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Bed of Nails	By : Chikara Category: Final Fantasy VII > General Views: 719 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Bed of Nails
- 1
Chapter 1. Don't Wake Up
"You're trembling." she whispered, her voice thick with concern, and Cloud found himself speechless, gawking at the, thick, shining locks of hair tumbling over her shoulders, bloodless skin - so cold, and the worst part of it was that she was right, he was trembling, and trembling hard.
"Sorry." he breathed. And then her rosebud lips parted in a soft, understand smile and he found himself shaking even harder, and her arms around his neck squeezed a little in an attempt to soothe him, but that only made him hug her back, and that in turn made him even more desperate to freeze time, to somehow stop all the laws of nature and keep them together forever, together in harmony, surrounded by the white and gold blossoms of the promised land, smiling at eachother and holding eachother. They were both doused in sweat, and even though he was panting with the heat of their passion, she was colder than any Shiva that could ever grace their minds for years to come.
"It's okay." came her chiming voice, soft and high and fragile. "I understand. It's been so long." she traced one slender finger over his tanned chest and leaned into him, running her hands through his hair until damp blond locks stood on end, stray strands sticking to his neck and flushed cheeks.
"I love you." he whispered, and then that horrible something stung his eyes. She pursed her lips and shook her head and extended her hand in order to wipe the tears away, but her hand went through them for some awful, unspeakable reason and that just made him cry harder and hold her closer, knowing that her solid body under him was too white to be alive, that soon he would snap out of whatever blissful stupor he was in and she would be gone, gone, gone.
"Don't cry." she said. "Please don't cry. We'll be together again. It'll just take time, that's all. Just a little bit more time."
But he didn't want time, he wanted now, he wanted his happily ever after to be happy, and when her own eyes filled with tears of want and her cold, dead hands pulled him close, he leaned into her and pressed his face into the crook of her neck. Cloud resisted the urge to flinch when small, icy pearls of water plopped unto his back and spilt down his shoulders, and when she spoke, her voice was raspy and painful and so unlike the sweet, crisp, smiling tone he had always connected with her shining face.
"It won't be forever." she assurred him, in spite of his own endless tears. "Really. We'll be together, and when we are, we can be like this every day until the end of time, and you'll be happy, and I'll be warm to you, and we'll both be in the same world, without these dreams, finally at peace, and - "
"But I want you in this world." he breathed against the soft curve of her breasts. "Please, God, I'll do anything. Just don't leave me again."
"I can't." she said. "I'm will, but...just...not now. We can't be like this yet.
"Then why are you teasing me?" he sobbed. "Why can't you just let me let me die, let me go without knowing that I'm residing in hell when it's possible to be with you?"
"Because, Cloud." she whispered, her voice now gaining control of her tears and becoming lovingly maternal. "You have to live."

.
� � �
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The empty air around him was colder than her touch had been, and when he thought of that ice, he thought of Aerith, and when he thought of Aerith, he thought of her blood, and then came his blood, and somehow that always led to a period of emptiness, a time that he could never recall existing, and he assumed that he had blacked out, but when he came to again, there was a scar on his wrist that he had never remembered making.
And then he did remember but he wanted more, he wanted that copper taste in his mouth because it was punishment, because it was what he deserved for letting her die, but at the same time, it was torture, because if he died now, he would be with her - happy with her, and something inside of him told him that he didn't deserve that kind of happiness. Because when he was with Aerith, he cried. And when he cried, she cried, too.
But he found the knife somewhere under his bed and snaked it out and stared at it, experimented different cuts, tried to see which spots on his arms would draw the most and which would bring out the darkest color. And before it got too bad, it would stop - just stop, and he would remember Aerith telling him he had to live, that there was still things that needed to be done, some time that he had to fill in, some horrible not yet that shouldn't be, but there it was, mocking him again.
And then he sat forward and turned the blade around, looking at his pale face through the stainless steel, and suddenly he realized that he wasn't the only one reflected on the surface.
"You." he hissed, and the voice behind him spoke, quiet and myseterious as ever: "Me."
The silence went on forever, and then Cloud dropped the knife with a sickening grunt and got to his feat, standing beside the bloodstained mattress and facing the man who was responsible for her death - her blood, his blood - for this funny feeling that crept inside him every time that knife got brought out in the open.
"Get out." Cloud whispered. "You're not welcome here."
"If I am not welcome," Sephiroth said simply, "Then I wouldn't be able to come. I am here here because you want me to be here."
