Post by jonnycorrigan on Jan 5, 2009 17:11:11 GMT -5
The box covered in newspaper slid out of my fingers and plopped against the wooden desk. A smile was snaked onto my face and imprinted there the way spraypaint is on a wall. Cloudstrife was looking into his new computer screen with this blank stare that signified some kind of oblivion that I haven’t felt in awhile, but when my wrapped box hit the desk he shivered a little and his eyes snapped to me.
“What’s up, man?” I said. And in the time it took Cloudstrife to respond through his smile, I noticed that the desk was identical to the one in which Caius had. In fact, it was the same exact one, and I could tell because of the broken wood and the blood stain that marked the front end of the desk. And that was funny to me, but I didn’t laugh.
“Not much… man,” Cloudstrife said as he shuffled his hands on the desk, looking a tad lost. And then I slid the box toward Cloud.
“I got you this,” I said as I fell back into the grasp of the chair.
And when he saw it he squared his shoulders and looked at it cautiously with his arms hovering below his shoulders. He looked a little bit petrified, as if he didn’t know whether to open it or throw it out the window.
“It’s not a bomb, Cloud,” I said with a cackle inhibiting my words.
And then his eyes double-took between me and the box like a stoner trying to think. He smiled, and he grabbed it and pulled it into his lap. Cloud leaned back in his little office chair and ripped the Sunday paper off the rectangular box. And once that was off it floated down to the carpet and nestled against the floor, and what remained was the cardboard box with the tape sitting on the edges of the opening. Cloud tore that off too and then took out the contents of the box, and when he did it unraveled from its curl and revealed the potential of its being.
“Merry fucking Christmas, ‘Strife,” I said. I could feel the glow of amusement steaming off my face.
He looked at it for a moment as it hung from his grasp and draped down below his face like a poisonous snake radiating anger. His eyes squinted a very curious glare at the object. There was a slight pause and then Cloudstrife said, “Very nice, Corrigan,” and then he put it down on the desk and turned his eyes back toward his computer screen. And for a million reasons this bothered me. That he could just take a glance at that same weapon, that same switch that I dragged across the skin of that cavernous-brained ogre Boxer and not feel an ounce of excitement or emotion erupt inside of him. But I couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why.
“Woah woah woah,” I interrupted the silence that couldn’t stop talking, “Cloud…”
And then he turned his eyes away from the computer and looked at me. I leaned forward in my chair and rested my hands against the edges of the armrests. It was almost like I wasn’t talking to Cloudstrife anymore. As if someone had taken the skin that wrapped his body and layed it over the exterior of a droid or a robot. “Am I to assume that you don’t like my gift?” I asked, dropping my arms into my lap, “That you don’t appreciate my gift?”
He looked back down at the switch which was stained with blood and he opened his mouth. His eyes widened and a drizzle of sound came from his voicebox but no actual words, so I interjected myself.
“You do realize that this is the same switch…” I stood out of my chair. It was the first time I had ever been furious at the man. “The very same god damn switch I destroyed that fucking Regulator Boxer with. The same switch that abused me as a child, over and over again, Cloud.” I pointed behind me as if those people and those events were right there in the background. And then I stepped closer to his desk and I knocked a pile of papers on the floor. They dispersed and created a clutter of white squares on the velvet carpet.
“Now this switch may not mean very much to you, ‘Strife, but to me it means everything. It means the culmination of my entire life’s fucking effort to get to where I am right now.” I pointed at the floor, because that was where I was, “And if you can’t see the sincerity and value in that-”
“Corrigan.” Cloud cut me off, throwing his open hand into the air and stopping me mid-sentence. He folded his hands atop the desk the way an accountant might, and he leaned forward, hanging his weight in the middle of the wooden slab. He spoke.
“I appreciate the gift…” he said, “Really I do. I’m honored.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest, his chin tucking away in the thread of his shirt. “You know I’ve always been your friend, Corrigan. That never changes.”
And then I nodded and sat back in the chair behind me. I calmed down a little. Maybe I overreacted, I thought. Maybe I was just being an angsty fucking teenager. “Alright,” I said, “But that’s not the only reason I came, Cloud.”
“Okay,” Cloud said, leaning forward in his chair once more, “What’s on your mind, Corrigan?”
“Would you stop calling me Corrigan?” That irritated me. I didn’t feel like a person when I was called by that name.
“Sorry,” Cloud shuttered as he nodded, “What’s on your mind, Jonny?”
My eyes wandered a moment. I saw the fancy silver clock draping from the wall and I noticed the photos spread across the room. The matches with Blake Worship. The poses with the REW Title. The special moments with Angel. And as I looked at them I felt emptiness where there should have been fulfillment.
