Catch Your Shadow

Chapter One:

AN: First FF7 fic. First yaoi fic on this site. Enjoy. And nothing but the plot is mine, although I seriously would not mind if I could chain Sephiroth up in my basement for a few hours. ;) Rock on all.

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Cloud Strife was wandering aimlessly again. Ever since he broke up with that wannabe ditz Yumi, the whole school had been on his back. Even his other fully gay friends thought he was messed up. They said she was the best female love he'd ever had.

But he'd tossed her aside like so many others'. They all bored him now. Plus, being only seventeen didn't really help his maturity. He knew now for sure this sitting on the fence bisexual thing was all a farce. He'd known since third grade he was gay. Why he'd kept up this dating girl's thing, he'd never know. He supposed his confusion had made him dump her. As he lit a cigarette, the only light on the dark city street he let that be his excuse. Wandering alone was more his thing.

He never really went to school anymore. After moving from another district back in fifth grade he'd been knocked back a year because the school didn't have all his records, or they were lost or something. Oh well. Not like his academic career was going anywhere. Cloud leaned his head back, long neck gleaming in the sickly orange streetlights. He exhaled a plume of smoke, eyes closed in a euphoric way. As his mysterious dark azure eyes twinkled open he saw something that made him do a literate double-take.

Once he'd confirmed what he'd seen, he took off running in that direction, his eyes never leaving the falling figure. Silver trailed white following like a wind, as a random thing figure pelted from the sky. The fact that the person was coming head-first told Cloud he must be a jumper. Running as fast as his long legs would let him sprint he decided no one was losing a life on his watch. His cigarette long forgotten back on the sidewalk. His breathing became ragged as he determined the figure would hit the sidewalk just in front of him. He dove, and the weight that fell into his arms was light, but the impact gravity took was what made him fall, an unknown person sprawled on his lap.

It took Cloud five seconds to realize it was a man his own age laying unconscious on his lap, it took eight seconds for him to realize he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, no matter what sex, and ten seconds to realize he was naked except a white sheet wrapped thickly around and obviously very muscular but somehow thin body.

Gulping and fighting any kind of inappropriate reaction, Cloud re-gripped the figure briskly in his arms and stood. When the man's angelic, delicate face rolled up to meet him, he saw he was breathing and alive, but very much unconscious. "Well, since I don't usually frisk naked men on the first date, I'll just make you my roomy, hmm?" he whispered, voice dripping sarcasm. The night was accelerating from his sexual clarity, to a man who looked like an angel falling naked into his lap. Cloud suddenly wished he'd dressed normally.

His outfit bugged him now. He carried the heavy, yet somehow light, man towards his apartment, praying he didn't wake up with the cheesy amnesia that always seemed to happen in manga and anime.

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Sephiroth moaned as he woke. As soon as he felt a soft futon underneath him he shot up, coverlet falling off his naked chest. He looked down and saw the slash on his chest still, but it had been bandaged. He knew it was supposed to be there, but how or why he got the wound, he had no freakin' idea. Vague memories of a chase and a fall into a black pit of pain came back to him. "You up? Do you remember how you are?" the blunt and frank question from behind him made him start again and turn around, trying not to twitch.

His breath inhaled fast, and his wounded chest hurt from his pounding heart and too fast movement. He didn't answer, attempting to find out himself. He scourged his mind. His name. He knew his name. And that was all. His brow furrowed as he stared at the fair and, quite frankly, beautiful man before him, leaning against the door frame in a baggy shirt and cargo pants that didn't match the yellow shirt that said: "All original chaos". He focused on the shirt for a moment, before the man cleared his throat and his chest heaved making Sephiroth remember the question.

"Sephiroth." His voice sounded like gravel going through a blender. He tried to clear his throat, but it was too hard. It hurt, and he tried to wet his lips, but he was too dehydrated, his spit was too sticky. The man noticed. "What a cool name. I'll get you some water." he left the small room then, and left Sephiroth slightly disordered. He eyed the room, trying to stop his thumping heart. The man's eyes! Amazing! They seemed to shoot right through him. His dehydration wasn't the only thing drying up his words. The man was a vacuum to his words.

