Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Present day

The hotel isn’t far from their first venue. Which is good since the first show always knocks Cloud off his feet. It’s a weird threshold that he never seems to change. Being on a real tour instead of a few scattered bars across a town. This time they have an actual tight schedule, a route, and a record label to impress. They spent their time and money on them-gave them the chance to write the album of Cloud’s dreams. So, it’s time they bring in the money now. First six shows all along the west side, road tripping the entire time and then a flight to the east for another road trip down that coast. All of them in massive, massive concert venues that swallow up the stage they are so big. Cloud’s only been in halls like that when they are empty. The few times he’s helped Tifa out with scouting and setting up sound. 

He can’t believe it either. Tifa set them up with their own sound team-something about Mr. Producer- Reno not wanting to rely on the venue’s people completely. They have to do some things ShinRa wants, since Cloud and Zack bitched so much about their music influences. As in none, they wanted no influence from the label. 

The charter buses pull into the hotel parking lot just past two in the morning. One for them, the other for Tifa, and the sound team. Even though Tifa will probably spend a lot of time on theirs- yelling at Cloud to easy up on the lattes (it’s too much milk Cloud, we don’t need thick mucus singing) and smacking Zack’s feet down from the fold out kitchen table. 

It’s small with everyone shoved together on bunk beds in the back. But there is enough space in the middle of the bus- on a large U cushioned booth seats and a sitting area leaning against the windows. Big enough to fit Cloud’s guitar and a place to have a paper pad and pen ready to jolt down new ideas. That’s all he really needs.

Besides, as much as he likes his privacy, spending weeks on end so close to Zack and his woodsy musk is intense and only fuels his pinning to unfair and unbearable levels. He must like to suffer. Because he rather be in close-torture-contact with Zack than somewhere alone and in peace. Where he can calm his stupid longing and forget that Zack isn’t his.

He isn’t anyone’s. That makes it more maddening when he brushes against Cloud and demands to lean on him in the mornings during the long bus ride. Of course, there’s only been one major tour the year before. Barely signed and growing. This will be the first ‘real’ tour they have as an established band within the label. It’s nerve wracking. Their new album is released half-way through. An odd move, but the label wants to push them into getting ready for another tour a few months after they finish this one. 

“‘Elloooo, Cloudy-Skies, come on. Don’t you wanna enjoy our last night in a spacious hotel room?” Zack’s leaning down and waving a metal decorated hand at him. Too many rings and chipping black polish distracting Cloud. 

Constantly, but everything about Zack is a distraction. 

“Yeah…” His response comes late. Drifts after Zack’s broad back wandering down the steps of the bus and out into the crisp cold air of twilight hours. They rush the few steps to the hotel, sliding their entrance cards and slipping in to the stale scented building that all hotels have. A mix of dull cleaning supplies and fabric softener. The one hotel they will see for the next week. Then it’s that horror of a tour bus that won’t let Cloud have any privacy. 

One plane ride to the other side of the country and they get to do it all over again up and down that coast too. 

“You know,” Zack whistles quietly, dropping an arm across Cloud’s shoulders, “I don’t think I ever apologized, really.”

Weird, they hadn’t fought in a long time. Cloud raises a shallow brow at him, “for?” 

“You were right,” Zack says. Stops them both right there in the middle of the hotel hallway, “about signing with ShinRa.” 

Out of the blue, like most things, Zack admits too. Or says with profound amazement. As if he’s been waiting for years to decide he should actually say it out loud. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say ‘told you so’.”

Zack hums along with his sheepish head nod, “right- but told you so anyway. I know that look.”

Cloud ducks his head, feeling heated under too much of Zack’s attention. Smiles at him despite it. His small smile; holding back his real blinder. He can’t show Zack those, it’s not for him- not when Cloud means it too much and everything gets muddled. Those smiles are for someone who will give them back. Unforgettably for Cloud, Zack just sends his own blinding smile at him. Without even asking. How fuckin’ rude.  

In the morning, after a long night of constant nervous; tossing and turning every time Zack made a too suggestive moan in his sleep. Cloud sits up with blurry vision and watches Zack rush about the apartment half naked until Tifa comes knocking on their room door. She saves him, catching his eye and rolling her own. Embarrassing that he’s so easy to read for her and hoping that it’s only her that can.

Cloud takes her out. Slips around the door when Tifa jerks her head, “head to the venue- go help the new sound crew and get acquainted. They’ll be traveling with us.”

Anything really, to stop getting glimpses of Zack’s tattooed back and torso. His sleeve is already eye catching, but to see the rest of his ink etched into his tanned skin and gleaming at him with delicate details and hidden piercings- it’s more than Cloud can take so early in the morning. So, hell yeah, he’s going to voluntarily meet new people. Especially if those people are touching his guitar. 

The stage looks intimidating and far too large in the daytime, scattered with lights, wires, and sound systems. A very large dark-skinned man is shoving a step-up platform into place (Zack’s shiny new drums sitting in the center). He’s got a far too tight cotton t-shirt on that says ‘Road Crew’ on the back. Grunts as he straights up and shouts at a peppy brunette as she passes him.

“Jessie- the new lights just got here, make sure Wedge knows they are backstage.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” she says with a grin, spins around and nearly runs Cloud over, “oph! Well, well look-it here, if it isn’t one of our famous band members.”

Cloud glares past his blush. “I wouldn’t say famous.”

Jessie laughs, “no, but you guys will be. You know I went to your last three shows?”

Cloud flushes even more. It’s also... weirdly humbling talking to people that like their music. Face to face, see the real fans and the real way they affect people.

“Uh. thanks…”

Her eyes sparkle like Zack’s, despite being a deep amber color.

“You’re heavy on reverb, sometimes. In your live shows,” Yes... he’s heard that lots of times, “Don’t worry, I made sure Biggs brought the best amps ShinRa can get. I think I saw a few new pedals for you to try out.”

Cloud blinks at her. It’s jarring talking with people about guitar rigs and new sound right off the bat. He’s not used to being surrounded by people deeper into the music industry than he is. Nice, but jarring. 

“Uh,” he says again, like an idiot.

“Jessie- get a move on and stop trying to impress the moneymakers,” the large man (Barret, his shirt has a flimsy name tag sticker- ‘hello my name is Barret’) snips again. It’s hiding a laugh, and he smirks at Cloud as she half solutes, and skips around Cloud, “and send Biggs out here!”

“We’ll see how much money it really is,” Cloud’s never going to guarantee success, not in this business. It can fall apart all too quickly.

“Aw, come on now. You kids must be good to impress Jessie,” Barret leans near him, eyeing him, “I’m bettin’ you were sent here to help? Help me center this before Biggs gets out here with your setup.”

Cloud nods, sullen, and takes a few steps back so he can eye the platform Zack will be on. Barret only has to move it a few more feet-with more of a show of exasperation-before it’s nice and nestled in for the most attention. It’s enough time for an attractive dark-haired man to jog out to them.

“Biggs,” Barret’s still fiddling with the drum set, a perfectionist then, “this is- uh-”

Cloud laughs, yet another humbling response, when people don’t know him at all, “Cloud,” he says. 

“Yeah, I know. You’re making us look bad, Boss. Should know who we are helping keep ShinRa in business.”

There’s more banter back and forth that makes it clear this support crew has been together for a long time. A comfortable tone and easy smiles. Even among the chaotic mess of show set up. 

“Okay,” Biggs turns to him, “Jessie mentioned those pedals, but I got something sweeter for you, Strife.”

He really does. Spends the better part of the hour showing Cloud his new setup. Shiny new effects and mixes, everything placed well. Easy for use and his pedal chain is set perfectly to his amp and his guitar. Biggs gets him to play a little to test it out, nods seriously as he listens for something Cloud can’t hear. It sounds good to him, not blowing out or too high. Just enough to melt down some clarity when he wants, but not drowning him in echo. By that time, the rest of his bandmates are sleepily dragging their feet onto stage. Tifa at their backs looking more stressed than he’s seen her. 

