A Bed of Bad Habits
By Kiley Sullivan

Chapter One: High Probability of Assisted Suicide

Sora was a masochist.

He had to be; why else would he fall for the beautiful, cold and unattainable time and time again? It was some sick and twisted need inside of him, he supposed. He was innocent and pure, raised in light and drawn to shadow like the proverbial moth to flame.

And fuck, he loved every second of it.

"You going in alone this time, kid?" asked Phil.

Sora scuffed one absurd yellow shoe against the dirt floor of the Coliseum. "Yeah," he said, slinging the Keyblade over his shoulder and glancing at Donald and Goofy. "Can't get rusty, right?" He grinned brightly.

Donald looked annoyed, Goofy oblivious. Winking one bright blue eye, Sora sauntered past them into the arena. "Be careful!" Phil warned. Sora just waved one hand at them and disappeared around the corner.

Maybe not so oblivious after all, Goofy looked down at his short little cohort. "Uh, d'ya think Sora's up ter somethin'?" he asked, scratching his head.

"Nah," Donald shook his head rapidly. "What would he do, anyway?"

Goofy shrugged. "I dunno."

Stalking towards the door, Donald crossed his arms. "Ah, what do you know? C'mon, let's go talk to Herc." Amiably Goofy followed.

It was really too bad that Donald didn't listen to Goofy. Sora really was up to something, after all. Perhaps not anything that they could conceive, but a something nonetheless. Whistling cheerfully, Sora grasped his Keyblade in both hands, preparing for the first onslaught of Heartless.

By the time the Fifth Seed rolled around, Sora's hair was beginning to get a little damp, his breath audible. Taking a little break to wipe his forehead on his sleeve and Cure while the aimless Truffle kind of chilled and waddled around, Sora was filled with the sudden urge to check his appearance in the reflective surface of his Keyblade.

A little disgusted with himself, Sora jutted out his lower lip and took a good solid whack of frustration at the Truffle. It squeaked pitifully and went careening away.

In the silence that followed, Sora swallowed so loudly that Hades probably heard it down in the Underworld. He gripped the Keyblade with fingers that were suddenly sweaty, but didn't raise it. He waited.

Footsteps behind him made him turn. Slowly, he coached himself, stomach fluttering so hard that he wondered for a fleeting instant if he had swallowed Tinkerbell and not noticed. Though... how could he not notice something like that?

Mind on the task at hand! he scolded himself, lifting his chin to look into the blazing blue eyes of the notorious Cloud Strife.

"Guard," said Cloud, lifting his sword.

"Wait!" Sora exclaimed, taking a step back. Cloud didn't move, but the look on his face clearly indicated that the respite was very brief. Wondering if he was possibly suicidal, Sora took another step back, then dropped his Keyblade on the ground. It let up a plume of dust as it hit, emitting a chime akin to a bell being struck.

Cloud looked down at the discarded weapon then back up at Sora. "You're going to want to pick that up," he deadpanned.

"No," Sora said stubbornly, shaking his head and making his absurd spikes sway. Crossing his arms across his thin chest, Sora tilted his chin up even further. "I need to talk to you."

Without warning, Cloud swung his sword over his head, bringing it rushing down. Unable to move and not sure if it was worth it anyway, Sora clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and cringed. But the pain never came. Opening one eye cautiously, he came face-to-face with his reflection in the tip of Cloud's sword. He stared at it.

"So talk," Cloud said, finally breaking the silence. He let the sword drop. Sora heaved a visible whimper of relief. "Make it quick."

"Okay," Sora said quickly. "Cloud, I need your help."

"Unimpressed. Time's up." The sword began to rise.

"No, wait!" Sora held up both hands. "I'll be quick! I'll be quick! Goddammit, Cloud, it's about Sephiroth!"

Cloud froze. He stared straight at Sora, eyes pinning him down as surely as a butterfly to a card. "What. Did. You. Say?" he asked, very slowly.

Sora swallowed hard. "Sephiroth," he repeated weakly, twisting his hands together. "You and Sephiroth."

"What about me and Sephiroth?" Cloud's voice was dangerously low.

"Were you lovers?" Sora blurted, then cringed. Hello, Captain Tact. He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for Cloud's massive sword to swing down and cleave his skull into two neat halves. But after a few agonizing moments of silence, it became apparent that his skull, however dense, was in no immediate danger.

He opened one eye very slowly. Cloud's back was to him, and from the set of his cape-clad shoulders, he was not a happy Cloud.

"I'm sorry," Sora said weakly. "I didn't mean to—"

"Why?" asked Cloud sharply.

"—insinuate that you might be—what?"

"Why?" repeated the blond crossly, turning to look at Sora with cold blue eyes. Unexpectedly, Sora felt a blush creep up his neck. He took a step backwards.

"Why?" he echoed, eyes wide.

He yelped in surprise as Cloud's hand shot out, grabbing the front of Sora's shirt and lifting him a good foot off the ground. "Yes," said Cloud, nose almost touching Sora's. The younger boy was definitely blushing now, cheeks tingling and practically radiating heat. "Why are you asking me this, Sora?"

"I need some advice," Sora blurted, grabbing onto Cloud's wrist with both hands desperately. "Advice of the – of the silver-haired and possibly evil lover variety." Always the brave one, he closed one eye in an expression of pain and waited for the hammer to fall.

Cloud stared at him in absolute astonishment. "You – what? Or rather," he said, schooling his expression but still not releasing Sora, "Who?"

"Who do you think?" Sora shot back sarcastically with a flash of his usual spunk, and then cried out as he was abruptly falling, an unfortunate side effect of being several feet off the ground when a certain blond-haired swordsman relinquished his defiance of gravity.

Landing awkwardly in a tangled heap on the ground, Sora lay there stunned, unsure of whether or not he wanted to look up. Cloud took that out of his domain, though, as he was suddenly presented with a hand that broached no question of whether or not to obey. Slipping his fingers into those offered to him, Sora found himself abruptly yanked to his feet, nose less than an inch away from Cloud's once more.

The blond's eerie blue eyes stared into Sora's for a long moment; an electric thrill shot up the younger boy's spine despite the knot of anxiety in his stomach, and he licked his lips nervously.

"We'll talk," Cloud said coolly, releasing Sora and stepping away. "But not here."

He turned away with a patented flip of his hair, bending down to pick up his sword. Sora's eyes followed the movement, and he was still standing there rather stupidly when Cloud turned around again, one eyebrow raised.

"Come on," the blond said, and began to walk away. Sora squeaked, snatching up his Keyblade, and dashed after the spiky-haired swordsman.

So far so good, Sora thought deliriously, taking two steps for every one of Cloud's. His head was still attached to his shoulders, at any rate. How long that would last, well... that was another question entirely.

However, if this didn't go the way he wanted it to, well... he was probably better off without his head anyhow.