. cloud .

Something wasn't right. He wasn't sure how, but he could tell. And it wasn't anything he could pinpoint either. That's what bugged him.

When he entered the Lockhart estate, he was greeted as he usually was—with warm smiles and looks of respect from the people serving there. A message from his lordship apologizing for his absence and claiming that both he and her ladyship would return shortly before the evening came. (Oh, and do mind Tifa, dear. She's been in bed with a cold all week, poor girl. Or maybe it's the flu? Hope for the best.) He was also informed that his little brother's train had come in, that the boy and his friend were still sleeping in the guest rooms, but could be summoned if Mr. Strife so wished it.

No, it wouldn't be necessary, he told them. The blonde gave a shake of the head to the fair haired maid in front of him, and then mumbled something about speaking privately with Tifa. Before she could ask him if he would need anything else he was making his way up the spiraling stairs.

Everything looked in order. Same coffee tables lining the walls, same glazed vases with imported assortments of flowers arranged inside, same silken curtains drawn back to let the sunlight seep into the narrow hallway. A couple of maids were cleaning up further down the hallway. One held a dustpan while the other swept, and they both looked worried as they spoke in low voices about…something. Cloud couldn't understand all of it. Didn't care. He only caught the last few words from the one with the dustpan: "…think it's really serious?"

That was all before he disappeared into Tifa's bedroom. And still, something didn't feel right. Why?

"Cloud?"

"Tifa." He looked to the bed, took in his fiancé's appearance. She was slumped down against a mound of pillows. She sported a deep gray tank top, though it was barely visible under the blanket she had wrapped around her. Her usually straight and lustrous hair was in desperate need of a brush and maybe even a wash. (Of course, Cloud was too much of a gentleman to say that bit out loud.) Just one of her hands was hanging over the side of the bed, gripping a fistful of tissues. Tissues, tissues, and more tissues, piled on the floor, some on the bed. She looked tired, looked sick, but at the same time she looked happy to see the blonde and he couldn't help but smile. "Wow… You look horrible."

Before she could reply, she started coughing—harshly, he noted, but when she stopped she looked fine enough. "Ouch… That's something every woman loves to hear."

"Sorry."

"No you're not, you liar." She smiled anyway and sat up in the bed.

It was dark in the room, in spite of the fact that the morning was young and the sun was begging to shine its light inside. It wasn't until Cloud shut the door behind him that he realized the curtains were drawn closed, that the lamps weren't on. He made to open one of the curtains, but Tifa made a noise that halted his hand. He looked at her curiously. "What's wrong?"

"Leave it. The light…gives me a headache."

Strange… He nodded, left it at that, then walked over and took a seat beside her. They sat in a moment of comfortable silence. Tifa let out a breath—not really one of relief, but it came close—and closed her eyes while Cloud lazily brushed a hand against her cheek. Brushed some of her hair back, tucked it behind an ear. A simple, comforting act. An simple, comforting moment between them. Then Tifa ruined it.

"When's the last time you talked to Leon?"

Of course. Again, with that question…

The man frowned. "Not sure. Maybe a couple of months."

"Cloud—"

"We ended it, Tifa. I already told you that."

A frown graced her lips, her eyes narrowed, and no, she wasn't happy in the slightest. Cloud didn't look her in the eye, instead stared at the hand that wasn't gripping tissues and watching as she clenched it into a weak fist. "Why?"

Why do you think? He wanted to ask her, snap at her, but he remained silent. Tifa let out another breath, this time one of disappointment. They sat in silence once more. Stiff silence.

"Cloud… I've been thinking for a while," the woman murmured. She shook her cheek free from his hand, lifted her free hand to grip his chin, and forced him to look at her. "I've been thinking about not going through with the wedding. It's just… As much as I care about you, I just don't see myself as your wife, you know? And besides, it wouldn't be fair to you."

"What makes you say that?"

"You have Leon."

And it always came back to that. Always, always…but he didn't blame her, really.

