Better than Me

“So… you don’t know why he did it?”

“No. He just… left.”

“Wonder why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did he… say anything?”

“Yes, but I don’t see what he was trying to say by it.”

“Well?”

“All he said was ‘I think you can do better’ and then just… walked out of the door.”

“That’s it? Nothing about what you could do better by or any reason why he left?”

“No. Nothing. Just that and then he was… gone.”

“That doesn’t make much sense if you ask me. Sure he was sober?”

“As far as I could tell. He has been staying away from alcohol recently.”

“If you ask me, he was drunk.”

“No, I would know if he was.”

“But it sounds like something he would do when drunk. Just say something random like that and take off. I remember a few times he did that kind of thing.”

“I think this is a little different. I… had a feeling before he left that there was something he wasn’t telling me.”

“Obviously. The question is what.”

“I’m not sure what it could be.”

“No way to find him and ask?”

“No. He left no way to contact him.”

“Ah, I’m sure he’ll be back soon. He always returned after a while when he did this sort of thing before. Just let him cool down about whatever he’s worked up about and he’ll be back, asking where supper is. Always does that.”

“I honestly don’t think it will be like that…”

“Cheer up. You know how strange he can be sometimes. I’m sure he’ll be back.”

“I hope so…”

~~~~~~~~

Vincent sighed, removing the two mugs from earlier from the table. He was still a little confused, but speaking with Shera had made things a little clearer for him. It had given him a chance to figure out what was true and what wasn’t. Or maybe just what he knew and what he didn’t.

A little frustrated, he sat down at one of the chairs and rested his elbows on the kitchen table. Even though his talk with the woman had clarified a few things, he was still lost as to why. He knew now that this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but it just didn’t make sense to him why it had happened this time.

He felt a little bad, knowing that he hadn’t told the woman everything that was said to him before the door closed, leaving him alone. But nothing really fit when he thought about it. He had seemed so sad when he had said Vincent could do much better. And he had seemed so… lost when he had said it was over.

As far as he had known, life had been good. He was happy, something he hadn’t been for a long while. He had thought he was happy too. But now this…

He gave another sigh, placing his chin in his cupped hands. “What was it that I could do better about? What was it that made this happen?”

~~~~~~~~

Blue eyes watched as amber liquid was poured into the glass before them, the chunks of ice shifting inside. The bartender slid the glass a little closer. “Are you all right?”

The cerulean gaze flicked up. “’M fine,” a soft voice rumbled as a hand reached for the glass. The gaze moved back to the glass again as it was raised to the owner’s lips, the molten amber rushing down the man’s throat. He hummed a little at the warmth pooling in his stomach. At least something felt warm.

Downing the rest of his drink, the man settled his glass back on the bar. He let his eyes travel the length of the polished wood and pick out the swirls in the grain. It was something to focus on anyway, aside from what he had done five nights ago. Wait. Was it five? He shook his head, trying to remember.

Then again, did it really matter? Five or fifty, it was all the same. He messed up the one thing he had thought he couldn’t mess up however long ago that was. Giving a sullen sigh, he crossed his arms on the smooth wood and rested his cheek on them.

He remembered the look on Vincent’s face when he had said it was over. He remembered exactly how Vincent had looked when he had said he was sorry and left. Vincent had looked confused, but there wasn’t much he could do about that now.

Throwing down a handful of gil, he left without even bothering to wait for his change. It was just another thing that didn’t matter to his right now. All he wanted was to get home. Except…

He growled in his throat as he pushed through the door. One flick of his wrist and a few seconds later he had a taxi. He wasn’t fond of the things, but he couldn’t exactly drive anywhere without a vehicle of his own. Then again, he wasn’t too fond of vehicles that didn’t fly either. Better to let someone else drive him around. It might cost him a little gil, but it was better than walking for hours or crashing in a stolen car.

He slid into the backseat, almost automatically pointing forward. “End of town.”

“Any more specific?” the driver asked softly.

“Nope. End of town’ll do.”

He settled back for the ride, his gaze turning out of the window as they passed by a few buildings he recognized. At least, he should recognize them by now. He had taken this same route every night and morning since he got here.

