Chapter 6: Unexpected Harmonies
Zack Fair knew he was a reasonably good friend. In fact, he considered himself a damn good friend. He was caring, loyal, and always there when someone needed him. He liked to think, as a matter of fact, that he had a sixth sense when it came to his friends being in any sort of trouble.
A sixth sense, Zack informed Tifa, which had led him to Seventh Heaven early Monday morning, sitting at the bar while Tifa prepared breakfast for Marlene and Denzel.
The brunet turned around, frying pan in hand, and leveled a stare at Zack. “Or it could be because you know you royally screwed up Saturday night,” she said, “and now feel incredibly guilty about it.”
Or it could have been that.
“No,” answered Zack defensively. “I don’t feel guilty because I did noth—”
“So you mean that when you called me to find out how Cloud was doing, and I told you he hadn’t left his room once since coming home, you didn’t feel a shred of guilt?” Tifa turned off the stove so she could direct the full extent of her scorn at Zack.
“Of course not, Tif,” said Zack sheepishly. “I—”
“And when you actually helped Aerith around the shop yesterday, instead of dallying and flirting like you usually do, you mean to say there wasn’t an ounce of guilt in your heart?”
Zack sputtered. “Wha—how did you—”
“And you mean to say that you rushed over here at nine in the morning not because you felt so guilty over hanging your best friend out to dry on what you knew was perhaps the most important night of his life, but because you wanted to see my bright, smiling, sunshiney face?”
Zack knew what Tifa’s smiling face looked like. This was not her smiling face. And Zack didn’t like it at all. Before she could continue on her tirade, Zack rose from the bar, hands held in the air. “Mercy,” he cried, turning towards the stairs. “I’ll go talk to him, okay?”
Tifa made a noise of approval, smiling to herself as Zack disappeared up the stairs.
---
It was eerily silent on the upper level of the bar as Zack turned the corner at the top of the stairs. He tiptoed over to Cloud’s door (though he had no idea why—it wasn’t like he had a guilty conscience or anything), raising his hand to knock.
“Hey, Spikey?” He rapped lightly on the door. No answer.
He knocked harder on the door. “Cloud,” he called out. Still, no answer.
With a heavy sigh, he turned the doorknob, slowly pushing the door open and peeking inside. Cloud’s room was dark, with the blinds pulled tightly shut. The only sign of life was the lump underneath the covers on the bed that rose and fell every few seconds.
Zack, however, was not put off. He snuck into the room, closing the door behind himself, and crept over to Cloud’s bedside. Carefully reaching out a hand, he tapped his friend on the shoulder. “Hey, Spikey,” he said softly. “It’s Zack...you wanna talk?”
Zack could tell by the slight change in Cloud’s breathing that he was awake and ignoring him. Zack did not take very well to being ignored, especially when he was trying to be a good friend. “Clooooouuuuuuud,” he said loudly, shoving at the blonde’s arm with both hands hard enough to roll him over. The covers fell from his face, revealing closed eyes and a marginally annoyed expression.
“Hi,” said Zack quickly, thrilled to have finally made some ground, “so, I heard that you haven’t left your bed in, like, a million years an—”
Before Zack could say anything further, Cloud yanked the comforter back over his face. Zack frowned and narrowed his eyes.
“Fine,” he said grumpily, rising from the bed and walking across the room, “you want to play hard? I’ll play hard.” He took a running jump and pounced onto the bed, landing square on top of Cloud’s chest.
The blonde let loose a pained gasp, his eyes flying wide open. Zack pulled down the sheets from Cloud’s face, straddling his waist and planting his palms on Cloud’s pecs. “Cloud,” he said seriously, “you’re my best friend.”
Said best friend would have liked to pose a threatening rebuttal, but he couldn’t, due to the alarming lack of oxygen in his system. Cloud struggled to pull in a full breath of air, coughing heavily in the process.
“And as your best friend,” continued Zack, “it is my sole and solemn duty to ensure your well-being. Up until now, I’ve been doing a pretty damn good job of it, if I may say so.” He grinned widely and turned his head to the side in a gesture of mock modesty.
Cloud finally got enough strength to reach up and knock Zack in the head, sending him sprawling across the bed. “Asshole,” he rasped.