Their tour must be more important than Cloud is realizing, for her brows to be set so narrowly. He gets it. After Reno’s huge lecture about how ShinRa was taking a chance on them, they are a bit of an experiment. It sets butterflies in his stomach that won’t leave. Not until the night sky is coming out and they are shuffling around on stage in the dark with an excited crowd and building energy. Invigorates him just as the lights click on and Zack’s overly enthusiastic “WHOOP!” gets drowned out by the crowd screaming at their sudden lit appearance. 

Then, the nerves leave and it’s only the heat of the lights and the sweet notes of creativity. 

***

He is completely right. Zack is an enormous distraction, and he thought the hotel room would have been the worst. But he was so so wrong. The stupidity in not realizing just how close quarters the tour bus is…. it’s a crime really. That his own brain did this to himself. Three shows down and Cloud is ready for this tour to be over. Even the rush of playing for bigger and bigger crowds can’t stamp out the suffering he is enduring. 

“Oops, sorry, Cloudy-Skies,” Zack bumps into him, stretching up past him for the overhead cabinet that holds the coffee mugs. Why Cloud keeps choosing to sit under it is just another mistake he is apparently doomed to repeat. At least Zack has a shirt on this time. Sort of. A muscle shirt with sides way too open to really be called a shirt, but it’s better than Zack’s entire naked torso almost touching his shoulder and flashing in front of his face.

Still, the U shaped booth is the most comfortable place on the bus to sit, so here he is. 

It’s early in the morning, and the charter bus is zooming down the highway. Cloud hadn’t been able to sleep with snores from Kunsel and Zack stretching late into the night. So he forced himself up to re-collect himself before the others rose. It’s a pleasant time for him to get out some half-baked ideas. Sit and stare at the ever changing landscape out the window. 

“Nugh-mmm, oh man, are those bunk beds small or what?” Zack drops into the seat across from him, moaning through a yawn and dunking his head back onto the tall back of the booth. Exposing his neckline and beautifully dipped collarbones. The spot where the ink of his sleeve is peeking out the galaxy in deep blues and purples. 

“Mm... sure.” Cloud half mumbles, tearing his eyes away from Zack’s skin just as he’s sitting back up. Zack is pretty lanky- somewhere under all that muscle and tone. 

“Think Tifa will get mad if I just sleep on the floor tonight?”

“Yes,” Tifa’s half asleep voice drifts from the back, “I will step on you. We can just replace you. I know lots of fantastic drummers.”

Zack chokes out a half-offended sound and acts pouty and hurt for the next fifteen minutes, as everyone rouses from sleep. The coffee finishes and eases Zack’s ridiculous show. Moves him from his spot for all of twenty seconds and then he’s crashing back down right next to Cloud. Squishing him in and Cloud can’t focus on the melodies in his head at all. Not while he’s pressed up against Aerith and Zack. Chatter filling his ears instead and hyped energy building in the small confines of their transportation. 

His suffering isn’t so bad with everyone else up. Even if Zack’s sticking close to him. Leaning on him and talking under his breath so quietly, his lips nearly brush against Cloud’s ear more than once. 

At least he’s got distractions from the distraction. The show whisks away the ache in his chest too. Brings all new ones, but these ones he likes. Holds them close and hopes he gets them for years to come. 

***

They go out to get drinks after their third show. A change of pace instead of rushing back onto the bus with shitty, greasy food in their hands. Their next show is in the city just two hours over, so they have some time to celebrate and relax. 

Jessie comes along with them, grinning and hip bumping Zack. 

Biggs is the guitar tech and Wedge is their lighting guy. Barret is their main stage manager and holds out on security as well. But Jessi. She’s a smart cookie. Knows so much of road crew jobs she hops around and does everything. Started out as a drum tech- at least that’s what she says- so she always goes to Zack first. Chatting away with him and getting overly animated whenever she’s in his vicinity for longer than ten minutes. 

Their quickly joining of the hip only ticks at Cloud’s jealousy a tiny bit. Enough for him to scoff when she first leans all over Zack, but dissipates the longer she hangs with them. The little bar they go to is a good walk away from their bus and the cold weather is creeping in. They walk briskly and sigh as warmth closes around them. Steal the far table in the corner so they can watch the entire bar as they drink. 

It’s yet again another mistake. 

Cloud should have realized. 

Zack wants to watch the far side of the bar to scope out the cute girls. There is a fair amount, it’s Friday, and more than a few send excited glances their way. 

Biggs and Wedge show up with Barret hot on their heels. Grumbling at them as they all shove over about needing security and can’t just wander away like that. Cloud agrees. But only because Zack’s not with them for half the evening and all of a sudden the jealousy that was barely a twinge with Jessie becomes a full-blown hot coal in his stomach. 

A cute blonde, always a blonde, in a short skirt and dark eye makeup. He’s not even jealous of her really. Just…

Cloud whines to himself, slouches and nurses his cider slowly. He only manages to keep his gaze from drifting a few times before he’s boring his glare at them across the small place. It’s not the girl’s fault she’s cute. That Zack’s a bit of a slut and has high energy to burn for post show intimacy? 

The jealousy- it’s... he’s blonde. 

He knows Zack’s gone off with guys before. 

He’s a guy. 

A blonde guy. Minus the freshly dyed neon green in his bangs. 

“You okay there, Spikes?” 

“Yep,” Cloud mumbles. Eyes trained on the delicate hand tracing the fiery meteor on Zack’s skin.

It’s for the better anyway. Cloud isn’t just set on banging Zack. He’s hot, but he’s sweet and kind with Cloud. Makes him laugh and checks in on him just when Cloud is about to spiral. How he can tell Cloud needs help every time is a mystery. Or how they just connect in music. Get lost in each other’s ideas and can play for hours and hours. Even after practice. After a show. Cloud’s never had such a kinship in music like he does with Zack. 

So. Biting down on his lip and drinking away the hot coal in his stomach is really his only option. 

It’ll come out in the form of a song, he’s sure. But so far it’s just sad melodies locked in his head that make him long for quiet nights where he couldn’t shake loneliness. 

Seems better than this pointless longing. 

***

Everything hits differently on their fourth show. It’s out in a massive outside stadium-in the desert in the southwest coastal region of the country. Set for early evening, the sunset to do half of Wedge’s lightning job. The crowds are the biggest yet. Spanning so far, it’s just an endless sea of skin tones and washes of black and patches of skin. This late in summer, the weather is mild for the city and the rain following them most of the way gives them a break. Blue skies as far as the crowds. It’s…

It’s nearly buckling his knees. The sheer force of screaming and energy hit him like a sucker punch in the stomach. Waves of chanting reach their ears. As they take their places, the semi- normal hush comes. This one is different. So silent out in the open air. Faces waiting to explode with excitement at them. Waiting.

Waiting. 

His guitar feels cool in his hands. Fitted just for him against his body. The older friend he’ll keep for life. One he gets to share with the world and feels a connection he normally lacks with others. Everything up to this moment feels like a string waiting to be pulled tightly to fit in its correct place. 

Aerith glances at him at the front mic. Eyes wide and shiny with happy tears. She feels it too then. The energy is different. The energy is theirs for the taking. Her first breath is crisp into the mic. Echoes out into the crowd that breathes with her. Words she’s been saying all week get caught up in her throat. He can’t blame her. It is overwhelming. 

Besides. They aren’t here to talk. 

A small change in the lineup is fine. Glances at Kunsel for a quick eye conversation. Lifts three fingers in indication to change up songs. Cloud doesn’t need to check with Zack. He’ll know. The moment Cloud plucks the first three notes, he’ll roll right into the song with an ease. 