He had to admit, Junon was a decent town when he thought about it. At least it had plenty of bars for him to bury himself in a dark corner of and drink until he felt dizzy. What he didn’t like was how large the city was and how his rented apartment was clear across town from his alcohol-soaked havens.

But whatever. At least it didn’t take too long by vehicle. The taxi pulled over to the edge of the curb and he passed up the toll, stepping out onto the sidewalk as soon as he could. The air felt stale around him as he walked along the sidewalk and through the gate to the stairs, but he was used to it by now. It was just another thing that didn’t matter.

Climbing the stairs to his apartment, he shoved his key into the door he called his own. He didn’t particularly like the place, but it was better than sleeping on the streets. And he couldn’t really go back home to the place that really was home. Not after what he did.

The door made a dull creak as he let it swing open, the keys jingling sharply in the silence as he tossed them to the counter. The lights were still on. He shrugged, having forgotten he hadn’t turned them off before he left. Kicking the door shut, he made his way to the back room and all but collapsed on the bed there.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he let his bleary eyes focus on the ceiling above him. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like hell. No, he knew why. He himself was why. He himself and all the things he did over the past years. Because it wasn’t just leaving that hurt, it was all the things that made him leave.

No doubt Vincent was cursing his very existence right now without even knowing why. Because he had told the other that he deserved better, but he hadn’t given away why before he closed the door behind him. But he doubted he could ever admit everything that had made him leave. He had lied to Vincent, had done things that would hurt him more than being left. He had done things he would give up his life to go back and fix.

And even though he regretted it all, all the lies about where he actually went on those week-long trips, all the lies about why there were calls coming in the middle of the night for him, all the lies about how Vincent was the only one, there was no erasing any of it.

He hated the fact that something had made him go to someone else’s bed more than he would like to admit, but the fact was that it was done. And there was no going back, even if he wished he could. He wished he had just stayed home, content with what he had. He wished he was there now, watching the light dance off of Vincent’s skin as he pulled off his shirt and reached for his nightshirt.

He had always found that endearing, that Vincent insisted on sleeping in a particular nightshirt. He still remembered the day Vincent had found it, lying in the bottom of a drawer. He had insisted that it wasn’t good enough for Vincent, but he had been ignored as the gunner had held it out, inspecting it. “It’s yours, isn’t it?”

He had nodded silently, wishing Vincent would just sleep like a regular man without his shirt. He did it half of the time, why not the other?

“Can I have it?”

He remembered the laugh he had given and now regretted it a little. What was wrong with humoring his lover? So he had wanted an old shirt, so what? Why had he seen that as so ridiculous? He should have stayed quiet.

Yet even though he had been laughed at, Vincent had just smiled and slipped the shirt on, looking down at how it fell to his knees. “I like it. It feels like you, Cid. Like one of your hugs in the early morning.”

He had found that even funnier, the idea that a shirt could feel like a hug. Now that he thought of it, he should have just given him one of those hugs and let if slide. He let his gaze drift over to the edge of the bed. It wasn’t his own, but it still made him think of how Vincent liked to keep that old shirt on the edge of the bed until he was ready to sleep. He never understood why he did that, but now he just wanted to see it there, Vincent’s slender hand reaching for it with that little smile he always had on.

He started at the sudden wetness he felt on his cheek and pressed a finger to it. Tears. He was crying? He shook his head. He had told himself he wouldn’t cry, that he wouldn’t get upset over this. He regretted it, yes, but he knew it was for the better that he had gone and that he would stay away. Vincent deserved much better than him and he was just trying to help that along. But still… he missed Vincent.

Or more accurately, he missed everything. Not only Vincent, but the little moments that came from being with Vincent and the things that came along with those. He rolled over and forced himself to look at the wall, but the tickle of his hair on his own temple made him remember waking in the mornings and breathing in the scent of Vincent, his nose nestled deep in the ebony fall of his lover’s hair. He missed that, his mind wandering back to how he would always kiss the gently curving neck to wake the other from sleep, his fingers brushing the silken hair back to spread across the pillow.

