The sky was still only streaky with pink and gold once everyone was packed up and ready to depart Nibelheim, Cid reporting that the Highwind was scheduled to arrive in an hour's time. Having enjoyed their dinners at the inn the previous evening, everyone had gathered downstairs for an early breakfast before departure, a four hour flight to the Gold Saucer.
Cloud found himself seated with a bowl of rice porridge at the opposite end of a long table from Tifa, and couldn't believe his fortune when their eyes caught and she didn't immediately look away. Taking it as a good sign, he'd hurriedly mouthed a soundless good morning to her, and thought she might've returned his greeting had the sabotage prince not suddenly nudged her and pointed at something on the table, drawing her attention.
She hadn't looked away from him immediately, and Cloud took it as a victory. Especially as she'd avoided him faithfully after their walk back to Nibelheim last evening, her eyes carefully averted, never alone with him and deliberately positioning herself so that someone—usually Barret—was somehow always in any space that separated them.
When she'd discovered her pack had been tossed onto one of the beds beside his, he'd watched with a strange, aching emptiness as she'd turned ashen before quickly snatching up her pack and moving to a different bed, in a different room. Her quick departure and rejection had been like a blade through his heart, more so than her avoidance of him had been, and he'd warily kept his distance from her thereafter—though, as always, he hadn't been able to take his eyes from her.
He'd worried when she'd gathered a quilt and made her way out of the rooms after their discussion last evening, agonized over whether or not to disturb her obvious bid for some privacy. He'd spent an hour listening to the steady beat of her heart just outside of the inn entrance before he'd finally given up the fight, setting aside a gleaming Buster Sword to urge her return.
But Aerith had stopped him before he'd reached the door, her green eyes a mirror of his own worry for Tifa. She'd given him a soft smile, quietly told him she wished for some time alone with Tifa and that she would make sure Tifa returned safely, and would he trust her to take care of his Tifa?
His Tifa. His heart had ached to hear Aerith call her that because she had been, had said as much—yours—before his too many hims had apparently gone fucked it all up. Now she had trouble even looking in his direction. He wondered how much he must disgust her.
So he'd nodded, settled himself back into his corner while he'd listened to featherlight footsteps as they'd trailed down the stairs, out of the lobby, and through the heavy inn entrance doors.
"Would you mind if I joined you?" he'd heard Aerith ask before Cid had bellowed his name and waved him over to discuss SOLDIER aspects. So he'd given Tifa and Aerith their privacy, and had done his best to occupy his brain with other things.
The pair had returned a long while later, and Cloud had focused sharply on Tifa after glimpsing Aerith's red and puffy eyes, a clear indication that she'd been weeping. But Tifa had only looked pensive, if somehow more relaxed than she had been, and the knot in his stomach had loosened to see that she hadn't shed any tears.
Whatever had happened between the two friends had seemed encouraging, though Cloud wasn't exactly sure how crying fit into that puzzle. All he knew was that Tifa, who had also been doing her best to if not ignore then at least sidestep Aerith that evening, had come back arm-in-arm and whispering secrets with her.
Sleep had deserted him last night too, missing Tifa beside him, listening to her own restless tossing and turning one room over until pure exhaustion seemed to have claimed her. He'd left the inn then, when she'd finally fallen asleep, and had found himself wandering the empty streets of Nibelheim, taking in everything new and familiar.
He'd ended up standing outside of his old house in the hour before dawn just staring, reliving memories of his mother, of kind eyes and a soft smile, of worried looks and tender hugs and soft kisses over his hurts after his too many fights at school. He missed her, missed her so much more than he'd ever acknowledged to himself, and had whispered his love and a soft good-bye into the ether before returning to the inn.
"Would you like some tea, Cloud?" Shera offered from beside him, drawing him from his thoughts, and he shook his head with a polite smile. Giving Tifa one last, lingering look while she talked softly to the sabotage prince beside her, he tucked his chin and dug into his meal.
He found himself back in their rooms for a final sweep before their departure, eyes scanning tables and chairs, his hands reaching to open every drawer of every wardrobe and cabinet, checking every desk and side table for forgotten items though he was sure no one had used them. He didn't wish to return to Nibelheim again. Beginning in the room he'd shared with Noct and Barret, he moved onto the single room Cid and Shera had claimed for themselves, beyond that to the room meant for Red and Vincent—who hadn't returned from Shinra Manor until morning—then onto the girls' rooms last, Yuffie, Aerith, and Tifa having shared the room furthest from the stairs.