Even with this change up, Cloud knows Zack will catch it immediately. Not their single, one of the b-track songs. Reno suggested they record it more uptempo, but Cloud wrote it as a ballad first. Just like so many songs he does. One of the few things they did to appease ShinRa management. 

But right now, it’ll pull what they need. Bring Aerith out of her sudden voice lock. 

It starts with his own raspy inhale. A step up to his mic. A pluck of his strings. One single note for the key to stick in his head. Half tempo; straight into the chorus. Smooth melody with limited range before hitting a raspy, high note he saves for the last bracket of the chorus. Draws it out long and growing as his breath wants to give in. Half way through-the soft echoes of the melody on his guitar- the start of the song. Bring it all back and give Aerith her starting point. 

Zack gets it. Just like Cloud knows he would. Slow tap on the snare and right into a limited beat of his normal set for this song. It all shapes Aerith’s second inhale. One with her voice and she matches Cloud’s pitch perfectly. Takes the reins and rounds out the start of the song so Cloud can fall down into his hips, guitar heavy and ready. The noise washing over them from the crowd is a test. He nearly loses tempo and his place he can barely hear anything but the eruption of love. 

It’s what that is. Love, when you make music and share it with the world. A connection Cloud’s lacked most of his life. From something as simple as sound in rhythms. 

He risks that look back at Zack near the end of the arrangement. It earns the warmth of laughter encroaching on his vocals. No doubt a tone the crowd can pick up on. A short chuckle through the end of his note. But isn’t that the point of live music? 

To feel the rawness. 

See the mistakes. 

Feel the moment everything falls into place and the chills of harmony ringing out into the navy skies. 

Aerith’s just fine after that. 

The breeze through the night. Blink of an eye and the stars are glittering down at them and the last beat of Zack’s drum vibrates in his bones. 

In reality, all this means is that Tifa’s been right his whole life.

***

It’s real late. Even for the city; night’s stillness overtaking most of the public buildings and streets. Outside the stadium, the crowds are gone and there’s no more screaming fangirls hovering around the back gates. Haven’t been for a while. A nice, steady calm coming with the white noise of the half sleeping city. It’s raining out, the chill creeping into the bus, but Cloud can’t tear himself away from his spot against the window. It’s perfect right now. The rain droplets slipping down the window in quick, tiny rivers. Blurring out the streetlights and the glow of signs and building’s towering around the bus. Crisp, clear, the night pushing into his bones and easing his mind. 

He’s no longer got blood pounding in his ears or the overwhelming screaming from the crowd drowning out his bandmate’s voices. 

Just him and the quiet and the cold. 

And his guitar. 

It’s nights like this he gets most of his jumbled ideas half shaped and out on paper. Strums lazily through the melodies that won’t stop itching the back of his neck. They stick with him forever, doesn’t matter if it’s the heat of the summer or the freezing chill of winter. 

It’s just these nights pull the notes and the words from him the fastest. He felt it in the air that morning before their show. Slipped off with an apologetic nod to Barret and their sound team after the seats had emptied. Normally he sticks around and helps- even when he’s not required to, but tonight, the itch was too strong. 

So he slinked back to the bus, watching Zack, Kunsel, and Aerith skip off toward the bar just down the street. A pack of giggling women right behind them. He’d snorted, annoyance disappearing as he left the city world behind him. Now, past midnight and creeping steadily into the twilight hours, Cloud has an entire song written down in lyrics and half a melody satisfying his craving to create. It’s more sappy than he usually goes, but years of staring after Zack’s strong shoulders and zeroing in on his laugh in any room have made him soft. 

That’s what Tifa likes to say, anyway. 

Aerith calls it pinning and Kunsel calls him pathetic. He’s more inclined to agree with Kunsel on that one. 

He strums through the beginning measures once more, fixing a few out of place notes and simplifying the melody at the start. Half their up-beat songs are flashy and complicated and get into the chaotic arrangement real quick. Cloud needs his slow stuff to be simple and sweet. Low dark sounds that make him feel like there’s a mist of rain all the time. 

Once through again, humming into the counter melody to make sure nothing clashes, masks the clattering of noise at the front of the bus. He doesn’t even notice someone is getting on until a draft brings in the musky scent of cedar and rain. 

“Aw, damn, I interrupted you.”

Zack. 

Cloud opens his eyes, pulled from the bubble of creating, and shifts his quiet attention to the dark-haired drummer. 

Zack’s entirely different from when he met him, and still completely the same all at once. His hair is longer; drifts down to the middle of his back and shaved neatly at the sides. It’s probably the most attractive Cloud will ever think a mohawk cut can get. He’s tattooed all over, piercings on his brow and lining his earlobes. Thick gauges the color of eyes. The dark smokey eye makeup Tifa makes him wear during shows smudged from too long on. Just makes Zack look all the more appealing, really. 

The one thing that’s missing from his normal night after work; a girl. There’s usually one attached to his arm and giggling into his ear. 

Lucky Cloud. He gets Zack to himself for once. 

“It’s late. I’ve gotten enough out,” Cloud says. 

“Yeah?” Zack takes the few more steps over and reaches out to turn Cloud’s beaten up notebook at an angle. Looks down at it for only a few moments, “looks good, Spikes. Scooch, can I hear it?”

Cloud does ‘scooch’. Slides into the corner of the U-shaped booth and tries to ignore the red flush on his cheeks. Even after so long, he’s still bashful sharing his work. It’s much easier with Zack, the others he still stutters and throws his ideas at them without waiting around to see a reaction. 

“It’s hardly anything, Zack.”

“So- I wanna hear,” He says it thickly, must be tired from the long day. 

In that case, maybe Zack won’t remember it too well. Cloud shifts a bit, adjusting his guitar and clears his throat quietly. He won’t sing, not really. The words haven’t shaped completely around his tongue, the melody still not fitting into place with the lyrics. So he hums instead and plays louder than he has been. It’s easier if he closes his eyes. He won’t get pulled into Zack’s amazed stare or distracted by the deep breathing of his chest. It’s the fucking V-necks he keeps wearing. Deep and showing off too much tanned skin. 

Zack’s disturbance hasn’t pulled him completely from his song-writing mood, so it’s easy enough to feel the notes in his fingers and keep his raspiness at the back of his throat. It comes easy, fits even better together this time. Slightly faster than what he has been plucking out. Still slow to keep him calm. Doubling back to get more than just the beginning out. Cloud fades it out as he closes in on the parts only half in the world. Holds in a deep breath before he opens his eyes and-

-and Zack is...so close to him. Inches away, eyes dark and biting slightly into his lower lip. Gazing at Cloud with a spark that mimics the blurry city lights filtering in through little rain drops. 

“It’s beautiful,” Zack whispers. Teeth sinking deeper into his lip; it’s completely distracting, “y-you’re beautiful.”

Cloud didn’t expect that. Taken aback, he straightens some to be shoved back into the cushions of the bus’s booth. Zack’s crowding down onto him, showing the guitar out from between them and pressing their lips hard together. It’s hot and muggy, Zack’s damp from the rain. His nipping turns harsher and desperate, and Cloud’s whole body freezes. Zack’s cupping his jaw, sliding his body to fit awkwardly against Cloud’s-smashed between him and the table. 

Their kissing is sloppy, tongue slow with exhaustion and breathing far too heavy for the little movement they are doing. All at once Cloud gets too hot, then cold, and then hot. He’s all over the place. Sliding his lips against Zack’s and oh god-he can’t believe he gets this. 

He’s finally getting this. It feels too good. Doesn’t seem real. Zack, he’s a strong force of muscle and warmth and he tastes so fucking-

Like alcohol. 

Fuck. 

He tastes so much like tequila and lime and Cloud freezes. 

Zack’s drunk. His slow speech isn’t from the long day- it’s from intoxication. 

Then…

This isn’t fair. 

Cloud whines into the kiss. Pulls away just enough to twist his neck away, so Zack misses his lips this time. Slobbers on his jaw instead.