He shook his head to clear the image away, but it only brought more memories of how they used to be. The times they spent together, just out in town, their hands secretly clasped beneath the cover of Vincent’s cloak; the times they spent in the living room, curled on the couch for an afternoon nap; the times they spent late at night, in the circle of each other’s arms…

He closed his eyes as the memory of Vincent stretched out beside him invaded his mind, his own hands carefully ghosting over creamy skin. He loved to touch Vincent, to watch him move in anticipation or flush from arousal. He loved to lean over his lover and brush his lips against the other’s flesh, tasting his slightly salty skin in a moment’s pause.

He missed it all. If he could do anything at that moment, it would be go back to that… Go back to Vincent. But he couldn’t, no matter how much he missed anything. Because Vincent deserved much better than him.

~~~~~~~~

Slender hands tipped the box in them, bright eyes watching as folded papers tumbled out onto the bedspread. He wasn’t sure why he was looking through the notes. Maybe for some sort of explanation. Or maybe… for some sort of comfort like they always used to give him.

It had been a week now since his home was left empty save for himself. A week of figuring out how to go through the day without the little touches, the tiny whispers that always made getting up worthwhile. A week since he had learned how cold a bed could be without someone else there to warm it.

Unfolding a note, he glanced over the paper and took in the handwritten words. They made him smile, if only a little. But it was almost instantly erased by the thought that he wouldn’t be finding another note like this one taped to the bathroom mirror or hidden in his favorite book. He didn’t want to say never, but a week seemed to be the beginning of forever to him.

Turning his attention back to the scrawled words, he felt his smile return. He remembered this one, where Cid had attempted to form some sort of poem for him. Except Cid had never been the best when it came to those kinds of things. But he remembered how just after he had read it, the blond had stepped out of the kitchen and stood there scratching his head as he went on about how it wasn’t any good and how he should have done better. He had tried to tell Cid it was fine, that he appreciated it, but the other had just kept going on about how he had seen it in the movie they had watched the night before.

Those were the kinds of things that always happened. He had always been trying to tell Cid that he didn’t need to do anything but be there, but the blond had always ignored him and gone ahead with some attempt at a romantic gesture. Not that he didn’t like it. He was rather fond of Cid’s ways of doing things, especially when they came to things like romance. He was fairly sure Cid wasn’t a natural romantic so it usually ended up with him saving the moment from the blond’s apologies with a soft kiss or a murmur of “it’s all right”.

Yet he couldn’t say he didn’t love the tries. That would just be lying. He loved everything about the reckless blond pilot, right down to the way he would silently let out a curse when something went wrong. He just wished that he could have that all right now.

He spread the notes out across the bed, tenderly touching each one. He was about to pick up another to read when a shine caught his eyes underneath a couple of the notes. Pushing them aside, he slipped a hand under the glossy paper. It was a photo, no, a whole set of photos. A little confused, he sorted through them slowly, taking in each one.

He remembered them now. Cid had asked him if he knew where these were a few weeks ago. He hadn’t known where they were at the time, but now he recalled when he had placed them in the box. He had wanted to keep them safe and had put them in here with the notes so he wouldn’t lose them. Ironically, he almost had.

Shuffling through them again, he stopped on a picture of Cid, his fingers brushing over the smiling face. The next was Cid again, this time with he himself beside him, laughing about something. From the way he was there, he could tell he was the one to take them. Not to mention that in the next photo Cid’s hands were ruffling his hair so it couldn’t have been him holding the camera.

He gave a small smile as he moved to the next, the memory coming back to him. He recalled it now. It had been one of those unplanned trips, just one day when Cid had stopped his morning kisses and said “let’s do something fun.”

When asked, he had replied with a pause and then a declaration of “I say we go to Gold Saucer! We haven’t been there yet together, have we?”

At the time, he had thought the man was crazy. A random trip to Gold Saucer? Why? What was the point? But he had finally complied, agreeing on the last minute trip. As it had turned out, it had been more enjoyable than he had thought it would be. They had spent the day together and unafraid to show they were together, openly enjoying the day. He still remembered clear as crystal how the lights of the gondola had been reflected upon Cid’s face as they watched the fireworks in the sky.

