A/N:
It has been such a hectic week of cleaning the house for me! I'm so glad that I could finally sit down today and write this.
PS: I've decided to change the title of the fic to match the vibe I'm going for, and the Aerith/Tifa side.
Cloud isn't a morning person.
He never wants to wake up earlier than 9am.
But he does sometimes, all for Tifa's sake.
When he does, it's because he just wants to take care of her. He just wants her to eat right. He just doesn't want her to start her day with an empty stomach.
Today is one of those days. It's especially important for him to do it today because he missed dinner with her the night before.
He's still toiling in the kitchen when he hears her coming out of their bedroom and yawning.
"You're up early," she remarks, arriving with eyes squinting through the morning brightness.
He smiles and taps a finger lightly on the bar counter. "Come, sit."
She sits onto one of the stools, and he quickly plates the simple breakfast he made for them: sunny side-up eggs and chicken salad.
She's staring at the plate of eggs for a lot longer than necessary.
"What's wrong?" he asks, feeling uneasy.
She doesn't say anything in return. Instead, she gets up and immediately grabs a clean pan out of the cupboard.
"It's nothing," she says, as she starts heating oil in the pan.
She's making another plate of sunny side-up eggs for herself.
"You can have the ones that you made," she tells him with a smile.
He looks at his eggs.
What the fuck's wrong with them? They're perfectly cooked.
Inside the shooting area of Sector 0's After Dark by Fair studio, a naked woman is laying on a red satin cloth at the floor with knees bent up and arms splayed overhead.
She's making slight movements, posing and flirting with the camera that's hovering above her.
"Touch yourself more," Zack instructs from behind the camera.
"My tits or my pussy?" the woman counters, clearly teasing him.
Zack grins. "Whichever makes you feel good."
She plays with both and starts faking moans.
"You're doing great!" Zack exclaims, pacing around her and taking more shots.
By the time it's 5pm, Zack takes one last shot of her. He checks the photo and decides, "That's a wrap for today."
A female assistant rushes to hand the client a cotton robe.
Cloud gathers the equipment with a group of others and catches the client buzzing towards Zack.
"The photos will be ready for review in 5 days," Zack informs her. "You did great. I think your fiancé will go nuts over your photos. Bring him next time."
The woman shrugs. "The photos aren't for him."
Zack crosses his arms against his chest. "So who are they for?"
"Myself and…" the woman inches closer to him, "Do you want to maybe… have dinner with me tonight?"
Cloud bumps against someone who drops a tripod with a thud.
That helps in distracting Zack, just like he wanted.
"Hey, watch it!" the other man yells.
"Sorry."
He's actually not sorry.
Just like he predicted, his behaviour's vexing Zack.
Cloud hears him rebuffing the client, "Not free tonight."
"Once you're done packing up, we need to have a word, Cloud," the other man yells again before walking out of the shooting area.
The other assistants flash him looks of sympathy. They know how vicious Zack can be when he's mad.
"You're in trouble," the client remarks, smirking and so obviously trying her luck on him too.
The audacity.
"Better than him getting into trouble for fucking a client again."
The client storms away, screaming about how rude he is.
Her voice quickly fades away as some background noise not worth listening to as he carries on doing what he needs to do.
When his phone vibrates from within the pocket of his pants, he excuses himself to a corner.
He unlocks the phone, then dives straight into his inbox.
Rows of unread messages, from two people he dreads to hear from the most.
But he reads their texts anyway because if he doesn't, they're going to blow his phone up with endless calls until he can't even shut one eye.
He reads the first unread ones in the list.
Deadbeat: Where's this month's money?
Deadbeat: You're late
Deadbeat: You're just going to leave me here starving to death?
Deadbeat: What if I'm dead tmrw what are you going to do about it?
Deadbeat: Are you fucking ignoring me?
Deadbeat: Answer my txts
Deadbeat: You're dead if you don't answer by tonight
He sighs.
He opens another series of texts from the next person.
Whore: Baby, I'm running out of cash
Whore: Be a doll and help your mama out?
Whore: Baby?
Whore: Am sorry. This will be the last time I'm asking this from you
Whore: Pls. I can't live like this baby
There are more texts from 'whore' but he doesn't want to read them.
Instead, he shuts his phone off and presses his fingers on his temples.
He feels his chest closing up. Like he's no longer allowed to breathe.
Zack walks in, smelling like the menthol he must have smoked several minutes ago.
From the sound of his footsteps, Cloud can tell that he's ready to yell – or more accurately, fight – again.
"Care to tell me what was that all about?" the other man demands. "You're so out of it today, Cloud! What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I was helping you, Zack," he answers, still with his head down and fingers pressed along his forehead.
"Help me do what? Stop me from fucking her? Who I fuck is none of your business!" Zack retorts. He's not backing down. "Where are you looking? I'm up here. Look at me! We're fucking talking here!"
For fuck's sake.
He doesn't have time for this. He doesn't have the mental capacity for any of this.
Why is everyone making it hard for him?
He's not the one who's fucking things up!
"Yeah, Zack! I was stopping you from fucking her, so her fiancé won't come over to the studio and beat everyone up again like some fucking dude before him. All you do is make things worse for everybody. But if that's what you want to keep doing, then have it your way but just leave me the FUCK alone!"
He doesn't care if he's going to lose his job. He just wants to be left alone.
He just wants to breathe again.
He can tell that Zack's still around but the other man is uncharacteristically quiet.
No sooner afterwards, he feels a hand gently gliding from his left shoulder, until it rests on his upper back.
"Hey… what's the matter?"
He raises his head up and finds Zack staring at him with so much concern in his eyes.
He feels his tongue loosening.
He wants to retch up all that's balling in his chest because he knows Zack's all ears.
But he can't. He doesn't know where to start.
Zack's hand moves up to cup his neck.
He feels the other man's thumb caressing his skin. It feels familiar. It's comforting. It's all that his skin's craving for.
He zones out and finds Zack leaning forward.
Their faces are just a few inches apart.
"Cloud, have you seen the client's coat? She's looking for-"
Zack backs away, discouraged by the person who just walked in.
The person (weirdly) panics. "I uhh… sorry… I think I'm interrupting-"
"No, you're not interrupting anything," Zack cuts the other person short. "And yes, it's still here."
Zack points to a red trench coat that's lying undisturbed on a couch. The person hurries to retrieve it and leaves.
"I'm seeing Aerith after this but… call me if you need me around," Zack says, smiling. "Don't text. Just call me."
"Got it."
He's finally left all alone in the studio.
And he's thinking about how much he wants whatever's going to happen between him and Zack just now.