January Song
Snowcapped hills rise and fall in wavy peaks ahead of them, haloed by a periwinkle sky as sunlight falls behind them. The air is cold and it bites, and snow falls in gentle flurries, nipping at his skin and coating his hair.
Cloud narrows his eyes when he sees the outline of cottages pop up in the distance just ahead, and he inwardly breathes a silent sigh of relief. They've finally made it to their next destination, Icicle Inn, after nearly seventeen hours of hiking through the harsh and frigid conditions of the north. Even though it is still early afternoon, nightfall is fast approaching in this part of the world, and Cloud is grateful that they are coming upon civilization and won't have to chance being in the icy wilderness after dark.
"Looks like we've come upon a place to finally rest," Vincent says, walking beside Cloud but maintaining a respectful distance. The rest of their party - Tifa, Barret, Nanaki, Yuffie, Cid, and Cait Sith - all amble ahead of them within Cloud's line of sight, trudging through the snow. Barret and Cid both move independently, though their conversation and back-and-forths seem to work in tandem. Cait bounces on the outskirts while Nanaki pads quietly near the front of the group, sniffing occasionally at the ground. Yuffie and Tifa huddle close together as they hike, and while Yuffie fills the air with complaints and heedless chatter, Tifa, Cloud notices, has been silent ever since they left the Forgotten City.
Not that he can blame her, he thinks.
He slides that thought to the side and glances over at Vincent with a nod. "Icicle Inn," he agrees, and he feels a familiar, dull ache prod at the back of his head. He isn't sure why, but these sharp pokes and prods in his skull always seem to surface, shrouded in a flash of hazy green, every time his mind works to bring up a piece of information or memory from somewhere deep within. These headaches have been getting worse ever since they've left Midgar, and every time that they confront Sephiroth, they almost become debilitating. And since Aerith's death just two nights before, they are almost constant.
"Hmm," Vincent hums in agreement, and Cloud sees from his peripheral the way the man's pale features remain stoic but are now pulled taut. "Have you been here before, Cloud?"
Cloud feels the throb in his skull pulse at that, and as he thinks it over, he finds himself drawing a blank again. He winces and shakes his head, not bothering to look over at Vincent as he responds.
"I've been up north," he says vaguely, deciding to leave it at that.
Vincent mumbles something in response and then trails off, but Cloud is too distracted to pay him any mind. Instead, he tries to shake loose the pain and the fog from his mind, focusing his attention on the path in front of them as they close in on the tiny village up ahead.
As he does so, his eyes fall on Tifa, who walks with a light but purposeful stride while Yuffie bounces along at her side. Like the others in their party, Tifa layered herself in warm winter clothing that they picked up from a shop in Bone Village to fight against the northern chills. She wears a thick, puffy snow bomber over her usual fatigues, her hair tucked under the fur-lined hoodie that shields her face from the snow.
Cloud watches the back of her body and chews into the inside of his lip. As much as his own preoccupations have mired him in distraction for the last several weeks, he can't help but notice the way that Tifa has slowly begun to slip into a disquietude and subtle depression that he can't seem to figure out how to help her out of.
It's been close to two days since Aerith was killed. There is a numbness that still seems to surround them all, hanging like a heavy fog over their party as they traverse these frozen hills and icy valleys. Cloud doesn't know how to describe what he feels - his mind has been singularly focused on destroying their enemy and this has only intensified since he murdered their comrade. Death has seemed to define them these last few weeks, and casualties are to be expected in a war. This seems different though, has left a bigger hole than the losses they've accrued thus far. Cloud feels stagnant and frozen about it, not unlike these barren fields of snow.
But whatever he feels about it doesn't matter to him nearly as much as how she feels. He looks up at Tifa again, watching as the wind drags the tail of her ponytail around the bend of her waist where it swims from under her hood in a long river of oil. When Aerith first fell under Sephiroth's sword, Tifa had collapsed into hysteria, sobs and tears and wails that Cloud himself had felt too stunned and anesthetized to immediately address. Their entire party had become broken, but Tifa cried the entire night, and Cloud tried to comfort her with his arms around her for much of those late hours after they laid Aerith's body to rest before they left the Capitol for good.
She'd quieted that night and fell asleep in his arms, but ever since, Tifa hasn't been the same. Cloud knows how close Tifa and Aerith had grown as friends, but the grief that she's displayed has been more than even he can seem to combat. He thinks, over the course of these last few weeks, that he's figured out how to read Tifa, how to understand her, how to keep his promise to her in ways that go beyond that singular allegiance of duty she'd asked him for all those years ago. Yet watching her in silence as the sky falls and the snow coats her hair, he realizes now that he hasn't gotten it all quite right and that he's on the verge of failing her once again.
Clenching his fist against his thigh, he vows internally to remedy that.
They make it into town just before the supper hour, when the sky has finally darkened to a deep violet haze. Icicle Inn is a tiny village that is sculpted from rows of log and shale buildings, surrounding a village square where the shops and merchants are nestled. Everything is lit by live flame or kerosene, and Cloud feels a pinprick at the back of his brain as he looks around, realizing that this village is one of a few on the planet that hasn't been tainted by Shinra's exploitation of mako.
"The inn is just over yonder," Cid remarks, stifling the cold air with a plume of cigarette smoke.
Cloud nods in agreement, and Barret grumbles something that goes ignored by the rest of them as they head in a group towards the inn. There is discussion of dinner and room assignments, whether or not they should restock on supplies now or in the morning, and how early they should rise to continue their journey.
