Creep- FFVII Biggs X Reader Ch.17
Warnings: blood, descriptions of wounds
A/N: Sorry it took over a year for an update lol. Ya girl’s been through it. But I promise I will finish this fic this year. There are only two chapters left after this.
The familiar lights of sector 5 came into view. They shone like beacons of hope, sparkling in the dreadful darkness. Relief washed over you at the sight, albeit only for a moment.
Crowds of people were staring up at the sky behind you, pointing, gasping, and whispering to each other; the fear in their eyes was impossible to miss. Children were crying, people were moaning in pain, and worst of all, every gunshot and every explosion carried through the air as if it were right behind you.
"Help! We need a doctor!" One of the neighborhood watch boys shouted.
Some of the crowd turned their eyes to look at your bloody, panicked group. More gasps, more whispers of disbelief, looking at your dear friend like he was some type of sideshow attraction. Some of the parents shielded their children's eyes.
There was blood, so much blood. It dripped onto the dirt below; a puddle began to form. You felt sick.
You tore your eyes away from the sight.
"Is anyone a doctor?!" You shouted, eyes darting through the crowd for someone, anyone to help.
A white coat caught your eye, worn by a man crouching down on the dirt and wrapping bandages around a woman's arm. There were a few other wounded people sitting or lying around the man, but none nearly as urgent as Biggs.
"Hey!" You shouted, pushing through the crowd to reach him, "Doctor!"
The man looked up at you.
"We need your help!" You said.
You grabbed him by the arm before he could reply and dragged him towards your friend. You shoved him the final distance towards Biggs.
He stumbled, but quickly regained his composure as he looked at the source of your commotion.
"Oh my god," the man muttered. There was too much blood, anyone could see that. He placed two fingers on Biggs' neck. You felt your own heart stop as you waited for him to say something, anything.
A woman pushed her way through the crowd. Tan skin, dark curly hair, and glasses; She looked familiar.
"Biggs!" She shouted, running forward to get a better look at him.
She stopped in her tracks and gasped, her eyes wide like saucers at the sight.
"Quick!" She beckoned, "bring him inside!"
She ushered the men into the nearest building: the orphanage. Biggs had taken you there many times before. It always felt so warm and full of life, but this time was different. The children all crowded around the windows, oddly silent.
They all turned to look as the doors bust open, a group of men carrying a bloody, limp form up the nearest staircase. The face of the man was hidden from most of the children, who were either too short to see past the men's heads or had their eyes covered by one of the caretakers.
Except for one little girl. Five, maybe six years old, who just happened to be on the stairs as the men were going up. Her face grew pale at the sight, and her lip began to quiver.
The rest of the kids heard it.
Gasps, questions, shouts, and cries erupted before any of the caretakers could stop it. Children rushed forward, following you and the group of men up the stairs. Most were pulled back by the caretakers, but not without a struggle. The children were nearly impossible for the small staff to contain, and a few stragglers made it to the second floor.
The woman pushed a door open and held it for the men, who rushed inside. They dropped Biggs on the small cot, clearly made for a child, and the doctor made quick work cutting off his bloody shirt.
Everything was happening around you so fast you couldn't keep up with it all. The room felt like a whirlwind, people rushing past you, running in all directions; it was dizzying. The doctor shouted orders to the watch members quicker than you could process them. You could hardly process anything at all.
Your mouth felt dry, incredibly dry. And every time you swallowed, the lump in your throat nearly choked you.
"Is he gonna be ok?" You asked.
The doctor didn't look up from his work, and neither did any of the neighborhood watch members. It was as if you hadn't said anything at all. And yet you waited, unable to breathe until you received your answer.
"I don't know," the doctor finally answered, continuing his work without a second thought.
Your eyes locked on Biggs' abdomen. With his shirt now gone, you could see his wounds on full display. A gash, a bullet hole, both oozing fresh blood. There was dried blood everywhere.
