"Stay with me tonight?" Cloud requested; with any luck he'd guilt trip the man into changing his mind about him after all.

"Give me a reason to stay, Cloud," he muttered, with little sympathy in his voice.

It was at that moment that Cloud knew, that there was no way to mend what was already beyond repair.

Sunday

Cloud spends his days playing video games and his nights going out onto the town. He likes keeping a steady routine. Benefits of living in a big city? No one questions his age when he goes into nightclubs nor does anyone care; he is particularly fond of his sixteen-year-old self for the choices that he makes.

School isn't on his list of priorities and he rarely makes an effort, there is no one there to care or pay attention; he likes it that way. He doesn't have plans for life post-graduation and as a matter of fact, he lives on a day-to-day basis; it gives him a sense of closure.

Having lived in Midgar his whole life has toughened his skin and has certainly made him immune to certain emotions, including the death of his mother. He should have felt sad, he should have mourned and grieved: but he didn't. Instead, at the age of fourteen, he began partaking in self-destruction, it made him feel alive.

His father was never home, Cloud liked it that way, it gave him the liberty to live life the way he wanted it. The death of his mother certainly tore the house apart but Cloud knew better than to let that get to him.

OOO OOO OOO

"Seventh heaven tonight, Cloud?"

Tifa was the only person he could afford to be close to, having grown up together and having developed a similar attitude towards school has made them a lot closer in adolescence. The 7th Heaven was their go-to place for unlimited drinks and all-night-long raves.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he smirked.

OOO OOO OOO

"Fizzing Ether shots, and keep them coming!" Tifa loved her shots, Cloud wasn't one to object, and they both found something new to open up about every night so he could hardly complain. Any alcohol going into his bloodstream was good alcohol.

Three shots down. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

"You're beautiful, Tifa."

Five shots down. "What do you like about me?"

"I like your eyes."

Seven shots down. "That's so cheesy."

Cloud loved Tifa for how truly amazing of a friend she has always been to him but he knew that he couldn't give her what she wanted. She'd bring this up at least once every week, usually a Sunday night, it'd always end with her getting hurt that he didn't return her feelings. The exchange was pointless, every single week, she'd get so drunk that she'd forget this ever happened in the first place. Why hasn't he walked out on her yet?

Ten shots down. "You've never asked me out," she stated with a hint of hesitation under her breath which Cloud detected.

"Tifa, we're not like that," this wasn't routine and he was getting agitated. He really did not want to witness the end of this exchange.

Twelve shots down. "You haven't had a shot yet."

"I have to go," and with that, he left the 7th Heaven, he left Tifa alone at the bar and made for the closest bench he could find.

This wasn't something he thought he'd ever have to do, ditch Tifa, but he just couldn't force himself to witness her break down and get upset over the fact that he just couldn't see her that way. It was even more unexpected for him to not have a drink; something wasn't quite right and he knew that, but it was something which he did not want to admit to, it'd make it realer than it should be.

"Fuck this," he whimpered. Why couldn't things be simpler than this? The realisation which he had made was that he was selfish and his egoistical nature drove people away. A subconscious by-product of his mother's passing, one which he didn't like admitting to but he was so eager to change. Perhaps, if I wasn't so self-centred, then maybe… "No," he couldn't even bring himself to imagine having feelings for Tifa, it simply wasn't there.

He needed coffee. He needed it black and within the next ten minutes; or he'd probably end up doing something regrettable. He always does.

Barret's Café wasn't his go-to coffee shop, he's never been there before. He didn't like things going off-the-rails and out of routine but this night was bad enough.

It was cosy enough; the place was so tiny you'd never think to turn it into a coffee shop. There were no wooden chairs to accompany the wooden tables but there were beanbags and couches instead. It was cute, perhaps a bit too cute for Cloud's liking; it was certainly something Tifa would like, though. Stop thinking about her.

"A customer! Hi!" the barista beamed a bit too enthusiastically. "Oh, uh, sorry. Even though we're open 24/7, I'm not exactly used to seeing people here this late." He definitely noticed Cloud's discomfort at the enthusiasm in his voice.

"Black without sugar, please," Cloud requested.

"One coming right up, take a seat, I'll bring it over to you once it's ready."

There weren't that many seats to pick from, ten at most. Cloud opted for a beanbag seat at the window so that he could watch the dawn break through, eventually. It was one of life's simple pleasures, and he wasn't embarrassed to admit that he enjoyed it, truly.

The barista approached him, hands trembling and the liquid swaying from side-to-side inside the porcelain mug. "I am so sorry about this, it's my first week on the job, see."

"Don't worry about it," Cloud murmured, keeping his eyes on the window and avoiding viewing the barista. The last thing he needed right now was to get caught at three in the morning, underage, wandering the streets of Midgar. He'd never forgive himself for getting caught.

"You seem a bit down, do you want to talk about it?" he politely inquired. "I mean, I'd get it if you don't but, uh, it's always better out than in, you know?"

What am I supposed to say now? A battle was raging within his mind about whether or not to treat this barista kindly or to just be, well, Cloud. Screw this.

"Yeah, I guess," Cloud groaned, folding his arms over his chest. Don't look. He continued looking out of the window as the young man sat on the opposite side of the table, his beanbag making a loud whoosh as if no one has sat on it for a long time.

"So, let's begin the therapy session," the young barista joked in a lowered voice. Cloud hated the word 'therapy'. He simply couldn't stand it. All it did was remind him of his mother's death and his father compelling him to seek help. Cloud simply detested the thought of his family.

"I'm just having a rubbish night," Cloud exhaled. "You know, the stereotypical guy stands girls up in favour of being alone?" If he was going to be nice to this guy, he might as well improvise without sharing his life story.

"Yeah, I mean, I totally get it. Sometimes people don't click, there's always going to be someone else and I'm sure she'll understand," his attempt at being helpful failed as far as Cloud's body language was concerned but that did not prevent him from continuing on. "You're still so young, give yourself time to discover yourself." Discover yourself, yeah right. Cloud pondered. As if he'd ever get to the bottom of what he was truly feeling. Was that even possible? He let out a cackle.

"Hey, uh, if you don't want to talk then that's fine, really. I'll get back to doing my, uh, barista stuff," he resumed, getting up from the beanbag effortlessly. Cloud watched him as he rose. The barista wasn't as young as his sense of humour made him out to be. He had faint wrinkles on his forehead and the bags under his eyes looked strained. That did not deduct from his general appearance, though. His black hair was unkempt and it displayed no sign of a recent haircut. This, however, did not deduct from his appearance, either. Cloud couldn't help but notice the shape of his body and the depth of his blue eyes; he admired the work that this man has clearly put into his physique over the years. Stop it. He was no longer looking at the barista but at the sky, as it was turning from a deep navy blue to a vibrant plum. In a matter of minutes, now, it would start showing pink and auburn.

Cloud rose from his own beanbag and made his way for the front door before a voice from behind startled him.

"I'm Zack, by the way, I hope you'll come again, emotional baggage or not," he glinted jokingly. Cloud gave him a miniscule, hesitant grin and exited the shop.