In the end, they settle on booking a wing on the second floor, and it seems everyone is happy to have their own rooms for a change. The somber mood of events past has seemed to infect their entire entourage, and the sense of camaraderie they've built throughout the trials of this journey thus far has dissipated. Even dinnertime comes and goes with discordance and unease, and Cloud notices that although they all sit together around one of the large wooden tables in the inn's dining lodge, there is a disconnect between all of them, as if invisible shields have been erected around them each. Their conversation is relegated to plans for the next day, and then silence reigns, even Yuffie quiet as she pokes bird-like at her plate. In fact, only Barret and Cid seem to have much appetite - Vincent fails to even join them at dinner, Cait Sith is a robot who doesn't eat, and Nanaki finishes his meal quickly and then retreats to his room. Cloud doesn't need to refuel often thanks to the mako in his blood, but he eats enough to maintain the caloric balance necessary to keep his stamina at optimal levels.
He sits right beside Tifa. His brain is split between two worlds, the voices that are pulling him farther to the north and the voices that are pulling him closer to her. He obeys the latter, scooting his chair as close to hers as he can without making things awkward. It's impossible to deny the ache that attaches him to her, especially in wake of so much trauma.
It seems, he thinks as he sets his bowl down on the table, that trauma is sometimes all they share.
Cloud wants to change that but he isn't quite sure how. He sets the thought to the side and looks over at Tifa, finding her staring down at her stew. She's taken off her winter jacket, and Cloud sees the off-the-shoulder sweater that she wears over her harness and fatigues. It contrasts the smooth ivory of her skin, and it looks soft and warm. Cloud wonders what it would feel like to cradle her in his arms at that moment, to hold her close again, and to tell her everything is going to be alright.
He wants so badly to do that for her - again, again, again, and again…
"Tifa," he forces himself to snap out of his despairing line of thinking. He realizes that Tifa hasn't even lifted her spoon and that her eyes are glazed over, ruby irises trapped beneath a misty film of tears. It jars him, sending ice into his veins. "Tifa, you need to eat. We gotta keep our strength up for the next leg of travel."
Cloud keeps his voice low, even though the others, for once, do not seem interested in their conversation. With Aerith gone, some of the spontaneity and aimless joy that lived in their ranks has faded, too. Aerith was always the first to tease them about their proximity or their careless whispers, and that would prompt Yuffie and Cid and sometimes even some of the others to join in as well. But tonight, no one pays attention to them. Even Yuffie is preoccupied, focusing on her meal while her eyebrows dance with the thoughts in her head.
"I'm not hungry."
Tifa's voice is as solid and heavy as a stone, and Cloud thinks he's never heard her take that tone with him before. It is almost bitter, as tart as the birchwood that coats the pines outside of Nibelheim. Cloud frowns, wondering if she blames him for her misery and sadness.
She doesn't look up at him. She stares down at her untouched meal, then focuses her attention on the window to the left. The snow is still falling, coating the window in a veil of white. Cloud watches Tifa as she watches the snow, and he feels his heart pound, a memory from somewhere long ago shrouding his mental vision.
.
.
.
"Isn't it pretty?"
"Isn't what pretty, Tifa?"
"The snow, Cloud. Look at how perfect it is."
"Yeah. It's really cold, though. Maybe we should go inside before -"
"Let's make snow angels!"
She grabs him by the wrist and pulls him off of her front porch, and the smell of bacon from her mother's stove that drifts through the chimneys fades away. Cloud's feet sink into the snow, and he finds himself being pulled along by Tifa, unable to resist the subtle strength in her grip.
He follows her around the bend behind her house, a narrow, forested alleyway that separates his house from hers and is covered by a canopy of stiff, tall pine trees. His toes are already growing frigid inside of the leather of his boots, and the snow that is still falling is caking itself to his hair and dampening his scalp. But Tifa, dressed in wool petticoats and a thick peacoat doesn't stop, her long black hair flying in every direction as she runs ahead of him.
Eventually, they reach her backyard and Tifa lets go of Cloud's hand. She turns to face him, and her cheeks are bright from the cold. They match her eyes, shimmering like rubies under the winter sun. She smiles so broadly that he sees her teeth, a straight line of pearls against perfect, pouty vermillion lips.
"Ready?" she asks him.
Cloud just shrugs.
Tifa giggles at his nonchalant indifference, then spreads her arms to her sides as if she is making a T. And then she falls back, dropping into the snow with her hair splaying everywhere and Cloud's eyes growing wide.
"Tifa?" he calls.
He runs over her to her, but he stops when he sees what she is doing. She is dragging her arms and legs back and forth through the snow, the thick white powder coating her entire body. Cloud watches, somewhat stunned, before Tifa sits back up and then raises a hand to him.
Cloud understands immediately and extends his hand, taking hers in his. He helps her to her feet, and he steps back and watches as she dusts the snow from her skirts and her hair.
"Thanks," she tells him, then glances back at her handiwork, the perfect form of an angel imprinted in the white canvas below. "Your turn."
Cloud glances down at the snow, and he thinks about what Tifa has just done. Already his bones are cold, and he is loathed to the idea. He scratches the back of his neck and glances at her.
"But Tifa -"
"Come on!" she insists with a little stomp, tugging on his arm. "It'll be fun!"
She pouts at him, another girlish giggle dancing from her throat.
And that is the first time that Cloud, seven years old, knows.
He can never say no to her.
.
.
.