“You’re drunk,” he whispers through his gasps for air. Lightly presses his hands against Zack’s shoulders for some needed space. He has to think clearly here.

Zack whines, presses and presses until Cloud’s got no leverage, and he’s cupping the back of Cloud’s head again. Smashing their lips together and sinking his teeth into Cloud’s lower lip. It’s so unfair. Cloud wants this so bad but-fuck, he is so drunk. The smell hits him all at once. Makes him feel stupid for not noticing it sooner. 

“Stop,” Cloud says between kisses, “you’re drunk, Zack.” 

This time, his shove is enough to shake Zack from his daze some. Pulls away to look down at Cloud with heated want that’s usually saved for groupie girls. Not for Cloud, it’s never been for Cloud. 

“S’beatiful, babe,” Zack slurs at him. Weakly tries again to get their kissing started. 

This is too hard. Cloud can’t do this. He wants to give in so badly. Maybe... maybe if Zack’s speech wasn’t suddenly slurred or if that foggy look in his eyes really was from need only. It’s not. None of it his. He reeks of the bar and smoke and tastes too bitter and none of it is going to ever leave Cloud’s head ever again. 

It’s not real though. 

Babe. Zack only calls the groupie girls babe.

Too fast. His heart breaks too fast and heals all over just to be shattered with one stupid word. 

He loathes himself for it. 

Loathes Zack for it. 

“Get off,” Cloud mumbles. The little hopefulness in him can’t bring his hands to shove Zack away completely. He feels good against him. Feels right under his palms. 

“S’all turfo’ ey’ so ‘etty.”

What. 

Zack stills suddenly; a very horrifying scene of vomit and disaster crosses Cloud’s mind. But Zack just takes a shallow gasp and then collapses down onto Cloud. His whole body going slack and shoving his face into the crook of Cloud’s shoulder. 

Passed out. Completely. Undone by the alcohol catching up to him. 

Great. It’s just great. He’s got an armful of blackout drunk Zack and the memory of his lips burning in his head. 

Seems forever, but half an hour later, an equally drunk Kunsel and flustered Aerith clammer onto the bus to find them still pressed together. Cloud stuck with fear of moving and Zack snoring into his neck. 

They are nice enough to help Cloud get Zack into one of the lower bunk beds. 

He ignores Aerith’s teasing smirks as best he can and crashes in his own bunk.

Dreams of deep groans and sloppy kisses. 

***

It’s either really lucky or shitty that Zack doesn’t remember that night. Not even one moment. Flushed when Cloud rose an eyebrow at him and asked him if he was okay the next morning. Only got the mumbled answer of ‘yeah, just can’t remember even having one drink’. And that was it, the answer to Cloud’s maybe and his humiliation. 

Because it would be the second one for sure. Zack’s best friend, the closest he’s to in the band. There is no way he can see Cloud as more. Not with the hair ruffles and the boyish grins and snarky humor. Feels to friend zone and Zack’s never been one to hide his emotions. All over the place, no matter what. 

“Spikes, think ya could move over a bit? Trying to get your shit all set.” 

A larger presence comes up behind him, making his back itch and shaking him from his long staring session at Zack dinking around on his drum set on center stage. Barret. He’s got extra large speakers in his massive arms and a knowing smirk on his handsome face. 

“Yep. Sorry.” He doesn’t move much, however. Stands and lingers so he can help set up instead of leaving Jessie and Barret to his guitar. 

“Lil more, probably gotta get outta your lovey-dovey eyeline there, lover boy.” 

Cloud flushes, backs up again, and bumps into Jessie following up with his new amp. 

“Dunno what you mean, Barret.” Denial, he can just deny it out loud. Somehow thinking it’s easier to deal with. But when has it ever in the last few years. Not with Zack flinging off his wife-beater tank and sweat dripping down his tattooed back. 

“Pft,” Jessie snorts at him, “sorry there pretty eyes, everyone can tell. You’re not that subtle.” she ends in a loud whisper and a wink. 

Great. Probably for the best then, that Zack is so dumb. If the fucking sound crew picked up on his ridiculous crush this fast. 

Cloud sighs.

“Just, give me something to do, please. It’s the last show on the west, last one until I get some space.” 

It’s an admittance to Jessie he doesn’t really want to do. But she sobers from her snickering and looks at him with pitying brown eyes. It’s not a good look on her and he wants to snip. Bites his tongue instead. 

“Cloud…” along with the pitiful tone too, great. Just great. She looks at him for too long, “have you, ya know, tried telling him?”

Yeah. No, this is not where he was looking to go. Especially with Zack so close on stage.

Cloud stands abruptly. “Nevermind, I need some water. I’ll be back... later.”

Later, right before he’s needed. 

Last show. He doesn’t want to bog it down with his weird mood and the memory of Zack’s drunk breath all over his face. 

“Wait- Cloud!” 

It’s good Jessie doesn’t reach out to grab his arm. Knee-jerk reaction to throw her off is too strong. He ignores her and hustles off to the back of the stage. Grabs one of the water bottles of the snack table meant more for the road crew. He gets a few worried looks from Wedge and Biggs comes over to murmur to him about a few changes to his rig. It’s not needed, Cloud knows it’s going to be more rough and raw for the last show on the west coast. A blow out, go big. 

He appreciates it, however. Biggs is the most calm out of the support team and he knows guitars better than anyone Cloud has met. He’s a great sounding board and grounding presence. It’s just too bad with one look at Zack. All of that rushes out into the void somewhere. Back to his aching and his unbearable lack of ability to just move on. 

It’s too hard.

Zack’s smile has molded into something just for Cloud. He sees it, the ones he flashes his way are always a tad softer. Comfortable. 

From his spot at his drums, rocking his body to a beat in his head and lazily playing through his rhythms, Zack meets Cloud’s eyes from backstage. Mouth’s a few words of the lyrics and points a drumstick at him. All with that smile. 

Solidifying his fate. Cloud returns the smile as best he can without cracking. 

No choice left. He can’t get over Zack like this. They can’t be friends. 

***

Their flight to the east coast is midday. They make it no problem to the airport, but it’s a rush to get to the private jet flights on the other side of the place. Should have just gone in the car with Barret and the others, but they weren’t really thinking too clearly. High on the very-so far-successful tour. Halfway done and another two weeks on the road. 

They are so wiped from the first two weeks, none of them are talking much. Dark circles under their eyes and yawns every few minutes. Boarding half asleep, Cloud only realizes he’s sitting next to Zack right before he sits down. It’s cringe, his jerk away. He steps too widely; crashing down into Kunsel’s seat, down the aisle. Next to Aerith. She yelps softly as he crashes down against her with a blush on his cheeks. 

“Uh, you okay? Cloud?”

“Yep,” he grits out, “just, okay look. Can I sit with you?”

A break. Please, Aerith. Just a brief break. Must shine through enough. She pats his forearm and nudges her head at Kunsel to get back and sit next to Zack. 

Obvious. Jessie had said. 

He’s so very obvious. 

To get through the rest of this tour, he’ll focus on getting his new ideas in his head out. No matter how... lovesick and dumb they are. At least it’ll help him move on to better written songs and more fitting lyrics for their sound. By the end of the two weeks, maybe he’ll stay sane with his dignity intact. 

***

The hotel stay does offer him a breather. Enough of one that the slip of Zack’s lips on his feels like a memory from years ago instead of a few days. He can look Zack in the eyes again. Hold his gaze without flustering. 

Still. He has to be cautious. It would be different, if Cloud thought maybe Zack does want him. Drunk Zack is pretty similar to sober Zack, just more chatty. 

That fuckin “babe” haunts him though. So it’s not different. It’s exactly as he thinks. Not his. Won’t ever be and he just needs to somehow pretend that Zack does not take up even more of his thoughts now. 