The two of them had no secrets. Not between each other, in any case. Whatever was on Cloud's mind, he shared, and vice versa. Whatever worries, fears, regrets, hopes, dreams—all of it, they shared. They were close, very close, and one would be surprised to find that their feelings—the feeling that, no matter how much they cared about the other, they would never truly consider it love—were mutual.

And it always came back to Leon. Because, whether he wanted to admit it or not, it was with Leon that Cloud felt happiest. Tifa knew this. Roxas knew this. Cloud knew this. So why wouldn't the man accept it?

"I'm telling my parents," Tifa continued, pausing to blow her nose and to give an aggravated moan at how painfully awful it was to blow your brains out into a piece of tissue. "I'm going to sit them down and tell them that I'm not going through with it. That I broke off the engagement."

The blonde merely nodded, staring at the woman's hair with feigned curiosity. Noticed some of the strands out of place, that some of them had lost a bit of color. "Your hair's going gray."

"Cloud."

"I'm listening."

"Then look me in the eye."

He did. Didn't like the look she was giving him, but he did. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, that uneasy feeling increased. Something still didn't feel right. It wasn't this conversation, no, not that, but it was… What? Tifa was still talking, but the words weren't registering in his ears. Now that he was up close and examining her face fully, he was sure that… What? Sura about what?

Her hair's going gray… Does the flu do that? Do colds do that? And her eyes look funny too… They looked…yellowish, almost. Really light.

Something wasn't right…

"You're not even listening to a word I'm saying, are you?"

"If I lie and say yes, will you drop the subject?" He said it jokingly, but the seriousness was there. The strain in his voice was there, however faint. He was leaning back in the bed, still examining Tifa's face closely as he spoke, but that only served to upset the woman further. She pinched him.

"Ow!"

"You deserved it, you jerk," she said lightly, grinning before blowing her nose once more.

"In that case, you can forget those flowers and chocolates I was going to have delivered," he countered with an equally light tone.

He preferred it like this, when they were poking fun at each other and playfully throwing insults back and forth like a pair of squabbling siblings. It was better this way, and yet…

Tifa grew solemn once more, watching as Cloud rose to his feet. "I was serious, you know. I really am going to tell them."

"Mm."

"You should tell your parents too."

"Because that would go over oh so well."

She sighed, because that was the closest she'd ever get to an, "I'll think about it," or an, "Okay." It was Cloud, so it was good enough. She reached out her free hand and gripped the man's wrist, causing him to look down at her with a…well, with this look. Not necessarily resignation or acceptance, no, but it something very close to a mixture of the two.

"Please, Cloud, call Leon. If not for my sake or for yours, then do it for his. He probably misses you like hell. You're both just too stubborn—"

He interrupted her with a small kiss to the forehead. The woman ended up sighing, slipping her eyes shut at the contact. Why, he wasn't sure, but he was smiling now. Just a small one. "I'll call him."

"Promise?" A whisper.

"Promise."

"Good."

"Anything else, mother dearest?"

She swatted him lightly, but smiled all the same. "Can you tell Emile to make me some soup, please? I'm starving…"

"Alright. Get some rest after you eat, okay?"

"Thank you, Cloud."

Then he left.

Something still didn't feel right.

It happened later on that night.

Cloud had just gotten back from his evening out with Roxas—really, all they truly did was shop around for a bit before heading back to the Lockhart's; nothing eventful—ready to call it a day. His brother was already heading back to his room, waving to Cloud and saying how he'd call him tomorrow if they didn't get to see each other again. Cloud figured he should at least say hi to Sora before he grabbed a bite to eat and took a nap. He was in the kitchen and then—

"Cloud."

A maid. No, not just any maid, it was Emile. An elderly woman who had served the Lockhart family for as long as Cloud could remember. He recalled visits when he was just a child, times when he and Tifa were unaware of the concept of marriage and simply thought of each other as playmates. Emile had been the girl's nanny then, had taken care of them whenever they needed it. In many ways, she was like a third mother-figure for him.