Sephiroth shook his head, and noticed his hair flying around him. It was still bizarrely long. He remembered getting into an argument with someone about cutting it. He'd ended up laughing. Laughing seemed a dry ocean away now. He felt as if he would never do it again. The man returned with a pitcher of water. He had no cup. Sephiroth raised a fine silver eyebrow. The man smiled sheepishly. "I improvise usually." He said shrugging. Sephiroth considered this, but as the man handed him the glass pitcher, he paused only for a moment before letting the edge touch his parched lips.

Before he knew it, he was drinking like a dying man. He felt like he was trying to drown his miseries in the pitcher. "Careful!" the warning came before the blond spiky-haired man grabbed his hand and pulled the pitcher from his pursed lips. Sephiroth growled at him, having not purged his thirst, but the blond shook his head. "Drink too much and you'll die or something. Trust me okay? I am the guy who took you in not knowing who the hell you are or why you jumped off a building naked and wrapped in a bloody bed-sheet at two in the morning." "Did I ask you to rescue me?" Sephiroth demanded, voice coming back, but still raspy.

He saw the blond sit down and cross his legs, grasping his knees in large, long-fingered hands. "Look dude don't get all mad at me. All I want to know is who you are and why you have that wound. You're lucky it doesn't need stitches. Just a large scratch. It'll heal." He eyed Sephiroth. "Maybe we should get you some clothes first…" Sephiroth looked down and remembered he was naked. He felt blood rushing to his face and he pulled the coverlet up higher so his chest was covered. "Oh yeah, you know, I'm all for open-mindedness, but what's with the wings? Are you some kind of angel?" the broad and nonchalant way the blond stood up and brought up the small black wings budding from Sephiroth's back slightly threw him off.

"You…don't have them here?" he asked, confused by the question. The wings didn't seem off in his scrambled memory. The man looked to him, and seemed slightly relieved. "So they're supposed to be there then? Good answer." He sighed, and left the room. "Stay there, I don't have any fresh underwear!" he called over his shoulder. Sephiroth heard a rustling, and then a crash and a curse, a word he didn't recognize, and the blond man re-emerged grasping a pair of boxers. He threw them to Sephiroth, who caught them, cringing as the motion once again hurt his chest.

His wings flapped closed twice. He wasn't aware of it, but the blond man looked uneasy. "Uuumm…I don't have any clothes with holes in them or anything…." He trailed off and Sephiroth hid a smile. This man surely must be joking. Wings were the most basic of knowledge that he knew, and one of the most beautiful features he had. He loved his wings and found them quite normal. In fact it seemed odd for someone not to have them. "It's fine. I can make some if need be." He shrugged. The man nodded, and then seemed to remember something. "Oh yeah! My name's Cloud. Just as name-cursed as you. Call when you're done." He winked frivolously and left, closing the door sharply. Sephiroth stared after him, still unable to get over how he couldn't look into his eyes.

He felt more naked then he actually was. He threw back the coverlet and stood, pacing to the other side of the room. On the large dresser was a black baggy shirt, slightly cleaner looking then the one Cloud was wearing and a pair of baggy jeans. Obviously the boy liked baggy clothes. Why, he didn't know. He slipped on the boxers, with slight difficulty (AN: droooool….) then proceeded with the jeans and shirt. The shirt was tight on his large chest, but the jeans were much too long. The boy was shorter then him, but obviously had much longer legs. He'd noticed this when he had sat down. Sephiroth slowly walked to the door and opened it, poking his head out and letting his silver hair curtain him.

He was very used to it, his brain said. He wanted to try wracking his brain, but first he wanted food, and a very nice smell was intoxicating his senses just down the messy hallway. He was in a dingy crappy apartment. The hallway lights were off, and as he emerged Sephiroth found three wooden steps into a small square living room with a bathroom down another short hallway to the left of it, and to the right was a messy kitchen. He found the blond dancing in it, humming some tune, and bursting in a squealing guitar solo as he came to it.