And when they stumbled across the little shop, things had only taken a turn for the better as Cid had rushed excitedly into the store. He had been a little reluctant to follow the blond, but finally did so, something he would never regret. He had been a little worried when he couldn’t find his lover in the shop, but when the man had reappeared behind him in a ridiculously white suit, he had felt all his apprehensions float away.

Cid had motioned him toward the dressing rooms, showing him the discard racks hanging outside of them. “C’mon. I think it’d be fun. Ya know, try on all this stuff that’s just kinda crazy?”

He had just shaken his head and followed Cid into the dressing room, waiting as the other stepped outside to retrieve an armload of the discarded clothes. And then they had done just as Cid had suggested and tried on the things no one wanted just because they could.

He smiled as he remembered how Cid has somehow pulled off the bright yellow shirt and those grey slacks that he had on in the next photo. And there he was himself, in a pair of overly tight jeans with an open leather jacket on. He recalled how humiliated he had felt after Cid had coerced him into that getup, but he also recalled how Cid had kissed each flushed cheek, whispering in his ear. “Ya know, I’m the only one who’s gonna see this, Vince. No need to get all flustered over that, is there?”

He had responded with a short answer, one that was quickly silenced with another kiss. And slowly their little game of clothes fittings turned into a tricky little game of who could kiss the other more. The pictures stopped after one that showed that exact game since the camera had soon been forgotten in favor of having two free hands to explore with.

A sudden pang flew through him as the memory kept going and he all but threw the photos to the bed. Pressing his hands to his face, he doubled over as if he’d been struck. Maybe he had. He wasn’t really sure at the moment. He just felt… sick, a little lost…

Daring a glance up, he saw another of the pictures, one that had been taken rather recently. He figured it must have been one of those random ones that are taken to fill a roll of film. All he honestly knew was that it was a picture of them both and they were smiling, their heads tilted against one another’s as their noses touched. He missed those moments of silence when all things were fine and they were happy.

He felt moisture on his fingers and pulled his hands away to look at the tears staining his skin. He missed everything about those days. He missed everything about them. Running his hands through his hair, he grimaced slightly. It felt too fine, not coarse enough. It was a strange thought, but not when he had someone else’s hair in mind. He didn’t want to be running his hands through his own hair. He wanted to be doing it with Cid’s.

Aware of the tears resting on his cheeks, he rubbed his face against his shoulder, the soft cotton of his shirt drying his skin. But still, he couldn’t keep the memory of how Cid’s hair felt out of his mind. He couldn’t stop the memories of how most rainy days were spent with them on the couch, Cid’s head in his lap as he ran his fingers through the short, blond hair. Usually, the other fell asleep right there, Cid’s face turned to hide a content smile against his stomach. And he remembered always feeling safe as he watched his lover sleep in his lap, his slender hands still stroking the short stands.

He missed those rainy days when everything seemed to slow just for them. And he missed when they would finally wake from their nap and he would taste the kiss Cid had just laid down on his lips. He loved that taste, the odd taste of smoky breath with the occasional tang of alcohol and the strange way it mixed on his lips. It comforted him, that taste, simply because he was so used to it by now.

But now those things were gone and he only tasted air when he licked his lips in the mornings or in the middle of the day. He only had his own hair to stroke when it rained. He only had his own self to have for company. And through it all, he could only think that the reason Cid left was because of him. He wasn’t sure what he had done, but he must have done something to put himself alone. He must have done something to drive Cid away.

Forcing himself to gather the pictures and notes, he gently placed them back in their box. As much as it hurt him right now to look at them, he wasn’t going to have them torn up or lost. The lid closed with a quiet snap and he looked at it for a while before letting himself fall back, his head cushioned on the pillows.

He must have done something. That was all there was to it. And the fact that he didn’t know what it was only made matters worse. It placed even more blame on him. He had done something and couldn’t even recognize what it was. He let his eyes close, giving a soft sigh. The other deserved better. That must have been what he had been talking about. He could have done much better to keep Cid by his side. Because Cid deserved much better than him.

