Entanglement

Chapter 8 — Confrontation

By Crystal Snowflakes

Large gift tucked under his arm, Reno took a quick glance at his watch as he continued to make long strides towards the bar. Part of him cursed himself for not driving his car, though he had a reasonable explanation for that one: he had planned to get piss drunk. It was Lily's birthday and in his mind, any celebration called for an obscene amount of alcohol, especially since it was going to be free. Looking at his watch again, he wished he had taken the car now; it wouldn't be the first time he had left his car parked on the street to pick up the following day.

He was already half an hour late, though he did wonder why he was feeling so rushed. It was just a kid's birthday party, not to mention that Lily probably wouldn't give a shit that Uncle Reno was late as long as he brought her a present.

Soon enough, the sight of the bar grew closer and closer until he could see the colourful helium balloons floating through the windows. As he reached the entrance, he rapped his knuckles against the door. Within seconds, the sound of the lock turning could be heard; Rude's familiar face greeted him.

"Yo, partner," Reno said as he passed off the present under his arm to Rude, who tipped his head in acknowledgement.

As he slipped past the entrance towards the bar, his eyes wandered the space; it looked like the party was already in full swing. Denzel, Marlene, Lily, and Highwind Junior—he could never care to remember the kid's name—were being entertained by Elena, Shera and Reeve while the rest of the adults were scattered around the rest of the room. Tseng and Rufus were, unsurprisingly, sitting near Elena, nursing their beer as Tseng kept a close eye on their surroundings.

It also looked like Tifa had asked a part-time hired help to help out with drinks for the night; he ordered his drink, making sure to flash the blonde barmaid a flirty wink. As she turned around to get his beer from the fridge, Reno's gaze travelled down the cascade of blonde locks to the length of her body, focusing briefly on her long slim legs before returning to her face, careful not to stare too obviously at the way her top tightened across her breast. The thought of taking her home lasted less than a split second.

"Thanks, babe." He accepted the beer with a lazy grin as his fingers brushed against hers, and he admired the way her face and neck flushed crimson as she let out a small shy giggle and ducked her head. It was just too bad she worked for Tifa; she'd definitely kick his ass for trying to sleep with her bartender.

Turning around, he sauntered towards Tseng and Rufus' table—that Rude had now joined—when someone out of the corner of his eyes gave him pause. Reno settled into the seat next to his boss, his beer bottle clanking against the tabletop as he set it down, curiosity piqued. There was a man sitting awkwardly at the table closest to the counter who seemed so strangely out of place in the crowded bar, as if he didn't know anyone. Strange, since the bar was closed for a private party. That, and nobody seemed bothered by his presence. Somehow, the man made Cloud seem social; the idea that anybody could be more social than the chocobo-head made Reno want to snicker.

Taking a sip of his beer, his gaze continued to study the face of the familiar man whose shoulders were hunched over as his hands fiddled with the empty glass in front of him. He could have sworn he had seen his face before; the man had sculpted cheekbones, expressive eyes, and a nice jawline—though a little feminine—but he looked a little wimpish to be hanging out with a group of ex-terrorists and ex-hitmen.

Reno had always had excellent memory, and the fact that he couldn't remember who this man was bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Who the hell was he?

He could feel his forehead furrowing slightly as his mouth pulled a cigarette out of the pack while his fingers dug around his pocket for his lighter.

Tseng, seemingly having read his mind, offered up the information. "He's the Empress Consort."

"Who?" Reno asked carelessly without glancing up, not really caring who exactly it was.

But then the realization hit him abruptly, and all kinds of thoughts raced through his mind as his head snapped up to meet Tseng's gaze. If he was here, then it meant—

"The Empress' husband," Tseng clarified with a small lift of his eyebrow. "Lady Kisaragi's—"

"I got it," Reno interrupted sharply with a grunt. He felt his fingers begin to shake, and he clenched his hands into fists and shoved them into his pockets to still them. "Goin' for a quick smoke."

Without waiting for a response, he got up and walked towards the staircase, intending to go up to the roof for some fresh air. He shouldn't have been surprised that she was here. After all, she was Tifa's best friend. Why wouldn't she be here?

As he made his way up the stairs, muffled whispers and quiet footsteps echoed down towards him, and he froze in his tracks, straining to hear more. The sound of the brat's recognizable laughter made his chest tighten unexpectedly and hurled him back in time for a fraction of a second. And while he was tempted to walk back downstairs, he had no choice but to continue forward.

Tilting his head upwards with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, he tried to fix his eyes to look at anywhere but her. Nevertheless, his gaze drifted, drawn to the way Yuffie's long, sleek ponytail fell carelessly over the shoulder and the way her lips tilted in that familiar impish manner. And yet, he couldn't help but notice the weary look in her eyes and the way her shoulders slouched forward in fatigue.

