Prompt: Vincent/Cloud, mental health. Like I wasn't going to have fun with that one.

Warnings: This story contains mention of male/male sexual relationships. Also some mild BDSM themes.

Vincent wasn't sure he knew what the fuss was. As he lay in bed, feeling exhausted and a little sore, he wondered why it was such a big deal.

Possibly it was just a girl thing. It usually started with Tifa, after all. If Yuffie was around, it grew quickly, hounded along by the ninja's penchant for exaggerating everything. But Tifa would worry and fuss, and she'd talk to the others, and there'd be yet another little flurry of concern over the state of Cloud's mental health.

So he spent a lot of time off by himself. Vincent thought that was probably a good method of defence against all the fussing. It was certainly guaranteed to be a lot quieter.

Then there were the sudden changes in personality, and the fact that he talked to people nobody else could see.

Vincent had never thought of his circumstances as incredibly fortunate before, but he seemed to register lower on the crazy meter than Cloud did, and that was something that frequently astonished him.

He talked to people – well, creatures – which others couldn't see all the time. It was simply that the demons were all inside him, so he'd quickly learned there was no need to do so aloud. It was hardly Cloud's fault that his 'invisible people' weren't inside his head. And he certainly had 'multiple' personalities: four beyond the usual recommended number.

Perhaps it was simply that his other selves came with very obvious, physical changes. The Galian Beast, for example, was unmistakably animalistic, big, and purple to boot. Chaos was almost human in appearance, could act as civilised as anyone, and just different enough to scare small children. Or larger ones if they had any sense. Death Gigas looked moderately absurd, but had a formidable temper; still, he spent more time sleeping than manifesting anything, so that even Vincent sometimes forgot he was there. And he couldn't believe the others were familiar enough with Hellmasker not to find him scary – that basket-case disturbed Vincent more often than not, and he knew him as a permanent resident.

Maybe it was simply that the others were never sure who they were dealing with. Vincent never had any trouble telling the different Clouds apart.

First there was the one he thought of as the original. He was shy, although he'd grown more confident in the time Vincent had known him. He'd had more than his share of bad luck, but he never hesitated to put himself in harm's way for those he cared about. It was simply that he was very careful about who he let that close.

He was also wonderfully submissive in bed. That fact pleased Chaos, as he was more comfortable in a dominant position suited to his powerful nature, and the Beast, too. It did mean that Vincent had to keep Hellmasker carefully reined in to prevent anything regrettable from happening. Fortunately, that Cloud bought out Galian's protective instincts too, as well as Chaos' possessive streak, so he had help.

Then there was the Cloud who'd absorbed so much of his best friend's memories that he hadn't known who he was. Oh, he was less confused now – but Vincent was not entirely convinced it had been as simple as most believed it. When the second Cloud came out, his whole face would become more animated. Sometimes Vincent thought he saw a faint violet tint to Cloud's usually clear blue eyes. This Cloud was far more confident, and up for anything. He was the Beast's favourite, as they seemed to bring out each other's playful sides. Vincent appreciated his sense of humour, as he knew he was often too serious himself.

It was the third Cloud that had a definite physical change, albeit a small one. But he didn't think it was the kind of change that would reassure any of the others, distinctive as it was. It was rare, and although Chaos griped, Vincent was not inclined to complain when it did happen. The sex was always hot, demanding and often a little rough, but he'd never regretted it afterwards. No, the passing soreness was greatly outweighed by the pleasure.

Still whenever Vincent saw his lover's eyes bleed to poison green, he knew he was going to be on the bottom, this time.