~~~~~~~~

A shiver woke him from his restless sleep and he curled more under the thin blanket he kept wrapped around him. Huddling against the second pillow, he closed his eyes and shook his head a little, blond hair scrubbing against the fabric. He had thought that the bed he was in was cold enough, but it only seemed to be growing colder by the second. He missed the comforting warmth of Vincent’s arms, the tickle of his breath against his chest.

No, he couldn’t start thinking like that. He couldn’t go back. But still… he wished he hadn’t ever said those two little words that had brought their world screeching to a halt: “it’s over”.

He wished he had never opened his mouth. But he had, and now that damage was done. And all he could really do was force himself to remember that this was all for Vincent. It was all for his sake and his sake alone. But it still hurt to just sit there day in and day out, thinking of how he regretted everything he had ever done. He had forgotten the last time he had felt this horrible.

He cursed lightly, burying his face in the pillow again, feeling the fabric soak up his tears. He wished he could forget everything. That would just be best. If he could forget everything then he wouldn’t want to go back. He wouldn’t want to return and keep leading Vincent on in a life he didn’t deserve. But as much as he wished, he knew it wasn’t possible. He knew there was no way he could ever stop thinking of Vincent and the mess he had made for the man. There was just no way. Even when he finally turned old and grey, he knew he would still remember Vincent. It was impossible to forget someone who had made his life heaven, especially when he himself had turned that heaven to hell.

~~~~~~~~~~

Careful not to let the box hit the floor too loudly, he slid it under the bed when he kept it. Cid had always thought that was strange, that he was so adamant about keeping the house clean, yet stored things away under the cover of the overhanging sheets like that. Most times he had ignored the comments, passing them off as silly little things. But now he wished he hadn’t He wished he hadn’t ever ignored the other and that he had spent every waking second with him. Because now he was gone.

He shivered as a chill ran down his back, one that made the hair on the back of his neck rise. Slipping under the covers, he tucked them close around his body like Cid used to do. The shuffling of cloth gave way to a soft sigh as he wondered if he would always be like this. Would he always remember Cid?

Of course he would. He knew the answer to that almost instantly. There was no way he could ever forget what he had shared with Cid. Even when he was older and had watched everyone else fade away he would still remember Cid. How could he forget someone who had made his world alive again? How could he forget someone when there had never been a real ending, no real closure? He had never even gotten to say goodbye before Cid had walked out of the door.

He felt his cheeks dampen again and turned to breathe into the pillow beneath his head. They hadn’t even said goodbye…

How could it be the end when they had never even said goodbye?

~~~~~~~~~~

A daring finger pressed the button beneath it, blue eyes watching as the dull light from the screen illuminated a small globe around it. He hadn’t touched the phone for two weeks now, knowing what he would see if he ever did. Yet he was surprised. Only one message showed, something he hadn’t expected.

Pressing another button, he listened to the soft beep as he brought the phone to his ear. He was shaking; he could feel the phone vibrating against his ear as he fought to keep his hand steady. Finally, the voice he longed to hear sounded, soft and broken in his ear.

“Cid… why?”

He let his eyes drop to the bed as another beep sounded. That was it? Just that question? He had expected more. He had expected something akin to anger in the other’s voice. But the question he had just heard was the exact opposite, full of desolation and confusion. The voice had sounded… hurt. And not hurt in the way he had expected.

Had he really done worse than he thought? Maybe he had jumped to conclusions, thinking it better to just leave without telling why. Maybe he had thought wrong when he had thought Vincent would just get rid of him for what he had done. Maybe… maybe things could have worked.

A little hope flashed in his eyes as he flipped though the list of numbers, settling on their home number. Maybe things could be fixed before it was too late. He took a shaky breath as the rings started, his throat constricting at the thought of Vincent in his arms again. Just to have that again for one moment…

“The phone you are trying to call has been disconnected. Please hang up and try again. The phone you are trying—“

He dropped the phone, staring at it as the message continued. Finally he heard the message fall quiet, having run the length it was programmed to if needed. He gingerly reached down and picked it back up. That wasn’t right. It was the right number, he knew. How could it be wrong? Surely Vincent wouldn’t disconnect the phone if he had called.

