Note: Hi guys!
Sooo it's been a while hasn't it? I got the AO3 curse and lots of stuff happened and I fell out of writing for a bit. Getting over my writers block slowly. I'm not fully happy with the story but it's the best I've done in a while...
Enjoy!
Note: I am currently hard at work making this into a slow burn multi-chapter story <3
As much as you wanted to crawl into your fancy hotel bed after a harsh battle, the group unanimously insisted going to the tavern together.
You fell to the peer pressure, hiding your reluctance behind a fake smile. You were just hoping Yuffie's loud rambling would distract everyone from the visible wincing of pain on your face.
The last battle was especially intense with at least a dozen hedgepies and a king surrounding the group. You had taken a potion and continued on, the adrenaline numbing the pain until you arrived at the hotel.
Your lower right ribs were in terrible pain but the more you tried to deny it hurt, the further your ribs would throb.
You sat down at a booth, keeping your hand tucked against your side. Any pressure against it made your head spin and your vision blur around the edges. Your head felt like it was swimming, something a stiff drink surely wouldn't hurt.
Your prayers were answered when Tifa walked over with two glasses. Her lips were stretched into a worried smile and her brow was furrowed with concern, "Hey, you doing okay, that last battle was tough, huh?"
You smiled back as best you could, accepting the drink. "I'm fine, just a few bruises and scratches, no biggie."
"Are you sure, Aerith can help you out."
"It's nothing some rest and a good shower won't take care of. You look roughed up yourself." You brought the glass to your lips, hoping the alcohol would help ease the pain.
"Hm, thanks back there for guarding my back when that hedgeking tried to attack well I was down. I felt like I owed you a drink for that." You clinked glasses and chuckled together, trying your best to ignore how each movement felt like a sharp needle poking into your lungs.
"No worries, it's what friends do after all." You assured her.
"Yo! Tifa! Cloud wants to play darts against you!" Yuffie called across the tavern. The woman sighed at the enthusiastic ninja, Cloud standing beside her looked about ready to scold her for yelling across the tavern.
"Want to watch me beat Cloud at darts?" The brunette offered.
You smiled and shook your head, "I'll watch from here."
Tifa tilted her head, "You sure you're okay? You're trembling. Maybe you should go up and rest."
"It's just cold here. I might take you up on that offer after I finish my drink."
"They do keep it chilly in here, well—if you say you're alright,"
Just breathing alone was painful, you could feel your vision starting to blur around the corners but you kept your smile. Tifa gave you one last look of concern before she got up and headed over to the dart boards.
Your hand was quivering around your glass and everything was getting heavy; your fingers, your legs, your eyelashes. The pain in your rib cage felt like a thorny rose bush was digging itself into your body, its thorns stabbed at your lungs and muscles until you bleed.
You glanced down at your dark shirt where your hand was resting. Your palm was slick and sticky with dark blood. Somehow you managed to stand, using the table as a crutch. You scanned the room for your teammates but they were all distracted by the heated dart-throwing constant.
Everyone, except one.
The newest member of the group, Vincent, was staring at you from across the room. You weren't too sure about the mysterious man. He mostly kept to himself and was quiet, only speaking when it was necessary or something important.
You made eye contact for a few seconds, but you were the one to break it as your injury reminded you of its existence. Your cheek twitched, but otherwise, you were able to keep the moan of pain in your throat as a soft whimper. You got up and made your way across the tavern to the bathrooms next to the entrance. You could feel his eyes watching you the whole time, sending a chill down your spine.
You threw open the bathroom door and sighed in relief seeing it was a one-person bathroom. You stumbled inside and fell onto your knees, clutching your side. Your head felt like television static, your arms and legs like lead weights pulling you down.
You crawled over to the sink and somehow managed to raise your tingling hand enough to grab the ledge. With grunts of pain, you pulled yourself up until you were leaning over the sink.
The dirty mirror covered in smeared lipstick stains and speckles of water rust clouded your reflection. Your heavy labored breaths puffed against the glass creating a cloud of fog that faded slowly. The bathroom was very cold, the air conditioning on full blast, humming loudly in the small space.
Your eyes locked onto your own, but you didn't look quite right. Your skin was pale and sweat was dripping down your face. Your lip was bruised and bleeding from your teeth holding back your cries of pain. The pants for air were more gasps, the chilly air stinging your sore lungs. You lifted your top, wincing at the pain, and revealed a nasty dark bruise spread across your lower rib cage.
In the middle of the bruising was a small, clotting gash. It couldn't have been more than three inches but it was causing such a severe amount of pain.
Everything started to get blurry as the room seemingly rocked like a ship in a storm. Your stomach churned, but nothing came up.