You couldn't stop staring at it. The sight of the still bleeding wounds scared you to death. He had already lost so much blood, and yet you were afraid that if he stopped bleeding, that would mean his heart had finally stopped. So you watched the blood, it bubbled at a steady pace, fluctuating with every beat of his heart.
A hand grabbed at your arm gently; the woman. She gave a small sad smile. And without a word, she led you out of the room.
She closed the door quietly behind her, ushering away the children who had managed to sneak upstairs against the staff's wishes. She scolded them quietly and told them not to talk to the other kids about what they saw. A request she knew would not be fulfilled.
She turned back to you, the same unconvincing smile on her lips as she whipsered, "Let's get you cleaned up."
Her hand wrapped around your wrist, giving a slight squeeze as she led you to the bathroom. The gesture, although kind, made you feel like a child in trouble.
Pushing the door open, she led you inside the small communal bathroom. Then, she crouched down to search through the cupboard under the sink.
You took a step towards the mirror, finally taking in your own appearance. It was then that you understood why she dragged you in; you likely would scare the children.
Your face was covered with sweat and dirt, black mascara had pooled under your eyes and run down your face, and worst of all, trails of blood caked your skin. It was his, you realized. His blood was all over your face.
You reached a shaky hand up to touch it. Some of it flaked off with the pressure, the brown flecks falling into the sink.
"My name's Folia," the woman said, moving beside you to wet the washcloth. You snapped out of your trance and looked at her.
"Y/N, right?" She cut you off.
"He talks about you all the time to the kids," she said, giving you a smile that faded into nothing as she wrung the cloth. The mention of him made both of you grow silent.
She took your face in one hand and started dabbing at the blood with the washcloth. It came off your skin with relative ease, and so did the dirt. The mascara was a little bit difficult, but it came off eventually. And then she was done.
She took the washcloth under the sink again, washing away the stains.
"What all did he say about me?" You asked quietly.
"Don't worry, It was all good," she gave a small laugh, "he really seemed to have a thing for you."
The lump in your throat grew and your vision went blurry. The lights in the room looked like starbursts.
"Were the two of you ever... Y'know, together?" She asked.
You quickly shook your head no, a tear sliding down your face.
"Hey, don't lose hope just yet. He's a fighter, a real stubborn one too."
You huffed out a small laugh.
"You're right about that," you said, wiping the tears away. "What about you? How did you know him?"
"He was my teacher when I used to stay here as a kid... more like the older brother I never had. He was the whole reason I wanted to become a teacher."
Another solemn beat of silence.
It occurred to you that he had touched everyone's lives that he was a part of. He brought joy, comfort, humor, intelligence, strength, guidance, and solidarity to so many people. What a selfless man he was, spending all his spare time and paychecks on the kids at the leaf house, like a modern day saint.
It made you wonder, how could a man like him fall in love with you? And how on earth is if fair that his life could be taken so easily?
He wasn't dead yet. He wasn't dead yet. He still had hope.
He was in the safest place you knew of, all things considered, and being treated with the best care a citizen of the slums could ask for.
There was nothing more you could do to help him. Whether he lived or died, that was up to Gaia.
Your friends were still on the pillar, though. And you couldn't live with yourself if something happened to them. Jessie, Wedge, Barrett, Tifa, and even Cloud. They were still fighting. Even though the battle was clearly lost...
You looked back at Folia, who was wringing out the wet washcloth, and mustered up the courage to tell her.
"Look,” you exhaled, “I really want to stay and look after Biggs, but I've got to make sure my friends in Sector 7 are ok."
Folia stopped what she was doing and stood frozen as she looked back at you, reading your expression.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" She asked, “I heard it's like a war zone out there, and the plate could fall any minute."
"I can't just stay here and wait for it to happen," you said, “They could be hurt, just like Biggs.”
Folia's brows knit together as she looked down at the cracked linoleum tiles.
