Because I haven't seen this cliche in FFVII fandom yet.

It would take an IQ below fly's level not to notice that something was very wrong with Cloud Strife. Maybe it wasn't all that obvious at the first glance, but the second one left no doubt that it was moping and sulking, not just the usual seriousness the trooper displayed and that his reluctant cheerfulness as well as good-natured expressions were overtaken by depressive mood. Far-away look in dull, blue eyes along with over-dramatic, theatrical almost, sighs (on average, twelve per hour), completed a perfect example of typical, teenage anxiety connected with a thing commonly known as a 'crush'. For crush was what Cloud had, indeed.

And it sucked.

He sighed.

He lived though his years-long interest for his neighbor, Tifa – so totally off limits! – but this one was definitely much worse, because Cloud had the hots -

- insert dramatic pause here -

- for a man.

His friend.

His best, not to mention only friend, to tell the truth. The one known by the name of Zack Fair.

But such statement, one that obviously nobody would ever foresee coming, is ought to be backed up by a satisfactory explanation.

For quite some time Cloud was uncertain. Seeing Zack didn't make his heart throb and neither did the SOLDIER's absence cause it to grow fonder – but when he went on long missions, he realized, with a child-like wonder, he began daydreaming about meeting him on the flower's field, for some reason. Then again, after his failure at SOLDIER send him into full-scale emo-mode, before he could notice what he was doing, he was knocking at the door to Zack's place, looking for some kind of comfort. And even though there was no burning desire running through his veins, for Zack's sake he could do literary everything (he didn't dare to image what possibly it could entail). Still, he didn't know what it was between them – friendship or, maybe... Maybe...

...love?

Seemingly innocent, four-letter-long word flashed before his eyes and, to the sound of the warning bells ringing at the realization's terror, his mind temporary shutdown to prevent possible further damage.

And then, the drama started.

Sad thing, his experience with both, friendship and the love, was equally non-existent. But really, no-one could hold it against Cloud that his perception of them was, let's say, slightly twisted. He could only compare his present situation to the thing that he had with Tifa; he thought it was one-sided 'something more' though she insisted they had been 'best friends ever', no matter the fact he could count on the fingers of his one hand all the times they actually talked before he left his home for Midgar. (And there had also been all those Wutaian soap operas his mother forced him to watch with her, where the protagonists regularly felt in love at the first sight and the scheme of relationships between the characters created a fractal.)

Needless to say, questions, ranging from despaired, heart-wrenching 'how can it be?' to more cool-headed 'what the...?', were running through his mind, bouncing of his brain-case's bones and he feared his head was going to explode. Imagination supplied him with nightmares concerning his mother committing a ritual murder on him for not giving her grandchildren; when he woke up in the morning, all sweaty and out of breath, he pinched his arms and blessed the distance between Midgar and Nibelheim reducing the chances of his only parent killing him in his sleep. He spaced out dreaming about holding hands with Zack and looking into his eyes, only to internally lament one second later that it will never happen – the fact Zack was currently in quite serious relationship with some girl from below the Plate only made the matters worse - and then freak out at how girly it was. All the while his brain – and he was painfully aware of that after reading an article in one scientific journal – was enjoying itself with the synapses spitting out neurotransmitters on the overdrive.

(Chemical reaction, that's all it is, what was left of Cloud's rationality concluded.)

He sighed.

To add one more thing to this mess, he's mother was about to call any time now.

His mother seemed to develop a sixth sense; she could always tell when something was going on with Cloud, whether physically or mentally. At times it might have been a good thing, but more often that not, it wasn't, because along with aforementioned doubtful, especially in Cloud's eyes, gift, she also got a nasty habit of calling his squad commander's office constantly and demand from the man to get her son on the phone. Then, she would proceed to squeeze out of Cloud detailed report of what have been happening lately, then come up with brilliant, only in her own opinion, solution to whatever problem he had, then threaten him to do that or else.

(The meaning behind those two words was 'or I come all the way to Midgar and do it myself, embarrassing you greatly on my way through'. Never once it failed to gain Cloud's obedience.)

Oh, the grief other ShinRa guards were giving him for that.

