Amaranthine
The stairway smells like cinnamon cakes. The sun is so bright that it warms the hallway, filtering the rainbow colors that peek through the glass. Her crimson eyes squint up as she passes through, wrinkling her nose as she walks into the kitchen.
"All the pretty horses, across a dozen plains… burnt sienna sunrises and shining purple hills…"
Her mother's singing, rhythmic and hummed in her low vibrato, echoes across the room when she steps inside. She is standing over the counter, squeezing patterns of vanilla frosting onto a tray of cupcakes. Hearing her daughter enter the room, she turns, long black hair sliding across her shoulders and catching highlights from the rays of the sun.
"There you are, Tifa," she greets her with a smile, letting her song fade away. "I just put one batch of cupcakes into the oven. Can you finish icing this tray while I check on them?
Tifa smiles bright and wide, nodding as she runs to the counter, pulling at Thea Lockhart's skirt. Her mother bends down, handing her the piping bag, her knuckles smeared with flour and frosting. Tifa takes it and leans over the counter, carefully squeezing the buttercream across the top of the next cupcake.
"I even bought cinnamon sprinkles," Thea says as she opens the oven and peers in.
"Papa's favorite," Tifa chirps happily, her small hands doing their best to mimic the same swirling patterns mama drew on the cupcakes. Thea laughs in agreement, then picks up her song again.
Tifa sings, too.
.
.
.
Maru's soft fur circles around her ankles, and she glances down at the cat as she pads back and forth in front of her. She bites into her lower lip, then glances back into the mirror with a little sigh.
"Do you think it looks okay?" she asks the cat sincerely as if he can understand her.
Maru yawns but of course, he says nothing, just pads away, leaving Tifa to stare at her reflection alone. The dress is frilly and aqua green, trimmed with ribbon and lace. The sleeveless straps are thin, leaving the slender expanse of her arms fully on display. It fans out into a broad A-line just past her knees, and with the matching espadrilles she wears on her feet, her legs seem impossibly long in a way that Tifa has never considered them. She blushes at her reflection, twirling in place so the dress swirls around her thighs.
With the help of one of the neighboring women in the village, Tifa'd made the dress with fabric she'd bought from the village tailor earlier that summer, when she and papa had gone shopping for new clothes for the year. She'd need at least one new, nice dress, she'd convinced him; since Mama died she hadn't bought or made any new dresses. Everything she wore was for the comfort and utility of the day-to-day, and she'd rarely had an excuse to have to dress up, anyway. But she wanted the same kinds of fashions the women in the magazines from Midgar wore, avant-garde and modern and rich. Standing in front of her mirror now and admiring herself, Tifa is glad that she'd taken the time to sew together this dress, even though before tonight, she'd had nowhere to wear it but.
But tonight, she does.
.
.
.
The sky is overcast, filled with puffy dark clouds, the air thick and heavy with the threat of rain. She blinks through a veil of tears, numbed by the black shapes that crowd around her, darkness falling even though it is early in the morning.
A funeral song bleats dully from a clergyman's harp, pitiful, sad notes that echo and dissipate into the air around them. The crowd is small, but it is significant, most of the villagers in town there to pay their respects. Tifa shivers, watching the casket descend lower and lower, her father's hand on her shoulder squeezing tight.
"It's such a shame," a voice bemoans behind her, soft and full of pity. "She was so young, you know? Not even thirty."
"It was a nasty illness," another voice agrees. "Poor Brian. Won't be easy raising a girl on his own."
The hair on the back of Tifa's neck stands up on end at the words, a shudder coursing through her spine. The coffin disappears from view, and the finality of everything that's happened finally hits her.
Mama is gone.
Mama is dead.
She sniffs and looks up, across the gravesite to the line of mourners who stand on the opposite side. Claudia Strife stands there, golden bangs blowing lightly in the morning winds. Her eyes are downcast, and her left hand is wrapped up tight in the grip of a little boy's.
Cloud's.
Tifa's eyes meet his when she blinks and looks up. He doesn't turn away, not the way he usually does when they look at each other in the middle of town. They used to be such close friends. When did they stop?
It doesn't matter, she thinks, looking away again. It doesn't matter because mama is gone.
Maybe, though, she can find her again.
.
.
.
Everything hurts, and everything is black. She stumbles in the darkness, but she can't see, her arms outstretched but nothing in front of her to anchor her or keep her from falling.
Falling.
