Modes of Existence: Chapter Five
With a violent gasp and wide eyes, Cloud awoke from his fitful sleep, gasping for air and clutching at his sheets. The rush of reality was almost too much to bear as it mixed with the remnants of his nightmare. Because that's all it was, right? Just another nightmare where Sephiroth's madly grinning face beckoned to him with honey-sweet words that disguised the terrifying monster underneath. Another nightmare that left his heart pounding mercilessly in his chest, his pulse racing like the way he wanted to run from that cattish gaze.
He shut his eyes tight and rubbed at his face, opening them again to confirm that yes, he was still in his room at Edge Asylum, safely tucked within its pristine and perfect walls. A hand climbed into his hair, tugging lightly at the strands as Cloud tried to fully wake himself up. He leaned back against the headboard, staring at nothing in particular as he tried to work through his emotions—which, for the most part, consisted of him trying to find other things to think about besides him.
Cloud's stomach rumbled loudly in the complete silence of the room, reminding Cloud of how hungry he was. A tiny frown bent his lips out of shape. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd eaten. What happened to dinner? The last thing he remembered was going outside and chatting with Axel, and then—and then his stomach had rumbled, and he decided to go for dinner. But why—
His thought process screeched to a halt as Cloud realized what his fingers were unconsciously doing. Of course, it wasn't so much the act of rubbing his nipple that made Cloud pause, but the very fact that he was able to do it at all. One thing Cloud never did was go to bed without wearing a top and bottom; he was certain that even if he couldn't remember what he had for dinner, he would remember to put on clothes before he went to bed. It was one of those lessons he'd learned the hard way, never to forget.
He glanced down and felt across his bare chest, alarmed at the lack of shirt there. If he was shirtless, then—
In a hasty panic, Cloud pulled the covers over his head, staring at his legs. Hmm. Pants, but...he carefully picked at the waistband to his pants, and blanched.
“Cloud?”
With a small, nearly inaudible gasp, Cloud scrambled to pull to sheets from his head to see who had intruded on his private space so early in the morning. Oh.
Dr. Leonhart had knocked on the door as manners dictated, but upon receiving no response, he decided to walk in anyway. The sight that greeted him was...to say the least, unusual. He stepped into the room with an eyebrow raised towards Cloud, unable to even find the words to voice his question. A light blush dusted across the blond's cheeks for a moment before his eyes narrowed.
“I brought you breakfast,” said Leon slowly. Cloud's eyes snapped to the tray in Leon's hand, with a plate, a bowl of fruits, and a glass of orange juice on it. His stomach gurgled again, much to Cloud's dismay, rather audibly.
Leon chuckled and moved across the room to place the tray on Cloud's bedside table. He made to sit in t he chair pulled up next to Cloud's bed, intent on having an early morning conversation with the man, but Cloud was having none of it. His arms were folded against his chest as he glared at Leon. The brunet froze in his seat, noting the odd look on Cloud's face. “What?” he asked.
Cloud ramped up the wattage in his glare, narrowing his eyes until they were merely slits in his face. What the hell do you mean, “what.”
Leon's face took on a quizzical look. “Contrary to popular belief, I can't read your mind, Cloud,” said Leon tersely. “I can't know what's wrong unless—”
Cloud let out a soft growl, sorely tempted to simply pull down his pants in order to get his point across. Instead, he lifted himself off the bed in a flurry of sheets and stomped over to his dresser, fishing through one of the drawers. When he finally found what he was looking for, he flung the article of clothing in Leon's face.
Leon's hands rose too late, and the pair of boxers Cloud threw at him draped over his eyes. He picked them off his face, realizing what they were and what Cloud was so upset over. “Oh,” he said simply in response to Cloud's akimbo stance. “Your clothes were ripped and bloody, so I changed them.”
Cloud's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Leon had seen him naked, and had been alone in a darkened room with his naked body. Even more disturbing, why had Leon needed to undress Cloud in the first place? Suspicion and confusion quickly won the battle on Cloud's face, and Leon noticed.
“Cloud,” Leon started, his voice soft. The blond continued edging closer to the door.
“Cloud,” he repeated, this time more firm. “Sit down. We need to talk.”
Cloud raised an eyebrow. Is this a professional or personal thing?
“I'm telling you to sit down as your psychiatrist, Cloud. This is extremely important to your well-being, regardless of whether or not you want to acknowledge it,” Leon said, folding his own arms over his chest. The image of Cloud utterly terrified was still stuck in his mind.
Cloud contemplated the doctor for a moment, finally deciding to crawl back into bed. He sat with his legs drawn up to his chest, his chin resting on his knees and staring resolutely straight ahead. He would listen, but he would be as petulant as possible about it.
