Zuruzuru

A Final Fantasy Seven Fanfic

By PrescitedEntity

Disclaimer: For the sake of having this here. You ought to know what this is if you are reading this.

It's on nights like tonight that I wonder why I stay with him, why I bother to support him. It's not as though I'm masochistic; yet, I can't leave him. Why?

"Zuruzuru, zuruzuru."

I hear those words in my voice, from my lips. But, what does that mean? Who am I to tell him that he dallies, that he is indecisive, that he's dragging a burden that he shouldn't, when I'm no better – when I am equally guilty?

His eyes, his expression, betray that he hasn't the faintest idea what I mean. That, or he knows, and is unconvinced.

I gaze around at nothing in particular. A faint light shines in, timidly, as though afraid to be any brighter, lest it burns out forever; its dim glow nevertheless illuminates the room. It paints everything a drab, faded gray; in this light, his pale complexion is made pallid – he looks as though he is a corpse, and maybe, in some ways, he is.

Perhaps I'm just clinging to a specter.

Thoughts like this pain me, and I'm vaguely grateful that Reno and Rude have barged in; I don't know that I could've held back any longer. They finally prompt him to action, explaining and clarifying what I clumsily expressed. Then, Reno tips his head in my direction, wordlessly asking me if I meant to go along with them to seek Marlene and Denzel.

I'm paralyzed.

Those children are more my responsibility's than Cloud's, and I owe it to them to go and rescue them, as I am, I suppose, their de facto mother, acting in loco parenti. Yet, I fail to find my voice! I sit there numbly, dumbstruck, unable to make any meaningful motion, or, for that matter, any movement at all. What happened to the Tifa that would have not even had to think to leap up at saving them, that would have been out the door already, prepared to fight for them? When I look up, my eyes meet an empty room. Evidently, they took my lack of response as a decline, for they have swept out of the room as abruptly as they came, leaving me sitting here, alone, to my thoughts.

Who was I to say such a thing to him?

Standing and shutting the drapes, I mutter the phrase again, as though repeating it would convince me of its truth. The darkness in the room engulfs me, and I collapse upon the bed. No tears come, but I can feel them inside me, choking me, and that is a sensation worse than crying, for in crying, the emotions are let loose to evanesce, but in directing them inwardly, one's pain only multiplies. I know I should be worried sick over Marlene and Denzel, but all I can think about is him. Him, him, him, him, him. He permeates every corner of my mind, like a ghost that haunts me.

Cloud.

He's the source of my insecurity. He's why I remained immobile when Reno inquired after my intent. He's why I busy myself as much as possible, why I devote myself to the care of Marlene and Denzel; when I'm not occupied, he is the cause of the dull ache I feel pervading through me. He's like an addiction I can't kick, in that I know I'd be better off without him – in that he's hurting me, but I can't stop supporting him.

In that I can't stop loving him.

Foolhardy! I'm being idiotic, and I know it. He'll never give me what I want, what I need – he's scarred, emotionally weak – he's an all-around mess, a screw up, a wreck inside – and he's dragging me into it, too!

He tries to follow her still. She haunts his mind, and influences everything he thinks, everything he does. However, where she has gone, he can't, and it chips at him; I see it in his eyes.

In the same way that she is his unattainable phantasm, he has become mine.

His ambivalence tears at my heart, rending pieces from it slowly, agonizingly; I'd rather have his outright hate, because at least then, I'd know that he feels something, anything for me, and I wish he'd just break my heart cleanly, instead of ripping it, still beating, into a million little pieces.

He shatters me, and he doesn't even know it.

It used to be that every day, I would futilely check my cell phone, hoping against hope that he'd call and give some indication that he cares. One day, as I heard Barrett's voice again for the hundredth time, a wave of rage and frustration surged through me, searing red hot in my chest. I tightened my grasp on the phone, clenching it, vice-like, violently, until its plastic cover gave way, and it fragmented into pieces in my fist. Though I felt the warm blood trickling out of my hand, though I saw the crimson flowing in stark contrast to the whiteness of my knuckles, I felt no pain, and couldn't relax my grip on the remnants. I shook my head around, blindly glaring at everything in the room, not seeing, not thinking, not feeling. Then, the photograph caught my eye. In that picture, as I tried to cheer the kids up for the camera, he stood off to the side, reticent as ever. Seeing it, I realized that I could only recall wisps of memories of times when he hadn't been aloof, off somewhere I couldn't follow. It triggered a cascade of emotion, breaking down all the barriers I'd set up to put on a brave face, all the facades. I fell to my knees, tears welling over, streaking down my face, burning my cheeks, and falling to the cold floor. I tried to pound my fist against the floor, but my strength deserted me, and it landed it upon it softly as I steadied my trembling body.

