Modes of Existence: Chapter Three
Cloud took his time walking back to his room, the cool linoleum on his feet a sharp contrast to the dull warmth of the cut on his leg. He adjusted his pants as he went, still feeling the phantom touch of Dr. Leonhart's fingers on his waist, the subtle probe of his hands on his legs. He would have to get rid of the pants as soon as he got back to his room. It didn't make a difference; he had fifty other pairs just like it in a drawer.
He walked with a slight limp, trying not to put as much pressure on his injury, as minor as it was. The hallways were mostly empty in the early evening, most of the patients either outside or in one of the common lounges. Cloud liked it that way, though. He preferred not to endure the company of his fellow inmates. Most of them weren't worth the trouble anyway.
Taking a quick turn, he exited the main building through a side door, making his way through the central courtyard. It was a nice place to sit and reflect, Cloud found, especially on a particular bench in the corner near the pond. It was his personal place; he like to sit there and stare at his reflection in the rippling water, wondering when and where everything had gone so terribly wrong. More often than not, it was unoccupied, as if it were waiting just for his arrival. Not today.
“Cloud-o,” called out Axel Atsui, a strange man who had been committed on multiple charges of arson. The pyromaniac had been single-handedly responsible for fires that caused at least three separate deaths. His lack of remorse for any of them landed him an indeterminate sentence in Edge Asylum.
It wasn't that Cloud disliked the red-head. As a matter of fact, he was more tolerable than Cloud would have expected. Around others, he was loud, brash, and obnoxious to hell. But alone, when it was just the two of them, or sometimes when he watched him with Roxas (the name crossed his mind with a bit of animosity), he was much different. Subdued, and almost caring in a way. And he was one of the few people who didn't try to prod him into conversation every five seconds.
He took a seat next to him on the bench, sitting in the corner and allowing his legs to stretch out before him. Axel was playing with a lighter—no doubt stolen from one of the nurses. It amazed Cloud that the red-head managed to get away with so much at the asylum. He really was a sneaky bastard.
“Dunno if you heard, but Rox had another episode today,” he said in a muted voice, staring fixedly at the flame of the lighter. His fingers danced playfully over the heat. “Apparently, he managed to hurt someone. They wouldn't even let me go see him.” He glanced over at Cloud, who sat motionless, and notice the bloodied tear in his pants. His eyes widened in realization.
“Shit, man, don't tell me it was you,” he breathed. The corner of his lips picked up in a smile. “Wait, let me guess—feisty little Roxie was about to take down one of the nurses and you, ever the hero, stepped in to save the day.”
Axel's attempt at humour was met with a flat stare and thinned lips. Unlike Dr. Leonhart, Axel hadn't managed to earn the right to frivolous conversation yet. Still, the red-head laughed just the same as if Cloud had said something aloud. “Ah, Cloud-o, you slay me,” he wheezed between chuckles. “So noble, yet so modest.”
Cloud was sorely tempted to roll his eyes, but the pyromaniac fell silent after that, leaving Cloud to his own thoughts. In truth, Axel's words were closer than he realized. True, Cloud hadn't stepped in to save a nurse—but a doctor was close enough, wasn't it? And in any case, it wasn't even a conscious reaction, just instinct. Anyone else in his position would have done the same.
But if that were true, then why did Cloud get the feeling that his doctor was getting completely under his skin? He even looked forward to their weekly meetings, if for nothing else than to break the monotony of life in the asylum. Ticking off the doctor was his favorite form of entertainment, and although the man might think otherwise, it was never with ill intent. Okay, maybe once or twice—or five times. Still, even if it was just that, he'd communicated more with the man in the past year and a half than he had with his mother his whole life. Something about Leonhart evoked a feeling of camaraderie, of trust. Although, Cloud supposed, that was probably part of his job, or at least why he entered the profession in the first place. Cloud doubted it had anything to do with the man himself; Leon was far too antisocial to intentionally pursue anything that resembled friendship, especially with his patients.
Friendship. It reminded Cloud of...no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't forget. It still haunted him, even after all the passed years. The betrayal, the hurt—it never faded with time. He could still see Zack's brilliant smile, hear his lighthearted laugh; he could almost feel Sephiroth's infinitely gently caress on his skin. If he wanted to, he could make it seem like it was only yesterday that the three of them were best friends. The occasions when they went out on double-dates—him and Sephiroth, along with Zack and the love of his life, Aerith—could feel like they were last night instead of last lifetime. If he wanted to, he could even blot out those terrible events that ruined his life forever.