That's all she remembers, being weightless and staring up at the sky. Seeing the purple-gray peaks and the pale, gridelin sky, opening up around her like a never-ending oasis. The sound of her scream as it pierced the air, the shout of a boy who she remembers and loves and trusts, who came with her when no one else would.
Why did he follow?
"What have you done?"
She hears the voice, but it is distant and disembodied. She recognizes it, but she doesn't know who it belongs to. She blinks and fights the darkness, but it keeps her imprisoned.
"Why would you bring Tifa to a place like this? The hell's the matter with you?"
Tifa tries to move, tries to get to her feet, but she is stuck, frozen in place as if an anvil has nailed her to the ground. None of her limbs are working; it is as if a witch is riding her back, paralyzing her into place.
She hears the shouts and the swears, but they fade, leaving her in terrifying and punishing silence, a black hole swallowing her into a void.
What happened?
She never remembers.
.
.
.
It's hot, so unbearably hot. The flames lick at her skin, leaving her flushed and red, sweat pouring down the sides of her face.
The smell is putrid and blinding, stinging tears into her eyes. It is a blend of charred flesh and the metallic scent of blood, stark from the cinder and ash that is caking the streets. But she runs through the flames and through the mountains, coughing as her ears ring with the sounds of terrified screams.
She'd never seen a person murdered before, never saw the kind of violence and destruction a blade could cause. But now, the slit throats and disemboweled bellies are singed to the forefront of her retinas, forever branded in her mind's eye.
The smoke dies down the higher she ascends along the mountain trail, but the crackle of flames doesn't relent. The heat that has permeated the entire landscape floods over her as she approaches the reactor, but the anger and the disbelief she feels corrodes inside of her, blocking everything out, adrenaline surging through her bones.
She approaches the catwalk just inside the reactor's main vestibule, the groans of the metal infrastructure creaking against the screams of dragons in the distance. A figure lay, still and unmoving, crumpled at an oddly inhuman angle, limbs twisted. Tifa recognizes the tall, broad-shouldered build, the tasseled vest, and the dusty, leather boots.
Papa.
He's covered in blood, and she is soon covered in it too when she crouches in front of him, her hands on his chest and his shoulder as she shakes him, trying to rouse him. But he's been gutted, a wound that has opened his torso from his navel to his sternum. His eyes are open but they are dead, their light forever extinguished, his mouth still fashioned in the shape of a silent scream.
The sword is still lying there. His laughter echoes from within.
She hates them all.
And she's going to kill him.
She picks up the sword, and even though it is heavy, to Tifa, it is weightless. There is nothing but hatred and fury running through her blood, powering her through this moment. The steel glitters as she walks up the stairs, and when he turns to face her, green eyes feline and piercing, lips twisted in a sneer, she charges for him.
She barely has time to scream before he cuts her down.
.
.
.
Tifa sat up with a start, her heart racing and her blood pounding in her ears as it rushed through her veins. Her breath was collapsing, coming out in rushed, heavy pants that had her lungs burning in the center of her chest.
Shivering from the cold sweat she'd broken out into, Tifa looked around the room she was in, shrouded in darkness. Bland, oakwood walls, wallpapered with faded flowers and muted colors. An oil-painted still art of a field of wildflowers, hanging over the mantle of a small, deadened hearth. An empty closet and a chair, and a window that lets in the steely night sky. A bed next to hers, Aerith laid on her side facing away from her, her back rising and falling with every quiet snore.
Tifa breathed out a quiet, stabilizing sigh, covering her face with her hands. There are tears there, and she hastily wiped them away, cursing at herself and cursing at the terrors and the memories that rob her of a good night's sleep.
She was in the inn - in Nibelheim, she remembered, gazing out of the window and seeing the bright night sky, lit up with wide bands of colorful stars that she hasn't seen since her youth. She rarely slept well without the intrusions of nightmares or vivid dreams, but being back in Nibelheim and finding it in the pristine, restored condition it was in certainly hadn't helped. She had felt numb the entire day as they passed through the town, not sure if she could believe what her own eyes told her, what was right there in front of her. It was surreal, and she had stewed in her own thoughts, even brushing Cloud and Aerith aside when they both came to check on her.
Dinner had been a silent affair after they had explored her hometown, and Tifa had been eager to turn in for bed. Too many thoughts and memories - most of them painted with sadness - had been floating through her head all day, and she was ready to dismiss them under the careful and somber guise of sleep.
