Mode of Existence: Chapter Four
Leon felt panic grip him as he caught sight of Cloud struggling to take in oxygen. “Shit,” he swore, hustling out of the room. “Cloud!”
The shout tore from his lips as he watched Cloud slump to the ground, his eyes wide but unseeing, his lips parted in a pant. He knelt beside the blond, cautiously wrapping his arms around the man's shoulders and under his legs, hoisting him up from the ground as he passed out. Aiming a glare at the new patient—Sephiroth, if he remembered correctly, he issued his command. “Get him out of here,” he growled to nurse who had been in the holding room with them, “and I don't want to see him within 100 feet of Cloud. Ever.”
With that, he stormed away, uncaring of the stares that drilled into his back. His only concern was for Cloud's safety, and the blond obviously didn't feel very safe in the presence of the silver-haired murderer. While a terrifyingly rational part of his mind knew that the man had everything to do with Cloud's fragile condition, Leon shuddered to think exactly how. Sephiroth boasted an extensive and gory crime sheet, any number of which would be traumatizing to even hear about in great detail. To think, the unconscious man in his arms might have been witness to one, or worse.
When the elevator arrived on the third floor and the doors opened, Leon turned down the hallway where Cloud lived, ignoring the shocked looks on faces as he hurried past. He knew Cloud's room by heart: end of the hallway, second to last door on the left. He pushed open the door easily—none of the patients' rooms locked, for safety reasons—flipped on the light switch with some difficulty, and brought Cloud into the blessedly empty sanctuary of his own room. The blond was lucky enough to occupy a single, after having been given the diagnosis of “unable to live in close quarters with other patients without exhibiting violent behavior.” It had taken exactly three roommates before that decision was made. Leon had, at the time, commended Cloud on his crafty acting skills and subtle manipulation of the system.
He gingerly lowered Cloud to his bed, disliking the complete lack of response. Keeping a finger on Cloud's pulse, Leon took in the blond's mottled appearance, his cheeks stained red but the rest of him pale and clammy. Thick, golden lashes rested against his face, his lips still open, affording Leon a fleeting glimpse of his pert, pink tongue. Leon moved his hand from Cloud's pulse to his jaw, tenderly brushing his thumb over the swell of Cloud's cheekbone. He exhaled softly and backed away, heading into the private toilet room. Turning on the light and then the sink, Leon dampened a washcloth, his actions quick and efficient. He shut off the water, the tap squeaking in protest, hit the lights, and made his way back to Cloud, dragging over a chair to sit by his side.
What he was doing went completely against his practice, both personal and professional. Not only was it illegal to be involved with a patient, but Leon made a point of never becoming too close with his patients, only ever establishing the necessary relationship. He simply never found it worth his time to endeavor to be friends; it wasn't his job to be friends with people.
Leon pressed the cloth to Cloud's forehead, dabbing at the cold sweat that had broken out there. The blond's brow furrowed for a moment, and then he leaned into the cool touch, shifting to lay on his side. Leon moved his hand to pat down the side of Cloud's face, folding the cloth and setting it on the night-table after the man's flush died down. His eyes remained captivated on the blond's face, almost as if he were in a trance. Cloud was an anomaly; for someone who had never spoken a single word to him, Cloud was one of the most fascinating men he'd ever known. Then again, it could have been the very nature of Cloud's silence that intrigued him so. In a strictly professional sense, of course.
But even outside of their patient/psychiatrist relationship, Leon genuinely enjoyed Cloud's company. Ironically, he was one of the few people who didn't prod him constantly or try to fill the silence with meaningless words. With Cloud, the silence was comfortable, a welcome respite from the overly talkative world.
Under current circumstances, however, Cloud's silence was more of a nuisance than a pleasure. Leon could hope that the evening's incident would drive the blond to speak about what troubled him, but he knew how stubborn the blond was. He would more likely than not try to ignore this and continue with business as usual. Leon gazed down the length of Cloud's sleeping form, satisfactorily noting the regular rise and fall of his chest. His eyes passed over Cloud's injured leg, striking in him the idea to get rid of the bloody garments covering it. The brunet chewed thoughtfully on his lip before decided that Cloud would probably appreciate waking up in clean clothes.
Gingerly shifting the blond so that he lay on his back instead of his side, Leon carefully tucking his fingers into the waistband of Cloud's pants, glancing up at his face to make sure he was truly asleep. With care he normally wouldn't have bothered to take, he pulled the torn pants down Cloud's legs, wadded them into a ball, and tossed them at the end of the bed. Pausing in his motions for a moment, he looked to Cloud's face again, wondering what the blond would say were he awake.
Nothing, Leon answered himself mockingly. Perhaps he wouldn't say anything explicitly, but Leon knew the blond would most certainly make his opinion known in some way. A slight quirk of his lips, an eyebrow raised in amusement—body language spoke much louder than words, anyway. With a small grin on his own lips, he hooked his fingers around the waistband of Cloud's boxers, pulling them off as well and sending them in the same direction as the pants.
The first part of his task completed, Leon stood and surveyed his handiwork, which, incidentally, only amounted to Cloud half-naked in his bed. Somehow, it didn't seem right to Leon to leave the blond half-dressed in dirty clothes, and, in a professional sense, it just wasn't very cleanly, especially since the blond was sporting a fresh injury. So Leon made the decision, based on his expert opinion, to remove the blond's shirt as well.
It was a bit more complicated than the removal of pants, but Leon managed it on his own. Lifting Cloud's arms and arranging them to they rested over his head, the brunet then tugged the shirt upwards and off the blond's body, leaving him properly in the nude against the sheets. Letting his gaze linger for only a moment too long, Leon took the sullied clothes and placed them in a hamper in the corner of the room. Then he made his way over to the dresser, opening it as quietly as he could and pulling out a pair of sleeping pants for the blond. He made his back to the bed beside Cloud, once again allowing his eyes to roam the length of the blond's form, before bunching up the pants and guiding them over Cloud's feet. Inch by inch, he drew the pants up the blond's lower half, until he was appropriately covered.
He looked much better, in Leon's opinion, with a fresh pair of pants on his body, ones lacking the blood stains and rips. It was an improved sight from the Cloud who reacted so overwhelmingly to Sephiroth's presence almost half an hour ago. He lifted the light comforter over Cloud's body, tucking it around his arms, and turned to leave. But a small part of Leon's heart was loathe to do so.