Cloud shakes his head and glances back at Tifa, the memory fading away into mist. She is still staring out of the window, her food and cider untouched. Her eyes are still distant, and seeing that emptiness in a place that has held so much warmth and exuberance breaks him into a thousand pieces. He swallows, then rests a gloved hand on her wrist.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks her softly.
At his touch, Tifa finally turns to him again. They meet eyes, and Cloud sinks into hers. Tifa stares back long and hard, and Cloud realizes, as close as she is to him, that her eyelashes are wet.
"…Oh, nothing really," she finally manages, tearing her eyes away to look down at where his hand remains fixed to her arm. The candlelight inside the dining hall dances across her skin, and Cloud feels something burn inside of him at the sight of the soft, amber hue that glows from her flesh. "Just… the snow."
"The snow?" he repeats in a low voice, wanting to keep her talking. Across the table, Cid belches and then gets to his feet, and everyone ignores him when he bids them farewell.
"Home," Tifa answers after long moments pass. Cloud takes his hand away and looks back at his food. It almost feels criminal to eat when she hasn't even touched her meal.
They were last in Nibelheim just a week ago. It was a fabrication of their village, an elaborate lie constructed by Shinra from brick and mortar, wood and stone. They haven't been able to talk about it, or the moment that they shared at the water tower, since.
"Oh," Cloud says in aimless response, feeling stupid and hopeless and not very helpful. His mind stings, and he thinks again of Tifa when she was only six, her lashes caught with snow.
"It used to snow so much there in the winters," Tifa says. "It was always my favorite time of year."
Tifa trails off then, not adding anything else. She is looking back at the window again, and Cloud catches the profile of her face. Her cheeks still have that youthful fullness he remembers from their childhood, and he notices it especially now as she thinks back on those times so far off in their pasts. He panics, knowing that as the silence deepens, he needs to say something to comfort her, to let her know that he is there for her even if sometimes it seems like they are leagues apart.
"Snow angels were your favorite," he recalls his memory after a moment, watching the flames from the nearby fireplace lick highlights across her ebony tresses.
Tifa looks at him sharply then, and her scarlet eyes have grown wide, almost as if with disbelief. She blinks, and as his heart begins to hammer in his chest, Cloud realizes that the corner of Tifa's lips turn up in the first hint of a smile he's seen since Aerith was alive.
"You remembered," she breathes out softly.
By now, Barret and Yuffie, who announced her departure with a wave, have both turned in, leaving Cloud and Tifa alone at the table. He can hear nothing but the sounds of her breathing and the crackle of firewood in the hearth, and the longer that Tifa stares at him with that melancholic look in her eyes, the more that Cloud's heart speed-races in his chest.
"Sure," he says softly, trying not to pass off how he trembles inside. "You - you used to drag me out there all the time when we were kids. I hated the cold, but it was fun."
Her smile expands, and even though it isn't much, Cloud knows that he's done something right.
"So it was," Tifa agrees, turning back to the window.
Cloud looks at Tifa's untouched plate, and he swallows again. No matter what has happened, he has to make sure that she's okay. That was what he had promised, and that is what he is always going to do.
"I know you don't feel hungry right now," Cloud says, leaning in closer to her chair so that their shoulders and knees nearly touch. "But - Tifa, I really need you to try and eat. We have a long journey ahead of us to get North, and the terrain is only going to get much rougher and colder. You have to keep your strength up."
Tifa glances back at him, and he realizes that she is still holding her smile. Their gazes remain transfixed for a moment, and Cloud feels like he is sinking into the endless sea of her. She nods, and then she picks up her spoon.
"Okay, she finally agrees.
He breathes a sigh of relief, and quietly, they eat together, no more words spoken.
It is sometime later when Cloud steps out of the shower in his room, hastily drying his hair with a towel before he pulls on sweats and a sleeveless t-shirt that has seen far better days. It is now late in the evening, and the snow has picked up so that the landscape beyond their windows is an ocean of white.
After they quietly trudged through their meal together, Cloud walked Tifa to her room and reluctantly said goodnight to her. But their departure from one another has left Cloud feeling unfulfilled, especially after everything that has happened in the last couple of days. He doesn't miss the lingering sadness behind Tifa's eyes or the prevailing silence that sits between them and fills him with unease, and he doesn't miss the way that she keeps her eyes downcast, refusing to look up at him, her attentions seemingly caught up in her own misery and grief. All Cloud could do as they walked up the stairs was hold her hand, a simple gesture that they had grown accustomed to, one that he knew would be taking just enough from her without asking for too much.
Yet ever since he left her standing there, Cloud hasn't been able to get Tifa off of his mind. He isn't satisfied with the way he's managed to comfort or console her in the aftermath of Aerith's death, no matter how many tentative smiles his soft words or gentle touches may have been able to pull from her. He doesn't think it's enough, and as he closes his eyes and thinks again of the sound of Tifa's wails as he lowered Aerith's body into that lake, he doesn't think anything will be enough.
Cloud leans over the dresser in his room and stares into the mirror above it, catching the hollow of his cheeks and the hazy glow of mako around his irises. The familiar, intrusive pang is inside of his skull again, infiltrating his thoughts and his memories, plaguing his psyche with self-doubt.
Maybe he isn't good enough to comfort Tifa.
Maybe he isn't strong enough to protect her, the way he couldn't protect Aerith, or Jessie, or Biggs.
Maybe he isn't who he's claimed to be all this time, the one who she really needs, the Cloud who made that promise to her so long ago in a place that belonged to them both but no longer exists.
