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Title: Purple Skies http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4491441/1/Purple_Skies
Penname: BananaPeaceMonkey
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Drama/Mild Suspense/Friendship/Angst/Tragedy(maybe)
Status: In-progress
Rating: T{mild swearing--chapter 5: the b word/chapers 8,9, and 10: the f word/mild violence}
Disclaimer: The game Final Fantasy VII does not belong to me, but Square Enix. The songs used in this fic are works of Evanescence and FlyLeaf, not my own.
Summary: Tifa, Cloud, and Vincent are teenagers living in the small town of Nibelheim. They all have their share of problems: Tifa's dad acts as if she doesn't exist because he's always gone at work, and he's over-protective when she does exist in his eyes; Cloud's mother has a boyfriend who he does not get along with; Vincent's parents are abusive drunks. To help cope with this teenage angst, they form a band, but what happens when they might be forced apart?

AN: This is my very first AU FFVII fic. It is updated almost as regularly as I can manage.

Story Teaser:

Vincent watched her for a moment before unlocking the door and stepping inside his house. The thought of her by herself bothered him a little. She was a very attractive girl, one of the most attractive teenagers in town. He caught a lot of the looks from guys that checked her out, and the things he thought they were thinking made me a bit sick. He didn't go to the school; he'd graduated the year before. Cloud was there, getting extra tutoring in his science class. The guy's brilliant when it comes to math, but stick him in a science class, and he's done for. I don't understand why he just doesn't go to Tifa for help. She's a freaking genius.
Walking to the back room, he stared at the pair of drumsticks that sat there on a table in invisible loneliness. He knew he had to take them with him over to Tifa's; his drums were there in her basement. He couldn't keep his instruments over at his own place because his parents would destroy them. Derkus knew about the drums, but decided to ignore them. He was hoping that Tifa was taking them up, even though he knew what was going on. Of course, Vincent was the only one who couldn't keep his stuff at his own place. Cloud had his guitar, as did Matthew and Aaron. The latter two were twin brothers. Even though they were Vincent's age, they were still pretty hard to tell apart. Those two were just about the only other kids who didn't say much to Cloud or Vincent. Cloud knew them and had heard them play. He suggested they be in the band. His judgement wasn't very bad.

After thinking for a moment, Vincent decided to get the mail. He usually didn't do that, but for some reason, he had a sudden urge to go and see what kinds of things his parents got. Probably catalogues for some alcohol store somewhere, he thought sourly.

Outside, he saw two small children playing together. It reminded him a bit of himself and his friends when they were younger. He chuckled quietly to himself, reaching into the mailbox and pulling out small stack of papery material.

As he went back inside, he gazed upon what was before him. The first thing on top actually was a catalogue for an alcohol store. The second was a bill. But a couple of things after that were, surprisingly enough, addressed to him. There were three letters in total that were made out to a Mr. Vincent Valentine. Who in the world wants to send me mail? I'm not that important. He opened the first envelope, skimmed through it, and then went through the second and third. They were all about the same thing. He thought it was strange, especially that the first two said something along the lines of, "We've been contacting you for several months now, but have heard no response." They continued on to say that he had a certain amount of time to send them back a letter. What is this about? I've never gotten anything from these people before.

Looking more closely at the third letter, he saw that it was actually a check. A check for what? He skimmed over them again, plopping down on the couch, bent over the mail he'd just gotten. They were all basically about the same thing--a trustfund that had opened up for him on his eighteenth birthday. He'd never gotten word about it. The check was actually part of a series that had been coming for a while, but he had never gotten any of them. What the hell is all this about?

Everytime he looked something over, the more sense it made. The pieces fit together nicely in his head, but it was something that he didn't like. How could they? God, I knew they were slobs, but I didn't think they could stoop this low!
Then, the front door opened.