Chapter Text
Jessie is in a very, very bad mood.
Zack can tell already that it’s not going to be a good day. She’ll make sure of that. Not unless something improves whatever’s set her off.
“You will not believe the fucking day I’ve just had.” She peels off one red-soled stiletto, setting herself down on a velvet chaise lounge.
“I believe it.”
“Shut up and just listen, will you?”
He’s going to have to, whether he wants to or not, so Zack sighs, and says, “Listening. Go on.”
“You know that new school counselor, right? Mrs. Strife?”
“The one who’s been campaigning for weeks about how abstinence is good for you?”
“Yeah, her. Guess who was my counselor at the clinic.”
Again? Zack wishes they could talk more openly about this kind of thing but… certain topics are just better avoided, if he can help it.
“No,” he says, head perking up with interest. “Was it really her? What’d she say?”
Jessie wrinkles her nose, lip pulling up with disgust. “Gave me a gross lecture on how I’m potentially ruining my life. I hate her.”
She’s wasting her breath, honestly, and not just on Jessie—their school is full of spoiled teenagers, and they’re not going to stop having sex just because some lady hands out pamphlets and harps on about it.
Reaching up to adjust her ponytail, Jessie continues, “She went on and on, blah blah, about how it must be such a difficult choice for me. She has no idea I’m practically a regular.”
“That’s nothing to be proud of, Jessie,” Zack sighs.
“Fuck you.” Jessie’s not really offended, though; they make jabs at each other all the time, and it’s more of a game seeing who can come up with a better roast. It’s all good as long as they both think it’s a joke.
He’s not joking, though.
“It’s just plan B shit this time, there’s nothing formed in my goddamn uterus, I don’t see what the big deal is.” Jessie pulls her hair through the last loop of her hair tie.
She should really be using protection, and maybe not get so drunk that she barely remembers who she’s been with, but… Zack’s not going to say that out loud. As well-intentioned as he means it, it’s not going to come off as anything but a criticism.
Which, well, it is.
“It’s not fair,” Jessie complains, rubbing an ankle. Why women pay that much money for uncomfortable shoes, he’ll never understand. “I sleep around and get called a slut. You sleep around and get called a himbo.”
He tilts his head at her. “You can call me a slut too, if that makes you feel better.”
“It doesn’t,” she says, scowling.
“I can’t help that people throw themselves at me, Jessie.”
“You’re insufferable.”
Then this mischievous energy lights up her face, and Jessie says, “But, but! I found out her son goes to our school.”
Uh oh. He knows that look.
“Imagine how pissed off she’d be to know I deflowered him,” she says gleefully.
“You didn’t,” Zack says with a dramatic, conspiratorial gasp. Over time he’s picked up some of Jessie’s mannerisms, without intending to.
“Not yet.” She smirks. “But I will.”
Zack considers it, rolls the scheme around in his head. “So… you want to sleep with her son to get back at her?’
“Yeah, why not. You know how much I love being petty. Besides, it turns out he’s actually really fucking cute. Thank god.”
“Really?” That piques Zack’s interest. “Pic?”
She flicks a manicured thumb over her phone, flipping through the photo album in rapid, lazy flicks. Zack averts his eyes until she finds what she’s looking for, ‘cause god knows what else is in there.
He is really fucking cute. Blond, blue-eyed, like an angel. Prettier than half the girls at this school. More than half. No. He’s way prettier than any of them.
A competitive, dangerous sparkle lights up Jessie’s eyes as they study his gaze. “Hey. He’s mine. I saw him first.”
The pictures are from random angles, clearly taken while the subject was unaware. Zack snorts. “You’re such a creep, sneaking photos like this. Stalker.” Even as he says that, his eyes are glued to Jessie’s screen.
“How about we make this interesting,” Jessie says seductively. “Let’s see who can get to him first. Take his precious virginity.”
“How are you so certain he’s a virgin?” Zack raises one eyebrow. “Looking like that, he probably spends half his time fending off both tits and dicks.”
Jessie shrugs. “Just vibes. Momma’s boy. Shy. Barely looks anyone in the face. Walks like a virgin too.”
“How does one ‘walk’ like a virgin?”
“Like, real uptight. Stiff. Grumpy.” She grins. “Walks like someone who’s been riding a horse too long. Boy needs to relax. And I know just how to get him to.” She sinks back into the chaise lounge, stretching like a lazy, pampered cat.