Unfortunately, she thought as she reclaimed her breath, sleep only invited different horrors to visit her mind.
Tifa swung her legs out of the bed, her tiny room suddenly feeling stifling. She got to her feet, reaching for her hoodie and pulling it over her arms, wrapping it around herself. She'd picked it up back in Junon when the night air had begun to get chilly the further west they traveled. It was oversized, but it was warm, and she'd come to rely on it as a small comfort.
She pulled her skirt back on and then stepped into her boots, and when a floorboard creaked under her weight, Aerith shifted slightly on her bed and yawned. Tifa froze and watched her, but the girl didn't rouse, instead curling into a tighter ball under the covers, her arms stretched out over her pillow.
Tifa exhaled a sigh and then quietly slipped out of the room, chancing a careful glance down the corridor before she made her way out. It was late - well after midnight, Tifa knew, and the inn was quiet, even the proprietor's desk abandoned.
Tifa crept out of the front door, finding the streets of Nibelheim just as calm and still. The village's residents had long ago cut out their lights and drifted off to sleep, and Tifa suddenly felt even more alone than she had when she woke up in a fit from her nightmare. She wrapped her arms around the front of her body, holding herself in an attempt to dissuade the melancholic chill that waved through her as she began to walk aimlessly through the village streets and towards the center of town.
She walked with her eyes transfixed on the sky above, trying to clear the thoughts from her mind that had been plaguing her all day. She admitted to herself that the last week - ever since they'd left Kalm - had weighed heavily on her. So many things still didn't make sense to her. Cloud's story, her own memories, Sephiroth's endgame...
That she was still so burdened by the traumas and tragedies of the past didn't make it any easier to deal with the trials and tribulations of the present.
Tifa rounded her way toward the village square, shoving those thoughts as far as they would go. Dipping her hands deep into her pockets, Tifa glanced up when she reached the center of town, stopping and staring up at the water tower that loomed like a rusted and worn sentinel overhead.
At the sight of it, the pace of her heartbeat began to quicken. When they'd first arrived in town, the water tower was the first thing that had caught her eyes, its untouched and very much not burned to the ground appearance making her shudder. She had turned to Cloud at once, their eyes meeting where they stood across from one another. There was a look of disbelief on his face, but there was also a little smattering of color that made Tifa's insides feel unnaturally warm.
This was a special place for both of them, Tifa thought as she looked up at the water tower, her feet pulling her in its direction. But it was a replica, tainted by Shinra's gaslighting and their greed. It wasn't the true, pure water tower of their youth.
Nonetheless, Tifa found herself carefully climbing the ladder that was bolted to the side, making her way to the tower's scaffold at the top. She wasn't sure what was compelling her to move forward, but for some reason, she just wanted to be closer to the sky.
Maybe, she thought as she carefully crouched to sit along the ledge, the stars were a comfort, shielding her from the brutal reality on the ground below.
Tifa stared up at the ribbons of glitter in the sky above, the endless formations that they created, effervescent and sparkling. Swinging her legs back and forth, a breezy chill ran through her, and she wrapped her hoodie tighter around her body for its warmth. She watched the patterns pass by above her, her thoughts drifting back to that night seven years ago when the sky had not looked too unlike how it did tonight.
She found her thoughts drifting back to Cloud, and the noxious anxiety began to swell inside of her again. She was still so confused over everything that had been going on with him since she'd found him and especially since they'd left Midgar, his memories jumbled and disconnected, his recollections at odds with her own, his headaches and strange convulsions constantly intruding or impeding the midst of his conversations. So many times she wanted to talk to him about what was going on, to ask him what was happening that seemed to be creating this difficult rift between them. She'd come close in Cosmo Canyon when they'd sat round the bonfire, sharing a canteen of hot, spiced rum that Nanaki had brought them after they'd settled in for the night. Cloud had been intrigued, leaning in close and probing her for what she had been trying to say, but in the end, Tifa just couldn't get it out.
She pulled up her knee, hugging it close and shaking her head. Her endless cowardice when it came to her feelings and the things that lived deep inside of her was only making things worse, she knew.
She closed her eyes, listening to the wind whistle by and the sound of her heart slowing beat away in her chest. She tried not to think about her dreams that had corroded into nightmares, tried to push them away. Maybe if she just sat out here for a little while longer, looking up at the stars, she could clear her head enough that she would be able to go back to her room and fall asleep.
