(A/N) This is only slightly alternate universe, because just the timelines and events from the canon material (in this case the original FFVII game and/or Crisis Core) are changed; they don't live in an entirely different world like in my other AU story, To Have Loved and Lost. O.o This is my second attempt at writing a tragedy story, and it's told from Tifa's point of view. :3 Oh, and I'm using Roman numerals again for the chapters, because they're awesome. ;P
Holding On
Chapter I
I trudge along the little path that leads back towards my house, listening to the sound of the heavy rain falling around me and my boots sloshing through the muddy puddles that have formed in the road. It's mid February in Nibelheim, and the winter season is starting to give way to spring, so there really aren't that many extremely cold or rainy days anymore. The huge, dark rain clouds that moved in from over the mountains apparently had other ideas though, because they decided to pour on us for the past few days.
Although I do have a pretty good sense of balance, I still keep my eyes focused on the ground as I walk, so I won't accidentally trip and drop the paper bag I'm carrying in my arms. I went to the local market today to buy some groceries, and I'd really hate to ruin all the food by making it fall into the mud. Since my mother died when I was young, I've had to help my dad out with some of the household chores, especially the cooking. I don't mind much though; I actually enjoy the responsibility.
I'll be turning sixteen in May, but I've already been done with my schooling for over a year, because in a town as small as this we just don't have the resources to continue with education. Most of the kids end up moving away after they get older anyway, though I don't plan to, because I love it here. It's felt a little empty lately though, because a lot of the boys that used to live here ended up leaving to join the ShinRa army when they turned eighteen, to help with the war going on right now in Wutai.
I'm startled from my thoughts when the rain, which has been soaking my hair and splashing off my clothes the whole time I've been outside today, suddenly isn't falling on me anymore. Puzzled, I stop mid-step and look up, noticing that there is someone standing by my side. I'm even more surprised when I recognize who it is; it's Cloud, the boy with spiky blond hair and bright blue eyes that grew up in the house next to mine, where he and his mother still live.
He's around my age, and he was born in here Nibelheim just like me, but for some reason even though we've been neighbors this whole time he's never really said much to me. When I was little I had a big group of friends that I played with, but Cloud always seemed to be alone. I always thought that he was just really shy, or maybe that he just didn't like me, though I can't imagine what I would have done to make him dislike me.
He seems perfectly friendly now though; standing next to me and holding his umbrella over my head, which is what caused the rain to stop falling on me. I watch his face closely for a moment, my eyebrows pulling together in confusion as I try to figure out why he's suddenly decided to approach me after so many years of staying away from me. There is a kind look in his clear, blue eyes as he stares back at me though, and a very slight smile lingering on his lips.
"Thank you," I say, glancing up towards his umbrella over my head to indicate what I mean.
He shrugs nonchalantly, his eyes darting away from me momentarily. "You looked like you might want to get out of the rain," he explains simply.
I'm surprised by his casualness, since we've never so much as even spoken to each other before, at least not that I can remember, but I'm even more intrigued by the sound of his voice. It's strange, but as long as I've lived next door to him, I don't think I've ever heard it before. He speaks softly, with a low, slightly gravelly tone, and I find that listening to it is oddly soothing.
Looking away from him finally, I resume walking down the road the way I was headed before he stopped me. Cloud follows after me, matching my pace and keeping his umbrella positioned over my head to shield me from the rain. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the rain falling on him where he no longer has the protection of the umbrella. It makes dark spots on his once dry jacket and drips through his hair, though it doesn't cause the wild blond spikes on his head to droop more than a small amount, and he doesn't seem to mind at all.
He doesn't say anything more to me during the few minutes that it takes us to walk back to the main part of town, though somehow the silence never feels awkward at all, even though I don't know him very well. He surprises me by opening the gate in the front of my yard for me, and I smile at him in thanks before making my way up the walkway and towards my house.
We come to a stop when we're standing outside my front door, and he pulls his umbrella away from me because we're now beneath the archway above my porch, which is keeping the rain off of both of us. For the first time since he met me in the road, I begin to feel awkward around him; not knowing whether or not he'd like me to invite him in. He doesn't wait long enough for me to ask anyway though, instead turning to go back down the steps and head toward his house without another word.
"Thanks for walking me home," I call after him when he's taken a few steps away from me.
