|My Disjointed Life
Author: Pendrum PM
Cloud Strife is just a typical first year University student trying to make it on his own. Throw in two attractive female students, crazy demanding professors, psychotic classmates, along with other challenges and you've got yourself a story.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Romance - Chapters: 38 - Words: 187,031 - Reviews: 1,111 - Favs: 463 - Follows: 150 - Updated: 08-05-07 - Published: 12-28-05 - Status: Complete - id: 2724230
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and its characters are property of Square Enix. Don't sue me because I'm poor and useless.
Foreword: This fic follows Cloud and shows his perspective of things as he struggles to get through first year university, while meeting interesting people along the way. I've gotta warn you, there's harsh language in here and some suggestive themes but nothing too crazy so some chapters may be rated M. Consider yourself warned.
MY DISJOINTED LIFE
"Rude Awakenings and Sugar Crisp Cereal?"
Monday morning and here I am sitting in Literature and History. I only have to take this stupid course as a part of my first year mandatory arts for my degree.
I fucking hate Monday mornings because you're constantly reminded of the fact that a full fresh set of five grueling days await you before you can attain any freedom during the precious weekend.
Oh weekend, how I miss thee!
Scratch that actually. I think when you truly consider it, Sunday nights are worse. Because then, you know that Monday morning is coming and just the anticipation of it brings more dread.
It's like watching a horror movie when the dumbass idiot goes into the dark house alone while you, along with all the others in the movie theater, scream hysterically for him not to. Of course, the fact that the screams are pointless since they fall on deaf ears (considering the actor himself isn't capable of hearing them since he's PART OF THE FUCKING MOVIE) is a minute point at this case. The real point is that the anticipation of something happening is worse than actually seeing something happen to the moron.
Yeah. So back to my earlier rant. I fucking hate Monday mornings, but not as much as Sunday nights.
Oh what? I suppose I should tell you the magnificent reader a little about me? What the hell is there to tell? I'm a young, horny, lonely (that rhymes, aren't I cool?), introverted and shy 21 year old male university student. That pretty much sums me up. Descriptive enough? Well too bad.
What? You want my physical features? Go pick up a copy of Final Fantasy VII. I don't need to describe myself to you. As for my attire: Sneakers, khaki pants and a white cotton shirt. Wow so flashy huh? Enough said.
Someone shoot me. Please, I'll seriously pay you.
No, for real. I will.
Damn, this stupid prof is killing me with his plastic smile and fake toupee. It's not as if he's being inconspicuous about it either. The thing isn't even positioned on right. Idiot! Stop smiling; it's not even fucking nine yet! How can you act so energetic? Not human. Only possible explanation.
How the hell do you look that cheerful when you're such an imbecile? It astounds me.
Eyelids getting heavy but must... stay... awake. Didn't get much rest last night since I was dreading Monday morning. Temptation to fall asleep too great. Surroundings slowly fading as I enter sweet slumber. Sweet, sweet slumber.
"Mr. Strife, are you finding my lecture so tiring and tedious that you've chosen to, as you young folks put it, 'crash'?" Mr. Fake Toupee approached my desk and I shot awake.
"No more Sugar Crisp! You CAN get enough of it you know! THE FUCKING BEAR LIES!" It was the first thing that popped to my mind as it reeled from the sudden awakening.
Great job Strife. You idiot.
The room began to pile up with laughter along with an assortment of snickers (not the candy bar) as I brought my head down in embarrassment, staring at my open but blank binder. I could feel heat in my body throughout.
"It seems that you have a knack for being a comedian today Mr. Strife."
Fakeass was trying to bring me down further? Fucker. What, were the laughs from the surrounding students not enough?
More laughter around the room as the snickers broke out into light giggles that soon erupted into chuckles and roars. The prof didn't seem to mind as he gazed at me in satisfaction.
I swear he was enjoying seeing me humiliated.
"So Mr. Strife, what will it be?" I looked up at him. "How about you quit kidding yourself and actually pay attention as opposed to disrupting the class hmm?" What a smartass.
