zenith

disclaimer: not mine.

0.

Originally… he didn't care. He didn't mind that he was a Turk, following the orders of an unpleasant company, although he did, in reward, gain a more comfortable life, a high pay check, therefore as long as he received his money, he was content.

Content with being a follower of Shinra.

Content with being… Tseng. The leader of the Turks, who worked hard and therefore, could rest for another day, his job well done with the cold cracked blood drying on his washed clean hands. He could sleep, not worrying about the families he tore apart, not caring that that insignificant person could have been the whole world to someone else. That wasn't his business. It didn't matter to him.

After all, who was he but a stranger on the sidelines, neither a friend nor an enemy, just a mortal doing his job?

Nothing personal, after all. Nothing personal.

He doesn't realize that he's sitting on a high pedestal. He can't even see the ground, too absorbed in shaping the clouds, odd patterns across the clear blue sky, the shades ranging from black ( the indecipherable hue of Rude's glasses, always sensed by intuition alone ), grey ( the thick choking swirl of Reno's cigar's, preferring them over cigarettes, his latest addiction ) and now the newest forms of blotchy objects ( rebelling the natural order of things; going against Shinra's laws ). But he's never seen the ground.

Not for a very long time.

Nothing will change that… nothing is that powerful to make him change his ways of thinking. Nobody can and nobody will.

Right?

1.

He didn't notice her the first time he saw her; he only felt her. In a gentleman-esque way, never dreaming of groping the girl… something which the rather crude Reno would do, had he the chance. Unfortunately, the aforementioned Turk is hospitalized due to his carelessness.

It was barely a touch. To call it such would imply that it was meant to happen, and Tseng, a great believer that 'fate' doesn't exist, would prefer to snort derogatorily at it than to acknowledge its importance. All he did was move the girl, only seeing a banana-blonde hairstyle, short and clipped, barely reaching her curved neck.

He never noticed that her breath left her as she stared after him, lost in wonder, her heart clasped in her hand, two eyes watching his retreating figure, moving past the people, his voice low as he murmurs soft apologies multiple times, his presence far more serene than she had ever known.

Therefore, she never notices a silent man tapping her shoulder until she jumped, nearly letting a scream slip past her lips, but managing to hold it none the less. That jump, however, was a reflex action. She failed to miss the amused arching eyebrows, at her expense.

"You are…?"

"Me?" She pointed to herself, eyes blinking, still in a daze. "Oh, I'm Elena."

"I see." The bald Turk with a shiny forehead grunted, then added, as an afterthought. "Stay close to me."

"O-Okay." She nods, and reached for his hand.

He hid his rolling of the eyes, protected by the layer of shades, took hold of her hand and tightened his grip on her.

2.

"Ah… excuse me, but you haven't told me who you are." The girl woman person out of her teen's stutters, shyly unsure if this was indeed the correct thing to say. But… she'd prefer to have his name. Names may be trivial, and useless, but they gave her a comfort that she liked, repeating them various times over and over, wondering if the words, a label if you will, held magic.

It might be out of this world, but it held her closer to the ground.

"…I'm sorry." Rude replied, terse. He had thought he had said it, but he's kept himself for so long, that there are times that he forgets the goals that he plans to do. Solitude and independency can do that to a person.

"Wha—why are you apologizing?" Muddy brown eyes widened, bemused, two lips parting in confusion. "You've done nothing wrong. Maybe you just prefer to not talk, and that's okay, because some people talk too much but others talk too little and…" She let out a sigh, closing her eyes before opening again, pure and clear, meeting his gaze. "Everyone has their pace. Everyone acts differently. It's just… I like it when I have someone's name. It might not be their real name – but that's okay – maybe that person hates their name or something – I couldn't say – but… it…" Her eyes softening, mulling over which words to choose. "… I feel better… if I can just call you something than just 'you'."

"… Rude."

"I know, isn't it?" Her mouth curls, glad he's in agreement with her.

