“Is that what you want?” I hear something land on my desk, but I don't turn around. When you look outside the window of my office from where I sit, all you see is heaven. Heavy, gray-blue sky. Funny, the clouds don't look any closer here than they do on the ground, but when you stand in front of the main entrance it looks like you could touch them from up here. Especially on days like this when the clouds are so low.
"Look at me, Turk! Is that what you are referring to? Because you are on your way there and by the gods, I will not regret it." I still skilfully ignore him, just let the chair a little further back tilt. I understand every word ... I just don't want to show him that. He speaks of gods, how ridiculous! He has sworn off all of them except for one. In general, there is only this one for him. It's downright disgusting. It is clearly written in his eyes again today, I know that for sure. The picture that would present itself to me if I were to turn my head is deeply anchored in my brain. I just know it, although it's always somehow different. Pale hands that look pretty unhealthy considering their origins. Cold eyes that seem just as colorless as everything else about him, despite the caramel color. As if they were hidden behind a veil - and somehow they are. They only get warm for this one man, almost as if he were starting to melt. At least this time there is a wallet between his thin fingers, I could tell by the noise. Probably Cissnei's, I know he kept it. I don't even dare to think that it happened out of sentimentality, although I always felt something in the air between the two of them. Well, now she's gone, and that's probably what he's all about. He holds on to the fact that she is dead, killed by ShinRa, just like everyone else. I can't believe it. He wouldn't brag about it like that if he really had something to do with it. That she stayed alive, that he covered her, that is a nice thought, even if one that I don't want to expose him to. Because I think that it would be really dangerous then. He's got such a strange thing going on, with women in and of themselves and with dead women in particular. After all, nobody starts at Cetra either.
I hate the feeling with Tseng that we are racing down an abyss. Every time he walks into the office and I'm here alone, the atmosphere inevitably builds up and it always ends with him pulling out confidently. Still a withdrawal - but how much longer? I've known this guy for ages, the pale, slim, inconspicuous, handsome bureaucrat face. Everything about him is pale, narrow and inconspicuous - bureaucratic.Everything fits perfectly - but that wasn't always the case. When I started at ShinRa, back then we were both sinfully young, it was still obvious that he came from below. From a world that wasn't quite so pretty and straightforward. I had taken him for a time bomb, the painstakingly tamed tomboy, whose temperament always seething beneath the thin membrane of the surface. That was years ago. For a while I was sure that he was gone for good, slid into an abyss, down the slope - never to be seen again. Everyone still thinks that. The only one he lets see that there is a little more, a little life, is me. No idea why, aside from the obvious reasons, of course.
I hear him turn away and take a few steps across the room, his preferred means of cooling off - he cuddles, as usual. Only when I hear the soft click of the door lock do I look up. Does he lock me in? No, worse ... it locks us in. There are only a few real horror scenarios that I don't dare to think about after all this time as Turk. To be in a closed room with Tseng, with all the unspoken things, the pent-up dramas and tragedies ... That is definitely one of them. I'm not afraid of him, not that, he's lost a lot of his fire. I just don't feel comfortable thinking that's all.
Now I don't ignore him anymore, he has my full attention, although nothing surprised me by what I see. On my desk, among all the rubbish, cups and paperwork, I can't see anything that didn't belong there. So he put the wallet away again. The chair legs hit the floor with a semi-loud noise that terrifyingly tears the silence apart. "No chance, boss. There would be no future with both of us anyway," I remark calmly, but even to my ears it doesn't sound like the usual ridicule. He's still looking at me with those cold eyes, completely unmoved. All feelings, if any, seem to be saved for the President, the one and only. He's stingy about that. As for everything else - rule loosening, salary increases, praise, free time - by the way, too.
With a few steps he is back with me, our director, and I know that he is just barely under control. But I expected that too, didn't I? If he had been wearing something else, I would have seen the fabric taut on his shoulders and upper arms, he is so irritable. And actually he's not as weak and skinny as he would have us believe. I don't know whether he would have invited people to underestimate him in an outfit other than the wide uniform. He hadn't worn anything else in years. He stops, but only next to my chair.He has crossed the line of the desk, which is actually sacred to him, ice cold, and now he is right in front of me. I push back my chair and want to get up, while I see fine strands of hair that have come loose and fallen into his face. They never do that otherwise, they are always where he wants them. If I can see that, then I'm too close, way too close. I can't even get out of my chair completely and I don't have time to say anything. The slap hits me unexpectedly, I didn't see how he moved. I prop myself up on the desk with one hand so I don't fall. We are both still silent. Maybe he's waiting for a reaction from me, but I keep standing with my head bowed on the tabletop. Everything in me is in turmoil, as if my whole body knows that this is a test that Tseng is finally trying to establish who is the stronger ... but I don't react to it. The next cold-blooded, carefully placed blow brings me back into the chair, then it's over me. I catch a glimpse of him; there is a white scar over his eyebrow. Maybe it stems from the action in the north crater, maybe he always had it. I don't know anything about him. One hand digs into my hair and pulls my head back, the backrest presses uncomfortably on my neck, the other is somewhere on my hip. I know what he's looking for, but when he lets go of me, and I look at him in silent anger, my weapon has already disappeared under his jacket, as has the ID card. From here his scar can no longer be seen, which is strange.
His expression hasn't changed a bit, maybe he just has this one. He might as well have made a coffee or turned down a vacation request.
He set up his things in silence and turned to the door in silence. I watch him closely, my heart as empty as my pockets. Just as he turns the key, he pauses, as if he had only just noticed that he has not yet commented on what has happened. He didn't turn around, but I'm kind of sure he closed his eyes. "You're on leave. The next time you leave him alone, I'll take more than that from you." Then he's gone, along with what's left of my life.
If you look out the window from where I sit, you only see the sky. Heavy, gray-blue sky. The clouds don't look any closer here than they do on the ground, but when you stand in front of the main entrance it looks like you could touch them from up here. As if you were a little closer to heaven. Everyone here knows this is nonsense. The only difference is that from up here you fall deeper.