He found nothing amiss and was doing a final turn when something caught his eye, a small glinting reflection that urged for his attention to whatever lay in the single trash bin of the room. He paused on exiting, gut clenching and unwilling to let him leave without at least inspecting whatever had beckoned his instinct.
Upon a quick glance, it looked like a discarded gum wrapper, probably one that Yuffie had tossed away some time the night before. Still, his gut was saying it wasn't enough that he could only partially see the item, half hidden beneath folds of the plastic trash bag, and he sighed as he reached out a single hand.
Ex-SOLDIER 1st Class dumpster diving, he reflected ruefully. He hoped there wasn't anything...moist for him to find, and grimaced at the idea.
Only as his fingers touched the object, it wasn't the flimsy aluminium he'd been expecting. His fingers grasped something flat and hard, and he curled it into his palm as he crouched down to better see what the object was.
An inch long piece of mythril in the misshapen form of a V.
His brain couldn't seem to register the item for long moments, confusion and surprise foremost and running rampant. Slowly, his brain began to catch up and he wondered if he'd somehow lost his Z half, though he only ever allowed himself to look at the item once a day to ensure it was where he'd last secured it, and had already checked that morning. Still, he was prone to black outs and listening to that damn, persistent second him inside and anything could've happened, so he slipped his pack free to double check.
His brain did that strange freeze again when he unzipped the inside pocket of his pack and pulled out the piece he'd held just hours before, bewildered eyes staring at two halves of a malformed Z in his palm.
He'd had his half of the Z safely stored, just as he'd checked that morning and every morning since Marlene had pressed it into his hand.
And now he'd just found Tifa's mythril piece discarded in the trash bin.
His chest drew taut as he realized the implications of Tifa having thrown her Z half away.
Obviously she didn't want to share anything with him anymore, enough that she'd been willing to part with something that Marlene had given her, Marlene who Cloud knew she loved and cherished, Marlene who'd looked at Tifa with the same reflected love and stars in her eyes because she knew exactly where she stood in Tifa's heart.
The pain of his realization was staggering, burning his eyes and tightening his throat. His godsdamn fingers started to tremble and he made a fist around the separated Z, willing his lungs to start working again, unsure if his knees would hold him if he stood.
He shouldn't have been so shaken, he knew. He'd done something terrible, something he didn't even understand and so couldn't find the words to explain not only to himself, but to the woman he'd hurt. His apology yesterday had been shit, weak and unworthy of her forgiveness, hadn't even included any of the words and reasons spinning in his head no matter that they didn't make any godsdamn sense, everything except for the feebly given "I'm sorry." He was pathetic and contemptible.
He wondered where the fucking second him was, where the static and noises were now when he wished for a reprieve from his own godsdamn thoughts and emotions.
In an attempt to drown them out, he focused on the sounds and silence around him, listening to the footsteps of his friends and teammates as they began their departure from Nibleheim, heading past the front gates and toward where the Highwind would land. He honed in on the sound of a pair of wings flapping as birds whipped by the window, listened to chirps and a soft landing as the birds settled on the branch of a tree just beside the inn entrance. The creatures had long departed their perch before he trusted himself enough to rise to his feet.
Swallowing past the lump that seemed to have lodged in his throat, he carefully stored both Z pieces inside his pack and quickly quit the room.
Perhaps she hadn't meant to toss the piece of mythril away, a part of him tried to reason. Perhaps it had just fallen out of her care at some point, and she hadn't realized it.
Perhaps it didn't mean much to her, that she saw it as just some childish gift that she had no use for and so had discarded it.
But the logical, objective part of himself knew that she would never treat anything Marlene had given her with such apathy, that it was too much of a coincidence for him to have found it in the trash bin.
She had truly thrown it away.
His stomach hurt, reminding him of the feeling he'd had to see the missing window in her old bedroom, as if someone was trying to take her away from him.
He only had himself to blame.
A large part of himself had really, truly believed that he could still earn her forgiveness, earn her. He'd thought if he could just find the right words, the right way to explain to Tifa about the horrible mess of himself, he could still hold her, cherish her, prove to her that he was worthy…be her hero. Except now, after finding the discarded piece of mythril in the trash, it seemed she was...done. Just done.
Done with him.