"… That's not what I meant." Rude tried again, but stopped when he sensed her open her mouth.

"Oh! You mean me? Oh, gosh, I – I'm sorry. It's because I talk too much, isn't it? I wasn't over imposing myself was I? I didn't mean to, please, if I'm bothering you or if you have somewhere to go, then, please, go ahe—" The words died on her lips and she looked away, embarrassed, the blush glowing on her face made of china. "… I'm sorry."

"… No. My name is Rude." The bald martial artist clarified.

"Just 'Rude'?" Elena enquired, her heartbeat calming down from the panic attack.

"… Just Rude." Rude nodded.

"Alright then." She nodded, her hair bobbing up and down, a grin spreading across her mortified cheeks. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Rude."

He takes her hand in his, and shakes it, once twice thrice.

"… Elena? Is there an 'Elena'?" The receptionist called, plastic fingernails draped on the shiny reflective black telephone, primly setting everything in order. "The boss is ready for you."

"Okay! I'll be there in a second." Elena jovially called, before letting her hand slide out of the Turk's grip.

"Good luck."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me." She whispered, his ears barely strong enough to catch it, but hearing it nonetheless. On impulse, she bent down and kissed his cheek, where, had Rude ever noticed whenever he looked at a mirror, would have been the exact place where his dimple was. "Oh, and Rude?"

"…?"

"You're not. Rude, I mean. As in the… verb?" She guessed and turned to go, half-leaping in joy, much to the annoyance and amusement of the receptionist, impatient as she wonders which type of colour should she paint her nails next, as she drummed, spinning the pencil in her hand while her other limb twirls a loose strand of hair.

It was the adjective, actually. But Rude has no intention of telling her that.

As she goes, he slowly touched the spot where two lips had pressed gently against.

3.

Her breath froze as the door opened, the handle moving neatly and efficiently, much like the man who sat in front of the desk, writing miscellaneous information on a crisp sheet of paper, the finesse writing perfectly slanted with just a hint of suave flirtation painted on a charcoal black sky.

Therefore, the first thing she said to him was:

"You have pretty eyes…"

She can't be sure if he heard her, but the graceful hand stopped weaving an elegant word, before a quick flick – his name, she presumed, but did not question, fearing that she might have already made one too many mistakes. Her heart skipped one beat, then another and another and Elena wondered if she had already melted just by gazing at those black orbs.

As for Tseng…

He made no movement to prove that he had heard her, and instead chose to ignore it; he had a job to do – to see if she was capable for the job, not to hear if he had pretty eyes. However, the fact that she thought so did pleasure him for a slight moment – he still was popular among the ladies.

"You are Elena, I presume?" He stands up, his back straight, full of discipline and honour while retaining a regal aura surrounding him. Extending his hand, he slowly raised his eyes to hers, his firm mouth turning slowly into a smile. She strode forward, eagerly taking it, shaking it firmly and meeting his eyes with a sparkle in her eyes as she nods, a tad too energetically for his liking.

And he froze. Because…

…when he looked into her mud-brown eyes he saw a touch of the ground.

"Sir? Are you alright?" She worriedly asked, her eyes boring into his.

He removes his hand before primly straightening himself, trying not to break his composure. Trying to succumb to the gnawing growing desire that is to throw her out for five minutes drink water have a nap and finish it off with a cup of tea. A perfectly reasonable thing to do when trying to quieten the panic that has risen from his heart. Tea, after all, is the best solution to everything.

God, he really needs that cup of tea. Lukewarm. Served in that pretty dainty blue china mug.

He avoided her eyes, as he resumed his place in his chair. "Please, sit."

She sat obediently, like a doll awaiting orders from her master, but was unable to have a cool composure; fidgeting every five minutes.

"Let us begin." He softly spoke, pulling out a new sheet of paper and selecting a suave pen, thin and shiny, unlike the one that he held in his hand before.