Leon sighed, choosing to get to the heart of the matter as quickly as possible. “Who is Sephiroth to you, Cloud?” he asked gently.
Cloud's head whipped up to stare at Leon, no small amount of mistrust and anger lighting in his eyes. How on Earth did Leon know about Sephiroth? He had never told anyone in the asylum about him, and there was no way it was in his file.
Leon saw the confusion in Cloud's face, and sighed. Temporary amnesia was very common in these cases, however inconvenient. “What's the last thing you remember from last night, Cloud?”
When the blond only continued to stare at him, Leon rubbed his hand over his face, disliking the route he was about to take, but knowing it was the only way to get through to the blond. “He's here, Cloud,” he said quietly, keeping his eye on Cloud's, “Sephiroth was admitted to the asylum yesterday. A judge sentenced him to an indefinite sentence after he was convicted of...” His voice trailed off as he noticed the growing distance in Cloud's eyes.
Cloud couldn't believe what he was hearing. Leon was telling him that Sephiroth was there. If that was true, then...then the nightmare was real. All of it, those eyes, that soul-wrenching feeling that he'd never know joy again, the clawing panic—it was all real? And he had thought he was safe; Cloud had thought he was finally in a place where Sephiroth couldn't reach him.
The back of his hand rose to cover his mouth as Cloud felt bile rising in his throat. He jumped out of the bed and ran for the bathroom, making it just in time to kneel over to toilet and empty out his mostly empty stomach. He could barely make out the murmur of Leon's voice, only dimly aware of his warm presence beside him.
Leon had tried to call out to Cloud but was only able to rush after him into the bathroom, smoothing his hair back from his forehead as he threw up into the toilet bowl. His heart beat faster in his chest as he watched the blond continue to dry heave, even after the contents of his stomach were nonexistent. He kept on hand in Cloud's hair, using the other to rub soothing circles against the blond's back.
“Cloud,” he said finally as the retching noises stopped. “Are you relatively okay? Physically, I mean.” Leon winced, knowing that there was no way the blond was feeling in any way 'okay,' but feeling the need to ask anyway.
Cloud hung over the toilet, the scent of his bile making him want to gag again. He reached up with one hand to flush the toilet, pushing back against Leon's hand to sit on the cold tile. Was he okay? What the fuck kind of question was that? But Cloud understood where the doctor was coming from, and nodded his head as slightly as he could. He pushed himself backwards until his back hit the wall, his eyes staring straight ahead, but not looking at anything in particular. In his peripheral, he could see Leon moving to sit beside him, their shoulders touching as the doctor rested his forearms on his knees.
Leon was torn between wanting to throw a comforting arm around the fragile blond and allowing him to have his space. He knew that pushing too hard could very well push Cloud even deeper into unresponsiveness. In the end, he settled for simply sitting beside him. “I don't know how much you remember of last night,” he said heavily, “but you ran into me in the hallway and followed me as I was going off to see a new patient. That patient was—is Sephiroth Crescent, and your reaction to him...” Leon voice trailed off, his throat thick with emotion he didn't want to place. Seeing Cloud like that had been one of the most terrifying experiences of his life.
Still, he cleared his throat and went on, gathering up what remained of his professionalism. “I can only describe the way you reacted as completely scared shitless, Cloud,” he said frankly, shaking his head. “You passed out, and I had to carry you back to your room. I've already told all of the staff not to allow—”
“Leon.”
The dry, rusty, broken voice that wasn't his own stopped Leon mid-ramble, shocking him speechless. The first word Cloud had ever spoken to him, ever spoken in almost two years, and it was his own name. Leon's mouth hung open as he turned to look at Cloud, unsure of how to proceed. The blond's eyes were downcast and dull, his arms wrapped around his legs. Cloud licked at his lips, and then opened them to speak.
“Please,” he said, “stop.” Cloud raised his eyes to meet Leon's, and the brunet was instantly overtaken by the anguish he saw in them. He felt as though he were drowning; his throat was unbearably tight, his eyes prickling with the desire to shed tears. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but all he could do was shake his head helplessly, his brow furrowed in distress.
Cloud drew in a shuddering breath, his face scrunched together as he tried to hold in his tumultuous emotions. He turned away from Leon, unable with withstand the excess emotion in the brunet's own face on top of his own, and buried his face against his knees. Another gasping breath racked his body, and another, and soon enough they turned into dry sobs.
Leon finally gave up trying to maintain his distance and folded his arms around Cloud's torso, smoothing his hands over the blond's body. “I'm so sorry, Cloud,” he murmured. “For whatever happened, I'm so, so sorry.”
How many times had he heard those words? Fifty? A hundred? Yet as the psychiatrist uttered them to him for the hundred and first time, Cloud found himself giving up the fight, leaning into Leon's chest and clutching at his shirt as he cried.