Cloud curls his fingers around the lip of the dresser until his knuckles turn white. He breathes in, closing his eyes to the pain. Familiar but distant flames fill his vision, and the scorch soars over the ridges of his brain. There's laughter in his skull and he winces, feeling it pulse through his veins as if he is being possessed.
He opens his eyes and looks back at his reflection. He is gaunt, paler than he remembers himself to be. He feels like he is losing a part of himself, and the longer that he stands there and stares, the more that he finds he is slipping away. It grips him with terror, and Cloud realizes that this feeling has been simmering under the surface ever since he first reunited with Tifa in the slums but that it has now nearly reached a boiling point.
He turns towards the door, and feeling the last drops of water from his hair fall onto his shoulders, Cloud pushes away from the dresser and slides his feet back into his boots.
It doesn't matter, he thinks.
He can't be away from her.
Cloud braces himself when he stops outside of Tifa's door, inhaling a sharp breath as he stands in front of it. He thinks again and again about what he is about to do, internally warring with himself over whether or not he is making the right choice. Part of him thinks that his best course of action is to leave Tifa alone and let her get some rest. They are all grieving but he knows that she is grieving the hardest, and grief can be exhausting. She needs time to process her feelings and her sorrows, and sometimes the best way to do that is in solitude.
But a greater part of him acknowledges that he can't leave her alone. In a strange way, it would be an abandonment of his duties to her, of the promise he made. They've confronted their fair share of emotional battles along the legs of this journey thus far, and he was always right there to comfort her. Why should this be any different?
Armed with that thought in mind, even as his soul trembles, Cloud raises his fist and raps lightly on her door.
"Tifa?"
There is a long pause before he hears anything, and Cloud is already wondering what sort of mistake he's managed to make. It is very late by now, and surely, everyone is already in bed, Tifa included. What gives him the right to show up at her room at this hour, whether his intentions are pure or not?
He is a fool, he convinces himself with a shake of his head.
"Yes?" he hears her voice call back.
Cloud swallows, digesting the soft, sleepy cadence of her voice. It only makes him want her even more badly, makes him want to wrap her up in his arms and never let her go. She sounds so vulnerable and afraid, muffled by the sound of the wood that separates them. He just wants her to know that he's there.
"It's me," he responds, mortified by the way that his voice cracks mid-sentence.
Another pause, and Cloud is certain that he is blowing this. His fingers curl with anxiety at his side, but then he hears the soft padding of her footsteps across the floorboards, and soon, the door is being pulled open.
Tifa stands there in front of him in the crack of the doorway, and she looks smaller than he's used to seeing her, most of her layers of clothing gone. She's dressed in shorts and a tank top, and Cloud is ashamed to admit that the first thing he notices is that she isn't wearing a bra, her nipples visible in the thin fabric of her shirt. Her shorts are tight and they hug the curves of the lower half of her body, and it is embarrassing the way that Cloud is unable to stop himself from sweeping his eyes over her entire form.
"Cloud?" she queries as she looks up at him.
He tears his attention away from the distraction of her body and meets eyes with Tifa. He sees the same glassiness in her gaze that he saw at dinner, and instantly, his heart is starting to rise in pace again. Tifa tilts her head to one side as if to silently ask what he is doing there.
"Sorry," he finds himself apologizing immediately. "I know it's late. I just… I was worried about you. You know, after everything - I just - I couldn't stop thinking about you."
The words tumble out before Cloud really has a chance to think them over, and he's powerless to stop them. He wants to wince at how desperate he sounds. But for whatever reason, Tifa seems to bring the truth right out of him.
"Oh," Tifa replies, and he sees that scarlet bleeds across her cheeks. "I'm fine, Cloud."
Cloud doesn't believe that for a second. His better senses are telling him to respect that and leave it alone, to say goodnight for the second time that night and turn on his heels and go. But instinct is pulling him forward, and he finds himself stepping closer to her in the threshold.
"Are you sure, Tifa? I - if you want to talk…"
He trails off and he thinks he sounds stupid. At this point, he realizes that it is him who needs her comfort, and maybe not the other way around. He hates the way that he's embarrassing himself.
But just as he's about to give up and back away, Tifa pulls the door open.
"Do you want to come in?"
The firelight from the hearth in her room opens up in a burst behind her when she pulls the door open, casting highlights on her hair and skin. Cloud breathes out a silent sigh of relief at her acquiescence, grateful that she is letting him visit with her and trying not to let his desire that has been simmering below the surface for her color his judgment.
Instead of answering, Cloud steps into the room, moving past her and leaving his boots by the door but unable to take his eyes off of the slender slope of her shoulder as she closes the door behind him.
Tifa crosses into the room, holding her hands clasped in front of her as she goes. Cloud's line of sight drifts, following the back-and-forth sway of her hips. He realizes that he's never seen her in so few layers of clothing, and although he's made notice of her body countless times since they've reunited, this is the first time he's seen the true, raw definition of her figure, every curve and peak and valley of her form on display.
Tifa stops next to her bed and then sits on it, her impossibly long legs dangling over the edge. Cloud remains rooted where he stands in the center of the room, staring back at her, his lips slightly parted and his heart battering against his ribcage. Tifa looks up at him, and her stare is doe-eyed, the pout of her lips and the softness of her cheeks sending him straight for ruin.