Elena nodded, uncertain of where the 'conversation' was leading to. Right now, it appeared to be a job interview from Hell.

During the entire process, Tseng did not meet Elena's eyes.

4.

Leaving the room, Elena spares one last glance at him, her heart beating skipping hopping breaking as she exited the room, the handsome leader of the Turk with flawless skin. It… hurts. To look at him. To see him not look at her. To glance at him while he scrawls his writing on the paper, messier than the smooth writing that she had but glimpsed at before.

She was nearly crying when she stepped through the door, the threshold of Tseng and Rude.

She found Rude, waiting patiently for her, watching her every moment in his guarded way.

"Are you alright?" He quietly asked. "… I heard a gunshot."

"Yeah." Elena smiled weakly. "That was me."

"Oh?" The eyebrow rose, higher than Elena had expected. "And what did he tell you to do?"

Elena froze, before collapsing on his lap, her head resting on his shoulder while he stayed still, patiently waiting for her to end her peak of emotion, letting everything go before she could start from the beginning.

"It was awful…"

"…swear he was looking right through me…"

"… shaking, I couldn't stop…"

"… am I…"

"Elena." Rude softly said, breathing in her ear, with a firm voice, willing her to get a hold of herself. "You shot Tseng. Not many people live to tell the tale. I'd say you have a nearly definite spot in the Turks."

"… Really?" She whispered, her voice still uneven, eyes watering. "You sure you aren't saying that to comfort me?"

"…" I don't do comfort, is what the martial artist wanted to say, but with this girl… he just can't. "No. If you failed, I'd most likely be ordered to dispose of you."

"Oh?" Mud brown eyes widened. "What would you do with me?"

"…" Crap. Improvisation had never been his strong point – he preferred to let Reno take the lead and he would just nod gently along like an elephant on his merry way. "… I'd elope with you. Travel to Gongaga. There, we'd become legend ninjas. Where we'd build a castle where none but us can enter. And have free food."

"Wow…" She wiped the tears away, and Rude cannot help but brush one falling down her flushed cheeks with his rough thumb. "That's so cool…"

She doesn't ask if it's a joke, fearing that it might break the mood. Instead, she smiles at him, grinning with a slowly mending grin.

He handed her a handkerchief, which she graciously accepted and blew. He merely smiled, intrigued by the woman.

"Ahem." Tseng cleared his throat and subsequently, Elena jumped off Rude, startled. Rude, coughing slightly, stood up, his shadow side by side with Elena's.

"Oh. Um. Hello again!" Elena weakly tried to laugh, knowing quite well that she's failed.

Tseng paid no attention, instead gestured her towards him, extending his hand to hers. She took it, shaking and nervous, unaware of the answer to his verdict. "Elena Sakurada…" He paused. "You are…" Stopped once more, drawing out the suspense. "Hired."

She gasped, a pretty colour of ruby red rushing to her already flushed cheeks.

And the leader of the Turks smiled, meeting her eyes, muttering "Welcome to the Turks." She shakes his hand once more, harder than before, although he presumed that this was because of her excitement and tendency to become carried away in the heat of the moment.

Once more he became enraptured in those mud-brown eyes.

She turned, and reached for Rude, embracing him into a hug. She never noticed that his cheeks were darker than before, her excitement allowing her to become nothing more than a bubble headed blonde.

As for Tseng—

Oh. Oh crap. Oh bugger. Oh flibbertigibbet. Oh darn it; he needs some blasted tea. Now.

What he also needs is a blasted haircut. A small one. Just to neaten the hair line – making it even from where Elena fired.

He hasn't realized it yet, but the minute he saw those down to earth eyes… the second he laid his charcoal orbs to hers…

… he was falling.

5.

She wondered which method to use next.

Blackmail? Stupid.

Bribery? Desperate.

Begging? Melodramatic.

Honesty is the best policy. Except when the name is Reno. That name ( and person for that matter ) had a lot of exceptions.