The east side of the country is humid with random late summer storms coming and going frequently. Lingering heat in midday, but cooling down into a chill at night. Indicating fall encroaches on them. It does nothing but push Cloud to hang out on the bus once they hit the road. First show of their tour part two goes well. Smaller and a nice easy crowd that doesn’t feel like they are fighting to be heard over excitement. Another little break that refreshes Cloud’s resolve. He feels almost normal. 

Save for the sad puppy eyes Jessie and Biggs glance at him during set up. The soft pats on the back from Wedge when he’s in range and the eye rolls that are begrudgingly rolled with kindness from Barret. 

In fact, Kunsel is probably the only one chill enough to just kinda ignore Cloud’s weird behavior. Because Aerith is trying to trap him into corners to talk to him and give him advice. 

Zack, fucking Zack brightens every time Cloud looks at him only to visibly deflate when he gives him the cold shoulder. It’s making the days feel like weeks and by the time they drive a day’s worth down to their second show Cloud feels like he’s aged a whole year. 

Their second east coast show goes... okay. He’s kinda spacey and they get outta tempo twice. They fix it for sure, but it throws Cloud off, and he’s moody. Plays too hard and gritty. Even on the softer ballads in the middle. Sings with some bite that isn’t normally there. Kunsel has a half ‘pay attention’ aggression in his bass playing, and he can feel Zack’s stare the whole time. 

He can’t wait to get offstage and hide in the back of the bus. 

Which he does. Lowers his eyes and mumbles his ‘sorry’ to Biggs and Barret as he rushes out into the back hallway of the venue. There’s a random storm blowing in; rain pouring down over him on his quick backtracking to the bus. Enough to make him cold, but he kicks off his shoes and collapses down onto his bunk, anyway. 

It usually takes an hour for them to wander off stage. They hang around enough to help take down get started and then are shooed off by Tifa to go get some food and rest. When he doesn’t hear anyone stomping up the bus steps nearly two hours later, he feels even worse. No doubt they went out for a drink. Probably not for celebration this time either. 

He’ll have to apologize and he doesn’t know how he is going to make it up to them this time, either. He already pulled the ‘I can get us a contract’ card. Staring at the peeling, dated wallpaper of the bus wall isn’t giving him any ideas. He lulls to sleep thinking of nothing but Zack’s warm touch and the embarrassment Cloud is going to have to endure tomorrow. 

Tomorrow comes too quickly. At least it seems so. He’s woken by a loud thump and a hissing of Zack’s laughter. 

“Shh, quiet, we gotta be quiet.” 

What? It’s still and dark out still. Cloud shifts to face the curtains nearly closed over his bunk. He glimpses out at the clock across the tiny walkway. About three in the morning. Then?

A giggle. 

A very girly, high-pitched giggle that does not belong to Aerith or Tifa. Not even Jessie. 

“Wow,” a voice he is assuming belongs to the giggler, “this is so cool, your tour bus.”

“Mmhmm, yeah babe. S’real cool. C’mere,” Zack’s lazy drawl is loud in Cloud’s ears. Sounds a little tipsy but... probably not drunk. More-fuck- he sounds lusted out. Needy.

Fuck. Cloud curls in slow, shoves the back of his hand against his lips to quiet his breathing. No nope, no. Zack did notbring a girl, a groupie, back to fuck around with. He’s supposed to be focusing on not lusting after Zack. 

Now he’s getting a first seat show. If he glances out the curtains, across the way a small mirror Aerith keeps is hanging and he gets glimpses of the inked up skin of Zack’s back hunched over someone. Someone with pale skin and delicate painted nails. 

His jealousy comes roaring back. She’s probably blonde.

What he needs to do is look away. Or make his presence known. But he’s frozen. In anger and jealousy and exhaustion. Can’t look away from the muscles of Zack’s back shifting with his body’s rolling movements. His ears strain, silence loud, picking up on the rustling of clothes and the muffled groans growing louder. 

Honestly, he deserves this. For his bratty attitude and his terrible cold-shouldering. Zack’s not his and he won’t get to be. After this... with the kiss still fresh in the back of his mind, Cloud knows it’ll be the closest he ever gets, and it’s completely wrong to want it. 

Fuck, does he ever though. If he squeezes his eyes shut and zones in on Zack’s voice he can pretend. Let himself fall into the echoes of his lips on his own. The heavy hands warm and searching for Cloud’s skin. That could be him under his body. Could be him moaning into Zack’s mouth.

It could. 

Skin hot. Breath getting shorter. Biting into his own hand to keep from moaning out loud. He’s hard and scummy and can’t stop from slipping his hand down to palm at himself. Fuck is he ever disgusting for getting off on this. For pretending. Zack’s his best friend. His bandmate. 

He should. He-

“Jesus, fuck- Zack!”

A crash, a yelp, and Zack’s deep surprised grunt. 

“You can’t bring a girl back here, what the hell is wrong with you.” Aerith. Holy god sweet Aerith. 

“Come on, get out, shoo.”

Kunsel’s slurred laughter. (They were out at a bar for sure then.) Some more grunts and loud knocks. Aerith’s snipping at Zack, but her voice fades along with embarrassed stuttering from the unknown girl. 

Silence. Cloud lays breathing deeply and as quietly as he can. Still frozen. Less hard, the jolt knocking the heated fog from his head. 

“Dude,” Kunsel says. There’s shuffling of clothing and Kunsel’s voice is lower to the ground, “come on, man. This isn’t how you deal with this. Maybe you should just tell-”

“-Lay off,” Zack whispers. Low and dark, “it’s the only thing that helps.” 

Kunsel sighs, “if you would just listen to me-”

“-You’re wrong-”

“-fuckin’ would you stop,” a soft thud; sounds like a punch in the arm, “interrupting me, you dumb.”

Heavy breathing.

“You dumb?”

“Shut up, I’m like half drunk.”

Zack laughs. Seems dull. Not his normal one. 

More silence. Cloud lays still for a few long minutes. He can hear Aerith muffled outside, talking quickly. 

“I don’t know what to do, Kunsel. What did I do?”

Kunsel sighs.

“Come on, you sad dope, it’s a long drive tomorrow. Lets try and get some sleep. You know you won’t be able to when the sun is up.” 

“Sad dope, band name called it,” Zack mumbles. A tone of defeat that Cloud doesn’t really want to hear any time soon. 

There is no more talking. Aerith comes back on the bus with a few sighs and eventually all the wrestling and getting settled fades until it’s just the silence and Cloud’s thundering heart. Takes him forever to fall asleep again. The clock peaking through the crack in his curtain a hard, blurry red smudge of 5 o’clock. 

***

In the morning, some sad four hours later when everyone moving around won’t let him sleep, he has to make a choice. He’s set on the hard one too- seeing Zack with dark circles, hunched down on the booth that his feet stick out into the isle from under the table, cup of coffee cupped up to his tucked in chin. Gazing down into the dark liquid of gold like it’ll answer all his problems. 

Some of which is probably Cloud’s doing. That gloomy ‘what did I do’ echoing in his head. 

Changes his choice in an instant. 

No no, he can just keep pretending. Zack is... ugh.

Cloud huffs to himself. He’s the one all over the place. Zack is fine. 

Tifa and Aerith are talking quietly across the booth, holding their own cups of morning sunshine. And Kunsel is staring hard at him from up at the front of the bus. Probably trying to guess Cloud’s mood. 

His mood is fine. 

Zack jerks to attention as he steps up to the table. Perks up even more with a hopeful raise of his brows. 

“Um. Morning.” 

“Morning.” 

There’s an odd tension from everyone and he doesn’t have to look to confirm. Tifa and Aerith’s gazes are making his back itch. 

“Oh for the-” small pressure pushes Cloud’s back, his own personal cup of coffee pressed into his hands, “yes we know you’re sorry. It’s fine. Can we all just make up and agree yesterday was just an off day?” Aerith’s smile is all sweet, but her bright green eyes are daring him to even try to argue. 