He turns back around at the sound my words, flashing me a faint smile rather than replying verbally, and then continues on the path towards his house. He never seems to smile widely; it's always just a hint of one pulling up the corners of his mouth, though I get the feeling that that's just part of who he is. Most of his emotion appears to be hidden in his eyes, and as I watch him walking through the rain away from me, I find myself wondering if I'll ever be able to understand what he's really feeling just by looking into them.
Trying to shake the unusual thought off, I turn to push the front door open, noticing how the warmth from inside the house contrasts with the chilly temperature outside, that was caused by the cloud-cover today. I step inside, pulling off my jacket and hanging it on the hook that protrudes from the wall before closing the door behind me. After kicking off my boots I make my way into the kitchen, setting the bag of groceries on the counter.
"I'm home!" I yell, my voice echoing through the house.
It's relatively early in the evening, but I know that the fact the lights were already turned on in the house when I got here means that my father must be home from work by now. He runs the local bar in town, so he's normally out late cleaning the place up after the last of the customers leave. He must have closed early today though, probably because the rain kept away the usually patrons, and would have more than likely deterred any of the travelers that sometimes pass through our town.
My father walks into the room after a moment, and his entrance is announced by the clunking of his boots against the wooden floorboards. I look up at him and give him a quick smile before going back to my task of sorting through the items in the bag, putting most of them away but leaving a few things out that I'll use to cook for dinner tonight. He sits down at the table in the adjoining dinning room with a heavy sigh, watching me work.
"How was your day?" I ask him as I pull a pan out of the cupboard and set it on the stove.
I've always been really close with my father, especially since my mother passed away when I was little. She died suddenly from illness, and because both my father and I were hurting over her loss, I guess we just naturally bonded. I've been begging him for years to let me work at the bar with him, but he argues that I'm much too young to be anywhere near a bar, and won't budge on his decision.
He leans back in the chair, propping his feet up on the one next to it. "It was alright," he says, his raspy voice sounding tired. "Not much business though," he adds.
I nod my head in acknowledgement, continuing to go about preparing dinner for the two of us.
"What caused you to want to go out in that?" he asks, jerking his chin toward the window to indicate the rain that is still pouring outside.
"I had to go to the store," I say, motioning with my hand back over to the now empty bag on the counter; I thought it would have been obvious.
My father yawns hugely, scratching at the thick beard on his cheeks. "I thought I heard you talking to someone outside," he says, sounding confused.
I'm surprised that he heard me from inside the house, but I know that he must mean when I was talking to Cloud.
"I was just thanking Cloud; he walked me home," I explain.
His dark, bushy eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Who?" he asks.
"Cloud," I repeat myself. "The boy that lives in the house next door."
He seems to be processing this information for a minute, before a look of understanding dawns on his face. "Oh, the quiet one. The one with the hair that looks like a chocobo?" he asks for confirmation.
I giggle, noticing the similarity for the first time. "Yes, that one," I tell him.
"That was nice of him to walk you home," my father allows, watching me as I bring a plate of food over and set it on the table in front of him.
I sit down in the chair across from him, taking the first bite of my meal and swallowing before speaking. "Yes, it was nice of him," I agree.
xXxXx
The rest of our dinner goes by mostly in silence, and when we're done eating my father helps me with the dishes before going into the living room to relax on the sofa. I don't feel all that tired yet, but when I find myself getting bored of my book I tell him goodnight and head upstairs. I take my time brushing my teeth, putting on my pajamas and getting otherwise ready for bed after finishing with my shower, but it's still not very late by the time I make it into my room.
I climb under the covers of my bed and lay my head down on the pillow, but my brain doesn't seem to want to shut off just yet. It takes me over a half an hour to begin feeling at all sleepy, but after my father goes to bed I'm able to listen to his rumbling snores, and their steady rhythm relaxes me. When I finally do drift off to sleep though, my mind is still active, because I find myself dreaming of strange, quiet boys with beautiful blue eyes.
To be continued…
(A/N) I've always wanted to write a story about Cloud and Tifa as teenagers, so when I got this idea I couldn't wait to write it. :D This is my second experimentation with the tragedy genre, though like my other one, this too will have plenty of romance and such before the sad parts. ;P Oh yes, and updates for this, like my other chaptered stories, will be coming about once a week. :3
Leave a review if you liked it or have any suggestions for me. I love them all, whether it has a bunch of nice critique and you point out everything that you like, or you just say "good job". Either way, it's nice to get feedback, so please do. :3 (I much prefer the detailed reviews though. ;P)
-punkiemonkie