"I'm sorry." She said. "I'm sorry!" She cried. "I'm really, really sorry." Hands on her knees she bowed, not daring to look at him, her eyes firmly closed, tightly under a lock and key, knowing that he'd never see her in the same light again, always being disappointed in her. She can hear the voice of doom echoing in her ear ( doom! doom! ) which strangely resembled the voice of the aforementioned redhead, although her excuse would most likely be that she was spending too much time with him, despite his flirtatious and insulting remarks, her heart still beats to the tune of the solitary leader of the Turks, who she did not know was constantly facing an internal dilemma whenever he was near her.

"Elena, that's enough." Rude tried to tell her, having been with her the moment she—

She really doesn't listen.

"I'm sorry! Really, sir! I don't know how to make it up to you! I mean I… I just couldn't stop myself from talking and it… and it just came out. I swear, it was an accident, it wasn't as if I had meant to do it. Hell, I didn't even know what they were like. So please, sir, please—"

Tseng sighed. "Elena."

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Be quiet. Hold your tongue. Learn from your mistakes and learn to live with them. And," with his biggest impression of a traumatized actor, he exhaled, sounding regretful and tired, although it was most likely due to the non-stop rant from the blonde woman replacement Turk who had 'blabbed' a mission secret that was not supposed to be heard by the enemy. "… get me some tea."

"Ah, yes. Yes sir."

"Just go." Losing a shred more of his patience, Tseng waved her away, Rude silently stalking following her, making sure she didn't trip over herself. She already knew how she liked his tea, having been explained multiple times by the lazy secretary. He wondered what that girl's name was and decided promptly on the spot that he didn't care – it was not one of his affairs. Therefore not his business.

Nothing personal. Secretary.

A job required no office romance.

His eyes narrow at the last two words: office romance.

Impossible. Inconceivable of thought. Implausible cause of action.

But… if he and Elena…

The thought was not as impossible as he thought.

Stolen kisses. Hot touches. Secrets encounters met in the dark. Two hearts beating as one. Her hand in his. His smile melting her composure, making her weak at the knees. Nobody would have to know. Nobody would have to find out.

It would be perfect.

Except ( and there always was an except pulling drawing him back into his small fantasies that made him forget the whole ordeal in the first place, but this one kept pushing to the front of his mind never ever stopping constantly buzzing its persuasive words whenever she was around ) once Reno came… he would find out. No secret was safe whenever Reno was around, his sharp ears always catching the latest scandal, latest lay and boasting it to everyone. His speciality? None other than sussing out people's secret unrequited love.

He furrowed his eyebrows, darkening his poise, but all the same enhancing his elegance. He heard Elena fumbling with the single cup of tea – selecting the blue mug that he had considered his favourite… Rude trailing behind, muttering words of guidance, and carrying a kettle in case she might slip and a spare cup in case she breaks the one held delicately in her hands; both of them making their way towards him, a determined look splodged onto her face.

And then he felt it. A burning temper that seared, whenever he looked at her, more tempting than before and boiled with such intensity that he could possibly scream let out a yelp that never before had Tseng experienced such a sensation.

He was in love. With her.

The sensation was overwhelming. And incredibly hot.

"Oh my god… I'm really really sorry sir!"

Oh… correction: she had split the boiling tea on him.

It really… hurt!

He stood up, not saying anything as Elena slid to the ground, her legs unable to let her stand. Walking past her, he sensed Rude crouch, again murmuring words comforting soothing lowering her nerves because for Elena, panicking was second nature. Especially when she came was near around next to him.

The door shut behind him, and the ebony haired leader of the Turks was fairly certain that nobody was in the area, not even that accursed lady secretary was there… he laughed. Because Elena was too adorable for her own good, clumsy and careless as she was.

It felt nice knowing that Elena, blonde hair, mud brown eyes, and all, was the cause of his laughter.

