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Authors Note: I am happy so many people like this story Yes this is a RenoxCloud Shonen Ai/Yaoi and no I have not abandoned this fic. Just a warning to all you FF7 Catagorie people, I always take so long to update. Why? Brainstorming and getting everything down on paper, not to mention writers block. Since this is a new story, I may take a little longer to update, since I have to update my other stories. But my new Boyfriend, whom I am madly in love with, demanded I updated so he has something to read in during his Sociology class. Lol he is actually reading it now. Silly billy, reading Shonen Ai, I should worry about him then XD j/k Anyway here is Chapter Dos.

Oh and I know Tseng is the leader of Shinra, but, today Rufus is…so yeah.

Warning: SHONEN Ai! Yeah baby.

I hate that alarm clock….

That annoying alarm clock…

Ugh..

It did not take a lot to get me angry; even the wake up call I got every morning caused me to become a raging monster at six o’clock in the morning. Thus, the poor defenseless alarm clock, my horrid ex girlfriend got me last Christmas, had to be thrown, punched and slammed every morning on the dot. My accuracy was getting better to, I managed to break the glass this time. I knew why I kept this thing at my bedside, even after Aeris and I broke up-well more like she broke up with me and forgot to tell me but whatever- it was a constant reminder that you can not give your heart away, since it will only be spit on in the end. So, everyday I looked at the eyesore and remind myself who ever is to have your heart, Cloud, is not worth it. Needless to say, the break up left me shattered. I do not like to show my pain however, it only means they won…and trust me…no way I am going to let that slut and her evil boyfriend win this battle.

The morning activities goes as follows : Wake up at 6-Stare at the eyesore for 15 minutes-Have my demonic mother run in at 6:15 half dress to tell me to get my ass to school- Take a shower, brush my teeth, do my hair and get dressed in 15 minutes- Eat breakfast-Head to Vinny’s house. Every single freaking day, is the same old thing and let me warn you, the afternoon is no better. Infact, lets just say the whole day is nothing but a huge bore. There is no much to do in this lovely borough called Staten Island (pronounce Stat Island ), where the ignorance runs high and the fun runs low. The occasional mall trip when we do not have enough money to get to the city is about the only fun thing we four sexy men could do. Though, I do not plan on staying in this place forever. Once I turn 18 I am out of here faster than a bat out of hell.

I arrived at Vincent’s house a little late today (needed to get a donut) though it really did not matter since Vinny is always running late. I swear that kid is going to be late for his own funeral. I let myself into the old two bedroom one bathroom apartment Vin-boy shares with his old grandmother. Now, before I met Vincent, I thought my parents were completely insane, to the point where I tried running away when I was seven. However, I soon found out, that Vinny’s grandma held the title of “Most Insane Guardian.”. For Example, when Vincent was five, she used to wake him up in the middle of the night to kill the “spiders” in her room. Of course there were no spiders, but he still had to spend two hours whacking air while his grandmother laughed and cackled at him. I never formally met the sadistic women in the eight years him and I have been friends (good riddance too).

I took my usual seat on his old, stained flower couch that is older than my mother and father combined. This is usually the most boring and irritating part of my day. Waiting. I have waiting for him to do his hair, get dress and pack up his books for school. I usually end up doing something “creativity destructive” to pass the time. Last time I had to sit like this, I passed the time by throwing paper at the picture of him and his grandma on top of the TV. After my fifth try, I managed the hit the picture, knocking it over. The good news: Vincent came flying out and we were able to leave. The bad news: Vincent returned the favor by kicking my cute ass. Since I did not want my cute ass injured again, I decided to do my homework. Yes, gasp, I am actually doing my homework. Scary, but not as scary as Vincent mad.

I finish my evil math homework just as Vincent walks downstairs. His hair is still soaking wet, clinging to his clothing as if in fear of their life. He was wearing his usual red sweater and black slacks. Vincent always looked like he was going to some fancy Christmas party at the Hilton, which made me cringe a little. Bad memories at the Hilton, oh so bad.

“How long have you been here,” he said coolly, walking over to his book bag.

“Uhh, about 15 minutes,” I responded in an equally cold voice. I will just say that Vincent and I have a nasty little habit of always sounding either mad or sad when we talk. I never got why I talk like that, guess I was just born with a cold voice. I can see me saying “Dadda” in a cold chilling voice, which may explain why my parents never let me talk in public places.

We head out to school about ten minutes later (see I told you Vincent was slow). It is a freezing 40 degrees on this breezy October day. I hate the cold. I hate it so much, I refuse to even describe how bone chilling, teeth chattering, dead in two seconds after steeping out of the house, cold it his here in Staten Island. It is even worse since Vincent lives by South Beach, which is right by the ocean, which anyone with a little bit of common sense can realize that the closer you are to the ocean, the quicker your balls are going to freeze. I despise this freezing weather. How many days till spring?

Vincent and I board the bus a little later than usual (well its COLD I walk slower…sue me), which means I get to miss first period physics! I would truly like to smack the genius who decided I should get first period physics. Who the hell wants to learn physics at 7:30 in the morning? Show me someone you wants to learn physics at 7:30 in the morning, and I will show you a nerd. Just watch that nerd is going to be making a million dollars a week, while I am a gas station cashier. Karmas a bitch.

