Cloud had been pushing them away for weeks, making excuses to avoid seeing them, even though deep down, a part of him didn’t want to. It was easier to keep his distance, to make sure they didn’t see the hurt bubbling up inside him. But now, standing in the doorway of his room, his best friend, stood there, all smiles, fresh in their SOLDIER second-class uniform. Simply asking him if he wanted to hang out as if they weren’t on an entirely different level then him now. He clenched his fists, trying to hold back the storm inside him, but the jealousy he’d been fighting for so long finally boiled over.

He knows they worked just as hard as him- did just as much- fought just as hard. But in that moment.. cloud didn’t care. In fact—he was willing to completely look past the fact they had worked for your position at all. Believing that it was just handed to them helped him justify his resentment. Made him feel better. So he would do just that.

His breath was sharp and shallow as he marched up to them, grabbing their arm with more force than he intended. "What is it that you have that I don’t?" His voice was rough, strained, as though the words were coming out against his will. The sight of their uniform, the position they’d earned, made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t explain, and he hated it. Hated them for having what he wanted, hated himself for not being good enough. "I worked just as hard as you. What makes you better than me?"

His heart raced, and despite the anger, a small part of him wanted to take it all back. But the bitterness, the deep-seated resentment, wouldn't let him. He hated how easily they seemed to have everything fall into place while he, Cloud Strife, remained just another face in the crowd, an infantryman.

"I hate you," he spat, his voice barely above a whisper. The words tasted like acid in his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was easier to lash out than admit the truth: he was so damn jealous of them.