30 Deathfics: Memory Pull
Title: Memory Pull
Fandom: FF7
Words: 327
Note: Written for 30_deathfics So all of these stories will have death, and they all will have Zack. In this one, however, he isn't the one dying.
The first time he killed someone, it had been something he wasn't prepared for. It was traumatic, bloody, and it wasn't even his fault. He was just too small to hold on.
He'd been twelve, scrawny, with hair that went every which way no matter what his mom tried to do to tame it, and he just plain hadn't been strong enough. His hands might have been a little big for his age, like a puppy's paws and about as clumsy, but they certainly hadn't helped when a tremor cracked open a deep spring and he'd had to make a desperate grab for his best friend.
He'd caught a hold too. A tight hold, and the fact that the other boy was taller than him had never been more clear than when he couldn't haul the boy back up to solid ground. In the end, gravity had won, and he'd been told to let go.
His friend had given him a look of apology and let go of his side of the grip. Of course he'd tried harder to keep his own grip, but his friend had pleaded him to let go before they both fell. He hadn't, but the other boy had slipped loose of his grip just the same.
They couldn't save him, and Zack had felt the death heavy on his heart, because he knew that if he'd just been a little stronger… then it might have been okay. Instead, he hadn't been able to do anything.
He was stronger now, though, and it wasn't going to happen again. He wasn't going to be responsible for letting another friend die. Not when one had led him to this, to someone who really needed him.
"No, you're letting me help you." The words were rough, quiet, and he cast cure. "You're letting me help."
Not that saying it mattered, since the man was unconscious, but he wasn't going to fail a friend again. Never again.
Fandom: FF7
Words: 327
Note: Written for 30_deathfics So all of these stories will have death, and they all will have Zack. In this one, however, he isn't the one dying.
The first time he killed someone, it had been something he wasn't prepared for. It was traumatic, bloody, and it wasn't even his fault. He was just too small to hold on.
He'd been twelve, scrawny, with hair that went every which way no matter what his mom tried to do to tame it, and he just plain hadn't been strong enough. His hands might have been a little big for his age, like a puppy's paws and about as clumsy, but they certainly hadn't helped when a tremor cracked open a deep spring and he'd had to make a desperate grab for his best friend.
He'd caught a hold too. A tight hold, and the fact that the other boy was taller than him had never been more clear than when he couldn't haul the boy back up to solid ground. In the end, gravity had won, and he'd been told to let go.
His friend had given him a look of apology and let go of his side of the grip. Of course he'd tried harder to keep his own grip, but his friend had pleaded him to let go before they both fell. He hadn't, but the other boy had slipped loose of his grip just the same.
They couldn't save him, and Zack had felt the death heavy on his heart, because he knew that if he'd just been a little stronger… then it might have been okay. Instead, he hadn't been able to do anything.
He was stronger now, though, and it wasn't going to happen again. He wasn't going to be responsible for letting another friend die. Not when one had led him to this, to someone who really needed him.
"No, you're letting me help you." The words were rough, quiet, and he cast cure. "You're letting me help."
Not that saying it mattered, since the man was unconscious, but he wasn't going to fail a friend again. Never again.