Pick up. Please pick up.

Tifa kept the phone pressed against her ear as the ringing resonated endlessly. He wasn't going to pick up any time soon, was he? Still, she stood her ground but worriedly paced as the rings increased. Finally, on the nearly twenty fifth ring, Tifa decided to hang up again.

With that, she dropped herself onto her bunk and heaved a heavy sigh. How could she be sure that he was fine? How could she be assured that he kept his promise, his promise to be safe throughout the whole time outside of the house?

The rain shattered the silence and the raindrops left silhouettes on her wall as they dropped onto the glass window. Watching them usually calmed her senses, especially when she did so with her head resting on his strong shoulder. But right now, he didn't even answer the phone.

Make a decision, Cloud…

How she regretted the screaming, the tantrum, the sudden argument that led to this… She was heartless enough to let this happen. If she could, she'd go out and look for him despite the downpour. But it'd be too careless to leave Marlene and Denzel since it was already past eleven.

Was it necessary to worry? The anxiety was enough to keep her from sleeping. Tifa thrust her balled fist against the pillow beside her as she groaned in frustration, biting her lower lip in anger. She was so stupid, so childish. What was wrong with her…?

…She knew better than to actually let Cloud walk out of the house, into the rain, into the night…

Where was he? What is he doing? Why won't he answer his phone? More importantly, when will he come back?

Choose one. Just one, please…

It was her own motto, her own way of life, that negotiation was better than combat. He was the one who preferred a sword fight to the death. She preferred debates or heart-to-heart talks. But her she was, recalling how she tried to hit him with her fist and how relieved she is now that he managed to dodge that earlier.

She lifted her gaze onto the dim ceiling, trying to keep the tears welling in her eyes from streaking her cheeks. She thought she had self-control. She thought that she could resist confronting him about… her.

Tifa had always thought that she and Cloud were meant to be, thick or thin. Back then, she thought Aerith would never make it between them. She thought he was strong… she thought she, herself, was strong.

Now, the question was: Is she strong enough to talk to him about this and win her way eventually?

A broken memory… or us?

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Shame-ridden, he turned the knob, finding the door unlocked.

She never bothered to lock the front door. She really wanted him to come home immediately. It filled him with guilt to suddenly walk out all because they argued. His conscience was killing him as he walked in the nighttime rain, trying to run from the confrontation.

What was the purpose of his joining SOLDIER if he couldn't become stronger for her sake? If all he can do is flee from the battlefield that meant more than any other war, he's still a coward and a weakling in his own eyes.

He had no idea what made Tifa ask of Aerith all of a sudden in the middle of dinner… in front of Marlene and Denzel… in the middle of their relationship…

When he thought she was finally asleep, forgetting about him leaving the house, he caught the scent of…

…Pancakes?

Curious, he walked slowly towards the kitchen, where the light was on, indeed. Trailing puddles, Cloud found himself standing behind his hushed girlfriend, donning her slick, brown-black tresses in a loose and low ponytail as she stood before the stove. He smelled the buttery essence in the air.

"Wh—…" he tried to speak, reaching his hand out to pat her bare shoulder. But he stopped when she turned her head around a little to get a glimpse of him. A smile didn't come by and as she held the metal spatula up, she simply instructed, "Sit."

Cloud arched a brow as he tried to contemplate on her plain words. She made a full turn, finally facing him with a pan at hand. Before Cloud could get a chance to ask her what she was doing, she repeated, "Sit." Obediently, he proceeded to the small dining table nearby.

He sat himself on the barstool, resting his arms on the table beside the window. The air was still cold from the rain shower earlier. Fresh drops still stuck on the smooth glass and as Cloud at them as they sparkled under the moonlight, Tifa approached him with two plates.

As she laid the plates and silverware on the table mysteriously, he kept his gaze on the dewy drops to avoid her gaze. He, admittedly, was feeling ashamed up till now. Finally, she came by with the pan and there, she propped two flapjacks onto his plate.

Cloud stared back at the flat pancakes on his plate. He had no idea why she was doing this. It was too late for breakfast since it was past midnight. And shouldn't she be angry with him like he was too reluctant to even look at her?

Soon, she came back with a butter knife and a jar of peanut butter. Once again, Cloud gave her a skeptical and wondering expression as she spread a generous amount of peanut butter on his share. And with that, she sat across him and kept her face straight.

"Eat" was her plain command as she grabbed her knife and started eating, too. The two sat there in the silence as silverware and plates clinked against each other and as the soft pitter pat of the rain started again. The noises echoed throughout the house and it seemed awkward.

Cloud couldn't help but sometimes catch Tifa looking back at him with disappointed yet scheming eyes. What was she up to? Was this a scam? It was strange enough that he was actually following her simple demands. What's with the peanut butter pancakes…?

…They haven't had these since they were children.

Usually, peanut butter pancakes made their day back when they were still very young. He'd come over to her house and after an afternoon of play, they'd have their favorite peanut butter pancakes. How they both loved those memories.

Finally, when Tifa had finished her pancakes and practically scraped the peanut butter off of her plate clean, she waited for him to finish, too.

When Cloud had dropped his fork and knife onto his plate, he heaved a sigh as their eyes met again. He remembered how they have always been. They have always been… different from everyone else. Aside from the fact that they both shared the lack of a parent's love, they also had this deep feeling inside that bound them…

"What's with the pancakes?" Cloud asked after gathering enough courage to do so. He had to know.

Tifa kept her gaze at him, without saying a word. Soon, a tiny smile appeared on her pale yet beautiful face.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you." Tifa answered, playing with her fingers on the tabletop, "…And for trying to hit you. I'm very sorry, Cloud. Really."

Hearing this, it was Cloud's turn to carve a satisfied grin, "I'm sorry, too, okay?" he simply replied, placing his hands on top of hers as he comfortingly caressed her warm skin, "I shouldn't have walked out. And I shouldn't have hurt you."

Remembering how Cloud had unconsciously hit her arm earlier sent a shiver down Tifa's skin, making goose bumps rise. And when their eyes and smiles met, she finally chuckled and whispered to him…

"Make a decision, Cloud. Choose one. Just one, please. A broken memory… or this moment we'll forever share?"

His eyes grew, shocked yet something told him that he was to be glad. This time, he answered without hesitation. Hours ago, before he ran into the dark, cold night, he didn't know his true answer, the right answer… And now, he did.

"Tifa, did you ever doubt me for a minute?"

She knew it was his way of saying that he picks the second option. With that, Tifa leaned forward to make her lips lightly touch his as he kissed her back. After, she stood from her seat and took their plates, proceeding to the sink once she had managed to wink at him.

She won her way.

Tifa Lockhart-Strife knew better than to doubt her fiancée.