When their gazes met, his eyes swept downward—

And his heart stopped.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't move. All he could do was stare in absolute shock at the unmistakable swell underneath her loose sweater, unable to look away. The sound of his blood rushing through his veins thundered loudly in his ears, and he felt like he had a knife twist in his gut while he tried desperately to get a hold of himself and appear nonchalant.

"Shit," he bit out before he could stop himself; his voice was harsh and strained even to his own ears. Clearing his dry throat, he shot the two women the most patronising smirk he could muster. "Holy shit, brat. You seriously makin' another one of you? Isn't one enough?"

"W-what the hell?!" Her eyes flashed but even he could tell that there was no bite in her words—it looked like her mind was a million miles away. "Whaddya mean by that, you asshole?!"

Tifa's eyes crinkled, and her lips curled upwards as she shook her head, her gaze darting between the two of them in amusement. And then, as if sensing that their argument wasn't quite over, she continued down the stairs and called over her shoulder, "Never change, the two of you. And try not to kill each other!"

Audience gone, the space between them was suddenly filled with increasing tension and deafening silence. He ripped his eyes from her and resisted the urge to touch the bulge at her waist, choosing instead to walk away.

It wasn't any of his business, and he had no intention of making it his business.

He felt her fingers snag the back of his suit, and he pulled away; the sudden anger surging through his veins surprised him. "Wait, Reno—"

"Fuck off."

The disappointment and fury and hurt he had felt half a year ago upon waking up to an empty bed had apparently not gone away. What he didn't understand—couldn't understand—was how someone like her could possibly affect him so much.

She was nothing to him.

He had spent the last six months not thinking about her at all, not wondering how she was doing, and not hoping for her to show up knocking at his door again.

The balcony door slammed shut with a loud bang as he strode to the edge of the roof, and his jittery fingers struck the lighter to light his cigarette. And then he inhaled before letting out a long, deep breath and watched the white wispy smoke linger and curl through the air. All the while, he wondered when the nicotine would kick in so his hands would stop fucking shaking. There was an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest—burning, pressing, aching—and he ignored the feeling and tried to think of something else—anything else.

But the image of her standing at the top of the stairs with her swelling stomach burned into his mind. His brain felt cluttered, and all he wanted was to rewind the last five minutes of his life.

"Fuck," he cursed, running his hand through his hair.

The quiet sound of the door closing behind him caused him to straighten up as he snapped his jaw shut and forced himself to bite his tongue. Whatever words that were about to escape were bound to cut and the last thing he needed was to piss Tifa off because upsetting a pregnant woman was bound to do that.

The idea that Yuffie, of all people, was about to become a mother made his head spin.

"Look—"

"I thought I told you to fuck off," he practically snarled, looking at her over his shoulder with a glare.

Her eyes widened briefly with bewilderment before they narrowed and sparkled with defiance as she returned his stare unflinchingly. Her fists were at her sides as she marched towards him, her characteristic scowl marring her features. "What the hell is wrong with you? Like seriously—"

"What's wrong with me? Stop fuckin' followin'—"

When she was finally in front of him, her fingers clenched around the lapels of his suit so unexpected that he let out a grunt of surprise, and he had a sudden flashback of an evening years ago when they had been in this exact position. She must have taken a similar trip down memory lane because her gaze drifted down past his nose as her grip tightened.

"Let go," he hissed through clenched teeth as he dropped his cigarette and heeled the butt into the ground furiously. Reno would have no qualms about ripping himself away from her grip and pushing her back if it wasn't for the fact that Tifa would hand his ass to him if he hurt her at all—the growing spawn inside of Yuffie had nothing to do with his decision to not shove her backward at all.

"No," she retorted childishly as she stared up at him brazenly, unmoving.

They were at a standstill, and the silence between them stretched, uncomfortably so. He tried not to be bothered by the faint scent of floral that overwhelmed him and the way his blood pumped angrily through his veins as he glared down at her. Even so, he couldn't stop himself from studying the myriad of emotions that flashed across her face intently, some too fast for him to decipher. But what he did discern was the sudden shift in her expression; he knew the exact moment she had decided to throw caution to the wind.

Before he could even brace himself for the impact, she pulled him down towards her, and their lips crashed together painfully. She tasted like chocolate, and he wondered idly what kind of drink she'd had before he arrived. His hand slid under her hair as his fingers dug into her nape, and he angled her head so he could deepen the kiss—so he could take control; he needed to get her out of his system, out of his head, out of his life. He wanted to fuck her so hard that it hurt her, just as much as she hurt—

His hand slipping under the hem of her sweater gave him the distraction he needed from his own thoughts. Her skin was soft and smooth under his fingertips, and they brushed against her swollen stomach for a fraction of a second before moving up to cup her breast under her thin lace bra, his fingers rubbing and flicking. She shivered and let out a shaky sigh against his lips; he took the opportunity to suck on her lower lip, nipping at the flesh before slipping his tongue into her mouth.