At this point, he wasn't sure if he was still on his pedestal, but he still knew that he was flying still far far away from the ground.

Letting out a content sigh, Tseng thought planned probed and came to a swift conclusion.

There was only one idea on how to make his plan work.

As a boss… Tseng wasn't certain of what his feelings were to Rufus, a prim proper boy with white coats his only comparison to the leader of Turks would be in beauty – a flawless skin sharp features and two mesmerizing eyes clear but vague. Both hold a great desire with order and appearance with barely anything out of order like they were candle stick figures perfections of different gods. But with the pride of his arrogance Tseng believed that he was the more attractive one.

Cursing himself slightly for moving off topic with him winning, naturally, Tseng once again pondered about the difference between Howard and Rufus. He pitied their naming '… people' for there were far better names and meanings for them. Rufus for instance, was not a red head and Howard… Rufus's father… well, he supposed that his name was half-right. Pig guard did suit him – and had Howard Shinra not become the President of ShinRa Inc, Tseng had no problems in visualizing the overweight man as a pig herder. Unpleasant tart deserved it.

Still, the fact remained: with Howard ( 'Lawrence' sounded much more fitting had Tseng considered what the nearly obese man what he had looked like in the past – a less pretty-boy version of Rufus, where Elena had once commented that 'Lancelot' would fit him; for his own protection he kept these thoughts to himself no doubt knowing that if the former-President and former-Vice President now-President Rufus had heard of these then the fate of which awaited him might not be comfortable. Although, it must be said that if Rufus ever did hear the current head of the Turk's love interest also known as Elena had called him that, a slip of the tongue no doubt, then said 'Lancelot' would merely smirk, his cheeks flushing a dark colour of pleasure, elevated in his high horse, with the leader of the Turks glaring in his direction ) he had a much higher pay check. True, the cost of money was more than enough, the Gil that he gained was able to deliver him a pension, but still; as long as he was given Gil, Tseng was satisfied.

Or… so he had thought.

It was not a question of money. Nor a factor of fear – the preferred method of Rufus along with a docked pay check and thought that he was a feared being though truthfully Tseng thought him to be more of an annoyance than Elena – having no fear of him and beginning to grow tired of the pout that rested on his lips whenever Rufus sensed that he wasn't as 'intimidating' as he thought. The boy was no more intimidating than his harmless kitten.

However, Rufus was keener to help his favoured peers, while Howard had preferred to make friends with gin and tonic. Therefore, knowingly knowing that he was favoured by the Great Sir Lancelot – who was, at the current moment, a twat, was the only one able to help him.

The only one who would able to allow him to date Elena, a girl who was more down to earth than he'd realized.

Therefore, when approaching the said 'twat' and beckoning him to a quiet dark room where he was sure nobody was – not to try to rape the horrendous pompous arrogant fool who would never learn – but to ask for one last favour, he opened his mouth and said:

"I want to resign."

-5.

The words were faster than Tseng expected and for a second, Rufus's eyes widened taken aback, having known Tseng for a large portion of his life. Breathing calmed down and then proceeded to smooth his hair acting as if nothing happened and the glue that held the Turks had not enquired for a resignation. Tseng restrained himself from rolling his eyes; the boy never stopped from fixing his hair – his haven most likely a shrine of hair gel.

"You've been a good Turk, Tseng." Rufus finally responded, commenting, while the anger and surprise that rose inside him gently cooled down, his cheeks no longer flushed in ire. "I've known you for a long time… and therefore I trust you. You won't share ShinRa's secrets, will you?" Rufus quietly added, knowing that his 'threats' did nothing for Tseng.

It is common courtesy to ask to keep a secret, without adding the silent promise of a painful death if not conceded.

"Yes, of course. I am a faithful employee of Shinra. Certainly, I will not betray your company's policy." Tseng smoothly replied, although both knew that he would never do such a rebellious thing that went against his customs.

"Why are you doing this?" The Vice President asked, not meeting the charcoal black eyes with his sky blue orbs.