It’ll always be amazing to him how he found a group of people willing to put up with his bitchy-ness over and over. 

“Yeah.”

“Mmmhm.”

“Sounds great.”

All eyes turn to look at him. Gentle, patient. Things he isn’t used to. That he still has a hard time accepting. Looking at Zack makes it easier. His approval more successful on dimming Cloud’s self-image issues. 

“Y-yeah.” 

“Ya~y,” Aerith sing-songs. Pats his arm and twirls once back to her seat with Tifa, “next tour guys. I’m making some ground rules.”

That’s actually a good idea. Cloud snorts, kicks Zack’s foot to get him to make room and sits on the end of the booth cushions.

“Yeah, number 1- no quickies on the bus.” 

Zack sputters his coffee. Turns a deep flushed color so rare on his tan skin. Cloud’s embarrassed him.

“Y-you were on the bus?”

Cloud rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t with you guys, was I?”

“Oh god.” Burrowing his face into his arms probably doesn’t help the embarrassment. Nor is it deterring the affection Cloud has for Zack. It is just cute. Endearing. At least… teasing him actually kind of helps. Takes away the sting of it not being him. A small way of getting back at Zack without any hurt feelings or cold aloofness. 

Aerith’s giggle keeps breaking down the tension, “that poor girl Zack, she was so embarrassed. You’re lucky she was so chill about it.”

“Yeah.” Zack’s reply is small and into his arms.

“I felt so bad I gave her free tickets for our next shows.” 

“She’s still a fan?” Cloud half laughs. Feels Zack sit up finally and catches the tail end of him sharing a look with Kunsel.

“Can we please just talk about something else?” Zack whines at them. 

Tifa’s laugh joins Aerith, a lower warm contrast, “alright. How about we talk about how your touring is going so far.”

A chorus of groans says that’s not any better, but they can’t improve or satisfy ShinRa without knowing how they are being received by their fans.

“Minus the last show?” Aerith mutters, “I’m gonna say-we doin’ pretty well.”

Tifa smiles kindly and pats her shoulder, “it wasn’t that bad. Don’t worry. There’s always a show that lags a bit. You guys are at the end of the tour. Just remember-your next one will be longer.”

“Next one already?” Kunsel asks. He’s normally good at keeping intense emotions out of his inflection, but the hopefulness there doesn’t fall short to Cloud. 

“Yeah,” Tifa’s smile widely at them, “the next one. You guys are blowing it out of the water, actually. Reno is going to come out for your last show-so you’ll have to really turn it up for him. He’s pushing for studio time for your next album already.”

That’s...fast. Cloud knows some bands are consistently making music and others take longer. Everyone is different and usually labels want to have input and oversee the process. This is better than he ever could have promised Zack back at the start. 

“Isn’t that unusual? Labels usually want to see how big a deal newer bands become before signing another contract.” 

Tifa shrugs, “sure, but you guys were already doing pretty good independently. Good fan base for years before now. Plus, as far as your genre goes, you’ve got a fresh sound and people like it. ShinRa likes to stay out of trends so they want more from you guys before it catches on.”

Zack rolls his eyes, the last of his embarrassed blush fading, “ShinRa thinks we’re starting a trend?”

“Yes actually. Whenever a distinct sound comes along- especially in rock- a few years down the line it’s everywhere. Are you guys the first, no definitely not. But you’re growing especially fast and your fanbase is the most diverse of any other rock band ShinRa has signed in years.”

Cloud gets what she means. There are always trends in music and while everything has already been done, there are waves of mixed sounds and styles. Giving credit to certain bands and not others always falls on who becomes the most popular first. Normally Cloud would be cringing away and screaming to change things up, but he’s not done with their current style of music. 

So really. A second album this quickly would be great. Get it out of their system so they can grow and ride the challenge of changing their sound but still being them to the top. One of the few reasons Cloud never wrote ShinRa Labels off completely. They may be a music giant and do questionable moves with some of their artists, but they don’t like stagnant groups. Rufus Shinra likes to stay number one in the industry and you don’t do that with old styles and sounds. You do that by producing new and exciting. 

“Plus, probably helps we gotta female lead that screams so fuckin’ beautifully.” Kunsel nudges Aerith with his hip for emphasis. 

“Whatever,” she blushes, “I’m still giving our resident blonde most of the credit. You’re still the best guitar player I’ve ever heard.”

She’s too kind, really. Never seems to stop him from blushing, either. 

“Pl-hu-ease, we all know you guys would be nowhere without me.” Zack grins at them. Only half kidding. Probably. 

Doesn’t really matter if Zack’s ego goes unchecked at times. It breaks the rest of the weird tension and by the time they get to the next city yesterday feels like a weird fever dream. 

***

The other problem Cloud has with being on tour is the lack of space he can spread out and create. The table near the booth can fold down into itself, but that doesn’t help the cramped feeling he always has sitting on the charter bus. Unfortunately, there isn’t much else to do besides dink around on his phone. If he has to suffer through yet another pun-one upping each other-session between Kunsel and Zack, he’ll kill one of them. Taking up his songwriting squished in is the one other thing that keeps him from focusing too much on Zack. 

Tifa’s congratulatory news is fueling his need to write, so he’ll suffer the less than ideal spot. He’s got old songs in his back pocket he could bring out, but a new album means all of them creating together. It’s better-he’s learned-if he gets a half finished melody down and most of the lyrics make sense. That way, everyone gets input. And Zack always wants input. 

And a drum solo. Always. 

It’s late evening, been on the road for awhile now. Down southeast, where the humidity has reached levels not even Zack is comfortable with. And their last show is going to be outside. There will be more skin flashing this time. 

The after high of doing well yesterday is still with him, kept him awake for half the night again. Not the best, sleeping small hours two nights in a row, but the notion that their producer is going to be watching their last show isn’t nerve wracking. It’s what Reno has asked that’s driving him to focus on his one true coping technique. They just happen to be the same thing, so a weird sense of stress is on his shoulders. 

Reno wants them to give a ‘sneak peek’ of a new song. Like they haven’t done that already. They are known for it. But Reno wants it to be more formal and near finished. Cloud has too many half written ideas he doesn’t think would fit into another album. No, this one has to be on the new record. 

It’s not going to be what Reno thinks then. Cloud hates short notice and he hates being put into a box. He just might have to use one of his old- never seen the light of day songs. 

“You’ve been at that for a while,” Aerith’s poking her head out from her bunk. Hair loose and falling down over the narrow bed. She’s blinking sleep from her eyes and moves slowly as she dangles her slim legs down to slip down onto the floor of the bus, “take a breather? Need some sleep probably.”

He does, but he just can’t. His brain is full on awake and thinking too loud in notes and tones. 

“You heard Tifa. Gotta come up with something.”

“Mmm,” she hums quietly, sitting down next to him and squishing him even more in his tiny space, “we have a brief lull though. Still a day of driving and then our last show isn’t until Friday.”

That’s only two days. He doesn’t answer her. Lightly plucks at the strings on his guitar in a lazy tempo and then scribbles down a few more notes in his beat up notebook. Aerith leans in and looks down with interest. He almost tugs the notebook away but- that’s stupid. It’s a song they will all know, eventually. She still laughs at his abrupt jerk, knowing what his thought was. 

“You know, Cloud, if you let me see, I could help you come up with something. Surprising I know.” 

He feels bad instantly. He’s gotten better over the years, but his stupid superiority attitude leaks out now and then with song writing. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to imply.”

She pats his hand and tugs the notebook into her lap. Hunching over and the curtain of her long, shiny hair blocks what pages she’s looking at. The ich to grab the notebook back is strong, but he just grips his guitar to keep control of himself.

Aerith has always been more serious, like him, about creating. He thinks that’s really what drew him to her back in that shitty dive bar. His seriousness. Even now, as much as he adores Zack and Kunsel, they still goof off too often during their creative sessions. Don’t pipe in with as much suggestions as much as they probably should. 