“Regardless,” said Zack, scrambling into a cross-legged sitting position, “I’m still an asshole with your best interest at heart, and as such, I feel it is my job approach you this fine morning.”
“Approach me with what?” Cloud glared at Zack, annoyed with him not only for nearly crushing his ribs, but also disrupting his rather comfortable and restful sleep.
“With the statement of one Tifa Lockhart,” said Zack sternly, “that you haven’t been out of bed since you came home last night. Because now I’m getting flak for it, and I don’t like it.”
Cloud sighed and rolled his eyes. “Go away,” said Cloud. “It wasn’t your fault, and stop reminding me about last night. You can tell Tifa I’ve cleared you of all blame.”
Zack frowned, completely unsatisfied with such an answer. “Cloud, I'm serious,” he insisted, staring Cloud in the eyes. “I'm sorry your night got ruined, even if it wasn't my fault. I don't like seeing you like this, all depressed and shit. It brings back too many memories, and it's not cool.” He looked away, focusing on his hand as he drew nonsense patterns on the sheets.
They both sat in silence as Cloud crossed his arms and sighed. Zack had always been there for him, always been a supportive friend, and here he was, being a whiny little bitch about things again. Zack was right. He couldn't just push him away when he was only trying to help. “Zack—”
“So here's what we're gonna do,” Zack interrupted excitedly. The moment he saw the resigned expression on his friend's face Zack knew that he had won the battle. He pounced on Cloud, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We're gonna go over to Angeal's house, 'cause you know who's always at Angeal's house? Genesis! And there's nothing like a Genesis Rhapsodos to make a guy feel better, right? Of course, right!”
Zack leapt off the bed, taking a decisive stance with his hands on his hips. “Come on, get up! Get dressed,” he commanded, giving Cloud a stern glance.
Cloud rolled his eyes. Honestly, he gave him an inch, and the easily excited imbecile ran fifty miles with it. “Zack,” he stated.
The dark-haired man closed his eyes and shook his head. “Nope, no excuses, Cloudy,” he said. “I'm not leaving this room until you get dressed.” He folded his arms and waited, foot tapping impatiently against the floor.
Why me? thought Cloud as he slowly got out of the bed. “I have to take a shower,” he warned, shuffling towards his dresser.
Zack beamed. “Don't worry, I don't mind watching,” he said cheerfully.
Cloud spun around, pinning Zack with a glare, and the brunet had the nerve to double over in laughter. The blond merely brushed past him with a scoff, towel and boxers in hand.
Zack followed behind him. “Hey, I was serious,” he called out.
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“I appreciate you allowing Kadaj and I to stay here while the apartment is being renovated,” said Sephiroth, placing the last of the boxes on the floor of Angeal Hewley's living room. The firefighters had managed to take control of the fire fairly quickly, saving most of their possessions from destruction. Their bedrooms, and the contents thereof, were mostly intact, the flames having only reached as far as Sephiroth's bedroom door. Most importantly, Sephiroth's music room had remained unscathed, his music and piano thankfully intact. Still, the apartment was unlivable at the moment, with all of the fire, smoke, and water damage, and its distinct lack of a kitchen. Hence, their current situation.
Kadaj leaned against the doorframe, watching as Sephiroth and Angeal surveyed the area. There were only a few boxes, maybe ten at the most, and Kadaj knew for a fact that at least one box was devoted entirely to hair care products that Sephiroth had rescued from his bathroom. “Don't you mean 'Kadaj, my hair products, and I,' Seph?” he said snidely, toeing one of the boxes.
Sephiroth whirled around, aiming a glare at his brother. He had been secretly lamenting that he hadn't been able to properly pamper his hair for the past 24 hours, and that he'd been reduced to wearing it tied in a messy knot. “You are forbidden from speaking for the next week,” he snarled, pointing a finger in his direction. “I happen not to care if your intestines are hanging outside of your body. You speak to me, and I will strangle you with them.”
Angeal gave an amused chuckle. “Easy, Seph,” he said, placing a calming hand on his arm. “There will be no bloodshed in my house.”
“Better hide the knives then,” Kadaj said with a scoff, peeking into the nearest box. Oh, good, his belt collection.
Seph growled, but made no move other than narrowing his eyes. He turned his fiery gaze on Angeal, who only rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Kadaj,” he said, “end of the hallway, left side. Your room. Go to it.”