Crossing the lobby of the inn with slow, measured steps, he imagined himself in Tifa's shoes.
How betrayed would he have felt if he'd been holding her, content and at peace with her in his arms, and she'd whispered for Noctis? If she'd screamed for the sabotage prince in a room filled with people he cared about and whose opinions of him actually mattered? And if the sabotage prince had answered her call, as Cloud was sure he would have, would he have handled it with the same quiet dignity that Tifa had, and simply let them be?
No. He would've hauled back and clocked the sabotage prince in his stupid, royal face.
The pain in his stomach—in his heart—was astounding at simply imagining Tifa calling for Noctis, and he clenched his jaw, fingers itching for Buster Sword. He shook his head, dislodging the painful images, and wondered at Tifa's strength.
Would he have been able to come back from something like that, he asked himself. Would he have found some way to forgive her if she'd come to him for forgiveness?
Absorbed in the pandemonium inside his head, he was decidedly far past the town gateway already when the quickened rhythm of a familiar heartbeat penetrated the turmoil of his thoughts, one that seemed panicked and much closer than it should have been—and coming from behind him. His gaze sharpened on the figures ahead, and he turned around when none of the faces he saw belonged to Tifa.
He spotted her just on the other side of the well, walking up the mountain path leading toward the church grounds and panic filled his head, chest, limbs. His feet began to move and he was suddenly sprinting toward her, hoping to intercept her before she reached her destination.
He would not—could not— let her reach those church grounds.
"Stop, Tifa," he breathed, pumping his legs as fast as they would go and willing her to hear him though he spoke no louder than a whisper. "Please stop."
As if she'd heard his plea, she came to a halt.
He'd just made it back beneath the gates of the town proper when he watched her abruptly stop and turn back around, her loose, damp hair whipping around her shoulders. She had her pack half-opened and hanging from the crook of one arm, a red boot clutched in said hand while the matching boot was pressed between her elbow and torso. Her opposite hand held her PHS to one ear, and she was smiling, clearly engaged in her conversation but seemed agitated, carmine eyes dark with worry and alarm.
"It's time for me to go now, Marlene," he heard her say into the phone as his steps slowed, not wanting to alarm her, sure she wouldn't welcome his presence. "You be good for Mrs. Gainsborough, ok? I'll call you again in the morning when you wake up."
He strained his enhanced hearing to listen carefully the tinny response from Marlene. "Do you promise, Tifa? Mrs. Gainsborough, Tifa said she'll call in the morning! She's gonna promise!"
Her smile changed, suddenly radiant, and the love and pleasure on her face had his chest tightening again, differently than before, and his mind did its best to etch the beautiful sight of her permanently into his memories. "I promise, sweetheart."
I want to give her that always, he thought, fists clenched at his sides. Not that he thought he should be the reason for her smiles, but to somehow contribute to them?
"Ok, Tifa. I'll be waiting. And don't forget to make a Z today with Cloud!"
Cloud felt his heart stop at Marlene's enthusiastic reminder, and his stomach tightened as Tifa's gaze seemed to lock with laser focus on the boot in her hand. He dreaded to hear her response, nearly covered his ears and hummed but instead forced himself to listen, to hear what she had to say no matter how painful her words.
"I'll try," was all she murmured, and he watched her fingers tighten on the silver device. Her voice quivered as she finished softly, "I-I could really use that Z today."
She sounded so weary, and he forced his feet not to move, wishing he could soothe her pain somehow—and he had to remind himself that it was probably the last thing she wanted.
But he wanted to—needed to do something. He just...didn't know what.
Perhaps I could give her both pieces of mythril, he mused. Perhaps not having to share her Z with me could be the answer she was seeking. I could gift her both pieces and she could share her Z with Marlene everyday.
"I'm sure Cloud will make it better." Marlene's voice was reassuring and confident, and he took it as an omen, a sign that his new objective was the right one.
Yes, he'd simply give Tifa both pieces of mythril.
But carmine eyes seemed suddenly stricken, brows drawing together. "He did for a while but I don't know if he wants to anymore, sweetheart," Tifa replied softly, and the sadness of her words sliced him deeper than any masamune.
"I do." He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud, his fingers flexing, wanting to curl around hers. "I do, Tifa. Please."
"Then you just have to remind him," Marlene chimed.
A soft laugh escaped Tifa's lips, and she seemed to shake herself out of whatever vision she'd been entranced. "Listen to me, going on and on to you when I know it's your bedtime! Remember that the sooner you sleep, the sooner you'll wake up and we can talk again."
