The beginnings and endings of life
Mind and soul, heart and body…
All come into conflict.

Genesis
Domestic Bliss
by Jess Angel

5

The rich and pungent scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the white-walled apartment. The sizzling of a skillet could be heard, as bacon succumbed to its crisp and cooked equivalent. Cloud stood at the stove, shifting the strips of meat side to side with a spatula. He occasionally flinched and attempted to dodge the oil that splattered in his direction.

Beyond the counter, a few feet behind him, Tifa stirred about the table setting up plates and silverware. The tune the martial artist had been humming began to fade as she completed her task and moved back to the heart of the kitchen. She then rested her palms on the counter's cool surface and turned her attention to the coffee maker emitting its ritual drip-drip-drip.

"Is the food cooked yet?" she asked, as their backs still faced one another.

"Almost." He let the meat hiss and crackle a few more seconds before shutting off the gas.

Tifa began to reach for the three mugs lined next to each other. "What time is it?"

"A little after seven-thirty."

"Is Vincent up yet?"

The swordsman paused for a moment before dumping the pan's contents onto the serving plates. "I haven't seen him."

She stopped toying with the ceramic cups. "He's usually up before either of us."

Cloud placed the skillet into the sink. "…Yeah, I know." He opened the tap.

"He's… not the type to sleep in," she spoke over the white noise of rushing water.

"Maybe since he's task-less this morning, he decided to stay in for a while." He shut off the faucet. "I mean, you and I have done that." Cloud allowed a grin to form. "Might as well let him be the lazy one for once."

He turned to face her. "Right, Tifa?"

Only an empty kitchen met his eyes. The blond felt his heart sink.

Cloud tried to shake off the all too familiar feeling and willed his attention back to the sink. With steady hands, he began soaping the few dishes. He didn't want to start breakfast alone, anyway. The swordsman had a good idea to where she disappeared off to, and he didn't want to dwell on it…


"Let's go home."

Fifteen minutes later, the trio neared their building.

"Goodnight, Mr. Strife." A man tipped his cap to the three.

"Goodnight…?" The blond fumbled for a name.

The man had already passed on without a reply.

Tifa shivered.

Two sets of eyes fastened themselves upon her.

"Are you cold, Tif?" Cloud voiced.

She produced a small smile and shook her head. "No, I'm all right. I felt a little strange for a second. I think I'm just wiped out."

"Would you…" The raven-haired man trailed off suddenly aware of a Mako infused gaze.

The martial artist looked up. "Yes, Vincent?"

"Nothing."

"What is it?" She urged him to continue.

"It's nothing."

"Vincent."

He slowly offered her his arm.

"Oh…" Shyly, the brunette slipped her arm under the support and then replied, "Thanks." Tifa signaled to the swordsman. "Come on, Cloud. You're not going to let Vincent do all the work." She hooked her free arm into his, and then grinned at the both of them. "I must be the luckiest girl on the Planet."

Cloud turned to hide his blush, while Vincent opted to stare straight ahead, his mouth twitching. She always managed to put every awkward situation at ease… even those she wasn't aware of.

Finally home, the three proceeded to their respective rooms. But halfway to his, Cloud retraced his steps and headed towards Tifa's, thoughts of tonight's dinner still weighing heavily on his mind. The quiet tread of his boots came to a halt.

The door was open… and there sat Tifa, on her bed, brushing out her long brown hair - alone. The opportunity was set right before him.

It was an opening. The swordsman swallowed the lump rising in his throat. He'd suddenly forgotten the words he had been rehearsing in his head.

The seconds continued to tick and he still hadn't made a move. Cloud wasn't sure how long he had been standing there watching her, but Tifa finally took notice of his presence.

"Cloud, did you need something?"

Those ruby eyes looked up at him attentively. "Tifa."

Now, would he take this chance?

"Yeah, I…" His voice stalled, but Tifa kept her patient gaze on him.

He opened his mouth again. "I just wanted to tell you-"

The urgent beating of his heart now pounded deafly in his ears.

"Tell me what?"

Spit it out, Cloud. …Why was he faltering?

He took a breath, "I wanted to say…"

Why couldn't he do this?

"Cloud?"

"Goodnight."

