Author's Note: Yay, maybe THIS is the conclusion! I would like it to be
but I'm not making any promises. Switched is on hold until I get some
ideas, as well as Victim. I thought Barfly would last longer but it's
nearing its end so I feel that I should conclude it. That last chapter
nearly made me cry, I wanted them to be together so bad but...he did lie and
he did break her heart. Anyhow, on with the chapter. P.S. sorry this
chapter goes nowhere, but I really didn't want this story to end.
Cloud walked down the halls of Midgar University, searching for some sign that life was worth living. He had become a shadow of his former self over the past year, having lost the ability to feel like a normal human being. He closed his eyes and stopped in front of a portrait of his father that was hanging on the wall near the main entrance.
He glowered at the painting, cursing his father for having done this to him. He wished he had never been born in his position, an heir to a fortune. He wanted to be a normal person, like the students at his college. Most of them were around his age, but he couldn't connect with them. They would see him walking down the halls and wanted to speak with him, but they knew from experience that he would not respond. He was always lost in his own world.
That never deterred the girls of the school from trying to coax him out of the depths of his own personal hell. They would crowd around him and grope his muscles, cooing and pleading with him to respond to them. They would follow him all around the school, often being late for classes, with the hopes that they could be the one to bring him out of the darkness.
He stared at the painting for a few minutes, a twisted glare furrowing his brow as he showed his teeth and snarled. His nostrils flared and the picture fell to the ground, shattered into broken shards. The glass littered the hallway and the paper itself was left with a large hole through the center.
Cloud brought his hand back and looked at his fist. It was covered in blood and was dripping to a puddle on the floor. He slowly plucked a piece of glass from his skin and let it fall to the ground. He could hear footsteps running towards him and then, he saw darkness.
He did not faint at the sight of blood; it did not make him queasy. It was the pent up emotions of the past year that had all caught up with him all at once. He was in the infirmary of the school, staring up at the nurse through sunken eyes. His hand was completely bandaged up and he could see bloodstains on the cloth.
He sat up and gripped his head, feeling the pain from where his head had hit the floor. He was not accustomed to being so weak; in fact, he had never fainted in his entire life. His father had died a few months ago, leaving him completely and utterly alone in the world. There wasn't the thought of another human being alive that cared for him the way he needed them to.
He let his legs dangle over the edge of the bed and gripped its side. He slowly got up and stammered, feeling a little dizzy from the medicine he had received. He blinked his eyes to get them into focus and walked out the door, disappearing without a word to the staff.
He walked home with his head bowed and his hands in his pockets. This was no way for him to live. He was still the world's sexiest bachelor but he didn't feel it anymore. He thought that by now he would have lost his image, having not been with a woman in over a year and a half. There were several times when he thought about picking up his old ways again but something inside of his soul wouldn't allow it.
He may have been living and breathing, but his heart had died. His dreams had ended and he was left with nothing but regret. He had all the money in the world but still he was not complete. Like every person who seemed to have it all, the one thing he wanted most in life was totally beyond his reach.
He slinked to his front door and removed his key, fumbling with it for a moment, his hands shaking. He hadn't eaten anything all-day and dreaded yet another sandwich for dinner. He could still not hire a maid for that was not company he longed for. He walked through his front door to the stale air that had once been alive with fresh scents and a morning's glow.
He picked up the mail that had been shoved through the slot and threw it on the coffee table in the foyer. Most of it landed on the ground, but he didn't care, he would probably just throw it all away anyway. It had been a long time since anything outside of his own realm had interested him. He had sentenced himself to die alone, slowly and painfully, in remorse for what he had done a year ago.
He couldn't keep his mind off of her and what he did to her. Her fame was growing throughout the world, she was broadening her horizons. She had begun acting in films and on television and had even been asked to do a little modeling. Her face was plastered across every magazine and on every billboard. Her image sold everything from clothing to food and her record sales continued to climb substantially.
She had never spoken to him again, and no one ever asked her another question about him. The stunt at the summer show had long since faded from existence, along with all his hope. She was always in the news and in the papers; he couldn't avoid her and everything that happened to her. There always seemed to be a big story going on in her life, something was always happening to her that she couldn't get away from.