Fucking hypocrite. That's it. I've had enough. I'm going full out. No more Mr. Nice Guy.
'Don't do it.' My stupid logical side, aka my conscience, told me.
"How about you quit kidding yourself and stop pretending to be something you're not by getting rid of that ridiculous looking wig?" Oh no I didn't? Oh yes I did. Stupid conscience. Take that!
Well let me tell you. I'm really not exaggerating when I say that the laughter ceased and died down instantly and I mean instantly. There were a short series of gasps and surprise bouts of laughter from several students as the awkward silence filled the room. I wish I had a knife to cut through the tension and so I could tear that ugly wig up to shreds.
Tomatoes. Have I ever mentioned tomatoes? No? Well let me tell you that at the particular moment, the prof's face was practically as red as one. Okay fine that's a lie but work with me here. His face was red nonetheless. I think it's safe to say that he wasn't too pleased with what came out of my dumb mouth.
Stupid conscience. Made me do it. Blame him. Can you actually refer to your conscience as a particular gender? Interesting point, I have to jot that down and bring it up again later.
Note to self: Contemplate conscience's identity crisis. How's that for alliteration?
Trying saying that three times fast.
Biology class. Biochemistry to be exact. Surprise, surprise, I hate this course too but at least it's at a more sane hour. Besides, I don't hate it for the reasons you may think that I hate it for. Did that make any sense? And at least I escaped the horrors of my Lit class. Mr. Toupee really didn't do much as send me out of the class early.
I like to think of it as an early dismissal. Yeah…
I'm in the middle of the back row and my eyes are wandering over everyone and towards the front left corner. Damn, stop looking. I can't help it.
There she is, sitting there looking so perfect and pretty, and sexy… and hot… and sexy… and…
Stop it. Shit. Good thing class started just ten minutes ago because I definitely can't stand up now. If we all had to get up now, it would prove to be pretty hard despite the baggy pair of khakis. I'm sorry, I'm bad with puns. Go kill me now.
Anyways, I have to seriously stop gawking at her with that amazing rack on her chest and those luscious lips, that perfect face and that straight thick hair along with that slender waist...
Eyes to the front Strife. Yes, eyes to front. Stare at the ugly old male instructor with gray hair extending out of his ears. He's interesting and is explaining something and…
Eyes drifting off to the left unconsciously, towards a certain dark haired brunette female with sexy…
No! Focus Cloud, focus!
Tifa. Damn her. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn her! I don't even know her last name and yet every time I have this course, I can't help but look forward to seeing her, and gazing at her, and ogling her curves, and mentally undressing her with my thoughts, and fantasizing about…
I blinked my eyes several times and shook my head violently, making me look like some crazed, clichéd lunatic. Some dark haired faggot was looking at me to my right as I brought my head up to lean back against the wall.
"What does this faggot want?" I thought. Only unfortunately, no one bothers to mention that in the early hours of the morning; sometimes what you think may actually be spoken without you realizing it.
I have to wait for his reaction now as his face first transformed from shock to surprise, then to slight anger and frustration, then to confusion before settling to disdain.
"You got a fucking problem or something?" Was he threatening me? Maybe this was his way of introducing himself?
Kind of like Tony Soprano: Shoot first, introduce yourself second. Must have been an insecurity issue given how skinny he was.
"Uh no…" Think of something quick to say. "I was talking about the prof..." Good save Cloud, good save. "...To myself." Moron. You just had to keep talking didn't you?
The guy lightened up as his face broke out into a slight grin, nodding along. "Heh yeah, fucking bat just keeps droning on and on."
Hey, this guy's not so bad. Maybe he ain't a fag. I hope… Not that I have anything against gays! I just don't swing the other way. Nope. No siree. Cloud Strife is a 100 percent female loving sex machine. Yeah, don't I wish…? I'm so lonely…
A grunt, albeit very low, was still audible. I turned my head to the left as this nerd (I kid you not. I mean he even had the black rimmed dorky glasses you see in movies but don't believe actually exist) glared at me with the most menacing stare he could muster and not make a complete ass of himself.