She was ruminating over that when she heard a creak in the wood behind her, and startled, she turned, looking to the opposite side of the water tower. She was surprised to find Cloud on the scaffold, making his way in her direction, holding onto the tower's basin as he went.
"Tifa," he canted her name when he approached her, crouching to his knees at her side.
Tifa watched as he sat, and then she turned away, suddenly embarrassed and self-conscious. It was the middle of the night and she'd snuck off, and now, he was awake and had found her here, stewing in her thoughts. He leaned in close, looking at her and trying to get a read on her, but Tifa kept her eyes averted.
"Sorry," she found herself muttering. "Couldn't sleep."
Cloud hummed, leaning back and lifting one knee as he looked up at the sky. A long silence passed, neither of them really sure of what to say.
"I was having trouble sleeping myself," he finally spoke, his voice low and quiet, chased by the winds. He leaned in Tifa's direction again, and this time, Tifa turned to him, their eyes meeting in the darkness. "I guess coming back here messed me up even more than I thought it had."
Tifa nodded, thinking back on the wild twists and turns her dreams had taken that night, descending deeper and deeper into horror and madness before she found herself unable to take it anymore. Her tongue rolled in her mouth, trying to form words to say in response, to find a way to tell him what was weighing so heavily on her. But she was stuck yet again, and all she could do was swallow painfully, hugging her knee even tighter.
"How about you?" Cloud asked when she didn't respond. "How are you holding up with all of this, Tifa?"
Tifa's heart somersaulted in her chest, and she glanced at him, her teeth slicing into her bottom lip. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so many burdens she wanted to unload in hopes that he would help her carry them. But he was already shouldering so many of his own, the last thing that Tifa wanted to do was compound things for him and make them even worse.
"I guess," she started, her voice shaking as she tried to assemble a response. "It's been hard, but it's been really hard since we left Midgar. Sleeping, I mean. I… I often have nightmares. Sometimes I can get past them, but tonight… tonight everything was about this town. About growing up here. About mama… the fire…"
Her words began to choke, sharp, painful bolts in the back of her throat. Cloud looked at her curiously, concern plain across his features. He turned so that his body was facing hers, and Tifa could see the subtle twitch of his hand where it rested in his lap.
"I… I know what you mean," he said. "I have nightmares too. A lot, Tifa. It's a good thing I don't need as much sleep as you do, thanks to the mako. I try to avoid sleep as much as I can."
This confession was both a little disturbing but also oddly comforting to Tifa, knowing that she and Cloud both shared this similar scourge.
"What kind of nightmares?" Tifa dared to ask.
Cloud made a pained expression, leaning back against the tower's basin. But he didn't back away, blowing out a tiny sigh before he responded.
"It's hard to describe," he puffed. "They don't really make a lot of sense, you know? It's always a lot of darkness, and I always feel like there's pain… but then I wake up, and it's gone."
"They feel real," Tifa commented, knowing exactly what he was describing. "Sometimes… I feel like I can't even move… like my whole body is paralyzed."
She paused, silence settling between them like a thick, misty fog. Cloud glanced down at his hands, slowly flexing the fingers of his right hand into a tightly coiled fist.
"Like… I'm trapped," Tifa continued. "Trapped in the nightmare…"
She trailed off at that, a ripple of ghostlike pain seizing her chest. She didn't want to admit it, but the memories that had begun to decay into this nightly abuse had rooted themselves inside of her like an infection, and she was already dreading the prospect of going back to her bed and trying to fall asleep. Insomnia seemed far preferable to that torment.
Cloud seemed to be reading her mind again, in that way she'd come to discover he could do somehow, always in tune with her thoughts and feelings, sometimes even before she noticed them herself. He turned to her, unfurling his fist, his expression softening as his eyes met hers under the star shower above them.
"You don't have to feel that way, Tifa."
It was a simple sentence, really, but it presaged so much more that he wasn't saying. It was almost like he was making her another promise, a silent one. She just didn't know what it was he promising.
"Cloud, I -"
He reached out across their bodies, taking her hand in his, and the placid oasis of blue that stared back at her was so soft. At their first reunion, Tifa had been terrified of those eyes. They were nothing like the deep, royal blue that had belonged to the Cloud who had once sat up here with her on their real water tower all those years ago. The mako had turned them into something vengeful and bold, tinged with a verdant hue that made her blood quiver in her veins. But now, that raging storm that lived in his gaze had quelled, and he stared back at her with wave pools of aquamarine, trust and affection plain in his stare.