Second period is just as bad as first period. I have the fun fun fun American History, which I normally wouldn’t mind since I actually like history, however I got stuck next to the overly hyperactive girl, Yuffie. She can talk all day and all night, non stop, to anyone that would actually listen to her. Not to mention the things she talks about is just so ridiculous. For example, a few weeks ago she decided to tell me all about her period. Yes, her period. Why do I, the wonderful Cloud Strife, need to know why a woman bleeds from her crotch. I do not need to do. All I need to know, is when she gets it so I can run to Canada, but other than that, I really do not care. Another day, sometime in September, she had to urge to just tell me all about her Barrett’s dog, Red. I have met Barrett’s dog Red, I know who he is, I had to get three stitches in my arm when he bit me. But, oh, do not tell Yuffie that, apparently Barrett’s dog was big news that week. Insert annoyed smiley.

Vincent and I run like two mad man up the 3 flights of stairs to make it to history. If we are even one minute late, it is sudden death. I’m serious about sudden death. My history teacher is psycho, crazy, he…he is the spawn of satan. He was thrown out of hell because Satan knew he could take over. So, he might be funny and actually make the most boring subject in the history of subjects actually fun, but that does not outweigh the torture we poor juniors have to go through. You can see what I mean right about now…

The door closes and poor Vincent and I are locked out. This can only mean one…very bad thing…

“Hello ladies,” Mr.B, our history teacher said from within the holy fortress, “You guys are about 1 minute late. Did not eat your wheeties today I see.”

“Come on,” I growled, “Let us in already.”

“No no no,” He said shaking a finger, “You have to wait until truancy comes and gets you.”

“Hn,” Vincent said rolling his crimson, yes CRIMSON, eyes.

“However, since you both are my favorite and most well behave students,” he said in a sneaky evil voice, which could never very be trusted, EVER, “I will let you in…if you sing…”I’m a little teapot.”

See, did I not tell you how evil he is! I have seen this tactic before. He done this to poor poor Rufus. Hehe, of course Rufus did it since he is an ass kisser. “I’m a little teeea pot short and stout.” Haha, it was priceless, I never laughed so hard in my life. I admired Mr. B’s talent in making kids do the most embarrassing things. The worse part was, kids were coming out of Lunch when he was doing it. He even ran into the bathroom and cried! Cried his rich eyes out!

BUT, now the shoe is on the other foot. You guys can tell that he and I aren’t the type to bow down in front of Satan, pa-lease.

“I’m a little teapot short and stout,” I growled through my teeth, looking over at Vincent who to was mimicking the dreaded “Tea Pot” dance, “Here is my handle, here is my spout.” The laughter from inside the classroom was getting louder and louder as we sang the evil child’s tune, “When I get all steamed up here me SHOUT.” If I actually cared about my social status, I would be peeing in my pants right now, “Tip me over and pour me out.”

I could not see Mr. B anymore through the door window majig, I can only image him clutching his stomach, laughing his sick twisted ass off, that he finally got to two most quiet and most sadistic teenagers to actually do this.

“Well,” Vincent shouted quietly, yes it is possibly, “May we enter now?”

The classroom door slowly opened and the laughter of 24 students filled the hallway. Not that Vincent and I really cared or anything, they could laugh all they wanted at us. Fuck them.

We walked in, swiftly, rolling our eyes at our currently amused history teacher, who was shaking his head and laughing. See, did I not tell you he was Satan.

“Okay okay,” he said, “Time to get the class going, stop laughing children.”

As he closed the door, evil door I might add, a hand blocked the doors closing. The class turned to the now half opened door, waiting for the owner of the hand to walk in…

-

That was when I first met that crazy boy. Well, I can not say “met” since we did not actually talk. But I was the first time I ever saw him. He was pretty scrawny looking, yet had that aura about him, that kind of aura that screams “don’t be fooled by him”, and I listened to auras like that. He had a pretty boy face, almost looked like a chicks face…and he had the hair to match. Long fire engine red hair, that was tide back in pony tail, and spiked at the top. He was well dressed, which screamed “I’m RICH!” Nice button down white shirt, black slacks and a black suit jacket. Do not ask me why he would wear that to a public school, but in the wise words of my friend Barrett, “Whatevers clever”

“Reno,” I had heard my history teacher say. Looking back, that was all I heard for a second. A spilt second, I was lost in the green hypnotizing eyes, the red hair, that aura, that smell. Everything about him turned my senses off. My brain shut down and my heart had taken over. I never believed in love at first sight, and I had refused to believe that falling feeling I felt was actually me falling in love. Hn, but I was a stupid sixteen year old back then…do you actually believe I acted on those feelings.

-

I continued to walk to my desk, taking my dreaded seat next to Yuffie, who seemed to be to involved with Reno to even notice me. Good! That new kid is actually doing something good for me. Maybe today I will not have thoughts of shooting this girl.

“Okay newbie,” Mr. B laughs, “Take a nice comfortable seat next to your cousin Rude.”

My eye started to twitch when I heard that he was the cousin of RUDE. Rude, member of that rotten gang Rufus is in charge of. Now the whole outfit made sense. He was rich, richer than God. He was one of THEM, evil sons of bitches who got their kicks ruining people’s lives, driving kids to an early grave at their own hands and the voices of the evil bastards of “Shinra.” What a lame name to boot. I looked over at Vincent who was throwing a chilling death glare at Reno and his brute of a cousin Rude. If thoughts could kill, they would be dead already. I will not even get into the damage Shinra caused, for Vincent’s sake. Take my word for it, compared to Shinra, George Bush is a Saint.