An uncomfortable silence begins to lag, and when Cloud sees Tifa fidget her hands in her lap, he realizes that the ball is once again in his court. He has to act, or he risks ruining this one moment that he has with her to try to repair the damage that circumstances beyond their control have wrought. He may not have been able to stop Aerith from dying, but at least he can be there to ease Tifa's pain, even if it's only just a little bit.
He steps closer to the bed but he doesn't dare sit on it. They've spent intimate moments together in the past weeks - namely hugs and handholds, the occasional brush of skin against skin or bodies pressed close together. Even under the water tower just a week ago in Nibelheim, he had crushed her forehead to his with his hand on the back of her head. But all of those moments had been born from desperation or danger, while this moment is born from mourning and need.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Cloud finally asks when the silence becomes thick and unbearable. He leans against the bureau opposite Tifa's bed, his hands gripping its edge in an effort to appear collected. "You haven't said much since we left the Forgotten City."
Cloud lets his voice drop off, not saying anything further than that. But he keeps his eyes trained on Tifa, studying her reaction and her every move. As soon as he mentions the Capitol, her expression falters and her eyes drop, falling to her lap.
She remains silent, and it pains him that she won't open up or talk to him. The tension that sits in the air between them is as thick as mountain fog after a summer rain, and Cloud finds himself desperate to claw through it and go to her. But he stays where he stands, his fingers digging into the wood behind him. When she remains silent, he relents and speaks again.
"I know Aerith was your best friend," he finally acknowledges. It pains him to say this out loud because for some strange reason, he thought that he had occupied that space in Tifa's heart.
But staring down at her and watching her eyes fall to the floor, Cloud thinks that that isn't enough. It has never been enough, and now, with Aerith gone, he wonders if he can fill the void in Tifa's heart wherever there is room for him to be what he hopes he's been to her and what he wishes he could be.
"I never really had girlfriends growing up," Tifa sniffs. "Jessie and I…"
Tifa shakes her head, and Cloud catches the glimmer of a tear sliding down her cheek in the dim firelight. Panic grips him, and when he sees her shoulders buckle with the first hints of emergent sobs, Cloud decides to act.
He pushes away from the dresser and moves right towards Tifa, standing in front of her. She seems to be stifling her cries, and they wrack her body, rocking her back and forth. She doesn't look up at him, and all of the confusing and escalating feelings that Cloud has been trying to contain in this vial of friendship that they've been ensconced is suddenly shattering the glass around them.
Without thinking, Cloud drops to one knee, crouching in front of Tifa. He realizes almost belatedly that he is between her knees, and she parts them even further as if to accommodate him. He tries not to linger too long on the implications of this, instead just takes her hand in both of his, rubbing his thumbs over the soft skin above her knuckles.
She shakes her head and looks away, and Cloud can see by the color on her cheeks that she is embarrassed by her sudden display of emotion. But this isn't the first time he's seen her cry and he suspects it won't be the last. Letting his instincts take over, he squeezes her hand under his gloveless fingertips.
"It's okay," he reassures her. "It's okay to cry, Tifa. I'm right here, so let it all out."
And she does. Tifa sobs for long moments, dipping her chin so that her hair hides her face as she weeps. Cloud resists the urge to grab her by the shoulders and pull her into his arms, dragging them both to the floor. Instead, he leans forward and lets his forehead rest against hers, the silk of her bangs sticking to his skin.
He's trying to ground her, but somehow, she ends up grounding him, too. The quiet rage that lives in the back of his mind quiets, and while the pain in his own heart subsides, Tifa's cries also wind down.
Cloud lets another moment pass before he slowly backs away. Tifa lifts her head, looking up at him when he takes his warmth away from her. Her lashes are soaked with her tears and her cheeks are stained, and feeling the familiar throb in his heart, Cloud lifts a hand to her cheek and gently wipes the wetness away.
"I'm here," he tells her again. "I won't go anywhere unless you want me to. Tell me what you want me to do, Tifa."
Tifa shivers, meeting eyes with him. Then she glances back at the window, where the snowfall has grown so heavy that it has nearly produced whiteout conditions. Cloud studies her face as she stares, wondering what thoughts are passing through her mind, if their childhood memories dance there again.
She turns back to him. Cloud watches as she parts her lips, catching their cherry hue and the soft wrinkles in them, and it is almost as if time moves in slow motion.
"Keep me warm, Cloud," she whispers.
Cloud's heart pounds so quickly and loudly that he is sure it is going to vacate his chest and land in Tifa's lap, right where it belongs. But he doesn't have time to dwell too much on it or to even respond, because Tifa is sliding away from him, backing up and tucking her legs under her. She pulls the sheets back and crawls under them, settling onto her side and facing away from him. She leaves the sheets open, the back of her body in those too-tight shorts and tank fully on display and inviting him beneath the river of her coal-black hair.
And she's left plenty of room next to her for him to climb into the bed beside her.
Cloud hesitates. He thinks about the moments they've shared together, the embraces and the fleeting touches, the longing stares, and the words left unsaid but hovering in the air. But what she is asking for is a level of intimacy that they haven't crossed before, and it hovers so close to a dangerous line that Cloud has to admit that he is afraid.
Afraid of where this might lead and what it might change between them, afraid of what it might damage.
But she needs him and he needs her, now perhaps more than ever. And Cloud vowed to himself and to her a long time ago that he would be there for her. For him, that means no matter what way she may need him.