"I don't." Cloud said firmly, but even though his voice was strong and solid, the silver-haired man could sense the doubt lurking around him, and the smile on his face was clear enough for the both of them to understand completely. Cloud flushed deeply, turning his face away before saying once more: "Get out."
"No."
Suddenly, the room felt colder than it usually was, colder than it had ever been, so cold that, in comparison, Aerith's bloodless skin was like a newly blazing fire. And his mind was writhing in pain, but that didn't matter, because no matter how badly he wanted to shriek and scream and break, what came out of his mouth was not anger, but calm, controlled words.
"What do you want with me?"
"....many, many things." Sephiroth said quietly.
"Get out of here." Cloud repeated once more, but Sephiroth just shook his head, smiling.
"I can see darkness all around you." he breathed teasingly.
Cloud scoffed, feeling his face color up with fury. He had brought it there, after all. He had reached through his skin and to his heart and wrapped cold fingers around it and squeezed. It was all his fault, all his fault, all
"- your fault, all your damn fault!" he was screaming before his mind had even come to understand it.
"You'll understand, eventually."
"Don't tell me that." Cloud snapped. "I never want to understand what's going through your sick mind."
There was a period of silence, and for a moment he thought he heard the older man laughing, but then it was over, and just as Cloud was about to crawl back into bed and assume it was all just a dream, Sephiroth spoke again, voice dark and warm and drawling.
"Cloud, you're bleeding."
He knew. The dumb fuck knew, and that was the worst part about it. He was teasing, and for a moment it seemed like the only possible reaction was a tearful explanation or a quick screech for him to just get the fuck out, but when those thoughts passed over him, a little voice in the back of his head began to argue that Sephiroth didn't have the upper hand here, for God's sake. He didn't have to answer any questions he didn't want to. In fact, if he just pretended that the devil wasn't here in the room...maybe...eventually...he'd leave...
He closed his eyes and wished fleetingly that he had dressed in long sleeves earlier. He wanted to curl up in a fetal position and hide under his desk and just scream and scream until the sun burned out and his breath eventually slowed and stopped.
But none of this happened, so Cloud just shook his head and kept silent.
"It's because of her, isn't it?"
It's because of you.
"She died for you."
She died for us.
"She loved you."
She showed me.
"But you're only a puppet..."
Just as dead as her, right?
"And yet you claim to feel." he finished with a sadistic smile. "Even now, you still claim to feel."
The remark through him off gaurd, something that seemed to light that match that sat, harmless, in the back of his mind and make his body scream for mercy, because it burned, God, it hurt like hell froze over. If Cloud didn't know better, he would have even said he could hear that colorless strike - plick! - of the match being lit and the muffled crackles of it's growing flame.
He felt a vague tug at his soul as he wondered silently if Aerith was listening. The dead were watching over them, he had been told, but the room was empty besides Sephiroth and himself. And it was wrong. It was wrong because Sephiroth had been the one who was responsible for her murder, and it was wrong because Cloud was doing nothing to stop him, to kill him, to hate him.
And then a long-fingered hand snaked over his own, and he noticed for the first time how pale his skin was, so thin and white that they looked to him like enormous spiders, surely posionous, surely ready to sink their needle-like teeth into his flesh.
Sephiroth's right hand drew back for a moment, perfectly cautious, and when it came back into his field of view, Cloud felt his breath catch sharply at the sight of the already bloodied knife he had left on his bed.
The shining edge of the blade pressed against his flesh, leaving a small indentation in his skin. The pressure and heat of the older man's body pressing against his back was just as humiliating as the fact that he could easily be murdered right here and now: the fact that he really wouldn't mind if he was, the fact that he was simply waiting for a chance like this to come. For a chance to meet Aerith.
But Sephiroth waited. He waited and waited and waited until Cloud's hitched breaths slowly relaxed and his eyes had settled and his jaw had clamped shut and his shoulders slumped. Then, when it became clear that Cloud had given up on the idea that he was in any danger whatsoever, he drew the blade back and, in one sharp, slashing motion, slit his wrist.
Cloud shrieked and jerked his arm sharply away, but Sephiroth clamped his bloodied arm down against the table with one hand and, with the other, pulled the blonde boy closer to him by his upper arm.

Cloud's shoulders hunched, his face grew dark, his eyes grew wide, his lips parted softly, beautifully, and in that moment he looked so delicious, so luscious, so damn fuckable that Sephiroth felt his very being tremble with unbridled desire.