Sephiroth couldn't help but like the…fun aura the man had about him. So carefree almost, innocent in a way. He envied him in a way. He cringed as the boy whirled, and the mixing spoon in his hand threw batter onto him, making his face batter coated. The man's eyes opened in surprise, and a smile lit up his strong face. "You look good in my clothes. Better then me." He seemed to ponder this for a moment. Then he shook his head. "Here, some paper towels." He handed him a roll, then turned back to the slightly smoking fry pan on the small rusted stove. He was still singing. "Be good to yourself…"

Sephiroth didn't recognize the tune, but then again it was in English. He saw a small table set haphazardly in-between the small counter that bordered the kitchen/living room/dining room, and took a seat at it. The chair creaked, and for a minute he feared it would break. He was bobbing his head now. Sephiroth's eyes wandered down a wide-shouldered back to a very small waist, then that really nice butt… 'Focus!' his thoughts screeched. Now was NOT the time for this.

He had just rescued him nothing more. "Do you have scissors?" Sephiroth asked, hoping the pain from his confined wings would take his mind off the beautiful features and blissful face, and very tight butt of his savior. The man, Cloud, turned to him and seemed to be thinking. Sephiroth noticed how easy it was to read his emotions in his eyes and face. He was like a book, easy to read. It was then Sephiroth noticed all the books lining bookshelves along the wall, along with a few manga. He smiled at this.

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Cloud still couldn't get over the pure ethereal effect this man seemed to have. And he had an awesome name! Sephiroth, come on, who named their kid Sephiroth? No one. Just like no one named their kid Cloud. Cloud also enjoyed the view of walking in the room and him being pretty much naked before his eyes. He bandaged him of course, his fingers maybe straying a bit too much onto flesh that felt so soft and smooth, but he hadn't seen anything more then a very fine chest.

He could definitely fall in love with his looks. He was dead ass sexy. Cloud kept singing Journey after he told Sephiroth where the scissors were. He loved Journey. He thought back to the wings. Okay, that was really weird, especially the fact that he was completely unperturbed by it. He put down his spatula as he heard Sephiroth slicing material. He sneakily looked over his shoulder, the perverted side of him hoping he'd taken off his shirt and he could see his godly body again, but much to his disappointment he'd only turned it around while still on his body. Okay, so it seemed like he had amnesia, and weird wings. Cool. Cloud again considered that he was really a fallen angel. But with black leathery wings like that he doubted it.

With the spatula down and his okonokoyaki cooking nicely he scratched his back, mind venturing to places he wasn't sure he liked. "Are you trying to claw off your skin?" the deep, waterfall-like voice made him start and abruptly realize he'd been scratching too hard and now was bleeding slightly. Why his shoulder-blades itched so much, he had no idea. A piece of his spiky hair made an interesting shadow as he flipped the pancake-like concoction. He didn't feel the pain from his nails, painted black today, but he figured the scratches would hurt soon.

His meal was finished only a short few minutes later. He turned back around to Sephiroth, happy with himself for having cooked it without error and saw the sight that took his breath away. The wings made him a silver and black angel. A Goth's wet dream. He looked like something out of a shojo manga. His eyes were staring back into Cloud's, and suddenly Cloud felt his normally so secure world spinning out of his fingertips.

Cloud looked away first and shyly gave him the meal on the plate he was carrying. Sephiroth eyed it, and then picked up the chopsticks lying unceremoniously on the table. He tucked in with less grace then his chugging earlier. Cloud smiled, hoping he was enjoying it. He got him another glass of water then sat opposite him. He thought Sephiroth wouldn't enjoy someone watching him eat, so he focused on his wings again instead. They flapped slowly and casually with no rhythm, more like rustling imaginary feathers' as he ate. He paid them no mind, and Cloud wondered if he were even controlling them. He wondered also if he could fly. They looked too small to fly with, but he felt anything could be possible now.