And then my eyes darted back to Cloud. The pause lasted longer than I thought because the second-hand on the clock had rotated one full circle since I last glanced at it. I reached down and pulled the words from my throat. “I want to know your next move regarding the Regulators.”
And then a pause came over the room but it wasn’t all that distinct because in this conversation then and there I was used to it. We had said more words in silence than we had said verbally. And at that moment Cloud left a blank stare on his face and held it against me like a stack of bricks. His jaw was dropped a little and I felt that old feeling of stupidity hit me like a tidal wave on a dry beach. I knew that look; that look that discarded respect and embraced torment. I could feel my leg begin to shake uncontrollably because I was getting nervous and I started clenching my fingers together and grinding my teeth to the point where it hurt, and at this point everything was too familiar to bare because it was like I stepped out of this moment and into five months ago when I hated myself and everything around me and happiness was a fairy tale myth. But it wasn’t that that hurt the most. It was what he said next.
“Corrigan,” he said, “I’m the commissioner now. I can’t take sides in this war anymore. You’re going to have to handle it yourself, kid.”
Cloud sat back in his chair. He didn’t lean all the way back like he did before but he was confident in his words. So I knew that this wasn’t a joke or that there was a chance he might have changed his mind. I hung my head down and my eyes glued to the floor, not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t have the motivation to hold my head up on top of my scrawny body. The floor disgusted me because I didn’t want to see anything anymore. Everything that I looked at or thought of reminded me of that dreadfully brutal moment in which I was helpless and abandoned. It was if I had been dragged around by Cloudstrife and then left for dead in the middle of a baron desert with no one for miles except packs of wolves and carnivorous birds to feast on my carcass.
“So this is the end then, is it Cloud?” I said. My voice wasn’t like it usually was. It was weak and dry… almost evil. I could almost feel the demon on my right shoulder cackling maniacally.
“I’m sorry, Jon…” He said. And then that pause was there again. The ring in my ears got louder.
I stood out of my chair and looked lazily across the table. I was weak at that precise moment. I was inches away from unconsciousness because I didn’t have the motivation or the determination to stay awake or even alive. But when I saw Cloud I suddenly amassed a cluster of energy within me. I felt anger. The same anger that I felt before I pounded Caius Turner’s head into oblivion.
“Keep the gift,” I muttered. I couldn’t be here anymore. I just couldn’t fucking stand it.
And then I turned and left. I could feel the silence rush me out of the room. I grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door closed behind me. It squealed and then it shut, and after it did I looked at the text labeling the heart of the door.
And I knew it was all because of me.
“What’s up, man?” I said. And in the time it took Cloudstrife to respond through his smile, I noticed that the desk was identical to the one in which Caius had. In fact, it was the same exact one, and I could tell because of the broken wood and the blood stain that marked the front end of the desk. And that was funny to me, but I didn’t laugh.
“Not much… man,” Cloudstrife said as he shuffled his hands on the desk, looking a tad lost. And then I slid the box toward Cloud.
“I got you this,” I said as I fell back into the grasp of the chair.
And when he saw it he squared his shoulders and looked at it cautiously with his arms hovering below his shoulders. He looked a little bit petrified, as if he didn’t know whether to open it or throw it out the window.
“It’s not a bomb, Cloud,” I said with a cackle inhibiting my words.
And then his eyes double-took between me and the box like a stoner trying to think. He smiled, and he grabbed it and pulled it into his lap. Cloud leaned back in his little office chair and ripped the Sunday paper off the rectangular box. And once that was off it floated down to the carpet and nestled against the floor, and what remained was the cardboard box with the tape sitting on the edges of the opening. Cloud tore that off too and then took out the contents of the box, and when he did it unraveled from its curl and revealed the potential of its being.
“Merry fucking Christmas, ‘Strife,” I said. I could feel the glow of amusement steaming off my face.
He looked at it for a moment as it hung from his grasp and draped down below his face like a poisonous snake radiating anger. His eyes squinted a very curious glare at the object. There was a slight pause and then Cloudstrife said, “Very nice, Corrigan,” and then he put it down on the desk and turned his eyes back toward his computer screen. And for a million reasons this bothered me. That he could just take a glance at that same weapon, that same switch that I dragged across the skin of that cavernous-brained ogre Boxer and not feel an ounce of excitement or emotion erupt inside of him. But I couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why.
“Woah woah woah,” I interrupted the silence that couldn’t stop talking, “Cloud…”
And then he turned his eyes away from the computer and looked at me. I leaned forward in my chair and rested my hands against the edges of the armrests. It was almost like I wasn’t talking to Cloudstrife anymore. As if someone had taken the skin that wrapped his body and layed it over the exterior of a droid or a robot. “Am I to assume that you don’t like my gift?” I asked, dropping my arms into my lap, “That you don’t appreciate my gift?”