There was a knocking but you didn't even hear it as you collapsed onto the floor. The cold tile felt amazing against your sweaty skin as the numbness blissfully spread throughout your body.
You heard the door swung open, for once thankful you forgot to lock it. Fingers touched the side of your neck as you finally blacked out...
Vincent cautiously opened the bathroom door after he got no response from his knocking. You were lying on the floor, pale and shivering. He pressed his fingers to your neck to check your pulse and discovered it was thankfully steady, fast, but steady.
It was assurance enough for him.
He unbuckled his cloak and draped it around you, wrapping you into it like a blanket. With the utmost care, he gently picked you up, moving your head to rest against his chest as you hung limply in his arms.
He walked out of the bathroom and saw the group cheering on Tifa as she went up against Barrett, having won against Cloud. He would alert them later then.
Vincent brought you to his room and carefully laid you down on the bed. He unwrapped you from his cloak enough to get access to your top. He moved it up just enough to see how bad the injury is.
From what he could tell you had broken a couple of ribs, the gash had mostly healed but it wasn't properly sanitized or dressed leaving it susceptible to infections or healing improperly.
Thankfully, he had former training as a Turk which included dressing wounds.
He found the room's first aid kit and opened up the alcohol. He pinned you down by your upper belly with his hand well the other cautiously held the bottle of alcohol over the gash.
"I'm sorry, this is going to sting," He poured the sanitizer onto the wound and you quickly jolted awake, letting out a loud cry of pain. You tried to squirm away from the pain, but he had you pinned tightly to keep from damaging your ribs any further. The gash bubbled and foamed as it was cleansed.
"I apologize that it hurts, I'm helping you as best as I can." He said, but you were only awake for a few seconds before you blacked out from the pain again.
Vincent finished cleaning and dressing your wound in a bandage before lowering your top back down. He tucked you into the bed and resettled the cloak on top of you...
You felt warm, warm in a comfortable sort of way. It felt like there was a heavy blanket over you, the smell of leather and wood was seeped into the fabric draped over you.
You debated whether to go back to sleep or stay awake a while longer until you felt a warm breeze against your cheek. You willed your heavy eyelids to raise, but the room was rather dim. The only light source was from a crack in the curtains pulled shut over the glass balcony doors.
Moonlight shined softly, the breeze blowing the curtains in delicate waves, casting a beautiful light show onto the room. You tried to sit up only to be reminded of your injury in a hot flash of pain. You quickly fell back onto the bed, letting out a moan of pain. Your hand instinctively went to the area of pain, only to find it had been patched up. You moved aside what you assumed was a blanket to raise your shirt and found a large bandage covering the wound and most of the bruising.
Before you could even guess, a gruff voice spoke from the curtains, "I found you lying on the floor of the restroom, you must've fainted from the pain."
You hadn't seen their figure emerge from the balcony, as quiet as a shadow.
Vincent Valentine.
He wasn't wearing his red, billowing cloak often hiding his face and casting an eerie shadow onto his face. He seemed naked without it despite still wearing his long-sleeved black shirt and pants. The man turned to gently shut the balcony door, cutting off the warm breeze flowing into the room.
You moved your hand and were surprised to feel leather beneath your hand. Your eyes had adjusted to the dimness enough you discovered the blanket was a familiar red color with multiple metal buckles and leather straps.
"I-uh, thanks, for that. For helping me." You blurted, looking away. Looking at anything but the mysterious man you knew very little about. Why he joined the group willingly, was a rather loose thread you didn't wish to unwind.
His connection to your shared foe, Sephiroth, was apparently enough for him to join your traveling group of misfits.
"I'm certain it's a few broken ribs, the impact of the creature who attacked must have been very serious." Vincent stepped closer and you watched his every move closely. You knew he wasn't a threat, but that didn't mean you were completely comfortable being around him.
"Are you able to sit up?" He asked.
Sitting up, especially when your wound was smarting so awfully, sounded like torture. Still, you didn't want to appear weak and so you stubbornly tried, biting back your moans of pain. You managed to prop yourself up on your elbows before Vincent hooked his hand under your upper arm and his gauntlet softly rested on your back. He helped you up until you were propped against the headrest and tucked his cloak around you again.
Your wound was throbbing, feeling your muscles and nerves burn. Vincent grabbed a pill bottle on the nightstand as well as a bottle of water and held it out to you. "Take two, they will help with the pain."
Without much questioning, you dropped two pills into your palm and swallowed them down with a swig of water.
"Thanks. Does anyone else on the team know?" You cautiously asked.
Vincent shook his head. "It appears I was the only one who knows."
You sighed in relief.
"Why did you hide your injury?" Vincent asked, "Your friends are not critical, they are willing to help anyone."
You felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment at being caught. The fear of being the weakest link of the group hung heavy over your head. That hedgepie king had landed a rather nasty blow well you were covering Tifa and you fell to your knees to gather yourself.
Vincent quickly rushed to your aid and killed the monster. You ignored his ask if you were okay and continued the battle. It was embarrassing that you had to be saved, Aerith offered to heal you but you played it off that you were fine. It was childish at the time, you knew that even then, but you found yourself unwilling to ask for help.
Vincent sat down on the edge of the bed and you expected him to reach for his cloak back. To your surprise, his gloved hand pressed softly to your cheek and then your brow. You stared in curiosity, surprised by how gentle he was being. Your skin was tingling pleasantly and you felt your chest and cheeks warming.
When he pulled his hand away you barely held back a whimper, wishing for that pleasant feeling to continue.
"Hm, it appears your body temperature has regulated itself again. When I found you, your body was ice cold." Vincent explained.
"Ice cold?" You repeated. Your face must've looked horrified because he put his hand on your shoulder in a comforting gesture.
"I must apologize, my wording choice did sound rather harsh. Your body's primary concern was healing, keeping warm was its second priority. My cloak had trapped my natural body heat in its cloth, so I draped it over you to keep you warm."
"Y-You didn't have to do that for me, Vincent." Despite your words, you felt rather flustered. No one has done such sweet things as he has for you.
He let out a small noise of a smile and moved his hand to place it on your head. Your gaze returned to his, your eyes meeting his crimson ones. There was no tension or coldness between you two as much as you were trying to will it. No, Vincent had a small smile on his lips, an expression you thought that he was incapable of doing.
"Don't worry about it, (Name), just helping a friend out." He reassured.
You were silent, unable to find any words. You never had friends before, at least, true friends who would stick by you. Who was willing to keep your embarrassments, no matter how dumb, secret? To be willing to touch you with such assurance and softness.
You had ignorantly judged the book by its cover, but to your utter surprise, the author was kind enough to open it for you. Well the words were blurred there was no denying the story wasn't as harsh and vain as you thought.
"I'm...I'm so sorry..." You muttered, turning your head down. Vincent's smile vanished as he tilted his head in concern. "What is there to be apologetic for?"
"I...I thought you were...different than what you are. And I...you're being so nice to me and-" You stopped yourself realizing you were rambling.
Vincent took a breath. "You assumed me to have bad intentions?"
You shook your head, "N-No no...well...kind of? I just thought you were...odd. Heh, I sound like a hypocrite coming from me, huh?"
Vincent shook his head. "Your assumptions were wrong, but it is not unreasonable. Fear of others is what keeps us alive, but trust is what makes us truly living."
Your lips parted to speak but nothing could be said.
"Get some rest." Vincent helped you lay back down, keeping his hand on your back to help keep you from twisting too much. As you got comfortable he returned to the glass doors.
"Wait, where are you going?" You called out.
"There is only one bed, it would be inappropriate of us to share it."
"But don't you have to sleep?" You asked.
He shook his head, "I can sleep anywhere, I will be fine,"
"But you-"
"Good night, (Name)." He stepped back out on the balcony and softly shut the door behind him.
You wanted to go out there and pull him back into the room to continue your conversation, but your fatigued body said otherwise. With a reluctant sigh, you let yourself relax. You pulled the cloak up to examine it, noticing the leather belts and the metal buckles. How the red fabric was unlike the texture you felt before.
It oddly like bat wings. It was heavy and comforting, even the smell was shockingly pleasant. There was an undeniable hint of must from being stowed into a coffin for so many years but the scent of pine wood and leather was far stronger.
"Vincent...you're an enigma..." You muttered under your breath.
You shortly fell asleep, clutching the cloak to your chest...
Meanwhile, Vincent was outside watching the night grow brighter as the sun was soon to rise in the distance and wash away the inky shadows with it. He was sitting in the iron patio chair, meditating over the night he had.
You were an odd girl, you were much like...just the thought created a void in his chest. A painful void that ached, that throbbed with the pain ten times worse than the torture he experienced from Hojo's experiments.
Twenty years and the pain had yet to leave as his sins remained unforgiving. He dared to turn his blood-red eyes to the doors. Through the glass and the curtains, he saw you sleeping peacefully on the bed. The moonlight cast a glow onto your skin, illuminating your face and the white sheets, but the dark red cloak stood boldly against the white sheets.
You had bundled the caplet into a ball and were holding it to yourself like a child would a stuffed animal. The cape of his cloak was draped over your body and legs, the ends ragged with holes and torn and burnt. And yet, you held it in your sleep like it was the most comforting thing in the world.
"Hm, you're a strange one, (Name)...