#1265 words of ffvii timetravel fluff

[fallintosanity]

Number 3 for meta asks plz!

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

(idk about “always” because I only recently came up with this but shhh)

“Go get something to drink,” Cloud told the boy as he closed the door of their rented room. “You’ve been playing all day.” 

“Yessir,” Luca said. He kicked off his sandals and ran barefoot over to the nightstand to retrieve one of the glasses sitting there, his hair shining almost blond in the dim golden light of the room’s single lamp. As Cloud bent down to untie his own boots, Luca darted into the bathroom toward the sink. The boy was too small to reach the faucet even on tiptoe, but he’d managed it last night by standing on the closed toilet lid, so Cloud wasn’t too worried. 

Then Luca yelped, and the sharp sound of shattering glass crashed through the room. 

Cloud stood back up, managing two whole steps across the room before Luca called, “I’ll clean it up! I’m sorry!” From here, Cloud could just see into the bathroom: the tile floor covered in glittering glass shards, and Luca lifting one bare foot to step directly into them. 

“No!” Cloud yelled. In the next heartbeat he was across the bedroom and halfway into the bathroom, glass crunching under his boots as he reached out to stop Luca-- 

--only to freeze himself when Luca flung his arms up and cringed down, clearly bracing himself for a blow. 

“Whoa,” Cloud said. “Hey, whoa. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Bright green eyes peeked warily at him from between Luca’s forearms, the set of the boy’s shoulders radiating skepticism. 

Cloud didn’t know how to process that, or what it implied about how Luca had been treated before now, and he didn’t have the energy to try. “Just... stay there. I’m going to get a broom--”

“I can do it!” Luca interrupted, dropping his arms. There was a familiar stubborn set to his jaw, strange to see on a three-year-old’s face, and again he started to take a step forward.

“No!” Cloud snapped again, and Luca went still, though fearful tremors shook his tiny frame. Cloud sighed, and tried to gentle his voice. “There’s broken glass everywhere. If you step on it, you’ll get hurt.” 

Luca studied him for a long, silent moment, but didn’t answer. Cloud said, “Don’t move. Not an inch. I’m going to go find a broom.”

Luca nodded once, short and sharp, but at least he seemed to get it. Cloud yanked his boots off without bothering with the laces, depositing them in a relatively clear spot in the bathroom so he wouldn’t track glass through the rest of the room. To his surprise, Imogen - the woman they were renting the room from - was just cresting the stairs when he pulled open the door. She held a broom and dustpan in one hand, and another glass in the other.

She smiled when she saw Cloud. “I heard the glass break,” she said. “Are you both all right?” 

Cloud nodded. “I can pay--”

“Oh, my dear, no,” Imogen interrupted gently. “Don’t worry about it. Kids that young break things, and I’ve got plenty to spare.” She pressed the broom, dustpan, and glass into Cloud’s hands. “Do you need any help cleaning up?” 

Cloud shook his head.

“If you’re sure,” Imogen said. “I’m right downstairs - holler if you need anything.” 

“Thanks,” Cloud said, and headed back into their room. 

Luca stood exactly where Cloud had left him, in exactly the same pose; apparently he’d taken that “don’t move an inch” literally. As Cloud bent down to start sweeping up the glass, Luca said, “I can help.” 

There was a tiny quaver in his voice, a note of fear, and rage surged hot and sharp through Cloud as he realized why. Hojo would have expected the boy to clean up the mess. Hojo would have expected a three-year-old to walk barefoot through shattered glass to get a broom and dustpan and sweep up the shards all on his own. Hojo would have probably taken notes the whole time about his specimen’s pain tolerance, or his accelerated rate of healing, or his ability to follow orders like a good little soldier. 

Cloud barely stopped himself from swearing out loud. Luca was still trembling, and Cloud didn’t want the boy to think Cloud’s anger was directed at him. Instead, Cloud threw himself into cleaning up the broken glass, sweeping carefully around Luca’s feet, then dampening one of the spare hand towels and wiping over the floor, and finally cleaning the glass out of his boots.

Luca didn’t move the whole time, though his sharp green eyes followed Cloud’s every motion with the caution of a rabbit who knows a hawk is nearby. When Cloud was done, he crouched in front of Luca and held out his hands. The boy hesitated, but then lifted his arms so Cloud could pick him up. Cloud rinsed Luca’s feet in the sink just to be safe - he’d broken enough glasses in his own childhood to know that shards found their way to the worst places. Then he filled the new glass with water from the sink, carried boy and glass over to one of the room’s twin beds, and sat down with Luca on his lap. 

“Here,” Cloud said, holding out the glass. 

Luca took it in both hands and drank carefully, still keeping one eye on Cloud from under his long bangs. When the glass was empty, Luca started to reach to set it on the nightstand, then hesitated, throwing a fearful glance at Cloud. It took Cloud a second to realize the boy was worried about dropping the glass again - or more specifically, was worried that Cloud was going to yell at him for risking dropping the glass again. 

Making his voice as gentle as he could, Cloud said, “It’s fine. Go ahead.” 

Luca hesitated a heartbeat or two longer, then leaned the rest of the way to set the glass carefully on the nightstand. Curling back in on himself, he folded his hands in his lap, his pale hair falling around his face. In a voice so quiet Cloud almost didn’t hear it, he asked, “Do I have to go to the punishment room now?” 

Cloud bit back all the questions that jumped to the tip of his tongue: what’s the punishment room? and Hojo punished you for things like that? and what did he do to you? He said, “No. It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault.” 

“I should’ve done better,” Luca muttered in a tone that suggested Hojo had told him that, repeatedly and often.

Since Luca was still looking at his own hands like they were the most fascinating things in the world, Cloud let himself roll his eyes. “Accidents happen.” 

“Not in Project S,” Luca insisted. “I have to be perfect.”

Cloud shifted Luca on his knee so he could look the boy in the eye. Face to face like this, it was uncomfortably easy to see in the boy the man he would grow up to be - would have grown up to be, if Cloud hadn’t fallen back in time. But Cloud shoved those thoughts aside. The boy sitting in front of him was Luca now. Not Sephiroth, not anymore. 

"Hojo’s dead,” Cloud told him. “You don’t have to be perfect anymore. Not for him. Not for anyone.” 

Luca stared at him, his slit pupils almost round in the room’s dim light. “Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

Luca considered that solemnly, then nodded once. His body relaxed, and he snugged into Cloud’s chest. “Can you read me a story again tonight?” 

“...Yeah,” Cloud said. “Yeah, I can.”