"I love you too much, Tifa. Make sure to remind Cloud and make a Z."
"I love you too much, Marlene. I'll talk to you in the morning. Good-bye." She seemed to hang onto the PHS too tightly for long seconds after Marlene disconnected the call before finally flipping the phone closed, and tossing it into her open pack.
His concern spiked as he watched her begin to sprint, her long, long legs carrying her quickly from halfway across the town courtyard to disappear inside the inn once more, and his own feet began to carry him forward. There'd been a frightened look in her eyes just before he'd lost sight of her and it didn't sit well in his stomach.
Something had shaken her and he was determined to catch her this time if she fell.
"...thank you so much," he could hear her saying as he pushed through the entrance in time to see her legs disappearing into the floor above. "I'll just be a moment."
"Welcome back, young man," the male, false proprietor of the inn greeted him as he stalked toward the stairs. "My wife just led your young lady back up to the rooms. You're welcome to join her."
He only jerked his chin in acknowledgement, though he liked the sound of Tifa being recognized as his young lady, before cautiously approaching the stairs to follow her up. He just glimpsed her sneakered feet disappearing into her former room, and nodded to the maid and proprietor's wife as the pair retreated back downstairs, leaving him and Tifa alone.
He waited at the top of the stairs, wondering if she'd be angry that he'd followed, wanting to grant her some semblance of privacy and so simply listened to her soft footsteps as she moved around the room. He heard the sounds of drawers opening, the rustle of bed sheets and blankets, the creak of the floorboards as she stepped back and forth, around and around. When the sounds of her heart rate had increased so alarmingly he wondered that she hadn't simply fallen victim to some terrible physical malady, he moved forward and slipped inside.
He found her with her back to him, kneeling on the floor at the foot of one of the beds, a pillow beneath one arm, the other clutching a bedsheet that had been ripped from the offending bed. The room around her was, well, the only word he could think of to describe it was destroyed—and he was fairly certain the maid hadn't been responsible. All three beds were out of their frames in disarray, bedsheets and pillows in piles in the middle of the room, the garbage bin from the maid's cart overturned on the floor, and every drawer of every chest lay wide open. He took a second and blinked at the chaos.
"Tifa?" he finally voiced, confused and incredulous at the mayhem surrounding them.
Tifa started at the sound of Cloud's voice and twisted her head around to find him standing in the room behind her, blue eyes filled with disbelief at the havoc she'd created. She hadn't heard him enter but that wasn't shocking; she'd been caught up in her own misery and hadn't been paying attention—and he was Cloud, and often moved silent as a shadow.
"Is everything all right, Tifa?" he asked softly when his eyes finally settled on hers. "Can I help you with something?
Her eyes drank him in, her mind slow to respond as she was suitably distracted by how damned good he looked, so good to her tired eyes. She knew she looked as tired as she felt, eyes still puffy from sleep—lack of sleep?—skin pale from her current frustrations, but not Cloud. He seemed fit and alert, eyes sharp and poised as if he'd been awake for hours. She wanted to—she savagely strangled the thought and drew her attention back to the present.
She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile—but from the concern that darkened those blue eyes it must've just looked sickly. Which wasn't a big surprise because, gods, she was such an idiot and how could she have misplaced it when she was always so, so very careful...Her bottom lip trembled at the reminder of how she'd fucking lost her mythril piece and she could do nothing to contain it.
Her response must've alarmed Cloud; one second he was across the room, the next he was crouched beside her, his hand hesitant before it lay gently upon her upper back. "Tifa," he murmured, and she heard him draw a deep breath, as much as he always did, as if to fill his lungs with her scent, before he continued. "What happened, Tifa?"
She shook her head. "N-nothing," she replied, could not voice anything louder than a whisper. She gave what was supposed to be a scathing laugh, but the sound came out sad and choked instead. "Nothing, I'm just—I'm just being silly, that's all. It's—it's not a big deal." Ah, goddess, she could smell him, everything cedar and leather and comfort and turned her face into her opposite shoulder away from him, muffling her voice. "I'm sorry if I've kept everyone waiting." She must've been gone longer than she'd realized, and they'd sent him to find her.