A chilly wind blew by, ruffling Cloud's hair and reminding him of where he was—reminding him of the truth. Edge Asylum, his official permanent residence for the past year and a half. Patient #0102. Admitted after refusing to speak for a month, for reasons unknown.
Reasons which, if he had his way, would stay unknown.
He felt Axel shifting near his feet. “Well, Cloud-o, thanks for the riveting company, but I'm gonna see if they'll let me see Rox now,” Axel said, his tone completely genuine, and the pyromaniac pulled himself to his feet. He gave Cloud a quick salute before tucking his hands in his pockets and strolling away, leaving the blond alone.
Cloud blinked as he looked around himself, noticing that the sky had gotten significantly darker since he'd sat down. His guess was that a couple of hours had passed while he was lost in his thoughts. Enough time for him to head back to his room—or, at least, to the cafeteria, he though as his stomach growled. His bones popped as he stretched his arms and torso, swinging his legs to the ground. He stood and walked back towards the building, his legs feeling stiff from sitting for so long. A warm shower sounded really great.
He entered the building, turning down the hallway in the direction of the cafeteria, and was surprised to run into Dr. Leonhart. Literally.
Leon's hands automatically came up to hold Cloud by the shoulders. “Cloud,” he said, his voice distracted as he glanced over the blond's shoulder. “Sorry. I'm kind of in a rush right now,” he said by way of explanation, before hurrying past Cloud.
Well, hell. It seemed that wherever his favorite doctor was off to was much more interesting than the cafeteria, so Cloud promptly changed his course to follow him.
Leon could see out of the corner of his eye that Cloud was following him yet again, and he resisted the urge to sigh. “Cloud,” he said, “you really cannot follow me this time. I have to meet with a new patient.” A patient, he'd been told, who had a particularly violent history. Apparently, he'd been convicted of 14 murders which took place over the course of five years, and, according to his file, “would have continued, had I not grown bored of the chase.” Having Cloud around Roxas was one thing; this guy was much more dangerous, and Leon couldn't predict his behaviors. Either of them: the new guy, or the much more troublesome Cloud.
Still, Cloud kept close to his heels, despite his stern warning. Biting back a growl, he stopped in his tracks, spinning around to face Cloud. “Cloud,” he said, “go.”
Cloud merely looked at him with wide eyes, his head tilted to the side.
Leon dragged a hand over his face, and then threw his hands in the air, muttering darkly to himself. The pair made their way to the front desk, where the receptionist directed Leon into a private holding room. Cloud hung back, doodling on the sign-in sheet on the desk until the receptionist pinned him with an icy glare. He stared back at her, giving her his best glare until she eventually turned away to busy herself. A smirk lifted his lips.
Glancing to the side, he could see Leonhart's figure moving about the room, but he couldn't see anything else. He wondered idly about the new patient. Would he be like Axel, annoying, but someone he could pass time with in a facsimile of friendship? Or would he be more like Saix, who was simply out of control and probably more suited to living in a zoo? Maybe he would be—
Cloud's pointless musing was cut short as the door swung open. For a moment, all he could see was the open door, and Leon's hand on the knob. And then he walked out from the room, still as graceful and beautiful and captivating as he remembered, and it took Cloud's breath away.
As he stalked (for that was the only way Cloud could describe the way he moved, always like a predator after his prey) closer to him, his breath returned in the form of short gasps. He felt like his whole body was collapsing in on itself, like the very air surrounding him had turned into a relentless vice, trying to crush him out of existence. His hands, his arms, his whole body went numb as he turned to him, his cattish, green eyes glittering with amusement and malice, and a mirthless grin stretched over his lips, lips Cloud knew too well.
“Good to see you...Cloud.”
It was as if his voice, so silky and deep, was the catalyst to some disastrous reaction within Cloud. He heard himself gasp, a shrill, raspy, whining noise; he heard Leon shout his name, alarm clear in his tone; he could feel himself slide to the ground, unable to stand on boneless legs. But it was all as if it were happening to someone else, not him—he didn't think he'd be able to bear it if it were him. As the darkness closed in on his mind and strong hands handled his body, only one thought made it through the fried circuits of his mind.
He found me...Sephiroth.