At that moment, Marlene walked in. I could see the innocent concern of a child in her eyes, and it hurt me all the more to know that I couldn't be strong for her, and all because of him. I grasped at the remnants of my will, trying to regain composure, finally succeeding in asking her to check on Denzel, after uttering a wavering assurance that I was fine.

She told me I was not.

Hearing her melodic voice intone a fact I'd kept in denial broke me. She'd been keen on the problems between us before – she'd told Barrett as much – but she'd never said anything like this to me before, so pointedly and matter-of-factly. On impulse, I had the phone repaired, a sort of memento of my dose of reality. After that, I no longer held on to the vain hope that he'd call, and no longer was left with bitterness when I found that he hadn't. Those pangs of pain were replaced with the dull ache so familiar to me now.

What hurts most, though, is that he had seemed to recover. For a while, he'd been the beacon of hope, the pillar against which I could lean, could find support. He'd even been optimistic when I wasn't! He'd even smiled – Cloud Strife, smiling! The first time I saw him smile, I about melted in joy. And if he didn't open up, he at least began to live! I began to count on this support, and the days were filled with mild contentment, if not being the loving bliss of family that I wanted. Even when he took up the business of delivery and was in at odd times, I stayed optimistic about us, the pseudo-family we'd become, and when he brought Denzel to us, the relief I felt when he seemed to recover was so great that I couldn't sleep for fear of waking up, and seeing it was all merely a dream. I could've settled for it – it was enough.

Then he left.

Anguish. All that I had built upon our time together crashed down, and I was left with only myself as support – support I had to give Marlene and Denzel. When I realized that he'd fallen apart at the seams, I was consumed by thoughts of giving up to the trouble of life. The memories of those times tormented me, and made every bit of ambivalence on his part all the more painful. Yet, I knew I had to be there for the two children, so I gathered up the broken pieces and trudged on in life. It became mechanical within days; I busied myself about their affairs, and tried my hardest to keep him out of my mind.

But of course, he refused to fully leave.

I'm weary. I grope around the darkness for the covers, pulling them up to my chin. Reaching one hand under my pillow, I felt cloth, its texture like that which he'd left in the church.

Discovering his affliction hurt me, of course, but by that time, the pain was a dull, throbbing one. I can't say that I didn't suspect that it was the case; Marlene's taught me to lie less to myself. It blew over quickly enough in the whirlwind of events to come.

Damn. I can't fall asleep, and I know it.

Why do I stay with him? He does nothing but hurt me in a million little ways. It's death by a thousand cuts.

Damn it, Reno! If you hadn't barged in at that time, maybe I would've finally said the words I should have when he wouldn't let me join him that night, or any of all those times we'd been at odds! Maybe I could've severed ties to him. I would've told him how he isn't taking responsibility, how he can't let go of the past, how he's the source of my pain. How I'd leave him if I could.

But, I know those would have been words I would regret.

Because I'm his support, whether he knows it or not, and he needs it more than I do. Because Marlene and Denzel need both of us, now more than ever.

And because I can't stop loving him, and I won't lie to myself anymore...

Mmm...

Even through the drapes, I feel light upon my face, faintly but pleasantly warm. I open my eyes, and seeing the dim light through it, felt an odd sense of direction.

"Zuruzuru, zuruzuru..."

I'll wait for him. I've got the conviction. I'll be here for him, not because I can't leave him, but because I won't. That one change in resolve makes all the difference.

Author's Note: LOL. I hope you guys got what I was trying to get across. To clarify, she stopped "dragging" the burden of supporting Cloud as she realized that it being with him was what she wanted – that she didn't (yet) need to be loved back, so long as she can help him. A bit of a deviation from what I'd intended with this; I'd planned to write the ending less positively, and focus a bit more on Aeris, but it didn't work out that way.

I'm not Cloud bashing. I don't care for him either way. It just worked out this way, from Tifa's PoV. Actually, I don't really care for Tifa, either...

It just kinda struck me odd that she'd go on about his "zuruzuru"-ing, yet seems to have stayed at home while Cloud went off to find Marlene and Denzel.

Cookie if you can name the two symbols I used to represent the condition of their relationship! It shouldn't be too hard (hopefully, if I did things right...).

Written for my friend as a challenge, and boy, was it a challenge, since I'm not very fond of FFVII. Yes, I'm aware that I'll probably be torched for this bit o' blasphemy, why?

If I keep writing fanfiction for it, though, I'll probably grow to adore it. --;

Should I write one from Cloud's PoV? Hmm...