"Tifa," Cloud went on, gently squeezing her hand under his. There was so much strength and power there, yet he handled her with such delicacy and care. She stared at the layers of leather and steel that separated them from truly touching one another, wishing she could simply dissolve their gloves and armor away. "I promised you that I would be there for you, and that means… even at times like this."
He didn't say anything further, but everything in the soft, worried expression that he shone back at her betrayed that he was willing to give her whatever she wanted and needed. All she had to do was ask.
Tifa swallowed, glancing back at the inn across the square. They had a big day ahead of them - they would be searching the Shinra Mansion and traveling into the mountains in pursuit of their enemy. It would be dangerous, and anything could happen.
"You really need to get some rest," Cloud went on, reaching up to lightly caress her cheek, brushing her hair out of the way.
Tifa licked her lips, looking up at him and the soft expression that he wore. He was still waiting for her to tell him what she needed.
He was there for her. To be her hero, her savior, the one who she could always rely on.
All she had to do was tell him how.
"I don't want to be alone," she finally admitted.
Somehow, his expression softened even more, understanding unfolding across his features. Cloud nodded at her, giving her hand another squeeze before he slowly pushed himself to his feet. He kept his grip on her hand, gently pulling her up to her feet.
"You don't have to be alone," he replied.
The walk back to Gramp's Inn was silent and almost awkward. They hadn't said another word after they'd climbed down the water tower together, but that tiny exchange they'd had was enough to make it clear what was about to happen.
Tifa was going to spend the night with Cloud.
She wasn't sure how they had come to this wordless agreement, but it was so clear to the both of them where this was headed it was as if they had shaken on it. Cloud kept her hand tucked inside of his, staring at the cobblestone ahead of them and not uttering a word as they slipped quietly back inside of the inn. Tifa's heart pounded so loudly against her sternum that she was certain that Cloud could hear it, and she kept glancing up at him from the corner of her eyes, wondering what he was thinking.
If he did hear it, he didn't betray that he did, keeping his gaze centered forward as he led her through the corridors. They passed the room that she shared with Aerith, Tifa glancing at the door and biting into her lip as she followed him to the end of the hall.
Wordlessly, Cloud opened the doors to his room, stepping aside and gesturing to Tifa to enter ahead of him. She did so, feeling his warmth when he came up behind her, closing the door.
The room was just as small and bare as her own, but instead of two beds, it only had one. Thinking of the implications of this, she self-consciously wrapped her arms around her waist, holding herself as her nerves began to fray. Cloud stepped around her, and he noticed the way that she stared at the bed.
"It's a double size," he told her. "There's plenty of room for me to take one side."
She glanced up at him, and when their eyes met, Cloud's face began to redden. As if he realized what he had just suggested, he sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck and shook his head.
"I mean," he went on in an attempt to recover from his fumble. "I can sleep on the floor if you prefer, Tifa."
"No," she instantly insisted, tightening her hold on the front of her body. It wasn't fair to make him sleep on the floor while she got the luxury of the whole bed. She should just return to her own room, not create trouble for him this way.
But she was afraid to be alone. And she wanted to be with him.
"No," she repeated. "It's okay, Cloud. I don't mind."
He studied her face for a moment as if to make sure, then nodded before he turned away.
"Well, it's late," he commented awkwardly, approaching the dresser at the front of the room. "We really should try to get some sleep."
His cheeks were still pink when he turned away, and Tifa watched as he began to unclasp his bracers and gauntlets, relieving himself of the heavy accessories. He pulled off his pauldron, settling it on the dresser, followed by the thick leather of his suspenders and harness.
And then, finally, he pulled away his gloves, revealing beautiful hands with long, graceful fingers. It was the first time Tifa had seen his hands since they'd been reunited.
She blushed and turned away, distracting herself by focusing on removing her own excess clothing. She'd already rid herself of her armor and accessories, so she focused on unzipping her hoodie, hanging it over the back of a chair, her boots kicked off in a corner. When she stepped out of her skirt, leaving her in her shorts and tank top, her face burned, and she glanced over at Cloud.
He was facing away from her, giving her privacy to prepare herself for bed. Silently, he turned to the bed and sat at one end, directing his attention to the window and staring up at the stars.
