A story without an ending... help?
As the sun set onto the waters of Costa del Sol, everything appeared to glow. The ocean lapped against the beach as the tide began to creep in. The two men strolling along the sands paused to take in the magnificent view. Dark eyes were softened as the light appeared to make golden rivets carved into the glassy surface. The wind blew softly off the water, brining with it the smell of the ocean, sand, sun, and happiness. Vincent closed his eyes to savor the scent. His hair gently brushed his face, tussled by the breeze. In the setting sun, eyes closed, porcelain skin basking in the last moments of light, ebony hair framing the picturesque sight, he looked like a god. He was a god. Able to kill with unimaginable ease, an all powerful creature encased with rage, capable of completing mass genocide. Though, in the moment, was able to still all movement to that of a statue, to be calmed by the environment that rivaled his own beauty. In this moment, he glowed.
Cid turned his head from the sight and took a long drag on his cigarette. Quietly, so as not to disturb Vincent, he resumed his walk. He stared downwards as his heavy boots dragged through the sand with every step. Hands in pockets, he made his way towards the bar.
"Cid." He stopped where he was, but didn't turn around.
"Why have you been avoiding me?"
Silence engulfed the two as both men succumbed to their own thoughts. Vincent wondered what he could've done to upset the pilot. They rarely interacted on casual occasions except for mild conversation during meals and party changes. There had been instances where the two had shared the night-watch together, but nothing dramatic had ever occurred. Maybe, Vincent thought, Cid had expected him to be more social and now thought him rude, or that he held ill thoughts towards the other? In any case, both assumptions were wrong on Vincent's half. Yes Cid was brash and foul-mouthed, but he wasn't so bad after you got around his personality.
"I haven't been avoiding you. If I was, would I be here?" Another drag followed this, but Cid hadn't moved otherwise. Secretly, he did feel like leaving right then and not looking back, but for entirely different reasons than Vincent thought. It was true that he had been trying to sidestep occasions where he would be paired with or together with the ex-Turk for the past few weeks, but Cid's logic insisted that it was for the best. He knew that if he was around the dark brooding man for too long, no good could come of it. There was just something about Vincent's mysterious demeanor that drew Cid in. Was it the long, soft hair that fell onto broad shoulders, or the pale, fine features that held eyes cold with betrayal and hurt? Could it be the tortured past, in both literal and metaphoric sense, which compelled Cid to want to learn more about this pained soul?
He couldn't tell for sure what first perked his interest, but he knew that before long, he wanted to know all the answers. After a while, his curiosity grew to an insatiable level. Questions like: Why did he join the Turks? What was his middle name? What was the deal with Hojo? How many relationships had he had, and what kinds were they? It was this last question that alerted Cid. Since when did he care that much about anybody? He couldn't possibly be that interested in someone other than himself, could he? Really, he was the 'Captain'; he had a self-centered reputation to maintain. It was all about him and what he wanted. Which brought up that final question: What was it that he wanted?
Cid shook his head, trying to keep the pestering thoughts away, as he sighed deeply.
"We should get goin', Cloud's expecting us." Vincent made a non-committal noise and continued to stare out at the vastness of the ocean. He heard as Cid started to walk off again. Could he really offend the man that much? He had to ask.
"Do I really bother you that much?" The footsteps stopped. This time, Vincent turned to look at Cid's back. The pilot scratched the back of his head.
"It's not that you bother me, s'just..." he trailed off. Vincent watched as Cid shifted his weight, digging a toe into white sand. The cigarette made another trip to the mouth that was currently searching for words. After a moment, the butt was tossed to the ground and squashed underfoot.
"We should get going." Cid stated again as he trudged off in the direction of the bar. Vincent turned back to see the last rays of light disappear behind the horizon. He kept this image in the back of his mind for during less peaceful moments. He also kept the fact that Cid had not turned to face him, not once.
Dinner at the bar was as lively as to be expected in a tourist location. Tifa and Aeriths talked amongst themselves past relationships and families. Yuffie made light conversation with other patron, slipping un-guarded matria into her pockets. Nananki and Cait Sith discussed political happenings and current situations and Barret and Cid's brusque laughter resounded throughout the room. Vincent and Cloud situated themselves in a corner, silently drinking and watching the others. Both eyes landed on Cid though, when the captain made a drunken offer towards one of the younger female customers, asking her if she'd like to 'ride the Highwind'. This was answered by a sharp slap to the face that sent Cid reeling backwards. Barret's laughter boomed louder than ever, and the rest of the room joined in.
Cloud shook his head and went back to his drink. Vincent, on the other hand, stood up and made his way over to the pilot who was trying to get up.
"Here," he said, lifting Cid up and putting his arm around the other's waist to keep him up, "let's get you to bed." A grunting noise was made as Cid's head dipped lower; chin resting on chin, as he was half dragged upstairs. By the time they had made it to the room, Vincent was feeling very awkward about the whole situation. Just hours before, he had all but gotten a confession that Cid disliked him, and at the moment, said drunk was becoming increasingly more sober practically in his arms.
"Vincent?" He immediately removed himself from the pilot, dropping him to the floor.
"I was just leaving." He answered promptly. As he turned, he felt a tug on his cloak. Cid, drunkenly slouched against the wall, legs sprawled across the hallways, had a handful of Vincent's cloak and looked up questioningly.
"Goin' so soon?" Vincent stared back.
"I figured you wouldn't appreciate my company."
"Shit, I don't hate you, relax!" Cid slurred somewhat,"We musta started out on the wrong foot or somethin'. Here, help me up." The cloak was dropped as the hand extended upwards. Vincent looked around precautiously, before reaching down to grasp the pilot's wrist, hoisting him up.
"There," Cid said smiling, not letting go, "Now let's start brand new. Cid Highwind, at your service." He smiled wider. Vincent glanced down at the joined hands before looking back up.
"Vincent." Cid chuckled as he clapped his other hand onto Vincent's shoulder.
"There now," he said, "Now we can be buddies!" Vincent wondered if he should be more concerned than he actually was. Cid's eyes looked as sharp as ever, to which he then wondered how drunk the pilot was really. Deciding not to wait around to see what Cid was plotting to do; Vincent withdrew his hand from their grasp.
"I should go." He stated, and slid out from under the pilot's other hand. The smile dropped from Cid's face and his hands retreated to his pockets.
"Yeah, okay. See you tomorrow." He watched as the red cloak fanned out from behind the dark figure as it made its way down the stairs.
'So close,' he thought, 'so damn close.'
AN: Okay, so for those wondering what the rambling above is all about, it's an insomniac waiting for drugs to take effect. Apparently it has potential; the only downfall is that I don't particularly know where it's going. That's where you the reader come in. If you have ideas or thoughts about it, do tell me and we'll see where it goes.