A little worried now, he searched for the number of Shera, hoping she was there. She still lived in town so if something was going on she would know.

Again the ring sounded, his pounding heart almost so loud that he couldn’t hear the phone. Now he was not only scared, he was panicking. “Pick up, pick up!” He felt like throwing the phone and leaving to catch the next train, plane, boat, whatever, to Rocket Town. But then the rings stopped, a soft voice in his ear. “Hello?”

“Shera.”

“Cid… Cid, where are you?”

He swallowed hard, a wave of relief coming over him. “What happened to the phone at home?”

“Cid…” There was something in her voice, something that made that feeling of dread come back. “Just tell me where you are. You need to come back as soon as possible.” Now he placed the emotion he heard. It was grief, something on the edge of tears. “Cid?”

He felt himself stiffen sharply. “Shera… what happened? Where’s Vincent?”

There was a sharp breath, something like on takes before they say something that needs to be told yet don’t want to. “Vincent… Vincent’s dead.”

“What?” He felt as though he had yelled it, though it had only come out a quiet whisper. The feeling of dread overwhelmed him and he swallowed. He felt sick. “This is a bad joke, Shera.”

“It’s no joke. Cid… he did it last night. Everyone in town heard the shot and we found him…” He heard her take a sharp breath and let out a small sob. “He left a note… says on the outside that only you can read it…”

He felt cold. He felt frozen. He felt… gone. He had done this and there was no going back. Just like when he had walked out. When he walked out… if he had just stayed and admitted his mistakes, Vincent might still be alive. Vincent might have taken him back and right now they would be their old, happy selves. Not this… not this. “A… a note?” he choked out.

“Yeah… he wrote on the outside that he wanted it to be to you and no one else.”

“W—what’s it say?”

He heard her sniff, heard the tears in her voice. “No one knows… we’re all waiting for you to read it.”

He couldn’t believe this. He had just made another mistake, one that had cost his lover his life. And as a result, his as own. Because while he had known living alone would be hard, at least Vincent was still alive. But now… “I… I’ll be there tonight,” he whispered, closing the phone quietly.

~~~~~~~~~

The house was silent as he walked through the front door, his hand shaking on the frame. Shera was sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. He took in the sight of the woman, surprised by her disheveled look. Never had he seen her like this. Then again…

He cleared his throat, half to get her attention and half to keep his throat from closing. She looked up, her eyes wide. “God… Cid…”

He could only stand there as she moved to him and threw her arms around him. He felt her shaking as he slowly encircled her shoulders with an embrace and knew he was shaking just as badly. But he had a reason for being here. Pulling away from her, he held her shoulders, his own head hung down. “When is it?” he whispered.

“Tomorrow,” she said in a faint voice. He nodded as she placed a hand in her pocket, pulling out a folded paper. He instantly recognized the smooth handwriting on the white surface and felt his throat constricting again. She held it out to him, tears in her eyes.

A little apprehensive at taking it, he halted before finally grasping the note. She nodded and gave him another hug before leaving, the door closing softly behind her. He watched her go, feeling like he could just collapse right there.

But somehow he made himself move to the bedroom, his eyes clouding over at the sight of the bare bed. No doubt this was where he had done it, where he had pulled the trigger of that fateful shot. He slumped down on the bed frame, the sickening sensation filling him again. But he couldn’t stop now. No, he had to know what Vincent had wanted him to know.

The paper crinkled as he unfolded it, smoothing the wrinkles from the handwriting he had missed. His eyes scanned the paper, taking in each and every word twice. And when he reached the end, he felt his world crumble. Tears fell from his cheeks to blot the ink until the words were unreadable, his shoulders shaking as he let in to the sobs he had been holding back since he had stepped through the door.

Cid,

I wish I knew what had happened. I wish I understood why you had left. But I don’t and you have yet to call me back. It’s been two weeks and it’s just too hard. I can’t do it. I’m sorry for whatever I did to make you go. I’m so sorry. I love you and I hope you can find someone who won’t make whatever mistake I did. I’m sorry. I think you should know that you deserve much better than me…