“That isn’t a fair competition,” Zack complains, half-seriously. “What if he’s not even into guys?”
“I dunno. I’m sure you can convert him. Wouldn’t be the first.”
“True,” Zack murmurs, a corner of his mouth lifting, still focused on the photograph.
To be honest, he’d really be doing a favor for this kid, swooping in and saving him from Jessie’s clutches. He looks way too innocent to handle the likes of her.
Zack finally hands the phone back to her, a little reluctantly. “Hmm. So, what do you want if you win?”
“The Hardy-Daytona.”
“You don’t even ride,” he scoffs.
“Well it’s not interesting unless there are real stakes. And you love that bike, don’t you?”
“Fine. Then I want your reservation of the royal balcony seating at the Opera.” Zack thinks what would be properly equivalent to the Hardy-Daytona. “Permanently.”
Now it’s Jessie’s turn to balk, teeth gritting together. “You don’t even like opera shit.”
He gives her a pointed look, then grins politely. “Yeah, but you do.”
Looking up at the ornate ceiling, as if she’s mulling it over, and with a shrug of her languid shoulders, she says, “Fine.” Reaches a hand out. “Deal?”
“Deal,” he says, shaking on it.
“May the best man or woman win,” Jessie declares in her theatrical drawl. Then she slides back into the cushions over the chaise lounge, satisfied.
Well, at least she’s in a much cheerier mood.
Gods. He really doesn’t want to go to this thing.
After all, he has some reputation to uphold.
But he thinks about a certain blond, and how good he’d look underneath Zack, moaning, and holds tightly onto that particular bit of inspiring imagery, before letting out a little sigh and making his way towards the west lounge area.
For some reason, the chairs are plastic and pink, lined up roughly in front of an empty podium. There’s probably fifty seats at most, and only fifteen students occupying any of them.
That makes his intended opener line a little harder to sell. But Zack’s not discouraged.
It’s not hard to spot him; blond, spiky hair peeks out from one of the seats, obscured by some girl sitting two rows behind him.
“Oh, is this seat taken?” He turns on his best friendly tone: a soothing one, the kind he’d use if he were to approach a skittish cat.
Gods, he’s fucking pretty. Blue, blue eyes flicker up at him. “Oh, um, no.”
Impossibly pretty. Even better-looking in person. Fuck, what if he’s already taken? How is he not taken? But Jessie made it sound like this kid definitely doesn’t have the social graces to be dating, or even have made any new friends since getting here.
That might make him more receptive, actually.
Smiling a little wider, he pulls the back of the pink chair, closing in the space a bit between their seats, and slips down next to him. His eyes glance at the pamphlet the kid’s clutching. The cover features a red circle with a slash through it, and the word SEX underneath. It looks so stupid that he wants to laugh, but instead he redirects his attention to that angelic, gorgeous face.
“Do you know what this lecture’s about? I just passed by and was curious,” he says, eyes focusing on the rosy, stammering lips.
“Oh,” he says, shrinking a little smaller into his dark blue hoodie. It looks a size or two too big for him, so he’s nearly drowning in it.
Definitely a senior, then—only seniors are allowed to wear whatever they want, instead of the standard uniform. This kid looks more like a freshman, though.
“It’s about responsible sex education,” he manages to say, embarrassed, as if he has to drag the words past his teeth.
A bit on the petite side, for a guy, at least—doe in headlights, baby-faced, tiny enough for Zack to tower over him slightly. All of that just makes the flame in his gut curl and flip.
“You… uh… into this abstinence thing?” Zack nods towards the pamphlet.
“I’m just here because my mom makes me come along,” he whispers timidly, and Zack just wants to eat him up. He glances towards the podium where Mrs. Strife is setting up a projector.
“Ohhh. I thought you two looked alike. She’s pretty,” he says, eyes sweeping over his features.
“Don’t hit on my mom, please.” He’s visibly cringing.
“I’m not.” Zack smiles. “Strife, then, is it?”
“Cloud.”
“Zack,” he says, holding out a friendly hand. Cloud just stares at it until Zack has to awkwardly retreat it, and Cloud starts to sputter an apology, so Zack goes:
“You’re ok. So… what do you think about all this stuff anyway? Saving yourself for someone?”