His hand moved, still hesitant but now firm, entangling in her damp hair until there was the warm press of his palm against the back of her sweatshirt. His thumb stroked softly the space between her shoulder blades and, oh, how such a small sliver of contact from him could make her feel so safe, so cherished. She didn't stifle her want this time, let herself live through how much she wanted to turn and slide into him, let him soothe the darkness in her heart, have him tell her that she didn't need some piece of mythril to feel close to him, or to Marlene, because she needed only to reach for him and he'd never turn her away—and that Marlene was somewhere safe awaiting her return with the same, welcoming arms.
But she held herself stiffly instead, and let the ache toll in her breast.
"Tifa." She could feel his breath tickling the hairs on the back of her neck, and when she shivered, her shoulder brushed his warm chest. "Tifa, what happened? Please let me help you."
She cleared her throat, the words difficult and her voice thick. "It's—it's not a big deal, really. I thought…" She swallowed hard. "...I thought I left something behind but...I c-can't seem to find it. I-I must've misplaced it somewhere." She shook her head, trying to discard the anxiety tearing at her insides.
It's just a piece of leftover mythril a child made into a charm, she tried to rationalize. And you didn't lose it on purpose. Why feel so low?
Because it wasn't just leftover mythril made into a charm by a child. It'd been a gift from Marlene, whom she adored. It'd been something her stupid heart and stupid brain had somehow tied to having a piece of Cloud.
And now it was gone.
She'd had it just that morning, she could recall. Sleeping with it last night had left an imprint on her cheek and Aerith had teased her mercilessly until she'd smacked her friend with a pillow.
"I didn't know Cloud's mouth had such sharp corners," Aerith had taunted her with a wink once Yuffie had disappeared into one of the other rooms. "Did you visit him in his bed or he in yours? Must've been quite the kiss to leave a mark like that." She'd only blinked innocently when Tifa had shaken a threatening fist at her. "Oh! Did you have other V shaped marks you wanted to show the class? Are they in places children shouldn't see?"
She'd laughed at Aerith's utter unrepentance and had reached for the nearest object to use as a missile, launching pillow after pillow across the room.
It was from that point forward that she couldn't recall what she'd done with the Z half. She'd checked both her boots, though couldn't recall restoring them there. She'd checked every pocket of every piece of clothing she owned, had dumped everything from her pack and turned each zip inside and out, run back to the rooms to wreak havoc and check every crevice—had even dug through the maid's collected garbage to no avail.
Somehow, somewhere, between waking up with it stuck on her cheek to tossing pillows at her friend a half hour later, she'd misplaced something irreplaceable.
And the pain was so strangely similar to losing Cloud.
She pressed the hand clasping the bedsheets to her heart and rose to her feet, slowly and miserably. "Excuse me," she whispered to Cloud, tugging the sheet from around him to begin righting the disorder she'd caused.
It's fine, she tried to tell herself as she began pushing the beds back into their frames before making them back up. I'll tell Marlene tomorrow and we'll figure out how to live with ourselves. I just made a mistake, that's all.
Goddess but it felt like all she'd been doing lately was making mistakes, the current one being the most distressing.
She was halfway through making up the second bed when she heard Cloud say her name quietly, turned to find him standing with a strange, expectant look in that blue blue blue. She finished tugging the spread across the bed and turned to give him her full attention, curious at his odd demeanor.
He rubbed the back of his head with one hand, shifted on his feet. "What did you misplace?" he asked, hesitantly raised a closed fist toward her. He uncurled his fingers and something shiny caught the light of a sunbeam, gleaming and glinting in his palm. "Was it this?"
Afraid to hope, afraid not to, she stumbled in her bid to better view what was in his palm, tripping over a discarded pillow and quilt, catching herself by grasping his arm.
And there it lay, two gleaming halves of a childishly misshapen Z, perfectly formed together in his palm.
She managed to grab a piece between cold, trembling fingers an instant before her knees gave out.
But he caught her with those SOLDIER reflexes, arms beneath her own, pulling forward so that she fell against his chest instead, and he cradled her gently as he let them to the floor, softly hissing her name.
She didn't care, her emotions nearly overwhelming inside of her. She meant to laugh, to reassure him that everything was alright now, but a sob escaped her instead. Shaking hands brought the V to her mouth and she pressed her lips against it, eyes closed and heart full of gratitude and relief.
"You found it," she half-laughed, half-sobbed, opened her eyes to smile into blue blue blue. "How did you know? Oh, Cloud, you found it!" Now she laughed, full and heartily, and pressed the piece to her heart.