"Stop talking. Unlike some people, the rest of us actually want to listen and do well." He was being snotty and must've sounded like Urkel. Okay maybe I'm embellishing that part a little but the guy reeked of geekness. Is that even a word?
Note to self: Look up geekness in the dictionary later.
I ignored him as he turned back to look at the instructor while I followed suit, gazing lazily up ahead.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying I'm a bad student by any means. In fact, shocking as it may be, I probably have the highest grade in this course but don't tell that to Sir Nerdstein next to me. He'd probably commit suicide. Oh don't look so shocked. Okay, ever since I was a kid, I've had this fascination and strange obsession with gene splicing, genetic alteration and all that crazy shit that you see in the movies and wish you could actually be a part of only to have your dreams shattered and ultimately squashed when the movie ends and you come back to the harsh realms of reality.
Wow, what a rant. I apologize but I did warn you that it's Monday morning.
"Yo. Yo man." The guy to my right was at it again. What the hell was it now?
I craned my neck, gazing at him. "Yep?" Seriously, is he actually gay or something?
He smiled like a retard and extended his right arm over the side of the desk. What. The. Fuck? "I'm Vincent. Vincent Valentine. What's your name?"
Homosexual. Has to be. No other logical explanation. I tried looking for an escape but between listening to my boring prof, dealing with Urkel to my left, or being a complete ass by rejecting his handshake, I chose to return the formal gesture.
"Cloud. Cloud Strife." We shook hands as he smiled and nodded with me staring at him solemnly.
"Mr. Strife and you the one shaking his hand, I realize you two are good friends and all but please leave the touching for a more appropriate time. We're in class at the moment."
Oh. My. God. That evil bastard! Innocent on the outside with his elderly appearance but rotten and diabolical within. Satan manifested as my professor.
It took practically 0.3 seconds for me and Vincent to release hands and sit with our backs to the wall, both burning red from embarrassment.
And so for the second time today, within the second consecutive period, the room turned deathly silent as all eyes across the room fell on me and the idiot to my right. Various contorted snickers were released all around as some simply chuckled away, showing no remorse or mercy.
Cruel sick individuals. What have I ever done to you?
"Well, if Mr. Strife and his friend are done with their little session back there and have stopped disrupting the class, then I'd like to continue." With that, the evil bastard picked up his notes again as he went back to work, as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. Fucker.
Satan's minions all began to turn around as they directed their gaze back towards the front once more, the laughter dying down.
I was flushing with embarrassment and heard the asshole Poindexter next to me snicker, his head bobbing up and down in between his hunched shoulders as if he were experiencing a seizure or something, or possibly jacking off.
I frowned at him, glaring in contempt. "Fuck you." I hissed. Yes it was being mean but damnit; my attitude was justifiable at the moment!
Holy shit! You know what Urkel clone just did? He just stuck his tongue out at me! The fucker stuck his tongue out at me! The nerve! How much more childish can you get than that?
"Psst. Hey man, Look I'm sorry about-" Vincent began quietly.
"Just don't man. Not now." I shook my head out of anger and embarrassment and gazed up ahead bitterly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I stole a glance at Tifa and oh shit…
Yep you guessed it. She was one of the last few to turn back around so we immediately made a moment of eye contact and it sent chills up and down my body. I froze, like a deer caught in a set of headlights. Crap, I'm such an idiot. I can feel my face becoming redder by the second.
She studied me with a stoic facial expression for a brief second before she coolly turned back towards the instructor.
That was the last of anything happening for the remainder of the lecture. Oh yeah, save aside from the boring redundant shit the prof kept spewing from up front as his little drones absorbed everything like sponges, along with his most obedient sponge, my new arch-nemesis:
I can't stop thinking about the way Tifa just looked at me. As if I was some kind of retard. I mean, she was just… staring at me! Staring!
It was Vincent's fault to start with anyways.
Tifa's a bitch.
An extremely hot, sexy bitch who I don't even know well to make an accurate assessment of. Crap, there go any chances of me getting up anytime soon. She's still an evil bitch.
So is Urkel. I fucking hate Urkel.
And Sugar Crisp cereal. With a passion.