Team Bonding | Dissidia Fanfiction | (2022-2024)

✨The Afternoon Holds Emotions✨

The afternoon stretches onward. As Bartz strolls the hall, he bumps into a traitor. But that's not all he stumbles upon.

✨

"Comin' through!"

Before Bartz could walk three steps down the hall, there came a crazed blur blazing right towards him. The blur was blonde, metal-footed, shined in rusty, reckless silver. Yup. The pure embodiment of Vaan.

But before Vaan could trample him over, Bartz slid to the side, nabbed his arm with practiced speed. "Whoa, whoa, hold your chocobos!"  And as Vaan got jerked backwards from Bartz's hold, Bartz put on a scowl big enough to bite. "You're not running past me without apologizing."

Ripping his arm free, Vaan sighed a melody that cracked around the edges. "Fine," he said, looping a thumb through his pants. "Sorry for ditching you."

A laugh escaped Bartz. It reeked of everything bitter. "Oh, yeah. You ditched me, alright. Right in the middle of making lunch for the whole goddamn tower." His arm flew outward to the walls, gesturing the tower's enormity.

"I said I'm sorry, didn't I?" Vaan half-turned away. "Look, I'll make it up to ya later. Promise."

Vaan was a second away from bolting again, but Bartz clawed him by the shoulder. "Wait," Bartz strained.

Turning him back around, Bartz could see them—all the same deadweight chains that Vaan adorned yesterday morning. Even though he didn't look nearly as tired or on the verge of tears, he still seemed heavier than before. Way heavier. His entire aura was eclipsed, thrown into a world that left him stranded, confused, inches from crumbling apart.

Bartz had to push hard to get his next words out. "Vaan, are things really that bad between you and Aerith? You seriously won't even talk to her?" A beat. Then another. "I mean, dude, she looked about ready to cry when you bolted off like that, y'know."

At this, something in Vaan snapped, then withered. His hand jumped to rake his nose. "Ugh, no way . . . For real?"

"No, she was beaming with joy. Of course, for real."

The sludge of Bartz's sarcasm hung in the hall for a few seconds too long. All Vaan did was massage his temples, stare at anything that wasn't Bartz's eyes.

So Bartz swallowed the sourness on his tongue. His hands slid and fell from his hips. "Listen," he sighed. "I know how she handled the challenge didn't feel right to you. I don't blame you for feeling weird. But that doesn't mean you can just blow her off like that when she wants to—"

"I know, I know," Vaan cut in, sharp and downright exasperated. "I just need more time to cool off, okay? Guess you wouldn't really get it, but . . . It's kinda hard to look her in the eyes right now. And I don't even know how to begin to talk to her about it, so . . ."

Vaan's gaze drew hopeless lines across the ceiling, and just the sight of that alone sent dull aches through Bartz's ribs. The world only wore thinner every time this subject got tossed in the air. How long would it be before they couldn't talk about it at all? Before it took every ounce of Vaan's light, crushed it beyond saving?

'Guess you wouldn't really get it . . . '

And why did Vaan's words have to echo through Bartz's skull? 

'. . . wouldn't really get it . . . '

Why did that make his hands tremble? Why did that burn and scar his skin?

Finally, Vaan cleared his throat. Somehow the sound lifted the dark clouds that had formed, but only a little. Just a little.

"Anyway," Vaan said, "I really gotta run. I promised Laguna we'd have a rematch on our ball game, since he lost last time. He blames it on a sudden leg cramp, but I'm ninety-nine percent sure he just sucks." There was a tiny smile that teased at his mouth. It seemed to fight like hell to stay.