another bowl.
He listens to Cloud and his mother talk - isn’t surprised when she takes the news of him not being a SOLDIER yet with grace and a smile.
“You’ll make it soon enough. But they’re treating you well?” she asks. “You eat right? Get enough sleep?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry, the company takes care of me.”
“I’m your mother, Cloud. I’ll always worry about you.” Tugging a strand of hair behind her ear, she adds, “Have you thought about what I said?”
“What?” Cloud finishes his bowl and traces the edge with his finger.
“About finding someone. Someone who’ll take care of you.”
Intrigued, Zack glances at Cloud, who splutters, grimacing, “what- no. I told you! I’m not interested!” He meets Zack’s eyes, and a flush creeps across his cheeks. He gathers the empty dishes and gets up. “I’ll clean these.”
“Want me to help?” Zack offers, turning on his chair, because Cloud’s already through the door.
“No, you’re okay. I’ll be right back.”
He turns back to Claudia, who’d been watching them. She leans back, amusement lighting up her eyes.
“The food was great!” he tells her. “Definitely better than anything I’ve had in a while.”
She waves him off. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
There’s a moment of silence - and Zack wonders if maybe he should go help Cloud after all. He’s good with people, and he rarely has to deal with awkward silences, but there’s something about sitting down at the table with the mother of his best friend - his best friend, whose chest he’d been staring at earlier, at that.
Claudia seems to notice. “So, Zack,” she starts. “I wish I could say that Cloud’s told me all about you, but he tells me very little.” Then, with a smile, she adds, “but what he does tell me is often about you.”
Zack grins. Rubs the back of his neck. “Only good things, I hope.”
At her nod, he relaxes a little.
“That’s the thing. See, Cloud - he doesn’t connect well with others. I was happy to hear that he finally found a friend. He cares about you a great deal.”
He feels his own grin soften at that. “I care about him, too. He’s great.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Working for ShinRa, it’s what he wants. And I want him to be happy, but it’s hard - knowing he’s out there, fighting, but not knowing how he is, or when he’ll be home next. And I suppose it will only get worse, once he actually makes SOLDIER.”
It’s hard sometimes, to think that they are not the only ones who carry ShinRa’s burdens. They get missions and complete them; failure not an option. They travel, they train, they fight, on a couple hours of sleep a night and shitty rations or even shittier MREs, and most of the time, they do it gladly - this is the life that all of them, including both Cloud and he, have chosen. But it’s hard, not only for them, but the people they leave behind.
It’s probably equally hard, if for different reasons - the fighting and the waiting.
He nods.
For a brief moment, she closes her eyes. “Thank you,” she says. “For not lying about it.”
Faintly, there’s the sound of running water and clinking dishes, and they both consider the boy in the kitchen.
“Cloud’s capable,” Zack says. “He’s amazing. He impressed a lot of people already, and it won’t take long for him to become a SOLDIER. He doesn’t need anyone to protect him. But.” He exhales, a short release of breath, and meets Claudia’s gaze. “But I as long as there’s ever anything I can do, I won’t let anything happen to him.”
He’s met with a contemplative look. “How old are you, Zack?”
“Uh,” he makes. “I’m eighteen.”
“Two years older than Cloud, hm?” It’s not really a question, so he doesn’t answer. “And you’ll take care of him?”
“I’ll do my absolute best. Nothing will happen to him as long as I’m there to stop it.”
And then Claudia smiles. She reaches over the table, and holds Zack’s hand in both of hers. “A mother can ask for no more than that. Thank you, Zack. I really am glad that we finally meet.”
Cloud’s mother looks, at first glance, like a small woman. Blond, unruly hair and fine features. But she has the same determined look in her eyes that Zack has come to know from Cloud. Her hands are calloused in a way that lets him know she is not above hard work, and he realises at once that she loves her son fiercely.
And when she gets up to relieve Cloud in the kitchen, Zack can’t help feeling like he passed some sort of test. He doesn’t know what it means, but it makes him smile a little anyway.
Cloud’s room, he finds, when Cloud invites him to stay a little longer after dinner, is both exactly and nothing like how Zack imagined it would be.
It’s pretty modest - there’s small desk, a set of drawers, and a bed that’s pushed against the wall, facing the only window. The buster sword is leaning against a wooden chair in the corner of the room, and Zack’s gear is hung over the backrest. It’s a very clean, meaning Cloud’s mother had been keeping it that way ever since Cloud moved out, but even more so, the desk is orderly, sheets of paper stacked neatly in one corner, which confirms Zack’s suspicion that Cloud is just generally a very tidy person.