And of course she wouldn't listen that it's not worthy to act on those sappy affections, this sentiment blown out of proportion that will hopefully pass away sometime soon, because she knew better. But he really did have this whole crush worked out; just, his heart had yet to caught up with what his head was already aware of – and that was, he supposed, the source of the drama.

That was why, while one side of him was suffering, drown in infinite sorrow, the not-infatuated side of Cloud, the one wiser above his sixteen years, waited impatiently for things to come back to normal. Till that time, so to not fuel his stupid crush, he discretely avoided Zack and carried on, day after day, like he always did. Wake up, go train, pass by Sephiroth on the way to the mess, grab something relatively edible to eat, go patrol, run into Sephiroth at some point, patrol some more, go to sleep.

(If Cloud had been a bit more aware of his surroundings, long ago he would have noticed and wondered, how come a mere trooper was running into Sephiroth, of all people, so often. But Cloud was too busy being all depressed with his one-sided feelings to care.)

Cloud sighed.

It was affecting his behavior too. Apart from constant jumps from depressed to dreamy happy, he became embarrassingly romantic in the hopelessly exalted way. He contemplated star-light sky through the dirty windows of his quarter and wondered why there are so many black spots on the moon. He sighed, detached, while going through the drills, what in turn caused his sergeant to hyperventilate in an outrage. He picked on his food with no appetite, reflecting on how it sucked to oh, yearn for something he can't have. And when he saw people satisfied with their love lives chatting happily, he felt like gouging their eyes out, for they had no idea neither how much he hurt, nor how dull functioning with a broken heart was.

- chemical reaction, just chemical reaction, the shreds of his rationality repeated like a mantra -

And he was distracted all the time.

Like now. Which floor was he patrolling? Sixty? Sixty-two? No matter, he didn't care anyway. He walked down the corridor apathetically – bunch of terrorists might have as well pass right by him, screaming and firing at everything on their way and he wouldn't notice – indulging himself a little with a daydream concerning himself, Zack and a field of flowers for some reason.

Yes, he could see it clearly. He was sitting on a white blanket, reading poems in willow tree's shade. Or maybe not – he was sitting on a swing. Its strings where decorated with white lilies and he could feel a faint scent of sweet flowers in the air. Then, he raised his head to see smiling SOLDIER running towards him – in slow motion, of course – and breath was caught in his throat, as his mind's eye showed him the way daylight danced in imaginary Zack's pupils, glowing with Mako and pure happiness, and love in its most sappy version. His wild, black hair were being caressed gently by spring's wind, smelling sweetly of first words of affection, embarrassingly whispered on the ear just to bring to live a hot blush, like first, uncertain kiss did...

Sudden urge to grab a pen and write down a crappy love poem on the closest, flat surface – even a wall would do – abandoned him the moment he collided with some solid object.

He blinked, being quite brutally brought back to reality. He was starring at a bare, very muscled, man's chest, positioned right before his eyes. Cloud raised his head slowly, to met eerie green eyes looking back at him. His mind, completely on its own record, picked up all distinguishing marks such as black coat, long hair and even longer sword, processed them and spilled out reflective information, supplying Cloud obligingly with the knowledge that the person, who had invaded his personal space, was recognized as highest ranking SOLDIER officer, Sephiroth.

Had it taken place two weeks ago, Cloud would have already started to panic, being overexcited and scared to death at the same time, and swallow his tongue for sure as an effect of stuttering his apologizes, or just die on the spot. However, it happened now - and what it was in comparison to his own pain and emotional turmoil? Loneliness in his sorrow, awaiting for his heart to die, so it could shake off the most tender feelings and harden, so he would forget about yet another scar marring his soul? Who was his childhood hero, who in the glory of victory had never tasted the bitterness of Cloud's existence?

Oh, the misery of all beings walking underneath the heartless stars on this veil of tears!

"Beg your pardon, sir" sounding worn out, Cloud said in monotone like a man, who, in the darkest depths of despair, was forced to deal with another obstacle on his path but was too tired to deal with it; at the moment, the obstacle being Sephiroth, blissfully ignorant to his suffering. Cloud raised his hand to salute, in exhausted manner, and then passed by the greatest SOLDIER officer on the Planet's surface, going back to his teenage drama, in which he was more interested in.