After the sound of Sephiroth scarfing stopped Cloud looked back to him, watching him drain the glass of water slower then the pitcher. He placed it down with a clink then wiped his mouth. "Did you like it?" Cloud asked, with sarcasm. Sephiroth looked down at the table and nodded. Cloud noticed the wings twitched it this movement. Then they flapped closed slowly and remained closed. "So who- or what- are you?" Cloud asked, hoping he didn't sound rude, although he was aware he probably did. Sephiroth still didn't look at him. "I'm…not sure." His brow furrowed as he tried to think. Cloud stopped himself from giggling. He looked so cute!

"Last I remember I was falling in this black pit, and then I woke up. Here." Cloud mulled this over. "Well, you know your name, is that all you remember?" he questioned, trying to help him with the process. "No." he seemed to think for a moment then reprimanded his answer, "My birthday's in two days." Cloud knew his eyebrows were raised. "That's all? That and that your wings are normal and perfectly average. Apparently." Sephiroth looked pitifully ashamed, but nodded.

Cloud sighed and stood. "Well, I should've known something like this would happen. It's the only thing I've never prepared for." He walked back to the kitchen and rinsed out Sephiroth's plate, the pan and re-filled his glass and brought him more water. "Do you know what a hospital is?" he was serious now, needing an answer. He didn't want the cops banging on his door, accusing him of kidnap. Then again, with the wings, it might be the government. And the last thing he needed was some tacky guy in a suit asking him where he was a night ago. "No. I take it some kind of healing facility."

Cloud tried not to seem too weirded out by his term of speech. He sounded so proper suddenly. He did have a very aristocratic look about him…Cloud shook his head, spikes flying and one falling into his face. It happened often, so he didn't try to move it. Sephiroth was looking at him again, still awaiting an answer. Cloud took a second longer to answer, if only to have an excuse to look at his pale features. "Yeah. Do you think I should take you in for the amnesia?" he wanted Sephiroth to make the decision. After all, it was his to make. He was thinking again, and Cloud tried to read some of the thoughts on his face, but the cold wall kept all emotion hidden.

He closed his eyes, and then opened them. "No. I want to stay here. I think…it will pass. I hope it will. And if it doesn't…soon, take me to a…hospital." He stumbled over the word. Cloud wanted not to read into his saying too much, but it was very hard. After all, he was the only thing Sephiroth knew right now, and a hospital might seem too foreign. Overwhelming. He nodded sagely, accepting the mature answer. Then something occurred to him. "How old are you?" Sephiroth concentrated in the cute way again, and didn't answer. His wings snapped open suddenly, as if in frustration at something.

Cloud looked to them, jumping slightly. They were hard to get used to, he'd admit. Sephiroth stood suddenly, very tall figure making a menacing shadow on the dimly-lit table. Cloud looked to the shadow, knowing that it was just shadow on his face and he wouldn't be able to see anything anyways. "Can I get some rest?" his voice even sounded cold. Cloud stood, trying not to trip. He told him to take the futon in his room. He'd take the grungy, lumpy couch. Sephiroth made no argument to Cloud getting the obviously lesser of the sleeping arrangements. Cloud liked that.

He accepted things in such a passive manner, and Cloud liked that he automatically read into his thoughts of trying to help. He accepted his sacrifice humbly. As he swiftly glided gracefully to the three shoddy wooden steps, Cloud noticed how he seemed very disturbed by something. He ignored it and wished him a silent goodnight. Adding into this he sneakily whispered to himself: "Dream of me…." Then he threw his lanky form onto the couch and tried to push the very, very green eyes from his mind. He fell asleep thinking of how soft his body had been when he'd caught it, but how he was still taller then him and much more muscular.

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AN2: Welp. That's it. So review. Okay? I guess. Consider it peer-pressure. Come on! Everyone's doing it! Reminds me of TV….

"Love is life. And if you miss love, you miss life."

-Leo Buscaglia

-Kurai-Tenshi of Doom