Cloud has every intention to go right to sleep when he crawls into the bed beside Tifa. He has every intention to hold her and to let their desolation slip away into tides of restfulness, to be forgotten until morning comes. But his intentions are blown up when he slides under the covers behind Tifa, bringing his body close to hers in an effort to keep her warm without crossing a boundary that could get them both into trouble. It is impossible because as soon as he wraps his arm around Tifa's waist, she presses the back of her entire body against the front of his.
Cloud groans out loud and the idea of sleep is forgotten, tossed out of the window for the rest of the night. Tifa is soft. He's felt her body in his embrace before but never like this, her ass against his crotch and the rosewater scent of her freshly washed hair in his nose. He inhales, taking it all in, and he can't help the way that he squeezes her, relishing the feel of her body in his embrace, curled up right within the protective shell of his body.
Tifa hums softly, and she burrows closer to him. She lifts a hand to his wrist, laying hers atop his. She breathes out a heady sigh and presses her bottom against his now stiffening erection. Cloud blushes and wishes he could disappear, because there is no way that she doesn't feel it.
"You're so warm," Tifa mumbles under a soft breath, and Cloud realizes then that she is beginning to slowly squirm her hips in a way that becomes painstaking for him. "I love when you hold me, Cloud. Your arms…"
As if to emphasize, she pulls his arm tighter around her body until his hand rests just below her ribcage. His fingertips can feel the heavy weight of her breast just above, and the sudden itch to touch and feel around becomes blinding. His entire body is being assaulted with desirous sensations while his mind swims with frantic emotions, and Cloud hums low in his throat, feeling his own inhibitions lose the war that his feelings have been waging for this girl for so, so long.
He raises his other arm above her head on her pillow so that he can cage her fully in his embrace, and he lets his hand on her belly wander. This closeness soothes him more than it soothes her, he thinks, and Cloud leans in, seeing how much he can get away with, how much Tifa will let him take.
"I love holding you," he rejoins, his breath hot on her ear. He presses a kiss to her hair, and he revels in the way that he can feel Tifa's entire body shiver. "I…I always love holding you, Tifa. You're so soft… and warm…"
He lets his words trail off and he tries not to reveal too much of what lives in his heart. He has enough of a hard time saying what's on his mind without sounding like a total idiot sometimes; the last thing he wants to do is fumble this moment with words.
Not when Tifa has let him come this far.
Tifa purrs softly in response, and she backs up against him again, grinding gently and sending a bolt of pain through Cloud's brain. He grimaces, wanting badly to do something to relieve the ache he feels. But he would never push Tifa in that direction, not unless she wanted it, and so he files the pain away as best he can and closes his eyes, focusing on her scent and comforting her with his body.
Moments pass and Cloud wonders if she's fallen asleep. He hopes that she has so that maybe he can turn away and find some relief. But she suddenly shifts in his arms and turns her head to the side, looking over her shoulder at him with bright garnet eyes.
"Thank you," she whispers, threading her legs with his.
Cloud isn't sure what to say. You're welcome hardly seems appropriate, especially not with that sultry look in Tifa's eyes. He reads something different than gratitude in her gaze, and right away, his heart is pounding and his dick grows stiffer where it sits against the curve of her rear.
"Tifa, I -"
She presses her lips to his.
Cloud lays there, stunned, feeling the pillowy softness of her mouth for the very first time. He can taste the faintest hint of her toothpaste, but all he can focus on is the warmth. It seems to infect him, seeping into his skin and all the way to his bones.
She lets her lips linger and the kiss is so innocent and sweet, so seeking and permissive that Cloud almost doesn't believe that it is real. Tifa, the girl who lived next door for years and who has lived in his heart forever, is kissing him, wrapped up in his arms under the sheets. His heart beats so fast that he thinks it might stop, but it is only made worse by the way that Tifa begins to fully writhe her body against his.
It seems apparent to him that she wants him, maybe as badly as he has hidden his own desires for her away. She is asking him without words, and as afraid of ruining what they share with one another as Cloud is, there is no way he can ignore her subtle cues or the way she so quietly begs.
He promised to be there for her, in any way that he could.
And he can never say no to her.
Carefully, Cloud uses his arm that is above her head as leverage to push himself to hover above her slightly while keeping her flush against the inside of his body. He leans in and kisses her more deeply this time, and his hand on her belly wanders. His fingers dip under her tank, finding the soft, warm flesh of her tummy. They dance there and he feels her skin ripple and tense, her abdominal muscles contracting under his touch. Cloud slides his tongue between Tifa's lips and she quickly darts hers out, letting them both meet with a spark as his hand finds the underside of her breast and then cups it.
He squeezes it gently, then brushes his thumb back and forth across her nipple, stiffening it into a hard peak. Tifa moans against his lips, shifting her hips again and bumping into his erection. Cloud groans and nips into her lip, and feeling fire dance in his core, he lowers his mouth to her throat, hungry for her.
Tifa rolls her head back to give him more space to devour her, and Cloud sucks a mark into her skin before he peppers her entire neck with soft, airy kisses. Emboldened by the way she continues to softly moan and squirm, he contrasts the gentleness of his lips with firm pinches of her nipples, causing Tifa to arch her back. When she lets out a cry that is louder than any before, Cloud covers her entire breast with his palm and massages it, kissing her mouth again to stifle her sounds.
"What's wrong?" he asks her, his voice so low that even he doesn't fully recognize it. "You okay?"
Tifa shifts under him, laying so that she is now on her back and looking up at him. The firelight catches in her hair and the moonlight swims over her skin, and all of it brings out the swirl of color in her eyes. Her pupils are wide with desire, displaying the wanton need she has for him that Cloud is certain he has only seen painted on her face in his dreams.
