#just . i'm tentative to jump into it with everyone without any initial discussion

[strfe]

RE: IDENTITY.

after spending hours watching a video (source) @speedchasing sent me i'm going to make it everyone's problem cover a little regarding how i've always written cloud's personality and overall 'identity' from the happenings of crisis core (post-nibelheim) and note how i've always perceived it, as well as some new developments, some of which are unique to vii remake (meaning his personality will differ to an extent between his og / viir verse(s), etc).

i still believe that cloud has never really thought of himself as 'being zack'. the closest example of this being true is in the flashbacks cloud has, where he inserts himself where zack would be in reality, because zack had been the only SOLDIER present at that point in time (other than sephiroth, in most instances, and he at least knows he is not sephiroth) and it's reasonable for him to therefore have been that (other) SOLDIER, since if he knew anything of his past — it was that he was a 1st class SOLDIER. the identity that cloud takes on at the beginning of ffvii is one comprised of his memories and desires, as well as tifa, and also zack's memories. from the moment cloud regains consciousness at the end of crisis core, the jenova 'mimic' ability present within him begins to shape the personality that he will eventually take upon himself in ffvii. the idea of zack: the hero that cloud had always admired & wished to be ever since he was a child, as well as the legacy of memories that zack leaves with him upon passing the buster sword along, imprints itself onto his consciousness and begins to formulate when he meets tifa at the train station just prior to the beginning of ffvii.

the jenova cells rewrite his memories and come together to formulate the idea of all of cloud's memories (namely prior to the nibelheim incident), zack's ideals and behaviourisms, tifa's memories of him, and the dream of becoming a hero he clung to so desperately as a child (and even into adulthood).

the mimicry is intertwined with his very consciousness to project a reality to him that he wished to be true, and that protected him from the reality of zack's loss & his perception that he was a failure in every aspect of the word: he hadn't made SOLDIER / hadn't proven the kids that bullied him wrong / couldn't fulfil his promise to tifa to get her to notice him, and he was unable to do anything but watch as his closest friend (the one person who still embodied 'the hero' that he aspired to be but never was, and didn't believe he would ever become) laid down his life for him. he was 'too weak to save anyone': a sentiment sephiroth reminds him of in remake, but one he desperately tries to avoid.

something this video made me consider more-so (especially with regards to the events later in the game, then from 'on the way to a smile' onwards) is the idea that zack, aerith & sephiroth are all a fundamental part of cloud's consciousness. while zack and aerith guide him towards recovery and salvation (something it has been noted he couldn't otherwise do alone), sephiroth guides him towards destruction and embodies his pain and regret. in remake, sephiroth seems to purposefully be trying to disconnect cloud from that which makes up his consciousness, and / or become the domineering presence in his consciousness, and is shown on multiple occasions to have a stronger hold on him (cloud) than even in the original game. moments such as cloud stepping towards johnny to kill him, and not hesitating to strike down reno (even resulting in the whispers intervening) aren't entirely out of character for someone who has killed in the past, but they are moments that are definitively not present in the original game, and there is emphasis on cloud's behaviour scaring others and / or being especially violent, even for an 'ex-SOLDIER'. this is likely also due to his connection with sephiroth during remake being more prevalent. his consciousness is gravitating slightly more towards 'destruction' than it does in the og. while i can't say for certain, i do expect the disparity to grow as time passes and the story continues in remake, especially if the theory that zack has become detached from his consciousness in some way(s) is true, and increasingly more-so if sephiroth accomplishes this same feat for the other memories that shape cloud and his bond with others.

the main thing to note is: cloud in remake is not only an amalgamation of his past memories (among other things), but also of future memories that sephiroth has been feeding into his subconscious.

while this isn't a staggering change at the moment, it is a slight one, and i expect it may be key to certain elements of ffvii changing so i'm tentative to write too far into the vii:r verse outside of what story has already been revealed to us. for example, i would be reluctant to write as far as the north crater knowing that by that point in remake our expectations may have been completely subverted / characters may be acting differently or have taken different paths, etc. i think it has been long enough now to say quite confidently that vii: remake is not a remake, it is more of a convoluted sequel, and as such (while i'm happy to merge elements of remake/rebirth + with the og for fleshing out the world / its characters / character dynamics), i'd prefer not to write specifically in the remake verse too much further than is 'current'.

[cherrystreet]

Another bombarding! BUTTTT!! (Just popped in my head after my last msg) Harry's POV during and after the fight and then his convo with Cam when he sends him home! (Sorry I'm just in love with TWG and would die for more, whatever it is!) 💜💛💚💙

ALRIGHT STEPH HERE WE GO. THE FIRST PART OF THIS ASK, 364 DAYS LATER. I LOVE YOU.