The walls are mostly bare, save for a ticking clock.
“Hm,” Zack drawls, walking in. “I would have for sure expected one of those Sephiroth posters his fans keep printing. I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.”
“Oh shut up,” Cloud nudges him with his shoulder as he walks by. “You don’t get to walk into my room and make fun of me for it. It’s rude.” He points towards the bed. “Just make yourself comfortable.”
“It is rude,” Zack agrees with a grin as he flops down on the bed. “Guess I’m lucky you like me.”
Cloud grabs a blanket from one of the drawers and joins Zack on the bed. He unfolds it, throws one end over Zack’s legs and covers himself with the other half.
“I only have the one,” he says. “Hope this is okay?”
“Of course it is, but - are you sure you don’t want all of it? I’m mako-enhanced, remember? We don’t really get cold that easily.”
“I don’t mind sharing.” Cloud shrugs. “Look.”
Oh. Zack hadn’t noticed at all, but outside, where Cloud is pointing at the window, snow has begun to fall, and the streets and rooftops are already covered in white. On closer inspection, it does seem kind of wet - like Cloud’s prediction, it probably won’t stay until morning, but for now, it’s a beautiful sight; white against the by now dark sky, and the soft light of Nibelheim’s street lamps and windows.
“I hadn’t noticed,” Zack says, and turns to look at Cloud next to him, who’s still studying the falling snow outside. The bedside lamp gives Cloud’s eyes an almost impossible glow, something entirely different from trademark mako eyes.
“Mh.” Cloud shifts closer, until Zack can smell standard issue ShinRa shampoo and something like pine trees. “Hey, Zack?”
“What’s up?”
“Thank you. For coming today.” Cloud glances up at him, impossible eyes framed by full lashes.
“Aw, buddy, I’m happy you brought me to meet your parent.” Zack grins, but adds, more seriously, “You would have been okay, you know?”
“Still. You make things easier, by being there. You-” Cloud looks down. “You give me courage.”
There’s something warm blooming in Zack’s chest, spreading fast through his entire body like a wave rushing to meet the shore, or perhaps, if he were more poetically inclined, like the colours of dawn bleeding across the sky. He bites his lip to keep it from flooding over.
Beside him, there’s a faint trembling, and Cloud shifts closer yet, to Zack. “So warm,” he murmurs, quietly, which was probably not meant for him to hear.
Zack smiles. “You cold?”
“Just a bit. Maybe I’ll put on a warmer shirt, hang on-”
Zack pulls him back when Cloud moves to get up, and wraps his arms around him. “Nah, come on. Mako-enhanced, remember? I can be your personal hot-water bottle.”
Cloud squirms a little, in his arms, and Zack can feel the heat in his cheeks where his face rests against his shoulder. But then he sighs, and shifts, just a bit, to get comfortable.
“...You’re an idiot,” Cloud informs him, argument losing heat with the fact that he’s buried his nose in the crook of Zack’s neck.
“I can live with that,” Zack replies with a smile, as he rests his chin on Cloud’s head, and decidedly swallows a joke about being Cloud’s idiot because he doesn’t wanna push his luck.
They’re quiet, afterwards, and Zack watches the snow fall outside the window, breathing the scent of pine trees, until his eyes drift shut on their own.
Claudia balances two mugs of hot chocolate in one hand as she knocks on the door, opens it, quietly, when there is no reply. The sights that greets her makes her smile, probably the biggest and most honest she’s smiled since Cloud left Nibelheim.
There, on the bed, is her son, half draped over Zack; the black-haired, battle-worn SOLDIER’s arms wrapped securely around him. They’re both fast asleep, chest rising and falling slowly, almost in unison.
She places the mugs on Cloud’s desk, picks up the blanket that’s slipped down to the floor and covers the two of them, tugging the edges in more securely. Zack’s eyes flutter open at that, and he moves, just a bit, arms tightening around Cloud as he does.
‘Nothing will happen to him as long as I’m there to stop it,’ he’d said. It’s in that moment, instinctively moving to shield Cloud even as he’s half asleep, that she believes him.
“It’s just me,” she says, quietly. “He chose you, so take care of him for me. I’m trusting you.”
She turns off the light, tiptoes out of the room, and closes the door behind her.