She nods slowly. "Yes," she breathes. "Please, Cloud…"
She doesn't continue her thought, just lets it hang there, open to his interpretation. He pours over it, trying to decide what to do next. But he feels Tifa's thigh bump gently against the hardness between his thighs, and Cloud realizes that she is spreading her legs and looking right at him, her tongue slivering between her lips.
Cloud bends down, kissing her softly again. He squeezes her breast, knowing what she needs. He pushes her top above the round peaks, exposing them fully as he settles at her side and carefully takes one into his mouth, looping his tongue around her nipple.
Tifa moans and widens her thighs even further, lifting her hips in desperation. When she sings his name in a plea, Cloud slides his hand down her belly and into her shorts, skimming right past the thin cotton of her panties. Tifa wraps her arms around his neck and anchors herself to him, burrowing her face in his clavicle when his fingers pass over her mound and into the slick heat of her folds.
Cloud can hardly believe the discovery he makes when his long, agile fingers slip lower. His knowledge of women is relegated to what he's read and what he's heard, his own experiences nonexistent outside of what he's crafted about her in his fantasies. But he has enough information in his working memory to find a good starting place, and finding how wet Tifa already is so encourages him that his dick grows hard enough to cut steel and iron.
He grinds against her thigh, unable to control his body while his fingers explore the tight softness of her womanhood. He strokes her gently and he learns as he goes, studying her face and listening to her soft keens and pants. Her mouth drops open and she moans when his fingers circle over the sensitive nub of her clit, and Cloud can't help but smile and focus his attention there, rolling his fingers over it and watching the contortions of her face.
"Cloud," Tifa puffs his name, lifting her hips from the bed. Cloud releases her nipple from his mouth and leans back up to kiss her again, pressing his thumb against her clit as he lowers his index and middle fingers and circles her opening.
"This okay?" he asks her in a whisper across her lips.
Tifa nods and Cloud slides one finger inside of her, feeling her tight heat draw him in and clench. She moans again and he kisses her jaw, his heart fluttering at the thought of bringing her pleasure this way. She tilts her head to the side and moans again, opening up even more space for Cloud to lave her skin with hot kisses.
He adds another finger and gently explores her insides while Tifa's sounds grow louder and bolder, and their sorrows are tossed aside. It is only them, Cloud and Tifa and the endless exploration of their love through the aimless connection of their bodies and the intimacies of their touch. Tifa's fingers find Cloud's hair and thread into his strands, pulling at them until he winces.
"That feels so good, Cloud," she coos at him. "Please… more…"
Hearing Tifa beg with such quiet subtlety is almost too much for Cloud to bear, and he brands every sound and syllable into the fiber of his being. Their eyes meet in the darkness, and as his thumb passes over her clit again and his fingers press deeper, Tifa drops a hand between the close confines of their bodies, carefully rubbing her palm over his stiff erection through his sweats. Cloud groans, dipping his head again to bite into her nipple. He curls his fingers into her hair, feeling himself leak and willing himself not to lose it right there.
"Please," Tifa whines again, giving him a little squeeze.
Cloud cannot handle this. He can't take Tifa quietly begging and he can't take her hands on him, can't deal with his fingers being buried knuckle deep in a space where another part of him wants to live.
Is that what she wants? Cloud can't help but wonder when he looks up at her and catches the pouty expression on her face and the wanton look in her eyes.
Cloud carefully slides his fingers, almost mournfully, out of Tifa's tight passage and away from the pulsing slickness of her pussy, out of her shorts. She whines at the loss of contact, but Cloud cradles her, leaning in close and pressing a single, soft kiss to her lips.
"Tifa," he breathes. "Are you… are you sure about this?"
Tifa stares back at him and pants. Even though the temperatures are frigid outside, her skin is already coated in sweat. Her chest rises and falls slowly, and Cloud watches as she licks her lips and nods slowly.
"I want you, Cloud," she tells him. "I've never wanted anyone else but you, and right now… right now… I need you ."
She stresses those last three words, and Cloud feels the weight of their impact slam into him. He really can't believe what he is hearing, but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Tifa needs him, and he needs her, too.
And he can never say no to her.
Cloud nods in silent reciprocation, then shifts in the bed so that he is up on his knees and between her legs. He pulls his shirt over his head, trying to ignore the racing trepidation that pounds at his skull. He has never done anything like this before and this is Tifa, and all he can think about is how he will never, ever recover if he gets this wrong.
He swallows back his fears and slides out of his sweats and his boxers, and the blood in his body races to his cheeks when Tifa eyes his hard cock. He's leaking worse than he thought, and now that he is exposed to her, his arousal has become a tempest he can scarcely control. He distracts himself by hooking his fingers into the waistbands of her shorts and underwear, carefully peeling them down her legs and tossing them to the side.
Tifa bites into her lip and balls her fists up by her chin when she is bare in front of him, but Cloud can only stare at the petals in front of him. She is pink and shining like a dewy rose after a midnight rain, and he licks his lips, disbelieving the sight that she is offering to him.
"Cloud," Tifa quietly calls his name. "You're staring."
Cloud looks up at her and sees the bright red hue that colors both her cheeks. He can't help himself, he thinks. He's dreamed about this moment with Tifa for so long, going back to his first days in Midgar as an infantry grunt who only had his latent and buried fantasies to get him through lonely nights in the barracks. But now he is alone with Tifa and she is all his, and even though the circumstances that have brought them together this way are less than ideal, Cloud is certainly not going to complain about the god's favor on him.
