My 1st FF7 fanfic, I LOVE THAT GAME! This was gonna be part of a chaptered story, though since I'm never gonna get around to that, so here it is.
Final Fantasy VII
Cloud walked solemnly inside the broken temple. Or at least temple is what he called it in his mind. He paused for a moment, unable to fully take in all the anguish being here caused him still, after so long…
Two whole years, and yet the images still haunted him, and the guilt still plagued him. He couldn't help but blame himself…besides, there was no one else to pin it on. He was her bodyguard, and everyday she didn't get to breath he hated himself a little more.
Taking in a deep breath, and clutching the single flower in his hand he started forward once more. The serene waters seemed to illuminate the cracked walls around him, it was almost surreal. Every time he came here he felt like that. Like there was no possible way it could have happened, no way it could be real, and the alluring fantasy quality of his surroundings never helped to deny that feeling. It crept up his spine and left more of an aftertaste than the guilt, for in its own way, it made him feel like he could wake up from all of it. But wake up to do what? Just see her…wake up to die?
Cloud tried to keep his eyes peaceful as he looked down into the depths of those waters, it wasn't right to bring pain into the homes of the dead, especially when you're the one convicted of murder. He swore he could see the shadowy outline of her, at the very bottom, but maybe that was just his imagination. For it'd be to hopeful, to easy to think she was really that close.
It was a suiting grave really though, elapsed in holy water. In a way he was surprised the outline hadn't changed, in decay or something similar, maybe it was the holy water, or maybe it was her, just the fact of how perfect she was, no god or ancient or whatever controlled them all could destroy such perfection. Then again maybe it was his hope, his imagination.
She wasn't the only shadow though, hundreds of small gray pieces surrounded her, the shadows of the pink flowers floating on the surface that never wilted due to whatever cause that kept her perfect. They were the pink flowers that were the same color as her dress, her favorite kind, and the ones that reminded him most of her. They were hard to find, but Cloud always managed, because for every day she'd been dead he'd come with a flower, her flower, and layed in on the holy water. There was no way he could ever possibly repent for this sin, at least he could show dedication, and even if guilt didn't drive him to her every day of the year.
Cloud couldn't prevent the frown from showing, couldn't help the lost look of his eyes, because he couldn't live without her, and he couldn't help the tears that leaked from his shinning metallic blue eyes…and maybe it was his tears that kept her alive, the flowers alive.
Cloud knelt to his knees, silently pressing the flower to the water so softly that it didn't even ripple. He never touched the water, it was pure, the purest thing in his world, and he couldn't let all his sins disembody that.
Cloud clasped his hands together in prayer. Before he met her he didn't really believe in religion, and he had no reason to. He didn't have a belief or a god, but she'd shown him. Even now he wasn't sure what he believed in, as a force driving them all that is, but one thing was sure, he believed in her, and that's who his prayers were for. And he desperately hung on to the idea that everything really was better on the other side, and that in death you could live in some sort of nirvana. He'd never consciously wished something so hard in his life.
She'd prayed a lot, and because of that when she'd died, he'd started to. He thought maybe, if there was an afterlife, she could hear him. But he didn't was to believe she could see him. If only she could know he loved her, but not know what a horrible person he was. He couldn't bare to think that she knew what he was like. He'd never liked himself, and it'd gotten worse since he started trying to hide it. The real him he thought was weak, but the him he pretended to be had more issues than that, and somewhere along the line he'd lost himself somewhere in the vague landscape in between his fantasy and his reality.
He drank too much…and he cursed too much…he was weak, and he was pathetic. He couldn't handle everything that'd been thrown at him. He didn't want her seeing that.
Cloud still visited her mom, and helped the children take care of her garden at the church, as well as the one at her home.
Cloud slowly let his hands fall to his lap, his prayers spent. The aching in his heart from missing her hurt him worse everyday. Everything he saw reminded himself of her. He'd even begun to blame himself for every withered flower he saw, as though somehow if she were here, it'd all be beautiful just in acknowledgment of her presence. He knew she could make him all right, and he wished he'd let her in more while he had the chance.
Somehow he knew he could've stopped her if he'd gotten there sooner. Or maybe if he wasn't so untrustworthy…if he wasn't so weak he could of done it, if he hadn't let Sephroith take control of him again…at all. He ruined everything he came in contact with, he always had. He didn't even think himself deserving of the harmony found in death, he deserved to rot on this Earth in misery, otherwise he would've killed himself, but even that was above him.
Cloud stood very slowly, not wanting to leave her, in a way that ripped him apart most, having to leave her every single day, but that was all he had to offer for repentment. This was all he could give, a flower everyday, and his heart. He would always love her.
It'd been two years today since she died…
Two years is an awfully long time…
And it's 730 flowers.