“Oh—no. I mean. There’s no one in particular?”
Christ. This kid is way too honest for his own good.
Zack smiles wolfishly. “So you are a virgin then?”
The tips of Cloud’s ears grow pink. “Um, yeah. I take it you’re not?”
Zack has to laugh at that, and says, “No no no, not in the least.” He plucks the pamphlet from Cloud’s nervous hands, skimming the contents. There’s all these charts and graphs and the occasional cartoon illustration. “Your mom’s really into this, huh?”
“Yeah. She likes to go over teenage pregnancy statistics and how they hold people back in life.” Cloud’s brows are knitted and he draws his knees closer together. Glancing at Mrs. Strife again, she looks awfully young to be Mom to a senior in high school.
“Oh.”
Cloud follows his gaze, “Yeah, kinda fucked, isn’t it?” The profanity catches Zack off guard. He wasn’t expecting that at all. “She’s not trying to make me feel bad, I think… more like not wanting others to follow that path.” Laughing a little under his breath, he says, “Never met my Dad. Didn’t even go off to get cigarettes and milk. Just left before I was born. She won’t tell me anything about him.”
“Man, I’m sorry. That sucks,” Zack says, offering him a sympathetic look. “My dad won’t tell me who my mom is either. I’m convinced I was conceived in some brothel in the Philippines or something.”
“You’re joking.”
“Sort of. That’s all I know about her.”
“I can see it.” Cloud looks him over. Then he blanches. “I mean, that you’re half-Filipino. Not that your mom was a whore.” A stricken look falls over his face. “Sorry, I, shit—”
Zack lets out an easy laugh. “Noooo offense taken, don’t be so nervous. Relax.”
Cloud does seem slightly eased by that reassurance, shoulders lowering down from around his ears.
“Well… you know, there’s a sure-fire way to avoid pregnancy,” he grins devilishly, leaning in a little closer towards Cloud.
A blank look. “Right, abstinence.” Zack stares at him incredulously, and Cloud clears his throat uncomfortably. “Oh, you mean condoms. Well my mom says they’re not foolproof and there’s a small chance—”
“No, I mean two guys together.”
When Cloud just flushes, Zack keeps digging at the inroad. “Oh. Sorry. Maybe you haven’t ever thought about it. I’m bi. Been with a few guys. Also feel free to tell me to shut up if I’m being weird.”
“I haven’t given much thought to it… I guess.” Cloud’s fingers have been folding the pamphlet in half over and over nervously.
Zack winks at him. “Well, maybe you should. Give it some thought.” Mrs. Strife is making her way to the podium, which is his cue to leave. “Hey, can I see your phone for a second?”
It surprises him how no one ever hesitates towards that request. Quickly, he programs his own entry in the contact list and sends himself a text. Flicking past the list of contacts briefly, Zack can see that Jessie already beat him to it. Goddamn.
“Nice to meet you, Cloud. See you around?” He waves in a friendly manner.
“Sure,” he says, and it’s not quite a smile on his lips, but it’s close enough.
Well. That went reasonably well. Once he walks away, he figures Cloud could use some company through a horrible lecture he’s undoubtedly sat through dozens of times.
Zack:
hey it’s me, your new friend Zack
Sorry if i was being weird, I’m not usually this shitty at flirting
Cloud:
oh
that was flirting?
Zack:
Ouch
Damn
don’t gotta rub it in like that
There’s no response for a while.
Zack:
Sorry
Was kidding
If im making you feel uncomfortable at all, feel free to tell me to fuck off
Cloud leaves him on read for a while and it’s making him anxious, but after a bit, he just replies with:
Cloud:
No you’re fine
Okay. Zack’s not stalking him. Not really.
Just tailing him a little in his car, keeping a safe distance, to figure out where else he can conveniently run into Cloud again the next day.
He’s standing there behind the counter, a shock of blond hair and baby blue eyes, which widen when they land on him.
“Oh, hey. It’s you again,” he says, wide eyes shrinking back to their normal size, in his pleasant, boyish rasp.
“How funny,” Zack says, smoothly sliding onto one of the barstools at the counter. “I was just down here to pick up something and got the worst hankering for caffeine. Got anything strong to recommend?”
“Well, you can try the Triple Espresso shot, if you want…but it’s pretty strong.”