She spends a long, long ten-ish minutes flipping through some of his most private feelings. Humming some of the rough melodies, muttering some of the lyrics to see if they flow. He takes note of three ones she does that with a few times before moving on. 

She’s real quiet for too long. 

“Aerith?”

“Oh... this one,” she glances up at him gently, “we should do this one.” 

The slap of the notebook may as well have slapped him across the face. Curled to the very back, where Cloud hid a song he wrote months ago. It’s one of his ballads. Meant for acoustic only. Just lyrics and guitar. No drums, no extra fun screamo, no bass. 

This is what he gets for writing such personal things. Risk of embarrassment. His face feels hot as he shifts his guitar to hide more of his body. Stupid, feeling like it protects him. From Aerith of all people.

She laughs quietly, not wanting to wake Kunsel and Zack, “what’s that move? Cloud, are you- are you shy?” 

“Not that one,” he mutters, dipping his eyes down so his hair can curl in and hide him some more.

“Wha-why? It’s beautiful. Oh my god Cloud, on the chorus-we could have such a gorgeous harmony and it’s so moving and we haven’t done an acoustic song. This part here, the bit about summer nights and starry skies in the middle of the day, it’ll be so chilling if we do a split harmony and-oh-o~~h- it’s Zack.”

There, she finally connected it. 

His breath hitches and more of his head turn is answer enough. 

“Let’s still do it,” Aerith says with resolve. 

“What-no.” No never. Took Aerith less than five minutes to guess it was about Zack. 

“Oh, come on. Cloud, he’ll never pick up on it. He’s so stupid.”

He’d laugh if she didn’t sound like she completely thought her statement was true. Glancing at her is a mistake. He can feel himself caving already. She’s got her shoulders up to her eyes and eyes the biggest he’s seen. Grinning with such excitement, it’s nearly vibrating off her. That’s completely not fair. She can’t just put that much enthusiasm into one of his songs. It’s his weakness, when people want to help him bring his writing to life. 

“Cloud, you wanna impress our producer? Get that second album? This is different enough that it’ll be no problem.” 

So now he’s selling it just for the album? 

“Don’t give me that look, that’s not what I mean and you know it. This is it, Cloud. This one is a hit.”

She’s switching from complementing his creativity and hard-hitting. Just like Tifa does. Which means she’s not wrong. 

He knows it. He’s played it alone so many times now it’s already a song in his arsenal. Not quite a love song because Cloud can’t write sappy. Not really. It didn’t start off about Zack. He just snuck in there without Cloud realizing. Maybe Aerith is right. Zack won’t notice. Could just be that Aerith picked up on it because she’s also a writer and Cloud’s not really great at hiding his bashfulness anytime she brings up his little... he hates calling it a crush. But that’s what it is. 

“Fine.” 

She claps her hands quickly in little bursts, knees drawing together to contain her joy. 

At least he can stop stressing about what impresses Reno. It’s different enough to put reassurance into the label’s mind. 

***

It’s so humid the night of their last show Cloud can feel it in his lungs. Thick and heavy and no amount of hanging around the air-conditioned changing rooms in the back of the stage helps. Everyone is stressed. They are running late. Jessie keeps cursing under her breath about tech problems and Tifa’s been off keeping Reno complaining the second they stepped off the bus. 

First show jitters are back for Cloud, almost worse than before. Difference is he doesn’t have time to wallow in them. Biggs is dragging him all over the place and when he’s done checking over his set up, Aerith is dragging him back stage one last time. 

“Here, sit and stay still.”

“Why-no-do not come near me with that.”

Aerith turns from him for a second, a black kohl liner in her hand when she turns back around.

“Come on, Cloud. Why do I have to sell everything to you? It’ll be sexy.”

“I think it’ll get in my eyes.”

She rolls her own dark made-up eyes, “please. You think I don’t know how to apply makeup?”

It’s just, he sweats a lot. Like a lot. 

“Jessie’s putting some on Zack.”

“Jessie is still out on stage fucking with Zack’s drum set.”

“O~kay, she already put some on Zack. Now gimme your face.” 

She’s not giving him a choice, so it doesn’t matter if he protests or not. It’s either he gets his eye poked out or he sits still and lets Aerith smudge the liner all over his eyes. 

“It’s just gonna melt off the second I step outside,” he says. Aerith shushes him with a squeeze of his cheeks and goes for his other eye. 

“Good, you’ll look the part even more. Now, come on. Just gotta smoke it out and we can go. We got like,” she glances behind him, “ten minutes.”

He’d like to say it’s thick and annoying and that he notices it too much. But he doesn’t and rushing out on stage in the humidity makes him forget about the slightly sticky feeling in his lashes. 

Being met with the expanse of Zack’s bare back makes him forget even more. It gets hot on stage and Zack rarely likes to wear more than loose tank tops anyway, but seeing the broad shoulders and all of his tattoos slicked in a sweat sheen is not really how Cloud is used to starting off shows. Maybe ending them that way. 

The night falling around the crowd and the stadium disguise Cloud’s stumble just barely. It’s not just all the sun-kissed skin and the glittering piercings. Jessie really did put makeup on Zack. and it’s killer. 

Too much of a killer. Even from all the way on the right stage, Cloud can see the brightness of his blue eyes against dark shadow and liner and the glow on his cut cheekbones. Just enough to make him look put together and entirely grunged out at the same time. 

Zack smacks his drumsticks together and catches Cloud’s eye. Shrugs and points to each of his eyes with a drumstick with a smirk. Cloud gets the feeling it’s, “you too huh?” In that gesture.

It’s chaos on stage, Biggs running to him and off and then back again. Jessie keeps fiddling with the lights behind Zack’s raised platform and Wedge is waving his hands so aggressively Cloud keeps getting his attention pulled. They were supposed to start ten minutes ago and the crowd in front of them keeps cheering in waves. Probably trying to encourage them, but it just feels like they are still rushing. 

“Biggs, it’s fine, go, get outta here,” Cloud hisses when he gets side blocked yet again. 

“Sorry, it’s just- everything’s going slightly wrong tonight.”

“No shit, go.” 

A slap on the back and Biggs hurries off stage just as the lights flicker and change to their starting display. A roar follows; the crowd knows they are about to start. Aerith sweet-talks them for a little bit, so Kunsel and Cloud can adjust their shoulder straps and fix their mics. Gets a few big laughs that ease Cloud’s jitters. She must be nervous to check if they are ready or not. Her chattering just keeps going. 

Zack’s got it covered. Gives a clipped, raspy shout and smacks his drumsticks together above his head in a fast count down to their opener. 

And then. 

It’s what Cloud loves the most.

He forgets about the stupid eyeliner in his waterline and the humidity in his lungs. Falls right into the slightly off tempo Zack has set and rocks into his guitar with comfort. The adrenaline from running late gives them a boost, instead of hindering them. Which is good, it’s their last show so their set is longer. Judging by how pumped the crowd is, a few extra unplanned encore songs will happen. Despite their road crew having a melt down nearly every twenty minutes, nothing goes wrong on their end. All their setups are good, their mics plugged in and the lights are fine. Must just be stuff off stage that is making Jessie’s ponytail swish around so hard. 

Of course, right as Cloud thinks that at the ending notes of their halfway song, the humidity in the air drops. 

He hears Wedge’s ‘oh no’ from his left and a shiver runs goosebumps over his skin. He didn’t even notice, blinded by the lights up front, dark storm clouds had moved in. The humidity clears more and rain drops all at once. 

The stage is half covered, but the audience has zero overhang. They still get soaked. 

The silent lull between the end of the song and the next is filled with Barret barking orders and people running out onto stage to cover the wires that probably should stay as dry as possible. 