The last he had heard was that she had forced a popular penthouse magazine out of business because they had continuously hounded her for a photo shoot. After her many declines, they still refused to give up, and eventually she sued. She had kept herself under close lock and key, trying her best to be free of any scandals that would tie her back to Cloud or her days as a stripper.
The world knew where she lived, or so they thought, and her bar had become a worldwide landmark. She still gave concerts there, but they were growing less and less frequent since she was on the road most of the time. Whenever she returned to her bar it seemed like the entire city of Junon would attend. Her performances there always remained free, something she had decided to do to keep herself grounded and to not become a stuck up celebrity like so many others had.
Cloud had often thought about going to one of her concerts but after what happened the last time he didn't feel that he could put himself through that again. He couldn't have what remained of his heart ripped in two a second time. She had been the first and only girl to ever refuse him, and it made him want her more, but he knew that his chance was gone.
He sat down on the couch to go through the mail, gathering it up off the floor and leaning back to examine it. He tossed aside all the junk mail that he got from day to day. There was a magazine that had somehow found its way to his house, something that did not happen often. He rarely got other peoples mail so he was surprised to find that something had slipped through.
He flipped it over to look at its cover. It was her. She was smiling at him, seducing him and begging for him to come closer to her. Her hair was blowing back from a fan and her lips were parted. She wore a white dress with a wide neckline that stretched to her waist, her trademark style. The sleeves hung off of her shoulders and flared extensively at the ends, like the wings of a dove. There was a flap of material that covered her from her waist to her ankles, but it was blowing up to the side and the sides of her legs showed up to her hips. The back of her dress would have dragged on the ground for several feet behind her but it too was flowing all around her, giving her the appearance of an angel or a white butterfly. (A/N: Yuna's 'Floral Fallal' dress sphere).
He reached out and stroked the magazine gently, as if she was in the room with him and he was touching her face. She had grown more and more beautiful with each passing day, while he felt as though his looks were fleeting. His life had grown so dismal without her; he had never known rejection before she came along. He couldn't get over her, he had tried for a year but it just wasn't working. That magazine was his final glimpse into the reality that would never be.
He stood up and walked over to the hall closet. He stood on his tiptoes to reach up to the highest shelf and brought down and light blue blanket. He unfolded the cloth and took out a small handgun. He had been saving it for an intruder but he felt like he was an intruder in his own life. He had ruined his own life and the only way out was through death. Then he could move on, then she could be completely devoid of him. He walked back over to the couch and placed the gun down on the table. He sat down at stared at it, continuing to thumb through his mail.
"Thank you, Yuffie." Tifa said quietly as the young girl finished dabbing on another layer of loose powder.
When Tifa's fame had taken flight, she had asked Yuffie to come with her on the road and help out in any way possible. Her pupil did everything from fetching her water to putting on makeup or doing her hair. Tifa didn't know what she would ever do without the young girl by her side.
"That's all." Tifa added, excusing Yuffie from the room. She had an interview in a few minutes and just needed a last minute touch up before they arrived.
She crossed her legs and gripped the ends of the arms on her chair. She wanted to look seductive, but not give too much away for the interviewer. She wore a dark denim miniskirt and a yellow halter top that cut off just below her breasts. She had on a thick black collar with a bowtie in the front and a brown leather coat with fur around the edges that stretched to her knees. She had on yellow track sneakers and lightly tinted sunglasses. Her hair had been blow-dried and was lifted from her sides, with her bangs flowing over her face, nearly hiding her features. (A/N: she and Cloud have matched, and she never knew it!)
The woman who was going to give the interview knocked and was granted access. She walked in with her crew and sat down adjacent to the bright young star. She shook her hand nervously, afraid that she would turn to stone in the presence of such a prominent figure in the entertainment business.
"Hello Miss Lockheart, how are you?" She stifled. Tifa smiled, reassuring the woman that she would not bite.
"I'm good, how are you, Michelle?" She replied, shifting her weight towards the young reporter.
