Disclaimer: Don't own FFVII, or any of the characters or locations. You know that.
Although briefly, this fic implies what some would call 'dark issues'. You have been warned.
When Cloud spoke to her, Tifa could hear a lament for the dead. He was mourning those who left too young, those who fell in battle, and those who died for their withering planet. Sometimes, Tifa tried to get him to sing a different song, a lighter melody of acceptance and love, but her attempts were always in vain.
When Cloud kissed her, Tifa could taste regret on his lips. It tasted like the sweat and blood of a fallen SOLDIER, like lilies, daisies and roses from the basket of a sweet, sweet flower girl, and like poverty and debris, all that remained of the city once controlled by the ShinRa Electric Power Company.
When Cloud slept next to her, Tifa could see his nightmares and all the faces that continued to haunt him, even after all these years. A beautiful girl with the softest brown hair, the warmest green eyes, and the sweetest toothpaste commercial smile. An old friend with raven hair, a lopsided, easygoing grin and dark eyes glittering with mirth and life. Then, there was a third figure. A tall man cloaked in black with hateful, feline eyes. He had a white knuckled grip on a long blade stained with the blood of an angel, and he thought it was so funny.
Hahahaha.
Tifa watched as Cloud woke up with a start and asked him if he was okay. Cloud always said yes, it was nothing, he was just dreaming. Then he'd kiss her with his guilt glossed lips, trying to offer a thin shell of reassurance.
When Cloud looked into her eyes, Tifa could feel him searching for something. Neither of them seemed to know what it was, and Cloud would always leave empty handed. Tifa would have encouraged him to dig deeper, but it would have done any good. Cloud seemed reluctant, almost afraid, to scratch the surface.
When Cloud hugged her, Tifa could smell subtle cologne and the faint scent of laundry detergent on his clothes. He always tried to hard to mask his pain for her, swearing up and down that everything was fine, as though Tifa was easily swayed by pretty smells, a hand in her hair or lips on her skin. He seemed oblivious to Tifa's awareness, disallowing her entry into his heart. Nothing annoyed her more. If he kept himself closed like that, no one could get in and nothing could get out. He'd be trapped in that hell of his until the end of his days.
When Cloud left her, Tifa could not say she was surprised. His regret ran too deep, those faces tormented him too much, and escaping it was all too tempting. Tifa didn't blame him. Instead, she let that fall on her own shoulders. Her stomach felt as though it had been hollowed by her guilt and despair. If only she'd have tried harder.
Tifa let out a long, quivering breath and furiously wiped at her moist, stinging eyes with the back of one trembling hand while pushing the tear stained photograph away from her with the other. She couldn't bear to look at his face anymore. Even in a still picture, his eyes seemed to be staring at her filled with hurt and betrayal, asking how she could have let it go this far.
"I don't know," she choked out amidst sobs. "I'm sorry... Cloud."
The photo didn't respond, and Tifa knew she'd never hear Cloud's voice again.