The shorter-haired Crescent sibling hefted the box, balancing it on his hip as he followed Angeal's directions. “Whatever you say, Angeal,” he called over his shoulder. “Tell loverboy I said good luck, and I'm always willing to give him advice.”
The bedroom door slammed shut, and Sephiroth let out a short scream of frustration. “That...that child,” he seethed. “If it weren't for the promise I made—”
“Relax,” Angeal said, clamping a hand down on Sephiroth's shoulder and forcing him down onto the couch. “He's only a kid, and remember, he was much younger than you when your parents died.”
Sephiroth stared blankly forward, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. “I know,” he said on a sigh. Even before their parents' untimely deaths, Sephiroth had promised them that, in the event of any unfortunate circumstances, he would keep an eye out for his younger brothers and take care of them. Loz had been sixteen at the time; even though he was considered “the baby” out of all of them, he still managed to help Sephiroth a great deal during the months and years that followed. Yazoo, though younger, had also acted very maturely, assisting where he could and understanding all that Sephiroth was responsible for.
But Kadaj, the petulant brat, constantly acted up, playing sibling rivalry with him at every turn. Granted, Sephiroth forgave him much of the time when he was younger, taking into account how young Kadaj had been to experience both of his parents' deaths. As he grew older, however, and the childish defiance turned into pure teenage rebellion, Sephiroth quickly learned how to play his youngest brother's game.
Sephiroth thinned his lips and blinked, suddenly noticed that Angeal had sat down on the coffee table in front of him, and was staring patiently. “What,” he snapped.
“You still love him,” Angeal pointed out. “Or at least, care about him. I know you pretty damn well, Seph. You don't tolerate bullshit unless you're getting something out of it personally.”
Sephiroth looked to the side. “Of course I still love him,” he murmured with a scowl. “He's my baby brother. I just...why does he have to be so damned difficult? Is it really so hard for him to just fucking listen for once?” He directed his gaze back to Angeal, frowning deeply and eyes questioning.
Angeal raised his eyebrows, and then laughed loudly. “Seph, he's sixteen years old,” he said, standing up and clamping his hands down on Sephiroth's shoulders. “Hate to break it to you, but you were just as annoying at one point yourself.”
The older man turned and walked towards the kitchen, leaving Sephiroth to sputter angrily behind him. “I was nowhere near as difficult in my teenage years,” he hissed, following after him. “I was refined, graceful, mannered, intelligent—”
“—Very unwilling to listen to authority, rebellious, stubborn, and wildly independent,” Angeal finished listing for him, glancing over his shoulder. “Don't think I've forgotten about the Truth or Dare incident.”
Sephiroth rolled his eyes. “It wasn't my fault if they didn't know that I could hotwire a car,” he growled, crossing his arms, “and that bitch deserved it anyway.”
Angeal turned to face him, crossing his own arms over his chest. “Or the Jack Daniels incident,” he continued.
“In my defense, I sincerely thought my father was going to kill me,” Sephiroth defended, “ and it was the first thing I could grab.”
“And what about the Incident-Which-Shall-Not-Be-Named?” Angeal's grin stretched across his face.
Sephiroth reddened. “Don't you dare ever tell anyone about that,” he warned gravely, narrowing his eyes. “I swear on everything holy, Angeal, if you ever tell anyone—”
“You'll what? Knock me out with a bottle of Jack? Steal my car and push it into a river?” Angeal danced out of Sephiroth's reach, clutching his stomach in laughter. “Put on your favorite pair of hooker boots and—”
“Angeal Hewley, if you do not cease speaking this instant, I swear I will spread your entrails across fifteen city blocks, and you will not enjoy it at all,” Sephiroth declared icily, his fingers arching into claws.
The brunet chuckled in spite of the glare he was under. “All right, take it easy,” he said, throwing Sephiroth a sidelong glance, “Tinkerbelle.”
Sephiroth tried very hard not to tear his beautiful hair out in annoyance.
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“We are not taking that car.”
“Why not? It's a perfectly nice car,” argued Zack.
Cloud shook his head vehemently. “You managed to get me out of bed, into the shower, into these ridiculous clothes, out of my room, and out of the bar, but you are not,” he stated sharply, “getting me to drive in that vehicle.”
