What the hell is this?

Title: Form
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Word Count: 351
Characters: Cloud
Rating: G
Notes: C-c-c-combo breaker! Churned out for 15_minute_fic


The results, Cloud knew, would be posted in about ten minutes. Warnings about overloads and crashing hadn't kept most of them from logging into their private accounts from any available computer or phone. Nervous chatter about nothing in particular was punctuated with clicks and beeps from various buttons in their rooms and in the halls.

Five minutes. Cloud didn't know what to expect, really. His physical scores weren't great, but there were also those other evaluations. He'd talked for what seemed like days about things like "which was heavier, a pound of feathers or a pound of rocks?" or "would it be understandable if an employee stole an item from a store if his manager did so, too?" while people in white coats took notes on clip boards and nodded.

A minute to go. Cloud fiddled with his cellphone, making sure not to drop it--he was still paying for it--and making the inbox refresh, and refresh, and refresh, and refresh...

After about an eternity, a new message appeared on the screen, from "Selection Committee". Cloud took a breath and opened the message.

"Based on the results of your evaluations, we have decided...

Please, please, please...

"...to remove your candidacy for further training in this cohort of the Soldier program."

He was sinking, dropping. Going so low, low, low that the whoops and chatter from around the room were muddled and soft. There were others that felt like him--had to be, that's how the world worked--but right now, right now Cloud felt like the only one that wasn't celebrating. He wanted to sleep. He wanted his blankets. He wanted to bury himself in bed, like he used to as a child during winter nights, and forget the absolute stupidity that brought him to Midgar, to Shinra, and made him waste all this time.

"You are still welcome to continue your enlistment in the Shinra Peace Keeping Division and apply for candidacy in future cohorts."

Future. Later on. He couldn't go back home, not like this. Here, he had a place to live, some money, and an opportunity.

He had no choice.

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15_minute_fic prompt cold