Letting out a growl, he lifted her up onto the railing and forced her legs on either side of him as her fingers weaved into his hair. He trailed his lips down her neck, teeth grazing, feeling her heartbeat racing, before he nipped at the sensitive skin at her collarbone roughly; the temptation to leave a souvenir on her skin for her husband to find later was almost impossible to resist. A breathy moan of his name escaped her lips as she sagged against him, and he felt himself straining painfully against his pants. Her warm palm flattened against his bare chest, her unusually large abdomen infringing on his space.

And for the first time in his life that he could remember, a part of him—a very small part of him—wished that the thing inside her belonged to him.

The barely audible footsteps coming up the stairs interrupted his thoughts and caused them both to pull away from each other abruptly. And then he cursed himself for being a fucking dumbass again because the last thing that needed to happen was that. But then again, he was never good at making good choices whenever it came to her. Judging by the look of confusion and remorse on her face, it seemed like she had just remembered that her husband was merely two floors down, and that she realized that she had made the mistake of kissing him.

Despite the flash of anger he felt at seeing the look in her eyes, he couldn't help but study her appearance with a selfish sort of masculine pride—dark tousled hair, swollen lips, rumped sweater; she looked thoroughly kissed. His chest tightened at the look of bafflement in her gaze. Her eyes shimmered in the dim glow of the moon, and he felt like he should have been able to make sense of the other emotion brewing underneath—it wasn't the first time he had seen it, and still, he was unable to make sense of it.

But it made him pause just for a fraction of a second before he came to his senses.

It didn't matter anyway. She meant nothing to him.

Fixing his pants, he pointedly ignored her before making his way towards the exit without another look back; he heard the sound of her getting off the railing quietly behind him. When he pulled open the door, Tifa's hand was extended towards the doorknob, as if ready to push it open herself.

"Oh!" Tifa let out in surprise before her gaze flittered past him. "Is Yuffie with you?"

He nodded his head backwards over his shoulder before sliding past Tifa without a word, not caring what her reaction would be at seeing Yuffie's dishevelled appearance. His hands were still fucking trembling, and he needed liquor to numb whatever the fuck it was that was threatening to burst out of him. Clambering down the stairs loudly, he strode towards Rude and muttered an excuse under his breath about needing to leave before downing his beer with a few quick gulps. He ignored the look of concern on all the men's faces and moved towards Lily, ruffling her hair endearingly as he said a quick 'happy birthday'.

Less than an hour later, he was at a club two blocks down the bar. His mind was so muddled he could barely think straight, let alone remember how he had made his way to this place, or how he managed to convince the woman in front of him to agree to being pressed between him and the washroom counter. What he did know—thanks to the flickering luminescent light—was that she had long dark hair, enticing brown eyes and silky pale skin that reminded him of no one else.

He didn't know her name, nor did he care to find out.

The rancid scent of piss, sweat and cheap perfume overloaded his senses as her long plastic nails dragged along his scalp before pulling his face down to meet her lips. Instead, he pulled her hair back roughly, tilting her head so that her throat was exposed; he wasn't interested in kissing her. His teeth bit the soft skin of her neck, almost hard enough to break skin and definitely hard enough to leave a mark. She let out a ragged breath, squirming slightly at the way he was manhandling her.

He lifted her off the ground and sat her on the countertop, her legs on either side of him; the irony that he had been in this exact position with another woman a little over an hour ago didn't escape him. Roughly, he pulled her top up over one of her breasts and clamped his mouth over it, alternating between sucking and flicking. A sultry whine of pleasure echoed in his ears, and without warning, he slid his hand under the hem of her short dress before going past her lacy underwear. His long fingers slipped inside of her, curling, twisting, stroking. She quivered in ecstasy, whimpering and mewling until she came on his hand with her back arched.

Unbuckling his belt and pulling on a rubber, he drove into her with one hand gripping tightly on her hip—his fingers dug deep into her skin—and the other hand curled around her neck, forcing her backwards so that she had to lean back on her arms. His lips curled in amusement at the awkward position she was in. The banging of her head knocking against the mirror and the sound of her wanton moans filled the air as he thrust into her rhythmically. He clamped his eyes shut when he was close. When he came with a groan, the unexpected sight of impish grin and gleaming eyes flashed behind his eyelids momentarily; he almost staggered backward in shock.

Gritting his teeth, he ignored the way his chest clenched tightly and pulled out of her, tossing the condom in the trash carelessly, zipping up his pants, and buckling his belt before turning around and stumbling away.

She meant nothing to him, just like Yuffie meant nothing to him.

Author's Notes: ...Yep. Where someone is clearly still in denial about his feelings cause he's a big dummy.

Two more chapters to go! I'm very sad we're nearing the end D:

Completed: April 20, 2021