Cloud had allowed Zack to dress him, meaning instead of his usual comfortable sweatpants and T-shirt, he was wearing another tight wife-beater—“It shows off your manly biceps!”—with a black vest jacket over it, along with a pair of denim Bermuda shorts Cloud hadn't even known he owned. It wasn't something he would have picked for himself, but after double-checking with Tifa, he figured it was a presentable outfit enough to leave the house in.
But the car...that went well past Cloud's realm of socially acceptable and far into the land of social suicide. It wasn't Zack's car, which Cloud wouldn't have had an issue with. It was Aerith's car, a black Honda Accord—but that in itself wasn't even the issue. No, the issue was the bright, bold, pink lettering that adorned the top of her windshield, reading quite proudly and unmistakably, “ZACK'S GIRL.”
Zack's eyes danced over the writing on the windshield. “It's cute,” he said defensively, “and it shows how much she really loves me.”
Cloud gave him a side-long glance filled with doubt.
“So much that she's willing to tell the world's entire driving population,” clarified Zack with an enthusiastic nod. “Plus the people on the sidewalks.”
“And she's the only one,” mumbled Cloud derisively. “I'm still not riding in that car.”
Zack threw his hands up in the air. “Oh, come on,” he complained. “It's not that bad. I drove it here and nothing happened.”
“That you know of,” Cloud commented. Zack sighed, but Cloud only continued. “Look, I'm gay, I know I'm gay, and I really don't need help telling the whole world I'm gay, much less gay for you.” With that he took his motorcycle keys from his pocket and dangled them in Zack's face. “We're taking my bike.”
Zack huffed, but snatched the keys from Cloud. “Fine,” he relented, making his way over to the bike. His picked up one of the helmets resting on the seat. “But I'm driving.”
Cloud merely nodded in agreement, simply happy he didn't have to ride in the monstrosity Aerith called her car. He wished she had only talked to him before getting such ridiculous decorations. Climbing onto the bike behind Zack, he wrapped his arms tightly around Zack's waist as he started the engine, pulling out of the parking lot with ease. As he relaxed into the drive, he thought about Zack's words. Maybe it would good for him to get out for a little bit, and have some fun with his friends. A tiny smile crept across his face as he leaned tighter into Zack, suddenly appreciative of everything the man had done for him. Despite his somewhat faulty track record, Zack had a way of making sure everything worked out all right in the end.
---
They arrived at Angeal's house a short while later, and Cloud found himself slightly regretting the brevity of the trip. As much as he loved driving his bike, it was just as nice to be a passenger on it, too. He swung his leg over the bike, placing his helmet on the seat. He glanced around the area, taking in his surroundings; he'd never actually been to Angeal's house before. It was a nice neighborhood, simply designed and quiet. Nothing really remarkable, until he noticed the car parked in the driveway. A Jaguar XKR. Unless Angeal as well owned a Jaguar XKR, that car could only belong to one person.
“Zack,” Cloud started in a mild panic.
Zack turned around and tossed Cloud's keys over to him. “Come on, let's go,” he said excitedly, grabbing hold of Cloud around the shoulders. “I think you've met Gen a couple times, right? Hmm, maybe not. I talk about you two so much to each other, you probably feel like you know him anyway, right?” He chattered happily, oblivious to Cloud's sudden trepidation.
“Zack, that car,” Cloud tried again. He had a sinking feeling that things were about to go very, very badly.
“Oh, yeah, it's nice, isn't it? I don't think it's 'Geal's, though,” he mused, “so it's probably Gen's.”
“No, Zack—”
“Don't worry,” he said easily. He had already led them up the driveway to the front door and was mercilessly pounding at the doorbell. “Gen's really easy to get along with. And you're pretty, so he'll probably like you even more.”
“ZACK!” Cloud turned to his friend and shouted in his face, trying desperately to get his attention before—
The door was yanked open, and a rather irritated-looking Sephiroth demanded, “What?”
Both Cloud and Zack froze, Cloud with his hands gripping Zack's shoulder's, and their heads immediately snapped towards Sephiroth. The trio stared at each other for a few moments of silence while Angeal, still recovering from laughter, tried to see who was at his door from behind Sephiroth. Finally, Zack broke the silence.
“You are definitely not Genesis Rhapsodos,” said Zack, his eyebrows arching towards his hairline.
Cloud wanted to die.
