Modes of Existence: Chapter Two
Cloud followed dutifully behind Dr. Leonhart as he strode down the hallways of the asylum, quickly arriving at the scene of the incident. “What's going on here?” Leon asked authoritatively, bursting through the double-doors to the cafeteria.
Immediately one of the nurses rushed up to him. “Leon,” she said breathlessly, relief clear on her face, “I have no idea what happened. We were just giving him his medication, and then...this. He swung out at us when we tried to get any closer. He managed to hit Rinoa in the face.” A dark look crossed her face; Rinoa was respected as the nicest nurse—no, the nicest person in the entire building.
Leon glanced over to where the small blond (even smaller than Cloud, he noted mildly) sat curled into a ball on the floor. There was a clear circle around him, both staff and patients alike having the sense of mind to stay away from him. He nodded once, turning back to the nurse.
“Tifa, you and the others get the patients out of here,” he said, motioning with one hand. The busty brunette nodded and turned, immediately ushering the other patients out through the side entrances.
Leon waited until the area was only populated by himself, the other staff members, and the crisis in the middle of the floor—and Cloud, he noted out of the corner of his eye. “Stay out of the way,” he warned the stubborn blond, who merely gave him a level stare in return.
Leon turned towards the center of the floor, taking careful steps forward. “Roxas,” he called out, “can you hear me?”
For a few seconds, the only reply he could hear were the ragged gasps and growls coming from the boy's mouth. And then, words: “Won't let you...s-stay away...from m-me...”
By virtue of being one of Leon's patients, Roxas Espilice was one of the more severe cases in the asylum. He had been diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder, and was often prone to episodes like this one, where he fought against the intrusion of his “other self.” Sometimes, the kid would quietly excuse himself from public company, retreating to his room to deal with it there; other times, he wasn't so lucky. The episode would blindside him, leaving him much like he was now: agonized and unpredictably violent.
“Roxas, it's Dr. Leonhart,” he called out soothingly, risking another couple of steps forward. Cloud watched the entire thing with intent eyes, not liking at all the way the smaller blond clutched desperately at his hair with one hand, the other wrapped around his stomach, muttering things under his breath. His eyes narrowed as still Leon pressed forward.
“Don't n-need you...away f-from me,” stuttered Roxas, his eyes clenched shut as he shook his head. “Go away.”
Leon hesitated, unsure of whether the words were meant for him or the voice in the boy's head. Still, he continued forward until he was only a foot away from him. “Roxas, let me help you,” he said, squatting down to try to look the boy in the eye. “Talk to me.”
Cloud noticed the slight shift in Roxas' position before anyone else. He didn't think; he just acted. Darting forward, he shoved Leon backwards, standing in his position as Roxas slashed out with a plastic knife. Cloud let loose a muted growl, unheeding of the bleeding wound he now sustained on his upper thigh. The two blue-eyed blondes faced each other, Roxas with a bit less sanity in his eye than his taller, older opposition. The smaller of the two maintained a crouched position, glaring at Cloud even though his breath was ragged and came in pants. Cloud stood in a loose fighting stance, ready to take out the kid if it came down to it.
Leon didn't even register what had happened until he found himself lying on the ground, thrown there by the very same patient he had instructed to stay out of the way. Knowing he had to act fast before a legitimate fight broke out, he caught Tifa's eye over Cloud's shoulder, motioning for her to move in. Tifa nodded, and the large man standing next to her, one of the facility's security guards, rushed forward to hold Roxas in a tight two-armed grip.
The blond's eyes dilated as he fell into shock, but before he could even react to his new situation, Tifa dashed into the fray, jabbing a needle full of sedative into Roxas' neck. The boy fell limp in Rude's arms as the sedative worked its way through his system, bringing the entire encounter to a rather anti-climactic ending, in Cloud's opinion. He stood upright, folding his arms over his chest and frowning crossly. A part of him had been looking forward to tearing the little shit apart for trying to attack his Leon like that.
His eyes grew slightly wider at the thought—his Leon. Before he could fully examine the logic behind such a random (and entirely untrue, he thought fiercely) idea, said doctor grabbed his arm, roughly spinning him around.
“I thought I told you to stay back,” he said in a harsh tone, his gunmetal eyes flashing dangerously.
Cloud merely schooled his expression into one of boredom, quirking an eyebrow at the sable-haired doctor. You did?
Leon's own eyes narrowed in return, his lips curling into something that looked remarkably like a growl. Cloud instinctively wanted to step back, but Leon's firm hold on his arm prevented him. “Yes, I did,” he said through gritted teeth, “and for good reason. Now you've sustained an injury, one that could have full well been prevented, had you taken it upon your stubborn, hard-headed self to listen to me for once in your goddamn life.”
In that moment, Cloud couldn't help but feel like the doctor was overreacting. A tiny part of him even felt mildly offended at such harsh words. He wasn't stub—okay, maybe he was, just a little. But he certainly wasn't—alright, maybe he was hard-headed as well. But that didn't mean he was stupid, which, if his tone was anything to go by, Leon clearly thought was true.
He raised both of his eyebrows, affecting a look of disbelief. After matching glares with Leon for a few seconds, he hazarded a glance downwards at his leg. See, it wasn't—oh.
“Yes, oh,” said Leon, noting sudden loss of tension in Cloud's body. “It's much worse than you thought, isn't it.” Just as the will to fight drained from Cloud's body, so did the anger drain from Leon. It wasn't that he was mad at the blond, per se, just frustrated that he hadn't listened, and gotten hurt for it. Of course, he would be just as concerned for any of his patients, or so he convinced himself.