"What if you don't come back?" She looked up at you, "When he wakes up, the first thing he's gonna do is ask for you."
You bit your lip, there was nothing more you wanted than to be by his side if he woke up. You'd do anything to stay with him. But you wouldn't, no, you couldn't, just leave your friends.
You couldn't shake the images of them in your head, images of them riddled with bullets, slumped against the pillar, covered in blood. Just like Biggs.
"I know...," you looked Folia in the eye, "But I need them to be safe too. If something happened to them, I don't know what I'd do."
Folia shut her eyes and sighed, she knew you weren't going to be persuaded.
"I understand. If you've got to go, I'll stay here and make sure the doctor doesn't need anything."
"Thank you," you said, turning to leave the bathroom. But before you could leave, Folia caught your wrist.
"You better come back," she said, her gaze was intense, "He needs you."
"I'll come back. I promise."
She let go of your wrist.
You hurried out the hall and down the stairs, brushing past the confused children crowded in the lobby. Little hands tried to grab at you, and little voices tried to ask how Biggs was, but you weee too quick. You made it out the door before they could get to you.
You looked up in the sky. The plate was still there. There was still time.
But then you felt something. Something bad, something wrong.
The ground shook beneath you, and a deafening rumble echoed through the streets.
You could only stand and stare as the sector seven plate fell from the sky and crumbled to the ground, in large, flaming chunks.
What couldn't have been more than a minute felt like a lifetime as you watched each piece of debris descend upon the city below...
Then came the wave of dust.
You managed to break free from your trance and run back into the leaf house just before it hit you. As soon as you turned around, the windows had become fully clouded over.
You placed a hand on the glass, trying to look past the endless sea of brown. It was pointless, you couldn't see anything, and yet you couldn't tear your eyes away, trying to find any figure, any silhouette in the fog.
Your friends weren't in there, right?
They had gotten out, right?
If there was one thing you knew about them, though, is they'd rather die fighting then sit back and watch this happen, so the answer was quite clear...
You suddenly felt lightheaded, your mouth incredibly dry, and a lead weight in your heart.
Folia rushed down the stairs, stopping in front of the window only for a moment before running to console the screaming kids.
Weird, it was only then you noticed the kids crying. You didn't notice anything happening around you. And even now, you still felt disconnected from it all. Chaos was unfolding all around you, and yet it didn't feel real. Nothing felt real.
Brown splotches were taking over your vision, and you grabbed onto the chair next to you, your hands shaking as they guided you to sit down. It was only then you realized how quick your breathing had gotten.
You leaned forward, trying to increase the bloodflow in your brain. Shutting your eyes, you took a couple deep breaths. They didn't come very easy, so you counted each inhale and exhale, just like Biggs had taught you.
Inhale...1...2...3...4...
Exhale...1...2...3...4...
All your friends were dead.
It couldn't be... she couldn't be...
Your breathing regressed back into a shallow, ragged mess, like someone or something was crushing your chest, breaking each and every rib in the process. You gasped for air, tears pricking at your eyes.
"Y/N!" A voice shouted, and footsteps rushed towards you. You didn't look up, you couldn't. Any sudden movement and you'd surely pass out.
"Y/N, you gotta breathe," the woman said, kneeling down to your level and taking your hands into her own. You recognized the voice; Folia, “Hey, look, breathe with me."
"Breathe in..." she instructed, you sucked in a quick breath, "Hold..."
Your lungs felt like they were on fire.
"Breathe out..." she said calmly, you quickly expelled the air out of your mouth, "Breathe in... hold... breathe out."
"Marlene," you managed to spit out, "I-I think Marlene was still in there."
She froze, you could feel it.
She must have recognized the name; Biggs probably brought her up all the time.
She didn't say anything, instead she sat down on the chair beside you, dropping her own heard into her hands as the full weight of the realization hit her.
And with that, you fell back into your fit of sobs, crying for your friends, crying for your family, crying like your life fucking depended on it.