His hand behind his back balled into a fist. "I just wanted to say goodnight." His smile came out weak and waning, "That's all."

Tifa's gaze lowered to study her brush a moment. "Oh, I see." Her lips pressed firmly together before upturning in a quick smile. She raised her eyes back to his. "Goodnight, Cloud."

Quietly, he bowed his head in a reluctant nod. "Goodnight, Tifa."

The swordsman shut the door, allowing the sigh to escape his lips. His fingers rested on the doorknob a moment longer, before they released their light hold.


Tifa's hand trailed along the smooth wall that led to the guys' rooms. When her short journey came to an end, the brunette paused outside her destination and lifted a hand to knock on the door. Bare knuckles tapped against the wood, "Vincent?"

There was no rustle of movement or answer from within. Knowing it would be unnecessary, Tifa refrained from calling out again. Soon enough the door silently peeked opened, and a single crimson eye peered down at the martial artist.

Was it her or did he seem paranoid lately?

"Aren't you going to let me in, Cyclops?" she lightly joked, amused and strangely, a little annoyed. It wasn't like she hadn't been in his room before. And she knew for a fact that he had no need to worry about its appearance. He was quite the neat freak. She had been in his room… Tifa counted the number of times in her head. Four times. It was five if she included that one sleepwalking incident… but the point was she had been inside it before.

After a moment, the dark-haired man reluctantly complied and retreated back a little, allowing her to push the barrier away. Tifa took a step inside and began to take note of her surroundings.

The curtains were barely drawn, leaving the room mostly dark despite the morning daylight brightening the world outside. His bed was made, but it was obvious by the wrinkles and the light outline of a form that he had been up for some time.

Her observations drifted to the room's owner. He was still clad in black sweats and a loose white t-shirt. His midnight hair was only slightly mused, and she could tell that he was at least a little tired. The white of his eyes being patterned with pinkish red lines.

She frowned. "How long have you been up? It's time for breakfast."

"Awhile."

And exactly how long was this "awhile"? she wanted to demand. She was starting to have a sneaking suspicion… "Did you sleep?"

"You said it was time for breakfast."

"Vincent, did you sleep?" Tifa awaited his answer.

"…Occasionally."

There was a small tug at her heart. Were they back again? "Was it the night-"

"I was thinking."

The quick response caught them both by surprise.

"…Of what?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. She continued tentatively, "What were you thinking of?

His eyes shifted to study the non-existent patterns on the wall. "Things."

Tifa sighed. She was used to his vague and cryptic answers, but that didn't mean she had to like them. Even after many months of living with the man, he still retained his aura of mystery. At least it wasn't the nightmares. I mean brooding was better than the nightmares, right? She looked up at Vincent again.

A disruption of color caught her attention and she squinted up at him.

"What is that?" She stepped closer.

"What?" he asked, inwardly alarmed at her movement towards him.

"Hold on."

He temporarily obeyed.

She tilted her head further up, rising a slightly on her tip toes. "It… it's a string." Probably from his sheets or bandana. "Don't worry, I'll get it."

Vincent shifted from her oncoming hand. "No. I will do it."

"I can do it." She reached for the string again.

"No…" He attempted to dodge her fingers. "It is all right-"

"Gosh Vincent, it's only a string! I can get it!" She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and extracted the wine-colored thread from his disheveled hair. "See?"

Tifa blew at a few of the brown bangs that obscured her vision. Of all the foolish… Vincent could act odd at the most peculiar things. The man let you touch his arm, but wouldn't let you get a piece of string from his hair. She released his shirt. "Here," she held out her palm.

Vincent stared at the hand for a few seconds before extending his human hand to hers.

Long and slender fingers slid against her skin attempting to claim the thread. The pads of his fingertips were calloused, but the rest of his hand was surprisingly soft. Vincent pulled his hand away suddenly.

Tifa realized that she had gasped and dropped her hand to her side.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"…Breakfast."

"Right." Tifa turned on her heel and headed out the door with Vincent quietly following behind.


Author's Note: For some reason, I had a hard time writing this chapter and didn't want to post it until I revised it to my liking. I think it still might have been a little wobbly, but I hope you all enjoyed it, nonetheless. -Hands out Vincent plush dolls- Thanks for reading!