"Why, Cloud." he whispered softly into the boys ear, "Is this any different than when you had cut yourself? It's the same wound, is it not? Why does it make such a difference when I'm the one responsible, hmm?"
"Stop." Cloud begged wildly, his entire body breaking out into a cold sweat. "Please, please God, stop..."
Sephiroth sighed in a stunningly maternal manner and released his firm grip on Cloud's wrist, licking the blood off his palms nonchalantly before casting a cure spell over the wounded flesh. Cloud watched, transfixed, as the cut faded away slowly, the blood supply cut off, the tiny drops of scarlet wine rolling off the slope of his arm like rainwater on feathers.
"You're such a silly child." he said, his voice thick with disgust.
"Yes, I am a silly child!" Cloud screamed, rising from his chair so violently that it toppled over behind him with an unsettling thump. "But you're just as silly as I am - coming back here just to tease me! What other reasons do you have, Sephiroth?! Boredom? Sadism?"
"Oh my." he answered quietly. "My intentions are completely pure, Strife."
"Oh?" he hissed doubtfully.
"Yes." Sephiroth said, his voice slinking towards carelessness once again. "I've come to make a proposal."
"I don't want your goddamn proposal." Cloud hissed, whirling around in his seat stubbornly, his back to the silver-haired man.
"But you're hurting, arn't you? You see her at night, don't you?"
Yes his mind whispered, but somehow, it seemed, Sephiroth heard him. He was sure - sure he hadn't spoken aloud but...there was no other explanation. There was no way his mind could be read, no way his body language was that clear...and just the thought of him responding out loud - in such a weak manner none the less - was humiliating.
"You want to be with her." Sephiroth continued nonchalantly.
"Yes." he said. This time he was sure his answer had been verbalized, but what horrified him even more was the fact that he could actually feel Sephiroth's eyes piercing through him.
"I can bring her back." he breathed clearly.
His breath caught for a moment, eyes locked with Sephirtoh's, those endless orbs of green, honesty, honesty...no, no, he had to be joking. Another one of his tricks, his illusions, his attempts to pull Cloud's strings. Manipulating him like the puppet he was.
"Don't lie to me." he said clearly. "I'm sick of your damn lies."
"I killed her." Sephiroth said simply. "And I can bring her back. What's so hard to understand about that?"
"Why would you want to?!" Cloud cried. "I'm sick of being used!"
"You even if you don't want to accept it...you see her in your dreams." he continued. "She's still reachable. You know that."
Something seemed to snap in the back of his mind. He was right. He had seen her. He had touched her, felt her, talked with her. She had been cold, yes, but that didn't excuse the fact that she was still solid...
"I can bring her back, Cloud. Isn't that what you want?"
"Yes." he whispered, feeling something stinging the back of his eyes. Desire and hate boiled in the pit of his stomach. "But what will you take from me in return? My life? My sanity?"
"Neither." he said clearly. "I want you. All of you. I want you to come with me. Come with me, and I'll give you the flower girl."
"Lair." Cloud said clearly.
"What reason do I have to lie?"
"Me!" he said shrilly, rising from his seat. "Me! And what do you want with me Sephiroth? My power? Will you turn me against me friends, make me one of your useless slaves, force me to murder Aerith once she is back? Or is it my title you want, the glory of being able to have authority over the great Cloud Strife?"
"Calm yourself." he said. "The darkness around you is stirring. Your soul is stirring."
"You are doing so." he said coldly.
Sephiroth's arms parted, white palms exprosed as he beckoned Cloud closer, welcoming the boy into his embrace.
"There is darkness all around you." he said softly. "You can't escape it, no matter how hard you try. Accept it, Cloud. I welcome you into the darkness, now...you may do as you like."
He watched, waited - waited as Cloud hesitated, stared openly into the space between his arms, his welcoming embrace. His eyes gave him away - he wanted to move forward, wanted nothing more than to give himself up, but his body wanted to disobey, and his feet stumbled backward, his head shook, his lips parted in a moan of want.
And then he moved forward - just a bit, a little bit, and somehow that gave him the courge to go. He pressed himself coldly against the older man's chest, face a twisted display of humiliation, crying, his fists raised up against his breast like a child sobbing in a sympathetic mother's arms, sobbing; "What do you want from me?!"

"Get on your knees." Sephiroth replied in an almost inaudiable whisper. "Beg."
- 1
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Bed of Nails