He sighed.

When would the damn crush finally fade? There's got to be a way to make such things disappear quicker. It would probably be easier, if there was someone interested in him, who would get Zack out of his head (at least it always worked like that in soap operas his mother watched religiously every afternoon). But who on earth would fall for someone like him?

Irony was laughing so hard, its non-existing stomach hurt.

Later that night, somewhere in the ShinRa Tower – and why anyone would assume it was in SOLDIER Firsts' office, I have no idea – an extremely important, top-secret emergency meeting took place. Two, very Mysterious Persons – no-one would ever guess who - were sitting at the desk, facing each other. Silence fell upon them, as they exchanged knowing glances, contemplating the gravity of the situation. Their shadows felt on the pool of the moonlight, shining through carefully closed windows – in case there was some lost Turk hanging of the rain gutter, keen on eavesdropping, since he coincidentally happened to pass by.

One of The Shadows shifted a little and the following words broke the spell.

"He doesn't notice me" came an exclamation, being a cross between wail and astonished, yet unpleasant, realisation. Of course, to not properly trained ears it would sound neutral, perfectly void of emotions.

"It's kind of hard not to notice you" The Other laughed and shook his head a bit; The Second Shadow's spiky hair bounced. "I mean, with your height and built you take up about, I'd say, half of people's visual field."

"How amusing. And not exaggerated at all."

"Ouch, and you're all sarcastic again. No wonder you're so afraid you'll scare him away, if you march up and tell him about your feelings. He'd probably think he's in hidden camera."

"Shut up" and there was something threatening in his voice, so the subject was graciously abandoned. "I'm just... concerned" it was quite embarrassing, it seemed, for The Man to converse about feelings more tender than hatred. The First Shadow swirled a lock of his long hair around his finger in nervous habit. "Have you seen him lately? There's something wrong with him."

A sigh.

"Yeah, I noticed that too. I told him I can help with whatever is bothering him, but he won't say a word" The Second Man replied and run his fingers through his hair, frustrated. And then he asked random question. "So, your secretary called in sick?"

Pause.

"What does that have to do with anything?" The Other Man's expression must have spoken louder than words, because what came next was "...don't tell me you think about what I think you're thinking."

"That was awfully unsophisticated way of phrasing for a man, who has read definitions of all the words in the dictionary. Twice. So it's true what they say about, you know, fools and love" Mysterious Person Number Two teased and his shadow gesticulated animatedly as he spoke. "...I should probably shut up now, right?"

"Right" was a reply voiced out in tone so cold the words almost froze in the air. "And what can I say, there's not much of a point in being eloquent around you. To successfully communicate one has to use words understandable to whom he's talking with. And don't change the subject" The Shadow raised its palm at The Other Man's short intake of breath. "The answer is NO. In capital letters and bold font."

"Oh come on. It'd be a shame to let such opportunity, for you two to meet, slip! And by 'meeting' I mean an official introduction, not that stalker-thing you've been doing."

Reluctance.

"After lots of explanation on my part, we both agreed it's not a good idea to just bring him here and force him to meet you, saying 'I want my friends to become friends too, deal with this', in alternative version the ending being 'suck it bitches', remember?" Mysterious Person Number Two asked slowly, carefully pronouncing each word, as if he was talking to very slow kindergartner child. "It would be unnatural, not to mention awkward."

"I'm not convinced."

"Oh, for the love of...!" the other man exclaimed in exasperation. Whose love he had on mind will remain a mystery forever, because the word he said, for those not fluent in Gongagan dialect, sounded like unrepeatable bunch of syllables with lots of 'ch's and 'q's. "Just leave it to me. Everything will go smoothly."

And for all he knew it should have gone smoothly. He was blissfully unaware, though, that many miles away from Midgar lived certain somebody, called by the ShinRa's squad commanders master of evil – and was plotting too.

"...By the way, why did you bring Masamune here? I left my Buster at home."