Final Fantasy 7. Cid/Vincent. G. 100 words.
Vincent used to love the city. Felt comfortable in the crush of people, the streets that were alive and moving at any time, night or day. Now, like so many things, it just feels tiresome. Endless.
He pulls away from the airship’s window, turning his back on the glittering sea of lights.
“You don’t go down with the others, you’re stuck with me, you know,” Cid says. He has his feet up, one arm stretching over the back of the seats and his gloves draped over his lap.
“Regretfully,” Vincent says, eyes lingering despite.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”