His arms were full of her and their legs were a tangled mess of limbs, but from somewhere his hand appeared, and a gentle, calloused thumb stroked softly over her cheekbone. Azure didn't blink as they watched her, his lips parted and expression full of unconcealed awe.
And the way he watched you, as if you held everything that he'd ever wanted in your smile…
"I—I found it during my final sweep before we left the inn," he explained quietly. He wet his lips in a nervous gesture, and azure broke their gaze, darting to where the back of his fingers lingered along her jaw. "I found it in the trash and—and I thought maybe you'd thrown it away."
Something about his tone had her heart contracting, the joy of having her missing mythril piece returned suddenly diminishing, and she focused on him, the way his eyes wouldn't return to hers, the tightness pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Cloud?" she asked gently, ducking her head to try and guide azure back.
He looked up but only briefly, eyes darting again, landing where her fingers held the V to her heart between them.
"I know you'd never throw away something that Marlene gave you." He nodded as if to affirm his own words. "Especially the last thing she gave you, the last time you saw her. But I also know that what she gave you was tied to me so...to see it there, to find it in the garbage was…" He grimaced and let his voice trail off, and it was a long time before he continued. His fingers moved near her cheek, and she realized he was clutching his half of the Z in his hands, turning it over and over. "It's weird. Having it near, and holding it now, makes me feel close to you, even when you're far away. Do you—" he cleared his throat, azure flicking back to catch her gaze and looking so desperately hopeful and vulnerable "—do you feel the same?"
Tifa felt her heart seize, and it was her turn to drop her gaze, to stare almost unseeing at her fingers clutching the mythril piece to her heart. Her throat felt suddenly too tight, her heartbeat thumping loudly in her ears and she didn't know how to answer him.
"It's ok if you don't, Tifa," he assured her when the silence stretched, knuckles stroking over her cheeks. "You don't have to feel the same—"
But she couldn't let him think he was the only one when she knew how lonely it was to believe it was only she who longed for him.
So she nodded, several small, jerky nods with eyes that remained on her hands. "No, Cloud, I do. I do too. Th-that's how I lost it. I s-sleep with it sometimes to feel c-close to you."
He let out a shaky exhale, a sound that was both relief and surprise, and his knuckles tilted her chin up until she met his gaze. In burning azure and those whispers of green, she could see worry and tenderness and troubled uncertainty.
"Now isn't the time, I know but…there's a lot to be said, things I wanted to talk to you about, things to tell you. I don't even know what I really want to say, or even how to start. Just—if you'd be willing, if you could be patient with me, maybe—maybe you can help me make sense of things." He sounded so hopeful and so strangely hopeless at the same time, and it tugged on her heart strings. She wasn't sure he drew breath until she'd nodded encouragingly.
His voice was halting, urgent but unsure. "I'm—I'm a lot of things, some good, some bad, but I've never been—I'm not fickle. I know the things I know. The static in my head…Sometimes I hear things and it's not me…I know I've told you before, and I think you can believe me but that's not an excuse. I don't mean to use it as an excuse." He inhaled and exhaled deeply again, azure framed now with cobalt and sapphire, diminishing that rim of green.
"Those things I said—I'm not sure what happened exactly but Aerith told me those things I said and—they were awful and confusing and they hurt you and I'm—" He shook his head as if to discard the thought, brows drawing together as blue swirled with confusion, then he moved with that SOLDIER speed again and Tifa found herself suddenly clasped to his chest, his arms locked around her in a way that kept one arm pinned between them, the other pinned to her side. His next words were breathed fervidly right into her ear. "—I'm so sorry, Tifa. Please believe me, please forgive me. There's only you. For me, there's only you."
Stunned, Tifa sat Petrified in his embrace, her emotions swinging from one extreme to the next. His confession was…unexpected, to say the least, and the words and meaning were slow to penetrate her confused state.
For me, there's only you.
Goddess, but how her heart soared to hear such words!
Still, the small part of her that remained calm and rational screamed for her to stay cautious, to be careful before trusting his words, words he'd wielded before that had hurt her so terribly. But her heart—her foolish, eager heart that ached for him so, so much—wanted nothing more than to believe, to listen and forgive and embrace him again. If true, his admissions so fervently and desperately given, would be a balm on her anguished heart.
More of Aerith's words suddenly rang in her head.
