"These thoughts run through my head, over and over..."
Vincent Valentine sat in the study of his mansion, his vermillion eyes half-closed and his flesh hand clutching gingerly the stem of his wine glass. Sleep once again eluded the stoic gunman, though whether or not it truly eluded him, or if it was actually the memories of his treacherous past that kept him from letting himself fall into the sweet, dark oblivion of dreams. Heaving a sigh, he rose from the old, oaken, Victorian style chair to pace the floor of the old study, swirling what remained of the bloody coloured wine around the crystal glass. After a few minutes of looking at the titles of books and inspecting the dust on the old shelves, he bored himself once again, and returned to his chair. Maybe, just maybe, if Tifa were here, things would be different. Perhaps she would to comfort him, ease the mental suffering, even just rub his back until he finally slipped into the dreamworld like she had so many times before. Closing his brightly coloured eyes, he recalled the conversation they'd had when she'd left two days prior.
"Vincent, Cloud needs me at the inn-"
"Cloud? I thought you never wanted to see him again-"
"I can't just leave him hanging, Vincent. The deliveries are slow and he's broke."
"But what about our trip? Tifa, that's been planned for months."
"We'll have to cancel-" Tifa paused to watch the gunslinger's face fall, however unintentional his displaying the emotion was. "I'm sorry..."
"I thought you said two weeks ago that that was the last trip you'd make to the inn because you hated him. I thought-"
"I can't just leave him in a lurch, can I?!"
"Yes, you can. I'm beginning to think that this is more than just you going to assist Cloud-"
"It's not!"
"Give me proof."
"Shut up! Just shut up!"
"Tifa..."
"No! If you can't accept that I have male friends, our relationship will never work out!" And with that, she picked up her bags and stormed out of the house, leaving Vincent stunned and hurt in the foyer.
Opening his eyes Vincent, with much annoyance, realized he'd been crying. Wiping angrily at the offending tears, he drew in a shaky breath. 'That's it...' he thought to himself, 'I understand now. You never loved me, did you, Lockheart? You loved Cloud all along. You felt sorry for me, didn't you? Figured no one else would love me, so you took it upon yourself to. Oh, Gaia, had no one else it wouldn't have mattered. Just as long as you were happy, Tifa. That's all I wanted for you. I supposed I have no reason now, as you were mine. Without you a reason to live my life is worthless, thus I am wasting the breath in my lungs. And that wastefulness must cease." Clearing his thoughts, Vincent drew his gun, and with shaking hands placed the cold steel against the side of his head.
Tifa walked into the mansion, closing the door with a soft click as she prayed that Vincent wasn't angry. As she made for the stairs, sneaking on light feet and trying to avoid any creaky floorboards, an explosion resounded from upstairs, making the poor barmaid scream as she toppled over, hitting the ground with a muffled thud. Heart in her mouth, she jumped up and sprinted up the stairs by twos, heading towards the study and the source of the noise.
The last thing Vincent Valentine would hear before he slipped into eternal slumber and blackness was the heart-wrenching scream of his beloved, the soft thud of her knees as she dropped to them in horror, and then the soft, broken whisper of his name.
"Vincent..."