She stood in front of him now, blocking his way to the fridge. "I've been looking for you."

"Sorry. I went out for a bit with Roxas."

"Sora told me."

She eyed him silently, a strange expression on her face. Something curious and knowing. It made him uncomfortable. "Is something wrong?"

A pause, then a sly grin. The woman sighed, moving from the fridge. "No, no… There's a surprise waiting for you in your room."

"You mean the guest room?"

"Your room," she corrected, poking the man in the chest.

What was she talking about? Surprise? "What is it?"

"Why don't you go see for yourself? Secret's safe with me."

And she left him with that, going about her business with that mysterious smile on her face. Cloud could only watch her warily before he decided to head out of the kitchen, up the stairs.

Surprise? What the hell could she be talking about? And what did she mean by a secret?

Said secret became apparent when he stepped into the guest—his—room. Someone was sitting on the bed. Lying on it, in fact, with a book propped open and helped above its head. At the sound of the door opening, the "secret" looked over at the blonde.

Cloud's jaw dropped. "Leon?"

"Hey."

"You're… You're here?"

There was something playful about him, though his usual reserved expression never left his face. The brunette sat up, snapped the book closed. "Am I not wanted?"

Cloud found himself at a loss for words, if only for a minute, and he felt heat start to rush up to his face. "I just didn't expect to see you… Not so soon, anyway. I was going to call…"

No, actually, he wasn't, but still…

"I could leave—"

"No."

He said it with such a force, with such a surprising harshness that even he was caught off guard. Leon was eyeing him in surprise—and, slowly, it turned into a grim sort of contentedness. A sigh left his lips. "I've missed you."

That was it. No, "You could have called me in all this time, could have seen how I was doing instead of ignoring me." No, "Oh, so now you care?" Just an, "I've missed you." It was enough to make Cloud realize what an idiot he'd been over the past few months, what an idiot he was for thinking that his parents could come between them, and just how…

He'd missed him. So much. But he was here now, and that's what mattered.

"Cloud?"

"My place."

The brunette looked at him questioningly. "What?"

"Come back to my place."

A pause. Gray eyes were looking into blue, searching for something. Then a smile softened the man's features.

"Sure."

It didn't occur to him to ask exactly how Leon had found him, or how he had managed to slip into the Lockhart estate like it was the easiest thing in the world. He wouldn't find out until much later that it was actually one of the maids who had done some digging to see if a Mr. Squall or Leon was on the guest list for the wedding. He wouldn't learn until later that she had done her research, had given the man a call to confirm, and a bit later he had called back and asked for the address of the bride's family. Only later would he ask and find out that it was Emile who had answered the door when the man showed up, had allowed him in and told him to wait until Cloud had come back.

None of this occurred or mattered to him, and it was all well because at the moment nothing else was supposed to matter… They would spend the rest of the night at his place, and by morning… Well, they would figure it out.

They had their lips locked from the moment they had slipped into Cloud's house. It was a simple place, nothing extravagant. A small place fit for two people. Fit for this, for just the two of them.

They kissed for a bit before they ended up curling up on Cloud's bed, side by side, staring into the other's eyes with something so very like longing but something else, something more. The blonde sighed, pressed his face closer to the man in front of him. He couldn't keep his hand from resting on Leon's waist, from slipping ever so slightly underneath the fabric of the man's shirt. And Leon had his fingers brushing against and gripping and stroking Cloud's hair. And then they were kissing again, less slowly, deeper, and he couldn't stop himself from letting out a weak moan when Leon slipped his tongue inside.

Hands were roaming and groping, their bodies shifted in the bed, beneath the covers, and it was so very warm the way they were pressed together right now. So very right. Cloud wondered why, exactly, had he tried to end this? Why would he not accept that, maybe, this felt perfectly fine to him and it shouldn't matter what anyone else thought of it? What, exactly, was he afraid of? What was it, his parents? Tifa's? Society itself?

"Cloud."