"… Her?" He almost added as afterthought, knowing Tseng's behaviour well enough to notice that something was amiss between the two. Whether it was just Elena… or simply Tseng… he had no idea.

"No." Tseng quietly disagreed, both knowing that he's omitting the truth. "What I want… I cannot have."

"Tseng," Rufus said, drawling slightly, "I am a generous man; what is it that you cannot obtain? Surely, we are friends and therefore you can disclose this information to me."

Inclining his head, he half nodded; his face expressionless. "I want…"

"I want freedom."

He wanted her.

-4.

"Will you go on one last mission, old friend?" Rufus asked, "There, we could plan your death and your false funeral. You are welcome to attend, of course."

Tseng took the bait, accepting it as one last gesture of friendship.

"Of course, it is my funeral. I have a right to be there."

"Good." Rufus murmured, more to himself than the Turk with olive-coloured skin. "Very good." Straightening himself up, he stood tall and proud; his role now not a friend standing before a loyal friend, but an employer standing before an employee. "Well, then, I suppose you want to hear about the mission details…"

"Am I allowed to bring one person with me?" Tseng carefully asked; his throat dry.

Smooth young lips curled. "I've already decided it will be Elena."

"I see. As you wish, sir." Tseng nodded, his hands folded behind his back. Thank you, he thought, his heart tightening and hammering as his thoughts swirled around her, his vivacious drop of sunlight.

He turned to go.

"And Tseng?"

"… Sir?"

"I'll miss you."

"And I you, Lancelot."

-3.

A mistake. That's what it was.

It had to be.

There was no possible explanation for it.

Why the devil did he have to open his ( big fat mouth is what Elena would call it ) mouth and let it spill a thousand secrets that were not meant to be heard. He was suffering from tea withdrawals, he concluded, a detoxification far more deadly than coffee addiction. With tea addiction came time and necessity where everything needed precision and a desire to have it exactly perfection and the liberty of relaxation… with slips of the tongue that everything came before that slip of tea. Coffee withdrawals just made people spastic like Elena.

It must have been those eyes. Those pretty sparkly demure mud brown eyes that call to him, each time he glimpsed at them – at her – a fully formed woman who was willing to dedicate her life with him – each time he gazed at them, finding himself lost in them without her knowing – oblivious as always – they always seemed to be much closer than they had been before hand.

"Hey Elena, how 'bout dinner after this job's over?" He had said.

Crap. Bugger. Flibbertigibbet. Blasted tea.

He was compelled to say those doomed words with an extended invitation to her. On the bright side, she accepted, one the bad side, the dinner date was never going to happen.

And now…

They pulled the plug, the machine that held his 'body' alive no longer functioning. Three Turks watched the corpse of their leader being taken away, tears already leaving Elena's eyes, Rude embracing her in a hug and Reno a cold blank face – still in shock that their boss is dead.

He watched them all, behind a mirror that they could not see. It's better this way. It wasn't planned – for Sephiroth to attack and 'mortally' injure him; but as always, Shinra worked it to their advantage. Again, he reassured himself, it's better this way.

Rufus slid up to him, not one to judge. Quietly, he asked:

"Are you happy?"

His freedom was gained.

-2.

The funeral takes place on a cold day, wet raining moist damp sticky, making the people shiver.

Elena still can't stop crying, sinking to her knees, her heart never protected from the miseries and tragedies in this Planet. Rude sat besides her, acting as her pillar of strength, his actions speaking more than his words ever could. Reno still pale from the shock does not joke or taunt, not in mood to gossip; Tseng was some sort of a family to him, a paternal role in his life, tolerating with his worst moments.

He is a dead man walking; and with morbid curiosity, he is surprised at their reaction.