"You're just so beautiful," he tells her.
Tifa closes her eyes and covers her face with her arm, but Cloud could care less about her shyness or her embarrassment. He's head over heels and he's drowning in lust, and eyeing her swollen pink clit, Cloud bends down and presses a series of soft kisses to its tip until Tifa is moaning throatily and pulling his hair again.
She's leaking a long stream of silvery liquid and Cloud knows that neither of them can hold back any longer. He rises up and then lays atop her body, pulling her arm away from her face so that he can lean in and kiss her again.
"Cloud," Tifa stops him when he reaches for his cock, carefully angling its tip at her opening. "I've never done this before."
She says it as a both warning and a plea, but Cloud only feels a sense of accomplishment swell inside of him. He wasn't going to dare ask her that question out of respect, but secretly, he had been praying this was the case. He would have been devastated if Tifa had ever taken any other guy to bed with her, if she hadn't waited for him.
Gently, he strokes her cheek, then finds her hand with his. "I haven't either, Tifa," he tells her, and he's blushing from the mild embarrassment of this revelation. "It's okay. It's just us, and we'll figure it out together."
And to this, she smiles.
He offers her a diffident smile in return and then gets to work, still holding her hand but using the other to work himself slowly inside of her. She is even tighter then he realized when he pressed his fingers into her, and she winces and hisses and coos, her body trembling beneath his as he falls in deeper and deeper. His breathing grows labored and Tifa grows frantic, clawing at him with her free hand while her mouth finds his skin, pressing desperate kisses to his shoulders and neck and cheeks.
Cloud feels a fresh line of sweat burst out across his temple when he sheathes himself fully inside of Tifa, breaking through the last barrier that separates him from her with a wild cry from her throat. It startles him and he worries that he's hurt her, his eyes opening wide to glance down at her. The corner of one eye is wet, and her pupils have dilated again. But Tifa smiles and nuzzles his cheek, letting him know that everything is alright.
Everything is going to be alright.
Cloud nuzzles her back and kisses her nose and then her cheek. He holds her hip with one hand, still gripping her fingers in the entanglement of his own with the other. He fully rests his weight on her body, and when he hears her soft sigh of contentment, he begins to move.
It's difficult for him to avoid jackhammering his hips against hers, to rut into this girl he's loved for so long, to take her like a savage and make her his. But he tempers himself and concentrates, listening to the sounds that she makes, feeling her heartbeat through her chest and against his. It grounds him and guides him, and he shifts the directions of his hips and increases the speed of his thrusts, working to bring her pleasure before he dares acknowledge his own.
Cloud refuses to let go of her hand, even as the mounting euphoria bites inside of his core. Tifa wraps her arm around his shoulder, holding him close. Sweat is pooling his vision and he is fogged over with a thrum of steadily rising ecstasy, and he almost misses how loud her shouts have grown. He lifts his hand from her hip and covers her mouth, and his eyes meet with hers as he moves his hips even faster and pumps into her deep.
He goes on for as long as he can, and he is grateful when he feels Tifa's walls clench around his cock, tears springing from the corners of her eyes. His hand muffles the cries of his name that escape from her mouth, but he catches them, all for his ears and his alone. Her ankles cross over his waist and she arches her back with all of the strength in her body, nearly throttling them both off of them bed as she comes.
Cloud lets go at that point, letting her climax cascade over the last of his thrusts. He can't control himself when his own takes him, and he realizes it far too late, emptying into her with spurt after spurt until Tifa is grabbing him by the face and kissing him rough and hard.
Cloud is shivering when he is finally spent, and he reluctantly releases Tifa's hand. Every muscle in his body is strained and weak, and he drops his forehead into the crook of her neck and shoulder, the alchemy of their sweat bonding them together.
"Tifa," he breathes against her flesh.
"Cloud," she sighs, and he feels her fingers pulling at his hair, mussing his strands. "That was wonderful."
Cloud smirks, craning his neck so that he can kiss along her jaw. Wonderful is quite the way to put it, he thinks. He's not exactly sure how to respond to that, so he cards his fingers through her hair instead, continuing to cover her face with kisses until she giggles.
After all the sounds she's made tonight, he's especially glad to hear her make that sound, one that is nothing but happiness and joy, even if it is fleeting.
"I'm really glad you're here, Cloud," Tifa breathes when he finally falls back onto the pillow, lying beside her but keeping his arm secure around her. "Will you stay with me?"
Cloud lifts his head from the pillow and looks at her. Her eyes have that wide, pleading look again, and her lips are parted in that familiar pout.
"Stay with you?" Cloud repeats like a jackass. He's stunned she even thinks she needs to ask that question after what they have just shared.
Tifa nods shyly, tearing her eyes away. "I just don't want to be alone," she begins. "I really just want to cuddle, and sleep with -"
"Tifa," Cloud cuts her off, taking her chin in hand so that she is forced to look back up at him. He can hardly believe the shit that he is hearing. Does she really think he would leave her alone tonight? After that ?
"I'm right here," he tells her. It's the third time he's said it that night, and he knows he'll say it again and again, as many times as he has to until she understands. "And I'm not going anywhere."
She blushes and smiles, and he kisses her again as they sink together under the sheets.
"Ever," he adds before he rolls her onto her side and makes love to her again.
And at some point, they sleep.
Everything is going to be alright.