Tifa sighed quietly, steeling her nerves as she faced his direction. Her heart beat so fast that it hurt, and she tried to even her breathing, inwardly berating herself for being such a coward.
Cloud was her friend. Her best friend. He was the closest thing she had in her life to family. All this meant was that he was there for her.
Nothing more.
She crept around the opposite side of the bed, offering Cloud a shy smile before she sat down. She willed her heart to stop its mad pace, pulling the covers back and settling under them with her back facing him. She curled into herself protectively, bringing her knees up to her chest and holding the front of her body as she closed her eyes and tried to be calm.
Cloud grunted softly behind her, and then the bed shifted as he moved. She heard the soft click of the bedside lamp turned off, leaving the room shrouded in total darkness, save for the starlight beyond the window. He moved again, and Tifa could feel him shifting and settling on the bed beside her.
A long, uncomfortable moment of silence passed, and Tifa wondered if she should do or say something. She carefully glanced over her shoulder, eyes straining in the dark. She found Cloud stretched out on his back on the other side of the bed, his arms folded behind his head, a respectful distance between them. His eyes were still open, staring up at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts. Feeling her gaze on him, he glanced over at her, those mako blues pulsing with a gentle glow in the night.
"Goodnight, Tifa," he whispered to her softly.
His sentiment was so gentle and - dare she say - sweet, that Tifa melted, unable to look away from him. The thundering inside of her chest became an incessant roar, accompanied by the rush of blood that spun through every ventricle. She tried to quiet the urges that were tightening in her belly, drawing her deepest feelings to the surface and awakened by the heat that singed her skin and the sparks that electrified her core and between her thighs.
Minerva's blade, she loved Cloud so much. She wanted him so much.
"Goodnight, Cloud," she managed to respond.
Cloud closed his eyes at last, and Tifa turned away.
She could hear his soft breathing, and it seemed that Cloud had already begun to drift off to sleep. Tifa, however, was caught in the whirlwind of her thoughts and feelings. Cloud was so close to her that she could feel his body heat again, that warmth that she had come to rely on, that would always somehow find itself at her side. But it was always in the heat of a battle or in a moment of survival. She longed, desperately even, to have that warmth enveloping her with purpose, to be cascading with him through true intimacy that belonged to them and them alone.
But she couldn't be too demanding, and she couldn't let him know how she truly felt.
He was her friend. And friends looked out for each other.
Nothing more.
But Tifa still felt like crying. She pursed her lips, closing her eyes in the darkness, rubbing her thighs together in an effort to suppress the vivid desires that were painting themselves to her very being. He was so, so close, but like always between them, he remained so distant and far.
It would take nothing for her to just roll over and wrap her arms around him, to pull him, demandingly, into an embrace she was feverish for. To insist that he cuddle and hold her, that he let her cry into his chest while his arms held her together like a broken vase. To be wrapped fully and completely in him, to let her feelings be unrestrained and reciprocated.
But she was a coward, and so she curled tighter into herself, unbid tears lining her lashes as she squeezed her eyes shut. That burning feeling shot across the back of her throat again, vile and painful, and Tifa swallowed, burying her face into her pillow.
She was doing everything in her power to keep her silent tears from erupting into wild, body-wracking sobs when she felt the bed shift. Behind her, Cloud was moving, probably turning on his side. Tifa bit down on her tongue, trying to stifle her cries.
But Cloud did not stop moving. The bed creaked, and Tifa realized that he was drawing in near to her, his body heat her first warning of his approach. It was like a sudden wall of fire behind her, burning her exposed skin when he sidled up beside her beneath the sheet. He was so warm that Tifa felt electrified, the vivid heat searing to her center of gravity.
She gasped when she felt his arm drop around her, pulling her in close so that he could align his body fully with hers. Cloud was holding her now, his other arm above her head, caging her against him. His chest was right against her back, a firm, solid wall of muscle that was like a fortress of personal safety. He scooted closer until her bottom was tucked snuggly against his groin, one of his legs threading between hers and pinning her against him with the heavy weight of it.
"Tifa," he breathed softly, his breath hot and right against her nape.
Tifa shivered involuntarily. It was like he'd been reading her mind again, knowing exactly what she secretly wanted and giving it to her, unabashedly. How did he keep managing to do that? They had once joked about SOLDIERs being able to read minds, but now, Tifa was beginning to wonder.
"Is this okay?" he asked in a soft whisper.
