Disclaimer: I own plushies, and keychains, but not the characters.
Summary: Vincent reflecting on his relationship with Cid.
Rating: T, for slash.
I have taken other lovers since him. I got used to being around people with him. I can't handle the loneliness as well anymore. There haven't been many, and never have I mistakenly called for him; no one has ever come close to completing me the same way.
Even so, I'm starting to forget him. His taste and scent have dulled to whispers of cigarettes and tea. His touch is a mere ghost on my lips. Even his voice has faded into the din of the many others from my past.
I can still recall numerous times we spent together, but the details are far from the sharp, clear images they once were.
Funny, how I was given so much time and he so little. Only forty-two years. I remember one time, after hearing a young crewmember remark that thirty was old and coming to the realization that he was at least seven years older then his entire crew, he had taken to sulking. He had ranted for a while claiming he was "only thirty-six, damn it" and soon following that with his catchphrase "I'm getting too old for this shit." Hiding my smile, I had refrained from pointing out his contradiction as well as the fact that I was quite a few years his senior, despite appearances.
I was with him for the last ten; not all that long considering I'm nearing one hundred and the grey hair is just beginning to creep in. Despite our relatively brief time together I have never found myself more fulfilled, content, and happy than with him. I've never been one for the notion of soul mates and 'one true loves.' But I can't help but think that I found mine.
I've seen the others a few times since his passing, but they are busy with their own lives, and rightly so. It's something we have all earned. I took to wandering for a while, visiting old familiar places with no real goal in mind. Eventually though, I ended up back home in Rocket town, living in his house, the one we once shared.
I've lived there alone for twenty-five years doing various odd hobs around the town, ranging from maintenance, which he taught me, to free lance monster hunting. They're more hobbies than a source of income. I don't really need one. My share in Highwind Delivery and Travel Inc. provides more than enough. After things had settled down, he had built a small empire with the help of his beloved ships. Shera is in charge of it now, having a better head for book keeping and customer relations than myself.
It's a quiet life, generally, a stark contrast from our time saving the world (twice) and a few years after. But I've grown used to it. Used to the emptiness that plagues a part of me. I go about my daily routine, not accomplishing much, helping where I can. It's not much, but I'm sure he would appreciate it. He always worried about me, about not being there. I guess he figured thirty years alone in a coffin were more than enough for anyone to be by themselves. Ever so thoughtful of my happiness.
I'll admit the first few years after he was gone were hard. Excruciating. It never really got better, but I've learned to manage. I had done it before after all (not that they are comparable in any way); it was old hat. Thankfully I had improved my coping methods since then. Not that I had a coffin to go back to. He made me burn it one day. "It's symbolic or some shit like that. Eh, Nanaki's better at this metaphor crap than me." I smiled and told him Cloud was better at it than him and brought up his little speech in the Highwind about the planet being a little kid still. That earned me a playful glare and a customized curse.
He taught me a lot. Not that I was naïve about relationships. I knew they didn't always work out, that there was more than one person out there for everyone. Everything back then just seemed to happen so quickly. I was too wrapped up in it and never had the chance to step back and think about things until it was all over, and by that time I was in even deeper and couldn't get out. He helped me break out of it. Reminded me that I just needed to let go and move on, that I was not the only participant in the "soap opera," as he liked to call it.
I owe him so much. For the things he taught me, the things he shared with me. He was my best friend, my lover, and an irreplaceable part of my life. And so, for all that and more, I continue on, doing the best that I can and striving to make him proud of me still.