Every thought left him right then. The way Leon called his name… It sent a shiver through his entire body. He gripped Leon's waist, tugged it closer. The mouth broke away from his, then teeth were nipping at his ear, trailing down to his neck, his collar bone. The brunette had shifted them into a position where Cloud was lying on his back, breathing heavily and staring up glossy eyed at his lover.

Why had he wanted to forget this?

That was his last thought before he closed his eyes and let Leon have his way.

"…taking her to the hospital." Mr. Lockhart's voice. Worried.

"Wha… Is it that serious?" His wife's voice, bordering on frantic.

"Angie, her hair's gone gray. And her eyes are…"

"Should we…come with you?" That was Sora. So unsure…

The next morning, and he'd already overheard something curious. It wasn't really the type of conversation Cloud wanted to walk in on, but the moment he set foot into the living room his interest was piqued. Tension was in the air. Four pairs of eyes turned towards him, wide with surprise. He took in the separate gazes, scowling.

Mr. Lockhart—Eli, he'd have to get used to calling him—was busy slipping on his coat, buttoning it. His brown brows were furrowed, his lips locked into a thin frown. Tifa's mother was on one of the sofas, dressed smartly—did she have work today? It was Saturday... But her shawl was now crinkled in her lap, her gloved hands holding tightly onto Roxas'. The boy sat beside her with an equally disturbed expression on his face. Sora was on his feet, rocking back and forth on his heels it seemed, looking back to Mr. Lockhart for some sort of answer, with concern…

Something was very, very wrong.

Cloud stood in the doorway, one hand still pressed against the wall. "It's Tifa?" He already knew the answer, though…and this feeling of guilt welled up inside of him. Guilt and disbelief, because he had just seen her yesterday, had just talked to her and laughed with her and…

Mr. Lockhart—Eli, Dad, whatever the hell he was supposed to call him—gave a grim nod. "She's gotten worse. Emile just told me… Her eyes, they… She can't see."

It took a minute for those words to register. "She can't see?"

"Completely blind, she says. Tifa was screaming earlier when she woke up. I'm taking her to get checked out."

My God… "I'll come with you."

Mr. Lockhart held up a hand, shook his head as he made his way towards Cloud. There was something furious about the way he talked, but the blonde knew it was just fatherly concern. "No, no, I just… I'll handle it. I'll call when they find something out."

"Eli," Mrs. Lockhart was on her feet, teary eyed. "Let him—"

"I'll handle it. I'll call. We'll figure something out. Dr. Harlow can… I'll be back."

"The mistress is in the car, sir," a young man said from behind Cloud, causing the latter to jump. He stepped aside, looked to the butler who was eyeing Mr. Lockhart nervously. "She's crying…"

"I'm coming."

The four of them watched worriedly as he disappeared into the hallway.

They didn't hear anything until midnight. Just a couple of minutes past it, in fact. It wasn't Mr. Lockhart who called, though; it was the family doctor Mr. Harlow. And even though Cloud couldn't hear what he was saying, the truth was clear on Mrs. Lockhart's face as she held the phone stiffly to her ear, let tears stream down her red polished cheeks. It was suddenly very still and quiet in the room.

"Eleven fifty-three..." Mrs. Lockhart repeated the words dully, still crying, hand shaking. "Eleven fifty-three… It was ten minutes ago?"

Silence. Cloud clenched and unclenched his hands into fists. Something sank in his heart, sank and drowned and choked to death until he felt nothing but numbness.

"And you said… Heart failure. What did she… Did she say anything before…? I see. Okay. Thank you."

She hung up the phone. At this point the boys were all on their feet, holding their breaths and… Cloud took a step forward, held a hand out towards the woman who was slowly breaking in front of them. "Angie…"

"She's…" She took a wobbly step forward and shook her head. "She's…"

"It'll be okay."

"She's… God… My God, my God, she's—" And she didn't say any more after that. Couldn't. But she didn't have to, because they knew and understood, didn't want to believe or accept it, but they understood…

Tifa was dead.