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Alrighty, here begins the sequel to Endless. I hope everyone enjoys it :)
This is set during Advent Children, a couple years after Endless. I tend to put a lot of fluff in my stories, so I hope you like it. If anyone has suggestions for songs, or sayings to put
at the beginning of each chapter they'd be greatly appreciated.
Please sit back, relax, and enjoy.
Tifa opened her eyes, peering into the darkness of the room.
She could hear Cloud's muffled voice across the hall from where the door had been cracked open. She sat up, swinging her legs over the bedside, her bare feet warm against the
hardwood floor.
Creeping across the hall to Cloud's office, she peered in.
He was sprawled across his bed, a sheet draped haphazardly over his body.
It was summer, so all the blankets had been stored away, the windows shut and the air-conditioning cranked to full blast. Summer in Midgar wasn't pleasant.
He was murmuring a name she heard often in his dreams.
Zack.
His white wife beater was drenched in sweat, and his pillow was crunched under one arm, his left hidden underneath.
"Don't leave me here Zack-" he muttered, his fingers clenching the pillow.
Tifa bit her lip, gently closing the door.
She wanted to comfort him, to put him at ease- but he'd seemed so distant lately.
In pain. Physical, or mental, she couldn't tell, but had a feeling it was both.
When they ate together, he'd go into some sort of trance, lost in his memories. She'd wake him from his reverie, and he'd bolt up like she'd licked him with fire.
His smiles became precious- rarer as he delved deeper into his disturbing past.
He no longer laughed, nor chuckled as he often had. He'd detached from the world, falling into his own, and wouldn't let Tifa in.
His memories was one place she could not follow him.
Cloud woke, drenched in cold sweat.
His heart pounded uncomfortably against his ribcage, and he was shaking uncontrollably. He sat up, panting.
He rose from his bed on rubbery legs, rubbing his face and heading towards the door. He walked out into the hall, slipping into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him so as not
to wake Tifa. He splashed some cold water on his face and dried with the hand towel, flinching as his arm throbbed painfully. He raised it, looking at the spidery black stigma leaching over
his left arm.
It had gotten bigger.
It throbbed again, much more insistent than the last. He opened the cabinet, finding a bandage and wrapping his arm tightly, tying it with his teeth.
He shook his head, gritting his teeth as yet another tremor coursed through his arm.
I need to leave before this gets worse and Tifa notices...
He had not yet told Tifa about the stigma.
A mistake, he knew- but nonetheless- he couldn't make her suffer, for he knew she would.
There was no cure for Geo Stigma. Nothing would stop him from dying a slow and painful death- he had already grown to accept his impending death.
Already, his body's defences were weakening from weeks battling something that was so impossibly relentless.
His attacks came more frequently now, another reason he had to leave.
The first had come without warning, just a few days after he'd contracted it.
He'd blacked out just as he was leaving his room for the morning deliveries, and Tifa had found him.
Luckily enough she'd blamed it on the amount of work he'd been doing, and made him to take a few days off from deliveries.
He took one last glance at his exhausted face in the mirror, and walked back to his room.
He quickly packed his bag. A couple of bandages, a lamp, a bedroll and a canister of oil. It was all he would take.
He pulled on his pants, zipping up his vest over his wife beater and buckling on his shoulder guard, as well as a long sleeve, covering the traces of Geo Stigma on his skin. He took the
harness for First Tsurugi and fastened it to his back, then taking the sword itself and sheathing it.
He grabbed his keys off the hook by his door and slipped out into the hall soundlessly, walking down the stairs.
He filled his canteen at the sink. And clipped it to his back, walking to the closed door and pausing.
He closed his eyes, breathing a gentle sigh. The house was silent, the only sound was of the crickets that lay singing beneath the window. Moonlight bathed the floors in a gentle light,
washing the furniture in a pale blue.
"Cloud?" Cloud flinched as he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder- he hadn't expected Tifa to be up this late. He turned.
Her eyes were a deep chocolate in the moonlight, a tint of red within each iris. Her eyes went from his, to the pack on his shoulders.
"Leaving again?" she said, a hint of sadness in her voice that pained Cloud to hear.
"Tifa I..." he turned his head, unable to meet her saddened gaze.
If only she knew- I'm doing this for her sake. I don't want her to have to watch me die.
"I need... some time." He said quietly.
"To figure things out." Tifa finished for him, "I understand." She said, looking down at the floor.
Cloud bit his lip, watching in silence as she attempted to hide the tears that spattered the hardwood.
He knew he should console her- do something- but he just stood and watched...
No. This was not the way she deserved to be treated, her least of all.
Someone who'd brought him back from the brink of death, while risking her own life for his. Someone who cared for him, who gave him a place to stay, and always had her arms open.
He carefully raised his arm, unsure of her reaction; he hesitated for a moment, unsure of how exactly to go about it and pulled her into a tight embrace. To his surprise, she rested her
head in the crook of his neck against bare skin, and held onto him, her slender arms wrapping around his body and holding him.
He gently rested his chin on her head, closing his eyes, and letting the scent of her hair embrace his senses.
The same smell as Aerith's flowers. A smell that made him feel at peace.
It was that moment when he was reminded of when he'd woken in the den, barely coherent and heard her song.
She'd held onto him, keeping him from falling apart while the rest of his world collapsed around him.
She had always been on for him to lean on. She'd led him through troubled times. She'd given until she had nothing left, and still, her arms were open.
He could hear her ragged breaths into his shoulder, her quiet sobs.
He knew keeping the bar running was a lot to handle. The job was running her to the ground, and the money from their combined jobs was hardly enough.
He stroked her hair soothingly, barely aware that she was beginning to lean heavily against him. Her fingers remained entwined around his neck, but her breathing had softened, her grip
loosening.
He opened his eyes, smiling faintly. She'd fallen asleep.
He gently picked her up, bridal style and carried her up the stairs.
He entered his office, the quieter side of the Seventh Heaven, and laid her on the bed. He smiled down at her, seeing a gentle and relaxed smile grace her lips.
He wished at that moment, before he left, he could tell her how he felt- his deep and intricate feelings for her, how whenever they were in the same room, his heart leapt, how whenever
he looked into those warm chocolate eyes of hers, he was completely and utterly lost within their depths, how whenever he caught the scent of her long mahogany hair, he felt like he
would just whisk away.
He loved her.
He couldn't though, he knew.
Whoever he got close to, got hurt or died.
And the thought of her reaction- What if she didn't feel the same way about him...?
The thought of it was worse than anything, and he knew, Tifa Lockhart was the only person who could make him whole, who could heal the scars left from years of fighting for the planet-
who could rid him of the constant nightmares that chased him through his sleep, infecting the dreams and turning them into darkness.
No one else.
He watched her as she turned, her hair catching the moonlight. He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers for a brief moment.
He slid his wolf ring from his finger and onto hers.
I'll be back. I promise. To say goodbye.
There you have it, the first chapter. I hope you all enjoyed:)
***Just so everyone knows, a wife beater is a muscle shirt.