Harry looks down at the floor, back up at Louis, the insecurities coming out before he can stop them. “I don’t always know how you feel about me.”

The looks Louis shoots back is downright menacing. “You must be kidding.”

“No,” he says softly, “I’m really not.”

“I have been nothing but honest with you from day one,” he sneers. “Do you expect me to trip over myself for you, like everyone else does?”

“No,” Harry replies honestly, “never. That’s what I like about you. That you never act a certain way around me.”

“Then what are you trying to say?!”

Harry puts his head into his hands, frustrated. His head is starting to pound. “Don’t think that I’m comparing you to anyone when I say this--”

“You’re already off to a bad start, I can tell you now.”

“--but I know exactly how Cameron and Bryce feel about me. They can verbalize it. I never have any doubt with them. I don’t have to guess. With you…”

If Louis wasn’t mad before, he sure as hell is now, and Harry doesn’t know how to get out of this. “I don’t give a fuck about Cam and Bryce. One single bit. As far as I’m concerned, they don’t fucking exist. This is about us. And you’re going to sit there and tell me you’d rather be with one of them because they’re willing to up and move to your perfect fucking home without an argument or care in the world.”

“I didn’t say any of that! Christ, Louis.” He stands, now, staring at Louis directly in the eye, needs to be level with him. “Being in this position is so fucking hard, okay? You think you have to second guess everything? Try being me. All I do is worry and stress over every little thing.”

“Oh, poor Harry, everyone wants him and he can’t fucking decide what he wants.”

Fuck, he’s going to start screaming. Louis can hear him but he isn’t listening. “It’s not like that! Fuck! I know I told you I enjoy the chase, but Louis. Give me something to work with.”

“I am! I’m giving you everything, but you just don’t want to fucking listen to me!”

The irony. “No, you’re not listening to me. I have to choose, okay? I have to choose between three people who care about me, whom I care about, too, and I thought I knew what the end game was, but now I’m not sure, because the one I wanted can’t tell me exactly what he’s thinking about our relationship or even discuss moving without having a fucking panic attack. I have to choose and it’s tearing me apart and I can’t fucking think straight. I have to pick. I have to.”

Louis covers his ears with his hands and Harry’s entire body is pulsing with adrenaline, anger, the need to tell Louis exactly what he’s thinking if he could just have a moment to do so. But.

“Just because I can’t say the words you want to hear specifically doesn’t mean I’m not in this, so how dare you tell me that I’m not worth it,” Louis shouts, his voice hoarse, “because I tell you how I feel every damn day. It’s written all over my face, the way I touch you, the way we talk, I fucking know it. Stop saying you have to choose, stop saying you have to pick. I can’t. I can’t fucking.”

Harry desperately wants to pull Louis into him, but his limbs feel frozen. “Louis…” he manages.

“No, get out. Just. Out. Please,” Louis pleas, and he seems so small.

“No, I’m staying here, we’re fixing this.”

He looks around, everywhere but Harry’s face. “I’ll leave, then.”

“This is your room.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do, though.” Don’t leave me. Us.

“Awesome. Don’t follow me. And don’t be here when I come back.”

“Louis.”

It’s wrong, it all feels wrong, and Harry doesn’t know how to backtrack, to get Louis to stop shaking or yelling or looking at him like that. He doesn’t know why or how it spiraled so quickly but now Louis’ out the Goddamn door, part of the crew closely following behind him, and Harry feels sick to his stomach. He looks at the mess of M&M’s strewn across the coffee table, the rumpled up sheets on Louis’ bed, the photo of his mom on his night stand, and Jesus Christ, he doesn’t care where the hell he ends up, just as long as he gets to have all of this with Louis.

He looks up helplessly at Zach, who’s already lowering his camera cautiously. The air feels oppressive, suddenly, and he needs to get up, get out, get his boy.

“Zach, I’m gonna…” Harry stands up and points to the door. “I have to make sure he’s okay.”

Zach makes a face. “I mean, you can if you want to, but are you sure you should?”

“Yes,” he replies with certainty. “He needs to know I’ll go anywhere with him.”

“Specifically away from this villa that he clearly asked you to stay in?”

Harry frowns, doing his best to hold back tears. He feels pathetic. “I didn’t get the chance to talk. I wanted to go over the negatives with him, and then the positives. And then he…” He trails off, doesn’t need to recap it. “I need to fix it.”

“You will,” Zach says. “Can I just…”

“Can I what?”

He hands Harry his headphones, turns the camera. “Sometimes it’s easier to see where it all went wrong from an outsider’s perspective.”