Was this okay? Tifa crimped her eyes shut tight again, the last of her tears rolling down her cheek. How was she even supposed to answer that? She was presently overwhelmed by his warmth and his presence, her feelings of affection and desire for him simmering dangerously close to the surface. How was she supposed to react?
"Mhm," was all she could manage in assent, giving her head a tiny nod.
Cloud curled his body tighter around her, turning himself into a cocoon. Maybe, Tifa thought as she absorbed his heat and the quiet power beneath his arms, she would wake up a new and beautiful butterfly, no longer broken and damaged, but healed, her wings growing out of his love.
It felt like he could do that for her… something that no one else could.
Her thoughts were lost there when Tifa felt Cloud gently reach his hand up to her cheek, brushing that final tear away.
"Sometimes," he began quietly behind her, "I don't know who I am anymore." His words were soft and breathy, air against the back of her neck, filtering through her hair. But there was a strain in his voice, betraying the way it trembled, something weak spilling forth.
"I look in the mirror and I see my face, but I don't know if who I am looking at is really Cloud . I feel like I might be an imposter, as if everything I think I know is just a fake."
Tifa blinked in the darkness, unintentionally pressing her body back against his. Cloud groaned softly in response, tightening his hold on her. He was so warm and so solid that Tifa thought she might be dissolving into a puddle under his grip. His hand slipped down and found hers, threading their fingers together.
They'd held hands before, but never like this, skin to skin in the midst of a deeply intimate embrace. His skin was so soft but his grip so powerful, she couldn't resist carefully squeezing back to encourage him.
"But when I'm with you, Tifa," Cloud went on in a breathy whisper, "I feel like myself. I feel… whole, like all my broken pieces are put back together again. I feel like I'm finally home."
Tifa wasn't sure why, but his whispered sentiments felt like a confession, especially with the way he followed it with another warm, affectionate squeeze. Tiny waves of pleasure and want began to beat in a rhythmic pulse all throughout her body. Tifa leaned back, and she couldn't keep from looking over her shoulder at him, their eyes meeting in the darkness.
The starlight highlighted the paleness of his skin and the citrine glass of his hair. But it was those tranquil blue orbs that stared back at her, refracting their iridescent glow that reeled her in. They were soft and inviting and warm and even though their color had changed, she knew she was staring into the eyes of the boy she had fallen in love with in this village all those years ago.
"Me too," she affirmed in a tiny, tremulous voice. "Cloud… you are my home."
There were so many other things that Tifa could say… words she desperately wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, that she needed him, that there was no one else in the entire world who she lived for but him.
But for some reason, only the words that she said felt right. Cloud was her home.
And as soon as she said them, something strange but exciting happened.
Cloud smiled.
He smiled, and then he leaned in closer to her, nuzzling his face against the soft curve of her shoulder. He let go of her hand, plastering it to the bare, exposed plane of her lower tummy, warm fingers fanning out across her skin and pinning her to him.
And then he kissed her cheek, lips satin and heated, heaven opening up inside of her heart.
His lips lingered entirely too long. This was not the encouraging, friendly kiss on the cheek one best friend might give another. This was the sweet, languid goodnight kiss of a man who loved a woman, and Tifa could feel his intent all the way to her bones.
"I meant what I said," Cloud rumbled against her skin, his lips still glued to her cheek. Every part of her body was alight, oversensitive with want, his hard masculinity caging her in a prison she never wanted to be freed from. "I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you, Tifa. We… belong to each other."
As if he had said too much, Cloud quickly silenced himself, pressing his lips this time against her temple in another chaste but entirely too passionate kiss. Then he settled comfortably behind her, spooning her completely, his clean, earthy scent enveloping her and his hand still pinning her possessively by her tummy into the shell of his body.
Tifa wasn't sure what to make of his words. They were dangerous, thrusting them towards a precarious edge. There was still so much going on around them that she wasn't sure how they could navigate new curves in their relationship.
"Goodnight, Tifa," Cloud purred softly behind her again.
She settled against him, letting it fade away. Perhaps it didn't matter. She had Cloud and he was there for her in a way he would never be for any other member of their party. That meant something, even if they couldn't put words to it.
She was special. What they had was special.
"Goodnight, Cloud," Tifa returned, finally closing her eyes and divining with pure, unrestrained adoration and fulfillment in the encasement of his body snuggled tight around her, cuddling her under the sheets, securing them into a sleep that would not be visited by nightmares and the pain of the past.
I love you.