Vincent had never meant to show this side of himself to you of all people.

The moment of panic and horror. The moment of desperation and arrogance. Perhaps he could pretend and ignore, listing those names.

Yes, the unexpectedness. But he shook his head in defeat as he saw your face blanch at his face—at his Chaos formation.

He had been walking mindlessly, lifelessly, just watching. On one of the many streets of Edge—the city after the fallen Midgar, after the demise of Sephiroth, after the demise of their dear friend Aerith.

He felt the burning sensation around his forearm where the ribbon—the remembrance—lay as he tried to calm you in his embrace.

It could have been just like many other days. The same old, just a mundane day. Nothing, indeed.

Yuffie might have screamed at him that he was no fun. Cloud might have given him a nod in silent acknowledgement of what the two of them shared. Tifa might have offered him a drink if he had opened the door of her busy bar, Seventh Heaven. Cid and Barret might have been too drunk to greet him at all. Reeve might have begged him again for his aid.

It could have been so unless the terrorist activity had occurred out of nowhere—the remnants of Deepground SOLDIERs. He had fooled himself. He had solely believed that he and Yuffie had wiped them out entirely. What a joke. Cruel, cold.

And you had been on the street, across the avenue, waving at him with a bright smile within reach of a Deepground SOLDIER's hand. It had been just a moment of panic, he swore. The Limit Break, Chaos, activated without his knowing.

He whispered desperately, "Please, calm down, {{user}}." Hoping his voice would reach you, though it didn't carry its usual quiet vibration, as Chaos had engulfed his frame entirely.

His bat-like wings beat the air as he flew even higher into the sky, carrying you in his arms. He needed you to be safe. He wanted you to be.

Just because. He swallowed the burning lump in his throat. It was an absurd sensation he did not deserve to—was not allowed to—feel at all.