“Zach, I don’t want to watch this.”

He presses ‘play,’ anyway, and Harry’s stuck, watching it all back in front of him, helpless. It hurts worse this way, seeing how quickly Louis’ guard went up, how Harry didn’t catch it in the beginning and kept pushing. He rewinds it, watches it from the start, then does it again. He hopes for clarity. Instead, it makes him feel like shit, moreso each time.

The worst part, he thinks, is that he didn’t initially catch the way Louis’ body language changed so quickly, how his eyes turned glassy, how his entire demeanor changed to a fight stance. Harry drags his hands across his face, thinking that maybe, he doesn’t actually know Louis the way he thought he did, and what the fuck is he supposed to do now.

Harry spends the rest of the evening alone in his villa. He writes out exactly what he wants to say to Louis, beginning with an apology for being so pushy, so demanding, followed by an explanation of how he intended for that conversation to go.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m afraid of leaving California,” he says to himself, staring at his reflection in the mirror, “and that I have so many uncertainties and I need to be able to talk about them with you. Because this thing between you and I is a serious thing and we need to lock down some future plans. I’m not sure where I’m going to end up, physically or emotionally, but we need to explore all of our options. It’s important to me. You’re important to me. Even if I don’t understand exactly what happened back there, I do understand that I want to fix it. All of it.”

His cheeks are red, his lips are cracked, he looks like hell. He keeps practicing.

“You told me you weren’t thinking about our future and it hurt. Like, I think about you in my life probably more than I should be admitting to right now. And, it’s. Everything got lost in translation and I came off like a massive prick. I’m not blaming you for how I sounded. That’s my own fault. I’m just, terrified we’re not on the same page. We need to be. Same book, same page, same ending.”

He takes a deep breath. It comes out shaky.

“I’m not supposed to tell you I’m in love with you. But I’m telling you I am. And I will follow you wherever we need to be. San Francisco, Chicago, the North Pole… I don’t care. I’ll do it. The fear of leaving my life behind isn’t nearly as scary as the idea of not having a life with you.”

He sighs, wonders how Louis will respond, how he’ll react. Hopefully he takes it as well as Harry’s mirror did.

Harry waits until the crew has gone to bed and all the lights are out before he sneaks back to Louis’, ready to grovel, ready to give Louis whatever the hell he wants just so he never has to be the one to cause that reaction ever again. He does his best to prepare himself for Louis refusing to speak to him, or maybe to send himself home.

He squeezes his eyes shut as he knocks on the door. Worst case scenario, if that’s what Louis wants, Harry’ll just jump into the water, maybe drown a little bit.

Fuck, he’s second guessing everything.

Louis opens the door a moment later, naked sans boxers, and Harry’s mouth goes a little dry. He’s effortlessly beautiful and Harry can hardly stand it. All the words he intended so say are gone, his brain empty other than the swirl of Keep him. Save him. Love him.

“Can I come in?” Harry asks tentatively, voice cracking.

He nods, takes a step back, crosses his arms over his chest, like he’s trying to hide. “Harry…”

Harry can hear the apologetic tone in his voice, can see it in his eyes, and Christ, he knows his boy, what was he thinking. They’re both in this. They’re here. “Lou. I’m, like.” Impossibly in love with you.

Louis reaches out, touches Harry’s hand, and that’s all the invitation Harry needs before he’s pulling Louis into his arms, holding him carefully, tightly. He knows Louis will hook his chin over his shoulder before he actually does it, his stubble rough even though Harry’s t-shirt. He smiles.

They stand there for a while, long enough for Harry to memorize the rhythmic pattern of Louis’ heartbeat against his own, and when they finally break, Louis takes a moment to drag his finger across Harry’s cheek, his movements slow and meticulous.

“Lou,” Harry whispers, his eyes closed, “I’m so sorry.”

He’ll get his thoughts about - eventually, maybe not right now - but first and foremost, he needs Louis to hear his apology, needs him to know how much he’s cared for, needs to let Louis keep touching him like that because it’s enough to keep him from crumbling.

And he knows Louis is going to counter Harry’s apology with his own, which he does immediately, and though it could potentially feel stale to already know someone so thoroughly, it just makes Harry happy. Happy that he’s lucky enough to have this, even if he doesn’t actually have it yet.

Yet.

Harry knows Louis; all doubts are out. They’ll have it. No more questions.

He doesn’t get the rest of his mirror speech in, because Louis slides his hands into Harry’s pockets and rests his head against Harry’s chest and everything else feels like it suddenly comes second.

“I just want to be with you,” Harry murmurs, the most he can spit out.

Louis nods against his t-shirt. “That’s what I want, too.”

“Thank God.”