This is a fic from Tifa's POV. It's just something I wrote one day because
I didn't want to do my history homework, and the first fic I've posted on
ff.net so don't be TOO cruel to me.
"Cloud?"
"Yes?" he looked up from the bike he was working on, his golden hair sticking to his brow because of the sweat. He wiped it away and stared at me, waiting for what I had to say. I wish he would wait like that more often. I hesitated. I don't get to talk one-on-one with him all that often, I usually jump at the opportunity when it arises, but how am I supposed to word this? "Nothing." I don't want him to get annoyed, like I pulled him from his work for 'nothing', to put it in my own words; I know he's been meaning to get to work on this bike and wants to get done with it before tomorrow, so I ask, "Whatcha doing?" He frowns and goes back to his work. It's kind of a dumb question, I'll admit, but it was the first thing that came into my head. He answers the obvious. "I'm working on my bike." "Oh." Like I couldn't tell. I feel so stupid sometimes. I shouldn't have done this, I should've done that, but it doesn't really matter because by the time I think of it I've already said something dumb. At a loss for what to do, I brought my knees up and sat in the chair, watching him. He's lovely, really, I could watch him all day. I'm watching him tinker with his bike for quite a while I guess, because when he comes out from underneath it and sees me he says, "You still here?" I nod. "Well while you're here, you could at least get me something to drink since you don't seem to have anything else to do." "All right." I hop off the chair and go off to find him a drink. He's right; I don't have anything to do but watch him. And nothing is fun unless he's involved in it; I'd do chores all day if he could be there with me. I probably have some mental disorder. If we didn't have to live so close and be together so often I'd probably be his stalker. That makes me feel guilty, is all this emotion normal? Sometimes I can't think of anything but Cloud, Cloud, Cloud. If I told him he'd think I'm crazy, I know it. But am I supposed to never tell him? Just stand by while someone comes along and he falls in love with her? I couldn't bear to see that happen. But it will, won't it? Unless I tell him. Oh boy, I'm setting myself up for an awful lot of embarrassment. He'll just laugh at me, or maybe not, he doesn't seem to laugh much. But he wouldn't take me too seriously. Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd understand, maybe he'd love me back.
For some reason I doubt that.
"Cloud?"
"Yes?" he looked up from the bike he was working on, his golden hair sticking to his brow because of the sweat. He wiped it away and stared at me, waiting for what I had to say. I wish he would wait like that more often. I hesitated. I don't get to talk one-on-one with him all that often, I usually jump at the opportunity when it arises, but how am I supposed to word this? "Nothing." I don't want him to get annoyed, like I pulled him from his work for 'nothing', to put it in my own words; I know he's been meaning to get to work on this bike and wants to get done with it before tomorrow, so I ask, "Whatcha doing?" He frowns and goes back to his work. It's kind of a dumb question, I'll admit, but it was the first thing that came into my head. He answers the obvious. "I'm working on my bike." "Oh." Like I couldn't tell. I feel so stupid sometimes. I shouldn't have done this, I should've done that, but it doesn't really matter because by the time I think of it I've already said something dumb. At a loss for what to do, I brought my knees up and sat in the chair, watching him. He's lovely, really, I could watch him all day. I'm watching him tinker with his bike for quite a while I guess, because when he comes out from underneath it and sees me he says, "You still here?" I nod. "Well while you're here, you could at least get me something to drink since you don't seem to have anything else to do." "All right." I hop off the chair and go off to find him a drink. He's right; I don't have anything to do but watch him. And nothing is fun unless he's involved in it; I'd do chores all day if he could be there with me. I probably have some mental disorder. If we didn't have to live so close and be together so often I'd probably be his stalker. That makes me feel guilty, is all this emotion normal? Sometimes I can't think of anything but Cloud, Cloud, Cloud. If I told him he'd think I'm crazy, I know it. But am I supposed to never tell him? Just stand by while someone comes along and he falls in love with her? I couldn't bear to see that happen. But it will, won't it? Unless I tell him. Oh boy, I'm setting myself up for an awful lot of embarrassment. He'll just laugh at me, or maybe not, he doesn't seem to laugh much. But he wouldn't take me too seriously. Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd understand, maybe he'd love me back.
For some reason I doubt that.