It’s honestly probably a pretty bad combo with his meds, but the lie just rolled off his tongue, so he has to suck it up. “Uh, sure, I’ll have that.”
“So,” Cloud taps in some numbers, apparently having memorized them, “that’ll be $4.26.”
Zack’s eyes scan the register and it’s… horribly antiquated. No visible card reader, so he can’t do payment via his phone. And he doesn’t want to pull out the black Centurion card because it makes him feel like such an asshole. Not only because it makes it obvious that he comes from money, but because the metal card is so damn thick that it won’t run through most card readers, forcing cashiers to input the numbers manually.
Not a great first impression, he thinks.
He digs around his black leather satchel, feeling the burn of Cloud’s waiting stare on him, and manages to find a few crumpled twenties. He smooths one out, placing it into Cloud’s small, delicate palm.
“How is it that I’ve never noticed you around school before?” he murmurs. Someone as gorgeous as Cloud shouldn’t have escaped his radar.
“Oh, I just transferred for senior year.” Cloud turns around to froth some milk in a bowl. “So I’ve only been here for two weeks.” He sets the steaming cup down in front of him.
A pretty brunette emerges from the back kitchen, handing a bag of powder to Cloud, and her eyes meet Zack’s as she looks up, sweeping over him.
“Oh, this is my friend Tifa,” Cloud says. “Her Dad owns this shop. This is, uh, Zack.”
“Welcome to Seventh Heaven Cafe,” Tifa says warmly, and Zack’s trying his best to keep his gaze from drifting down. She eyes him up and down, “You must be from Cloud’s new prep school, right?”
“Right.”
“This is a little ways down from your area,” she says, and there’s a bit of a bite behind her words, though her smile stays friendly. “Thanks for coming all this way, I hope you enjoy your stay.”
Then Tifa grabs a table rag and heads to the other side of the long counter to address a customer asking for, apparently, a straw.
That was weirdly tense.
“Um, sorry. Tifa’s kind of suspicious,” Cloud explains. “Of jocks. Or of men, in general.”
“I bet,” he says, eyes sliding down her bared midriff and short, short skirt. He turns his eyes back to Cloud. “I hate to point out the obvious, but you’re a guy too?”
“We’ve known each other since we were kids. So I get a pass in her book. Just barely.”
“Hmm. So what makes you think I’m a jock, anyway?” Zack takes a sip of the espresso. He can already sense the horrible insomnia he’s gonna get tonight.
“You’re…built like a linebacker, maybe?”
“Nah. I’m not really into sports. I just like working out. Keeps the body healthy.” He doesn’t mention that it’s mostly to combat his shitty brain and its shitty chemical imbalances. Medication can only do so much for him.
Cloud steps away to take another customer’s order: a woman in her late twenties, probably, professional looking, laughing flirtatiously. She touches Cloud’s forearm.
Why that’s raising Zack’s blood pressure, he doesn’t know.
After she leaves, Zack nods to the glass jar, and says, “She left you a nice tip.”
“Did she? Every bit helps,” Cloud says absentmindedly.
“Do you have to work for like, spending money? Tuition’s covered because of your Mom, right?”
“Oh, no. I just work here twice a week to help out Tifa. They kinda can’t keep employees on full payroll, so they’re always short staffed. I’m not actually on payroll at all.”
“So you work for nothing?” Zack scrunches his brows in confusion.
“Yeah,” Cloud says, turning around to pour steaming milk over tea. “Tifa and her family need the cash.”
“Wow. That’s so nice of you. Incredibly nice.” Zack can’t tell if the heart palpitations and sweat are from the caffeine or a crush.
“I don’t think many people would agree,” Cloud says with a bitter chuckle.
“No, really. That’s like the nicest thing I’ve ever heard.” Fuck sleep. He downs another third of the espresso. “You’re a saint.”
“Really, I’m not. Not that nice,” Cloud says under his breath.
“Well, I still think that’s super nice of you to help out your friend.” He glances at Tifa again. “Uh, you guys are friends, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, good. Was worrying for a second that I’d have to compete with Miss Double Ds over there.”
Cloud looks puzzled, cocking one brow at him. “What… you mean, like in a beauty contest or something?”
“Never mind,” he sighs. Zack stares at Cloud’s oblivious, big blue eyes. It’s adorable. Frustratingly adorable.