Elena is the first, white lilies in her hand, withering as she walks towards his dead body. Rude is next, his delicate blue ( a favourite of Tseng's and speciality of Wutai ) flowers with a bittersweet fragrance clung next to Elena's. Reno is last, selecting chrysanthemum – never knowing which flowers to choose, but chose one nonetheless as a symbol of respect.

He is invisible to all but Rufus, his head no longer in the clouds; but ten seconds away from crashing into the ground.

Then with a slow tune, a macabre waltz the executives follow the funeral procedures, offering their condolences and waiting for the Lifestream to collect the body so that they can lay their marker for the fallen leader of the Turks.

One by one, they slowly leave, the remaining four Tseng's closest associates, staring at the cold stone, with all their tears in the world ( invisible and visible ) they could not bring their leader back to life.

Rufus left them, unable to glance at them, the truth aching too much to be told. Some secrets are best left untold.

Reno departed next, mumbling a few words, before stumbling to the pub to get completely smashed.

Rude turned to go, but remained, worried about his latest partner, numbly staring at the frozen brick that held nothing more but a name the image and personality gone and buried under mounts of soil.

As for Elena… she confessed. Confessed that she loved him and broke down, the rain falling even heavier on her umbrella like some sadistic pathetic fallacy. And Tseng stood still, unable to move.

Rude cannot stand to see her like this, and thus, began to talk.

Elena half listened, catching on to eloping and running away, slowly adding bits which made her smile, such as finding a castle of the sky that lead to the moon, another world with fantasy creatures that bred half-mutant bunnies. She half-twirls, the tears still falling from her face and ( gasp one two three ) she ran into his arms, sobbing her heart out as she kisses him, not out of love ( or at least Tseng doesn't think so ) but more out of comfort, remembering the promise that he'd stay by her as long as she promised to stay close to him.

He held her, telling her that she could call him Alex – his name which was never to be revealed in other people's company. Alexander… a great protector and he would protect her until the day he died and swore on his life that the fated day would be one far far away in the future where they held an unbreakable bond ( marriage children a legacy that contained him and her together ) promising a comfortable pace with love and caress. And him… the great protector would make sure that one day her ray of sunshine would come back and shine upon him.

They leave, the heavy burden not lighter, but shared on their shoulders.

Tseng is the last to leave, silent as he stood in the rain, now a light drizzle.

He had lost her.

-1.

Far away, as time blows back and forth, stirring up memories in between half dreams and reality he realizes as he glances at cold shaking no longer bloody hands that he could have had Elena as a Turk. He didn't have to relinquish his job for her as he drew the line at the 'no dating co-workers'; he could have bent the rules and then…

Then he could taste the stolen kisses from her sweet lips that he never had the chance to taste. He could have given her hot touches that sent shivers down her spine. He could have made room for midnight illicit encounters where he and Elena made new memories, erased from footage with giggles and half-curved smiles mocking a simple bystander. And if they were found out… they could have run. Eloped. Held a wedding in Kalm before being discovered and running, now-declared the enemy of Shinra. Everything would have been perfect – as long as they had each other. That would have been a wonderful happily-ever-after. For that moment; their hearts beating as one.

He could have bribed Reno; making sure that the secret never slipped; like the redhead promised his co-worker his greatest friend, a naughty glimpse in his eyes as he made countless euphemisms and innuendos that sent both Turks beet red, outsiders merely thinking it inside jokes.

He hadn't told her his feelings.

She never knew.

And oh, Tseng had fallen, drowning in those mud brown eyes, falling from his high pedestal, no longer in at his zenith his peak his prime.

He had everything. And he lost it.

No longer is his head in the clouds, now they're splattered in dirt, abandoning him on the ground. His wings that enabled him to fly, clipped back as he is forced to resort to hiding. Without her.

He did it for her. And he lost everything.

He gained his freedom… broke from the boundaries, but as a result… he sacrificed her love for him.

Was he happy? Of course not.

And now he's here, down to earth, walking a mud brown land, suffocating as he stared into her eyes.

The colour of the mocking ground.

-0.