With a long suffering sigh, he tugged on Cloud's arm. “Let's go,” he said, pulling him towards the exit. “Tifa, Rude, see that Roxas gets back to his room and stays there until he's calmed down.” The two nodded in agreement, carefully carrying Roxas back to his room in the opposite direction.
The walk back to Leon's office was quiet and subdued, neither of them saying anything at all. Leon pushed open his door, leading the blond over to the couch and gingerly lowering him down to sit. “Stay,” he said sternly, pointing at Cloud with an assertive finger, “and I mean it.”
Cloud briefly considered being defiant just for the hell of it, but one look at the expression on Leon's face made him think twice. Instead, he sullenly sat back into the cushion, focusing on the dull throb that had begun in his leg. Glancing down at it, Cloud realized how much force the kid must have put behind his strike in order to actually cut him. It was a little disconcerting.
Leon stepped behind his desk, rifling through the drawers for the emergency medical kit he always kept on hand. Removing it, he made his way back over to Cloud, setting the kit on the ground beside him as he sat on his knees. “This is going to hurt, but you need to stay still,” he advised, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves.
Cloud scoffed. What did Leon think he was, a five-year-old? He decided to express as much, leaning forward to give Leon a direct look of skepticism.
The brunet merely hummed in reply, pressing a hand against Cloud's chest to push him back against the couch. “Up,” he said, hooking his fingers underneath the waistband of Cloud's light linen pants. His eyes flicked up to meet Cloud's bemused baby blues.
For the first time in almost two years, Cloud was sorely tempted to open his mouth and speak. So much so that he even opened his mouth, about to articulate his opinion. Instead, he let a broken laugh escape his lips, and gave Leon a look filled with as many sexual implications he could muster. His mouth curled into a smirk. Not until the second date, honey.
Leon pressed his lips into a straight line. That hadn't been where his thoughts were headed—he needed to take off the blond's pants to address his wound—but now that Cloud brought it up, it was hard to ignore. “Very amusing, Cloud,” he murmured. Still, even as he tugged again, Cloud lifted up his hips, keeping his eyes trained on Leon the whole time. The brunet could feel the intensity of Cloud's stare as he carefully pulled down his pants inch by inch, trying not to agitate his injury any further, to reveal baby pink plaid boxers.
His eyes shot up to Cloud's. The blond cocked his head, a lopsided grin on his face. I thought you might like them.
Leon shook his head, a smile playing across his own lips. “Whatever,” he said. He rolled up the left leg of Cloud's boxers, meticulously picking it up and away from the grieved site. As he probed the laceration, searching for any foreign objects, he couldn't help but notice how smooth and previously unblemished the skin was. With a frown, he thought about the scar he knew this would leave. The cut wasn't deep enough to require stitches, but it would be a few days before it completely scabbed over.
With curious eyes, Cloud watched as Leon gently ran his fingers over his leg, pushing lightly every once in a while. It was almost charming, the care Leon showed now, in such contrast to his usually stoic and distant demeanor. He abruptly toed Leon in the side with his good leg, nodding his head towards his injury.
Leon looked up again. “Impatient,” he muttered, slapping Cloud's foot away with the back of his hand. He tore open an alcohol prep pad, voicing a quick warning before pressing the cloth to the blond's leg. Leon noted, with a sense of pride for the blond, that he only flinched once during the entire two minutes he spent cleaning the wound, and stayed perfectly still for the remainder of the dressing. After slathering on the antibiotic ointment, covering the wound with a gauze pad, and firmly taping over it, Leon smoothed his hands over Cloud's leg before letting them linger a moment longer than he should have.
Cloud noticed, and his expression softened. Reaching out with his right hand, he tugged on Leon's chocolate locks until the brunet looked up to him. He gingerly brushed the back of his hand against Leon's cheek, the motion completely at odds with the stern look he administered. Don't feel guilty for any of this—it wasn't your fault—but thanks for taking care of me.
Leon glanced to the side, leaning away from Cloud's touch. “If you had listened to me in the first place,” he grumbled, pulling Cloud's pants up to their proper height and rising gracefully to his knees. He turned around and strode towards his desk, peeling the dirtied gloves away from his hands and throwing them away. Cloud merely sat silently, awaiting the doctor's next command.
After a few moments passed in silence where Leon returned his medical supplies to the drawer in which they belonged, he glanced up towards Cloud. Still sitting there. Staring at him intently. Leon sighed.
“You can go, you know,” he said plaintively, raising an eyebrow. “I'm positive you have better things to do with your time than stare at my handsome face all day.”
This elicited an immediate snort from Cloud, though which part of his statement the blond was reacting to, Leon couldn't tell. In all honesty, there probably wasn't much else for Cloud to do besides stare at him all day. It was probably the highlight of his day, or so Leon liked to think. Wait—that had come out entirely wrong—
Cloud watched with interest as ghosts of various emotions flittered over the brunet's face, from annoyance to smugness, to confusion, and finally settling on resignation. It was interesting to watch, much more interesting than the cold white ceiling of his bedroom. Leon didn't know how wrong he'd been; Cloud really had absolutely nothing better to do than observe his handsome face all day. No—not his handsome face, just his face in general, because it was better than counting specks of dust in the air. Handsome had nothing to do with it.
He could feel his cheeks heating up and lowered his eyes, fighting to control the blush. Leon watched curiously, intent on teasing Cloud for the faint coloring he could see on the other man's face. The buzz of his cell phone receiving a text message distracted him, and as he glanced downward to remove the phone from his pocket, he heard a slight breeze of air, and the creaking of his office door. When he hastily looked up, the blond was gone.
