How could I have been so blind? wondered Vincent. So...naive? After all these years, I should have known better! How dare I love again? What right do I have to love? Vincent glanced down at his golden claw and had to laugh a little. Of course, it's the same as before. I reveal my heart, and I am rejected. Tortured. But it is no easier the second time around. He closed his eyes.

The one he loved did not love him.

Cid Highwind had made himself very clear in no uncertain terms. Vincent had revealed his innermost emotions, his very soul, to Cid Highwind, his only friend among the people of Avalanche. And in return, on his face, the face Vincent adored, the shock, the disgust, had been plain for all to see. Vincent would never forget the sneer on his lips. And in his voice, that rough voice that Vincent cherished above all others, Cid had called him a fucking queer. The mocking laughter, Cid's mocking laughter, would forever echo in his mind. Cid had turned him away, and Vincent's face had burned with humiliation.

In that moment, Vincent's hope, rarer than a winter rose, and his aching heart had shattered into a million shards of nothingness.

Cid Highwind did not love him. And never would.

What did I expect? thought Vincent angrily, Cid to throw himself into my arms and declare his love for me? He was damned, cursed. The death of Hojo, the death of Sephiroth, what was it all for? He had been a fool then as well. Atone? Ha. Their deaths had not cleansed him. He was no cleaner than before.

He had failed. Utterly.

Vincent bowed his head as the searing pain in his soul trickled from his burning eyes as tears.

Vincent started from a dagger-like pain in his thigh. He looked down. In his anguish, he had sunk his sharp metallic fingers deep into his own flesh. Vincent released his leg and stared at his metal claw, now coated in his own blood. He came to a realization. Perhaps I can still atone for my sins. He ignored the rapidly spreading redness from the wounds on his thigh.

The ex-Turk's gaze fastened upon his coffin. He lowered himself into the wooden box, wincing from the pain in his leg. I should never have left it.

With the telekinetic power of his mind, a power he used so rarely, he placed the coffin lid over himself. With a slight hiss, his coffin was sealed.

The darkness comforted him somewhat, soothed his mind. The darkness was familiar, and Vincent would gladly fall into that lightless abyss. He carefully pointed Death Penalty to his temple. The metal was cool against his pale skin.

Through his anguish, Vincent smiled. Here's to love, he thought bitterly, toasting his downfall.

And he pulled the trigger.



The End.