Final Fantasy VII (c) Square-Enix 1997
Authors Note: I took inspiration for this piece from not only the poem but the choral arrangement by composer Z. Randall Stroope. If ever you have the chance, take the time to listen to this breathtaking adaption.
I am not yours, not lost in you
Not lost, although I long to be
- Sara Teasdale, 1884 - 1933
I Am Not Yours
"I'm...alone. I'm all alone now."
"But I'm...we're here for you, right?"
"I know, I know, but I'm the only...Cetra."
"Does that mean we can't help?"
"..."
Despite the silence of the canyon night, he could not sleep. The whispers of the wind and the soft sounds of the candle outside were deafening. In the bed beside him, Barrett snored loudly as usual. Nanaki and Caith Sith were puring softly on the floor. He tried hard to focus on these rhythmic sounds to lull him to sleep but came to no avail. The sound of his own heart beating and blood running through his veins was loud in enough to have him wring his head in attempt to rid himself of all extra noise. On most nights, sleep, despite everything he was sure to face, came easily to him. The fatigue of such an arduous trip took its full toll on him each time he lay to rest, his body and mind screaming for a few hours of ignorant silence and bliss. But on this particular night, such respite did not come not matter how much he longed for it.
Eyes open, he saw nothing. He saw the endless darkness in their room. Eyes closed, he saw her troubled face, her emerald eyes filled with a dark emotion he wasn't used to seeing. Her usual smile had been replaced with a frown. Her arms rested on her knees which she curled closely into her chest as if she had been stung by the cold. It was unusual to see her appear so vulnerable, so...visibly hurt. Her demeanor had changed after they left the observatory. She said little, ate little, and hardly laughed. No one else in the party had said a word about her behavior; it appeared as if no one had noticed. Yet the entire night he could not help but watch her disappear more and more into herself. She shrank away as if she were frightened by the rest of the group. Normally she dove into it, appearing to relish in everyone's company. On this night, it was not so.
Her admission to him was surprising. She was not the type of person to ever appear to be lonely or even know what that word meant. He believed her confession to be a minor thing, but the depth of her sudden realization and isolated anguish startled him and caused a great ache to grow in his heart for her. Despite having only been in her company for such a short time, even he knew that this kind of sadness was not meant to grace her face, nor did these thoughts have any reason to occupy her mind.
He wanted to reach out to her, he truly did, but the words died in his throat as his heart had begun to beat faster with his impending thoughts. He had so little to offer her. He had promised to protect her and in such a situation where it appeared she truly needed saving, he was helpless. She was trapped within the arms of a monster he could not see and could not fight. No acts or words, he felt, could set her free and fall into the embrace of reassurance that she was not in fact alone. He could console her in the only way he knew how, words fumbling and meanings often twisted and confused. He wished to express his thoughts and feelings towards her in a more compassionate way but the demon of cowardice overwhelmed him each time his budding feelings of deep affection for the flower girl threatened to surface.
She had retired to her room early that night under the pretense of sudden fatigue, quietly excusing herself from the lively conversation at the dinning table. She softly bid her good night to the party and made her way to the bedroom she, Tifa and Yuffie would share. Her eyes had been downcast for the majority of the night, her shoulders slumped forward, expression soft and somber. She moved quietly through the inn, not wanting to attract any attention to herself. He stood and followed her quickly, mind and heart buzzing with concern.
No one but Tifa seemed to notice his action. Her ruby eyes darkened as she watched him disappear into the upstairs corridor of the inn, quick in chase after the flower girl. A cold, heavy feeling settled in her heart and he was unaware that Tifa too, would now be hurting that night.
She was reaching for the door when he called out softly to her.
"Hey," he said. She was visibly startled, whipping around slightly wide eyed at him, staring. "...Are you okay?"
She held onto the doorknob and closed her eyes, placing a hand over her heart and nodded. She remained that way for a moment, as if she were trying to find a thread of composure to hold onto. His heart was pounding hard against his chest.
"Yes," she said quietly, opening her eyes. "I'm okay. Please don't worry."
Her tone betrayed her words, her normally light voice thick with strangled emotion. She was indeed upset with all she had learned that night. The prospect of loneliness, it appeared to him, was weighing heavily on her delicate spirit. He felt a stab of guilt.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think bringing you along would upset you so much..." he trailed, lost for words.
Had he known it would trouble her heart so much, he would have willed her to spend her time instead sight-seeing with the girls. Her connection and deep love of the Planet had moved him since their acquaintance in the slums of Midgar and their time thereafter. He saw it only fitting that she accompany him to the observatory. He thought it would be a wonderful learning experience and could perhaps help her feel closer to the souls whose blood was running in her veins. Yet at the end of the night, all it did was remind her that she was indeed the only Cetra left and that she alone would have to bear the burden to protect the Planet that belonged to her and her kind. She had no one to confide in when she heard whispers of those who were long dead. She could run no where and find solace when powers and magic impossible to anyone else would rumble in her soul. She could not ignore the Planet's painful cries and pleads for help. She had no one.