Trust yourself, Aerith had told her while they'd both stood in the bathroom finishing their morning routines. She'd been staring at the fading crease of the V corner in her cheek, eyes dark and heart missing Cloud. Trust what you felt—what you feel—when you're with him. Your mind and your heart might tell you two different things but remember that when you're with him? They both simply agree.
"When I found the mythril piece in the trash, I thought maybe I'd somehow lost my own piece." He drew far enough away to cup her face between his hands, peer into her eyes, and there was only azure there to greet her, no evidence of that cruel green. And the emotion in blue blue blue, so candid and raw, twisted her heart. "Then I checked and, somehow I had both pieces and—" his voice cracked with emotion, eyes shutting tight, as if to safeguard something inside of him "—and it felt like you'd thrown me away too." Bright azure greeted her again, and came his soft plea, "Please, Tifa. Can you forgive me?"
"Y-you hurt me."
She'd blurted the words before she knew she wanted to say them, her voice small and pained. Despite her incredulity over what was essentially word vomit, she couldn't deny how good it felt to say them aloud, how good it was to tell Cloud. Thoughts jumbled, she watched as the grief and remorse in blue doubled, a darkening look she hadn't been able to name until Aerith had given it to her—failure—turned those azure eyes navy.
"Please tell me, Tifa. Please let me listen."
Like so many times before, the words came tumbling out, disorganized and unfiltered. "I-it hurt and—and I was so ashamed. Everyone heard and she—she seemed to want what you wanted too and how could I say anything after you told everyone you wanted to love her?" What she could move of her shoulders rose in an awkward shrug. "She told me you'd done it before, told her those same things after we'd questioned Hojo. She never hid the fact that she was interested in you and...Goddess, it seems so foolish now but I—I thought th-that after you kissed me—that after—well, I guess it doesn't really matter what I thought because there I was, hanging around and getting in the way—"
"No, Tifa." Blue flickered, anguish and doubt twisting. A tender thumb stroked her cheek. "If anyone is ashamed, it's me. Ashamed that I said what I did, ashamed that I hurt you—" His voice went hoarse and broke on the last two words. "Those things I said—please believe that they weren't mine." He followed with the firm press of his mouth to her forehead, as if pledging his sincerity. "Please, Tifa…"
Her heart—oh, her stupid, weak heart again—stuttered in her breast, squeezed taut and urged her to forgive him.
And how could she resist? She loved him, loved him so, so much…How could she withhold her forgiveness when he was so clearly yearning for it?
"I-I do believe you, Cloud." She felt the tension in her shoulders ease.
"You can forgive me?" This was asked earnestly, disbelief and joy colliding in his voice. Tifa watched as his eyes closed tight for one, two heartbeats, before they opened to reveal gleaming, pure blue once more. "Because I don't know—I don't know why I hear things," he offered softly. "I just—sometimes there's a voice and it's…insistent. Loud and insistent. I—it's easier to just give in and listen to what it wants sometimes because it will go away and give me some peace. But it has a mind of its own and…I would never intentionally hurt you but I can't—I don't—" his voice went hoarse "—I could unintentionally do so again." There was fear in his eyes, fear and worry, and he grimaced before pressing his forehead to hers. "I sound insane."
She matched his grimace with one of her own, didn't deny his assessment. "Well—yeah," she agreed, and he snorted at her quick consensus. "But I-I do believe you, Cloud. I mean, I don't—I don't think you would intentionally hurt me."
Those calloused thumbs stroked her cheeks and tender lips pressed to the corner of hers, his voice whisper-soft against her mouth. "I never want to hurt you, Tifa. I want to take care of you." His next words were punctuated by light, playful kisses all over her face.
She squirmed, feeling suddenly silly and playful, and couldn't resist teasing him. "Just—maybe we can shorten my name to just 'Teef' if two syllables are too difficult to remember and you won't need to say another woman's name next time."
He froze in her embrace, her words slowly sinking in, before groaning again and using his teeth to bite and suck gently at the nape of her neck. "Mine," he whispered, lathing the bite with his tongue.
She gasped at the sensation—and knew he'd won this round. "That works too," she gasped before he picked her up—and unceremoniously dropped her atop the remaining unmade bed.
He sighed, staring at the pile of rubbish at his feet. "I'll pick up the garbage," he sighed, and she laughed to hear him muttering about being a repeat dumpster diver before she got back to work.