Black, White, Colourless
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Zack/Cloud
Rating: G
018. black
The others, Tifa especially, make excuses for him though he has never once made any of his own. They say that he was under the control of Sephiroth, that the genetic changes made in him rendered him unable to resist the General's call. Even Vincent, who understood him most, said that he knew how hard it was to fight voices in one's head.
Cloud has never said anything because there's never been anything to say. He knows himself (what's left of him anyway) best of all and he knows he never tried to fight. When he handed the black materia to the One Winged Angel he had heard a voice in his head.
A world without him, the Bright One, is not a world worth having.
He couldn't have agreed more.
019. white
Holy is bright enough that you'd think it'd burn. It should be white enough, pure enough, damn near hot enough to wash away your sins. But it's not. Perhaps others can feel its echoes washing through them gently, but you can't feel anything. You haven't been able to feel anything for a while now, not since that incident on the cliff. Still, you had hoped, wished that for once, maybe you could feel again. Maybe you could capture the warmth of his arms around your waist, his breath against your neck, and the beating of a heart that could forgive you for anything.
But you can't.
020 colourless
When he opens his eyes again, the world is awash in colors. Browns and greens and black in the distance. Mud and grass and smog on the horizon. The sky is a muted kind of blue, rainclouds converging and blocking out all light. But still, though the atmosphere is drab and dull, though everything just melts together to form an ugly world, still there is a splash of brightness.
And it's red, oh so vivid, and it's everywhere and blinding and should not the rain be falling by now, should not the heavens be crying?
It's too much on top of too little, and if black is the absence of all color and white is all of it mixed...well, he closes his eyes and sees neither. Instead, he sinks back to where he came from, where there is nothing, nothing, nothing to match the hole in his heart.
For: fanfic100
Pairing: Zack/Cloud
Rating: G
018. black
The others, Tifa especially, make excuses for him though he has never once made any of his own. They say that he was under the control of Sephiroth, that the genetic changes made in him rendered him unable to resist the General's call. Even Vincent, who understood him most, said that he knew how hard it was to fight voices in one's head.
Cloud has never said anything because there's never been anything to say. He knows himself (what's left of him anyway) best of all and he knows he never tried to fight. When he handed the black materia to the One Winged Angel he had heard a voice in his head.
A world without him, the Bright One, is not a world worth having.
He couldn't have agreed more.
019. white
Holy is bright enough that you'd think it'd burn. It should be white enough, pure enough, damn near hot enough to wash away your sins. But it's not. Perhaps others can feel its echoes washing through them gently, but you can't feel anything. You haven't been able to feel anything for a while now, not since that incident on the cliff. Still, you had hoped, wished that for once, maybe you could feel again. Maybe you could capture the warmth of his arms around your waist, his breath against your neck, and the beating of a heart that could forgive you for anything.
But you can't.
020 colourless
When he opens his eyes again, the world is awash in colors. Browns and greens and black in the distance. Mud and grass and smog on the horizon. The sky is a muted kind of blue, rainclouds converging and blocking out all light. But still, though the atmosphere is drab and dull, though everything just melts together to form an ugly world, still there is a splash of brightness.
And it's red, oh so vivid, and it's everywhere and blinding and should not the rain be falling by now, should not the heavens be crying?
It's too much on top of too little, and if black is the absence of all color and white is all of it mixed...well, he closes his eyes and sees neither. Instead, he sinks back to where he came from, where there is nothing, nothing, nothing to match the hole in his heart.
For: fanfic100