Nightshade

By StarWolf

12/21/2003

Title: Nightshade

Author: StarWolf (elendraug@yahoo.com)

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Pairing: Cid/Vincent

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Creepiness

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII or any of its characters. I just like to do mean things to them.

Distribution: Leave it on Fanfiction.net and Stella Lupus, my website. I'd prefer it to stay put.

Summary: Cid likes to brush Vincent's hair.

Authoress' Notes: Fear me.

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Cid likes to brush Vincent's hair. So shiny, so sleek, so lustrous as he runs his fingers through the silky threads. Years of stress and torment are woven into the ebony strands, and Cid soothes them with his careful touch. Such beauty should not be marred, thinks Cid, yet there was nothing I could have done all those years ago to prevent what he's been through. Vincent's hair shimmers in the dim moonlight that filters through the window, and Cid smiles. For all that he's endured, Vincent is still so, so beautiful, and nothing can take that away.

Cid likes to stroke Vincent's skin. So fair, so pale, so smooth as he runs his fingers over the soft planes of Vincent's chest. Years of agony and self-inflicted punishment have strewn thin white scars across the ivory flesh, and Cid soothes them with his reverent touch. Such beauty should not be marred, thinks Cid, yet there was nothing I could have done all those years ago to prevent what he's been through. Vincent's skin seems to absorb the dim moonlight that filters through the window, and Cid smiles. For all that he's braved, Vincent is still so, so gorgeous, and nothing can take that away.

Cid likes to hold Vincent's hand. So slight, so elegant, so delicate as he runs his fingers over the gently formed lines of Vincent's palm. Years of struggle and battle have calloused the precious pads of his fingertips, and Cid soothes them with his feather-light touch. Such beauty should not be marred, thinks Cid, yet there was nothing I could have done all those years ago to prevent what he's been through. Vincent's hand is graceful in the dim moonlight that filters through the window, and Cid smiles. For all he's done, Vincent is still so, so lovely, and nothing can take that away.

Cid likes to stare into Vincent's eyes. So red, so vibrant, so intense as he runs his gaze over the crimson luminosity of Vincent's irises. Years of guilt and emotional pain have embedded a weary appearance in the sanguine spheres, and Cid soothes them with a reassuring look. Such beauty should not be marred, thinks Cid, yet there was nothing I could have done all those years ago to prevent what he's been through. Vincent's eyes are wistful as they reflect the dim moonlight that filters through the window, and Cid smiles. For all he's tolerated, Vincent is still so, so ethereal, and nothing can take that away.

Cid watched last week as Vincent placed the Death Penalty to his temple and pulled the trigger. Sanguine liquid ran down the ivory skin and matted the ebony strands as the gun fell from the delicate palm. Years of frustration and suffering have taken their toll on Vincent's lost, enigmatic soul, and Cid cannot do anything to heal such damage. Such beauty should not be lost, thinks Cid, yet I do not know what I could have done to stop him. Vincent's tears stream down and glisten in the dim moonlight that filters through the window, and Cid stands in shock. For all he'd borne, Vincent was still so, so fragile, and Cid wishes he could have helped to take that fear away.

Vincent has been dead for seven days now, and Cid brushes Vincent's hair every night.