"Don't apologize. It's silly of me to be upset, it's just...," her voice caught in her throat. She cleared it and took a deep breath before continuing. "I've never felt so alone. All at once it kind of hit that it's just me and this Planet now."
He said nothing as he stared at his own feet. He could not find the right words to say and every fiber of his being willed him to fight against the terrible feeling of warmth that was overcoming him. He could not understand why she was so able to crawl under his skin and turn his world upside down. All of a sudden he found himself caring about things he never dreamed he would ever give a second thought to. He was traveling the world to stop a mad man from summoning a calamity from the sky to destroy the Planet, her Planet. He was willing to vest everything he could, everything he was to protect it and more importantly, to protect her and all she loved. The change had been so gradual he had not noticed it happening.
"But you're right."
Her words caused him to look up. She was no longer holding onto the doorknob. Both hands were clasped together, her eyes closed; she appeared to be in prayer. Her face, at last, appeared peaceful.
"I'm not alone, am I?" she asked aloud, to no one in particular. "I have my friends, the team. We're all in this together."
He suddenly wanted to reach out to her. He recalled the warmth of her touch when she'd tug him around to follow in her silly endeavours. Her hands always appeared so frail and small, but in her grasp, he felt immense strength. He felt a power greater than his own, greater than any he had ever encountered. Perhaps it was the power of being a Cetra, he sometimes caught himself thinking. Perhaps it was the power of her own will, her own individual spirit, beautiful, bright and everlasting.
He wanted to reach out to her, but did not.
"Yeah," he said, nodding, attempting to muster a brave grin, "We are."
"And most importantly," she said, opening her eyes. They were bright green, once more. "I have you."
She smiled at him, the first real smile she had given that night. He froze at her words and did not reply.
The soft look in her eyes was haunting him. It was all he could see. Her words had been feather light, so soft in volume, but were screaming in his mind. No natural sound could overcome them; each and every time they repeated themselves, he felt a deep flush grace his face. She looked so earnest and sincere when she had spoken, he felt knocked out by their gravity. She had heard what he meant to say at the candle that night, and in those words secured the idea that it too, was what she wanted. Yet in that perfect moment, that perfect slice of time, he could not will the courage to speak what was in his heart, as she had.
He turned on his side, away from the others and placed a hand against the wall. In the adjoining room were the girls. He shut his eyes, picturing her tenderly undoing her long, thick braid of chestnut hair. He had walked in on her one day during their travels. She sat in front of the vanity mirror, carefully weaving her hair back together. She had turned to him and smiled brightly, her expression so bright it rivaled the sunlight pouring from the window. It was one of many times just seeing her had caused his heart to skip a beat.
His heart was heavy. Did she take his silence as indifference? What must she think of him now, he wondered somberly. He wanted to be more charming and suave to impress her, to live up to the hero she seemingly idolized him to be. But he was simple and awkward. He could not muster a false sense of bravado. He could not rise and be the tough guy, the strong, silent type. And while it seemed that she liked him as he was, he could not help the crushing insecurities he sometimes felt around her. Insecurities, he remembered, that plagued him when he was a child in Nibelheim.
All of this, yes, was true. Yet there were times when he felt amazing. The way she looked at him was all it took to leave him stunned. She opened her heart and entrusted him with the task of protecting her. It was truly clear to him, suddenly, that she adored him. And it hurt him all the greater to know that he could not find the courage to tell her the truth he had been avoiding for so long.
She was beautiful. She was amazing and a great wonder in his life that came so suddenly. She was charming and funny and sweet and kind and a radiant light one could not help but want to be around. She was different than anyone else he had ever met in his life. She was special and not because of her heritage, but because that was the only word he could find to describe her. Most importantly, she was special to him.
His expression turned to one of worry.
He was in love with her. He was in love, in love, in love with the flower girl and he could not tell her. He could not tell her that she was what he was fighting for. If she was there by his side, he could fight. If she would be there waiting for him at the end, he would surely reach it no matter what the cost. All of these truths came rushing to him instantly, overwhelming his senses. How unexpected that falling from the sky could result in all of this, could result in him meeting the most important person in his life.
He shut his eyes to try and calm his worries. In this silence, he heart a soft noise from the next room. A soft, tender humming. He recognized her voice, a tune. He recalled her saying she often sung as the girls tried to sleep; it helped Yuffie drift off and calmed Tifa's anxiety. She was always the last to go to sleep and the first to arise. Many times she was the first sight he'd see in the morning, a pair of bright green eyes peering down at him, just as they had when their destinies suddenly collided.
Her voice, despite being muffled by the wall, offered him great comfort and set his heart at ease. The warmth returned to his heart, his mind's eye full of beautiful memories of this girl he loved. He would find the courage and strength to tell her someday, but for now, his affections were secret and locked away.
Cloud slowly drifted off to sleep, his hand limply rested against the wall. In the next room, Aerith continued to sing softly, a warm smile gracing her lips as she raised her hand to unknowingly match his on the wall, imagining him sleeping soundly.
Lost as a candle, lost as a light
But not lost in you