He looked back down at the switch which was stained with blood and he opened his mouth. His eyes widened and a drizzle of sound came from his voicebox but no actual words, so I interjected myself.
“You do realize that this is the same switch…” I stood out of my chair. It was the first time I had ever been furious at the man. “The very same god damn switch I destroyed that fucking Regulator Boxer with. The same switch that abused me as a child, over and over again, Cloud.” I pointed behind me as if those people and those events were right there in the background. And then I stepped closer to his desk and I knocked a pile of papers on the floor. They dispersed and created a clutter of white squares on the velvet carpet.
“Now this switch may not mean very much to you, ‘Strife, but to me it means everything. It means the culmination of my entire life’s fucking effort to get to where I am right now.” I pointed at the floor, because that was where I was, “And if you can’t see the sincerity and value in that-”
“Corrigan.” Cloud cut me off, throwing his open hand into the air and stopping me mid-sentence. He folded his hands atop the desk the way an accountant might, and he leaned forward, hanging his weight in the middle of the wooden slab. He spoke.
“I appreciate the gift…” he said, “Really I do. I’m honored.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest, his chin tucking away in the thread of his shirt. “You know I’ve always been your friend, Corrigan. That never changes.”
And then I nodded and sat back in the chair behind me. I calmed down a little. Maybe I overreacted, I thought. Maybe I was just being an angsty fucking teenager. “Alright,” I said, “But that’s not the only reason I came, Cloud.”
“Okay,” Cloud said, leaning forward in his chair once more, “What’s on your mind, Corrigan?”
“Would you stop calling me Corrigan?” That irritated me. I didn’t feel like a person when I was called by that name.
“Sorry,” Cloud shuttered as he nodded, “What’s on your mind, Jonny?”
My eyes wandered a moment. I saw the fancy silver clock draping from the wall and I noticed the photos spread across the room. The matches with Blake Worship. The poses with the REW Title. The special moments with Angel. And as I looked at them I felt emptiness where there should have been fulfillment.
And then my eyes darted back to Cloud. The pause lasted longer than I thought because the second-hand on the clock had rotated one full circle since I last glanced at it. I reached down and pulled the words from my throat. “I want to know your next move regarding the Regulators.”
And then a pause came over the room but it wasn’t all that distinct because in this conversation then and there I was used to it. We had said more words in silence than we had said verbally. And at that moment Cloud left a blank stare on his face and held it against me like a stack of bricks. His jaw was dropped a little and I felt that old feeling of stupidity hit me like a tidal wave on a dry beach. I knew that look; that look that discarded respect and embraced torment. I could feel my leg begin to shake uncontrollably because I was getting nervous and I started clenching my fingers together and grinding my teeth to the point where it hurt, and at this point everything was too familiar to bare because it was like I stepped out of this moment and into five months ago when I hated myself and everything around me and happiness was a fairy tale myth. But it wasn’t that that hurt the most. It was what he said next.
“Corrigan,” he said, “I’m the commissioner now. I can’t take sides in this war anymore. You’re going to have to handle it yourself, kid.”
Cloud sat back in his chair. He didn’t lean all the way back like he did before but he was confident in his words. So I knew that this wasn’t a joke or that there was a chance he might have changed his mind. I hung my head down and my eyes glued to the floor, not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t have the motivation to hold my head up on top of my scrawny body. The floor disgusted me because I didn’t want to see anything anymore. Everything that I looked at or thought of reminded me of that dreadfully brutal moment in which I was helpless and abandoned. It was if I had been dragged around by Cloudstrife and then left for dead in the middle of a baron desert with no one for miles except packs of wolves and carnivorous birds to feast on my carcass.
“So this is the end then, is it Cloud?” I said. My voice wasn’t like it usually was. It was weak and dry… almost evil. I could almost feel the demon on my right shoulder cackling maniacally.
“I’m sorry, Jon…” He said. And then that pause was there again. The ring in my ears got louder.
I stood out of my chair and looked lazily across the table. I was weak at that precise moment. I was inches away from unconsciousness because I didn’t have the motivation or the determination to stay awake or even alive. But when I saw Cloud I suddenly amassed a cluster of energy within me. I felt anger. The same anger that I felt before I pounded Caius Turner’s head into oblivion.
“Keep the gift,” I muttered. I couldn’t be here anymore. I just couldn’t fucking stand it.
And then I turned and left. I could feel the silence rush me out of the room. I grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door closed behind me. It squealed and then it shut, and after it did I looked at the text labeling the heart of the door.
Cloudstrife
Commissioner
Commissioner
And I knew it was all because of me.
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