He’s a bit of an enigma—goes from being this precious newborn lamb to this cynical, poker-faced mystery, then back to a lamb again.
“Why’s Tifa so hard up for money, anyway?”
“Medical debt.”
“Oh really? Is it really big?” Zack ponders it for a bit. “Is it something I could help with by buying ten thousand pounds of coffee beans, or something?”
“Don’t joke. It’s not funny.” The corners of Cloud’s pretty mouth are downturned, brows furrowed, but he’s no more threatening than a distressed little kitten.
“I’m not,” Zack says, blinking. “I was being serious.”
“Oh.” Cloud chews on his lip, eyes growing round while he thinks about that. “She’s too proud to accept charity like that, forget it.”
“Errr… I could tell my friends to bring some business here? Leave some nice tips?” Kunsel and Reno would probably be more than happy to leave a couple of hundreds behind, just to ogle Tifa’s chest or Cloud’s ass.
A little, airy scoff. “I’ve served your kind. They’re usually jerks.”
“My ‘kind’?”
“Trust fund babies,” Cloud replies.
“How could you tell?”
“Your coat probably costs more than my entire wardrobe,” he says, eyes drifting over Zack’s Dries Van Noten caramel wool overcoat. Nods to his Hermès bag. “Your bag more than our monthly rent.”
Zack’s surprised that he’s picked up on that. He looks pretty dapper, but Hermès is one of the few brands that don’t plaster their name or logo all over merchandise. It’s a pretty unassuming looking bag, something most people wouldn’t guess probably costs more like a year of average rent.
“We’re not all jerks,” he says, smiling wryly. “I don’t like making friends with assholes either, so I promise my friends are cool. They won’t give you a hard time.”
“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about Tifa.”
“Oh. I can see what you mean. To be honest though, maybe she wants that kind of attention. From how she dresses.” The instant that leaves his mouth, Zack cringes, because he already knows that he fucked up.
“No one should be harassed because of what they wear.” Cloud purses his lips.
“Completely agree. Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. The baristas being attractive here though, it’s good for business, y’know? Big selling point. Just not enough people know about it because this is such a hidden, hole-in-the-wall location…I could definitely send some business down here…”
Cloud frowns.
“You… looking the way you look, it’s good for business too.” He has no doubt that tips double or triple on nights Cloud is here. Tifa’s easily a ten, but Cloud…is something else entirely.
His face flushes with heat, and he avoids Zack’s stare.
“You can’t tell me people aren’t constantly throwing themselves at you. The last three customers were all looking at you slack-jawed and googly-eyed.”
“Stop…being weird.”
“What?”
“No one looks at me like that.”
“I’m looking at you like that right now,” Zack grins. He rests his jaw on his knuckles. “That’s cute, that you don’t think you’re beautiful.”
“Look, I don’t know what kind of joke you’re playing, but it’s weird, so stop it,” and Cloud slams his palm on the counter hard, so loudly that it startles him. “Stop being nice to me,” he snaps, “just so you can make fun of me after.”
Zack flinches. “Sorry, sorry. I promise that I’m being a hundred percent honest, but if it bothers you, I’ll go away.” His gut’s turning, actually, from the dark anger emanating off him.
Cloud must believe him, because his expression immediately softens a shade.
“Sorry,” he says, jaw tight. “It’s just…” Cloud presses his lips together. “Other kids used to make fun of me for… looking girly, or whatever. Got trust issues. And it’s really fucking weird that you keep popping out of nowhere.”
Ah. So he hasn’t been quite as smooth as he thought.
He feels guilty, because Cloud would probably feel like absolute shit if he knew that he was, in fact, part of some stupid game, made an unwitting pawn, and that Zack being here is not a coincidence whatsoever.
But he means everything he’s saying.
“I’m sorry they did that,” he says softly. “If the compliments are weird, tell me and I’ll stop. I just… think you’re really… beautiful, is all.” Beautiful, inside and out. Cloud must be pretty oblivious if he doesn’t realize the kind of attention he attracts.
He’s so unlike everyone else he’s ever met.
Cloud doesn’t say anything to that and busies himself with restocking supplies for the next ten minutes, he assumes, to avoid talking to him.
Still, the tiniest of smiles makes its way across his lips, nonetheless.