Aerith laughs with the crowd and checks in with them to keep energy up. The rain just pours harder. None of it is stopping them, especially since Zack seems to be pushing the charge this time. He whoops extra loud, more of an exhilarated laugh then a random shout. Rolls his snare and shouts something at Cloud that gets lost in the noise. 

For a split second, Cloud allows his attention on Zack to narrow and slow down and linger. Drenched already. His long dark mohawk slicked down his neck, his back. All that makeup Jessie put on him running and his tattoos look deeper- fresh. He’s smiling ear to ear, delighted in the downpour. 

‘You okay?’ Zack mouths to him. Hits the first few measures of the song Cloud just realized they started. Kunsel’s settled right up next to Aerith in case she slips in those heels. But he’s right on beat with Zack, baseline gritty and cutting wonderfully through the harsh pitter-patter of the rain.

Three seconds to nod at Zack and then he’s belting out the first verse of the lyrics. 

It’s a challenge. Singing in the rain and keeping his guitar from slipping out of his wet hands, but it’s fun. Really fun. Can’t keep the smile off his face or the stupid sly looks he and Zack keep sharing. Even lets Aerith lean all over him during her screamo breaks in the lyrics. 

It rains the rest of the show. Coming down to a drizzle just as they finish the closer. 

He’s soaked and cold and huffing.

And now the hardest part of this entire tour is upon him. 

“Wow,” Aerith laughs into the mic, “that was fun, right guys?” 

The audience cheers extra loud. Cloud can pick out individuals with a rather painful sounding scream.  

“Good, I’m glad you agree. We have one last thing for you, if you can stand staying wet for a few more minutes.”

More cheering. Even from Zack behind him. That gets a laugh rolling across the crowd.

“Think ending on a more mellow song sounds pretty sweet, if that’s chill with you guys.” she’s not asking them, but the joyous shout for more is encouraging, anyway.  

“Cloud,” her lips are grazing the mic, half turned up in a smile as she glances at him, “I think you have their attention.” 

Biggs is rushing out with his acoustic-the one he never has used at any show or gig. Okay, that’s fine. Making this even more personal. It’s a quick hand off and Jessie slips in their space with a stool.

Fancy. He gets to sit. 

She brought it to him just to give him that look. And a wink. That wasn’t necessary, but okay. Distracts him from his nerves for a second. Adjusting his wet skinny jeans is not the most comfortable on the stool and he does so for too long. 

“Guys, I think Cloud is stalling. You feeling sh~yy, Scowls?” 

The nickname she gives him during shows really sticks with him. He’s always reinforcing it, just like now. 

“Aerith,” he jokingly breathes into the mic, “I’m sitting in rain water. It’s gonna be one second.” 

She giggles, glances back at Zack and waves two fingers in anticipation. As annoying as her pokes to get him to interact, he’s grateful Aerith knows how to work a crowd. 

A silly pluck of strings on his acoustic gets the chattering to stop and the air fills with a static mix of nervousness and exhaustion. This is harder than he thought. Aerith’s got her mic in her hand, ready to harmonize on the late rounds of the chorus. But Kunsel and Zack are as much as an audience as the crowd is. 

He is feeling shy. 

Deep breath then. Clearing his throat and his fingers just know what to do. On most ballads, it’s deep in his chest and closing his eyes helps him stay in a slower tempo. So he does, takes one long glance at the masses of people-even though the lights are still blinding him-and then it’s just him and his guitar. 

It’s pretty simple as far as melodies go. The first four notes of the chorus for a while as he warms up into the song. Feels out the rock in his stomach and lets it out with his raspy voice. Only takes the first few lines to feel secure about it. 

He’s singing about Zack, after all. Hidden pretty well, wrapped up in words about the summer sunsets and the navy sky. Of vague wishes for nights out under the trees and the galaxy looking down at them. 

It’s the melody that gives him away, at least that’s what Cloud tells himself. Warm, low sounds, in staccato bursts that fade down into full chord runs. After the last bracket of chorus with Aerith’s breathy pitch giving him chills, the long stretch of solo that’s all for Zack. Grit, sped up just a step more and hitting the constant buzz of Cloud’s rock-blues needs. It would sound better on his electric, but for a first show and the end of a tour. It’s fine like this. Simple and chill. Kinda how Zack is. 

He hits the last long held lyric with more rasp and draws it out longer than he wrote it. Pushes it through the last counter melody echoing and ends it crisp. He can see the stage through the fluttering of his lashes and the silence in his ears makes him open his eyes. The smashed silhouettes of the crowd only get his gaze for a second before a noise to his right redirects him. 

Zack breathing heavily, face open and accusing Cloud of too many things. Shit. 

Aerith’s a liar. 

Of course Zack isn’t that stupid. Cloud knows that. 

He forgets where he is. Voice trapped in his throat and grip loose on his guitar. 

“You,” Zack says lowly, “son of a bitch.” 

The front lights click off and the crowd breaks out into ear-splitting, revitalized screaming. 

But Cloud misses all of that. 

He’s rocked back on his stool, gasp swallowed up by Zack’s lips pressing hard onto his. His rain cold, inked hands cupping Cloud’s face so he can’t pull away. And Cloud doesn’t want to. He sighs with his whole body. Knees slipping a few inches so Zack can step into his space and draw him forward instead of rocking back on the stool. 

Zack tastes so much better without the alcohol. 

This time. He tastes of rain and late nights and that shitty gatorade he has by his drum set during shows. 

Zack takes Cloud’s breath with him when he pulls away. It breaks the wall around him and the rain is back, drizzling around them and making Zack’s hard grip on his head slippy. There’s cat-calling and wolf whistles mixed in with the crow’s enthusiasm and somewhere on stage Aerith is clapping her hands. Probably jumping up and down in her heels. 

Zack knocks their foreheads together, grip sliding down to cling to the back of his neck, “you wrote a song about me.”

“Maybe,” Cloud mumbles. He’s not too worried the mic is still on, but he gets to his feet to move away, “I don’t think it’s gonna be a hit.”

Zack laughs, his face scrunching up with a slight eye roll and he does a short, jerk nuzzle against him. Cloud wants to kiss him again, but they are on stage still and he’s suddenly swamped by more than just Zack’s body. Aerith and Kunsel are wiggling their way between them and hanging on to his shoulders, shouting and waving at the crowd. Zack’s shoved against him after a bout of hopping around and smiling so wide his face is starting to hurt. 

Eventually, Barret is waving them off the stage. The longer they stay out the more people will expect them to keep playing.

And after that, Cloud doesn’t think he can even hold his guitar.

They are shooed onto the bus, towels getting dropped on their shoulders and lots of body jostling. Tifa’s right at their heels, grinning ear to ear and staring them down as they collapse in their typical spots on the bus. Zack’s pressed against him even more than usually. If it wasn’t for the dumb, post-kiss buzzing in his head, he’d want space since the dampness in his clothes and on his skin is really turning sticky. 

“Am I in trouble?” Zack asks Tifa before she can even say anything. 

“We’ll see what the media says tomorrow. I’m gonna say no, you guys are just barely hitting your stride. Besides, that last light show blinded us out in the stands.”

“What about ShinRa?”

Tifa snorts, “ShinRa doesn’t care if there’s couples in a band, so long as it doesn’t get in the way of making money.”

Cloud hums, unsurprised. Sometimes it makes the band more popular, the public really does like drama. But Cloud can only name a few bands off the top of his head that got publicity for a romance- and it’s usually not with a drummer as one of them. 

“Seems like most of the fans have left. Should we go back out and help the sound crew pack up?” Aerith asks, changing the subject. Cloud’s grateful for it. All he wants to do is go back to kissing Zack. he probably won’t manage that for a while. The exhaustion is setting in now that the adrenaline is leaving his veins. 

“No. Stay here, get cleaned up and rest. You guys deserve to relax,” Tifa breaks out her rare proud, beaming smile, “Good first tour, Limit Break.” 

Yeah. It sure fucking was.