"Very good, so I see that your latest movie has just come out in theatres and is a large success."
"Yes it is, and I'm very proud of it."
"This next question might be a little bit forward, but its something that I've always wanted to ask you, I hope you won't mind."
"Go ahead."
"You've become the biggest sex symbol in the entire world, you've been named the most beautiful woman alive by several big magazines and yet, you have no boyfriend or any man of the sort in your life, why is that?"
Tifa sat back and pondered that question for a moment. She was still not over Cloud, but she couldn't admit that to the cameras. After the way she must have hurt him, after her rejection, she could only imagine that he had moved on with his life. She knew that he was not dating, and had not seen any mention of his romantic life in the papers on television, but she also didn't get a chance to check up on such things either.
She looked down at her lap and clasped her hands together, twitching her fingers. She didn't know how to respond, if Cloud was watching, she didn't want him to be hurt or angry with her. When she said that she had forgiven him on that day, one year ago on the stage in Costa Del Sol, she had meant it, even if afterwards she had turned him away.
She knew that he truly did her best interest in mind when he said those things about her. She had realized that after replaying his speech again and again in her head. He knew that she hated her job and would not want worldwide publicity for being a stripper. He had tried to make the world forget for her, but he couldn't. Even though he had meant well, his actions had failed. And she couldn't be angry with him for that.
"I just haven't met anyone that makes me feel...that way..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes stared off into a distance that did not exist. There was longing in her eyes that the camera crew picked up on.
"Stop the cameras." Michelle ordered, waving her hand. The interview had been live, so the whole world had just seen the anguish in Tifa's eyes.
"I'm so sorry..." Tifa said, shaking her head, tears in her eyes.
"Hey, there's no sorry about anything, Miss Lockheart, I'm the one who should be sorry, I shouldn't have asked that question, forgive me." Michelle bowed her head.
Tifa let out a cry and buried her face in her folded arms as she lowered her head down to her makeup counter. She had never cried so hard in her life, her shoulders were rising and falling violently with each outburst. Michelle put a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort the broken star.
"Miss Lockheart, what's wrong?" Michelle cooed, rubbing Tifa's back, trying to calm her.
"Please leave." Tifa asked, motioning towards the door. Michelle immediately obeyed like a lost little puppy.
Tifa hated her sudden weakness. She couldn't believe that she had just let the world see her so upset. Never had she trailed off in an interview like that, allowing the viewer's to catch a glimpse of the real her. Behind all the fake smiles and happy songs, was just a simple girl who had lost the love of her life.
She wanted to turn back time and apologize to Cloud. She wanted to tell him that she forgave him, but she knew that she couldn't. She was just a stripper to him; after all, she was not someone who could change his life in the way that he had changed hers. He had probably already tossed her aside and had found a new girl, ready and willing to forgive him for any mistake he made.
She slowly raised her head and looked in the mirror. Her makeup was running down her face and her eyes were bloodshot from the tears. She reached out and ran her finger along the glass, tracing the outline of her face. How could she keep on pretending like this? How much longer would she be able to fake happiness?
She could see the headlines already. 'Famous Star Chokes on Camera'. That's what they would all say. She would never hear the end of it, all the questions that would be asked about the event. They would want to know why she spaced out, if she was on drugs, if it had something to do with Cloud.
Cloud...he was so distant from her. How could she have ignored her feelings for him? She had settled into a life without him, had even tried dating, something that the cameras or the press had never caught up on. But no one could make the butterflies dance in her stomach like he did. She closed her eyes and remembered that day, one year ago, when she listened to her head instead of her heart.
The heart is a very powerful thing. The only true way to happiness is to follow your heart, not your head, but Tifa had deceived that. She had cast her feelings aside and now where was she? Crying in her dressing room like a little child, shut off from the rest of the world. What kind of a life was that?
Cloud stared at the envelope in front of him. He had set it down on the table, leaning away from it just to make sure that it was real. He recognized the letterhead as an exclusive invitation. He slowly opened it up and removed the piece of paper from inside. It was an invitation to a fashion show, something he had not been invited to since he was known for being a playboy.
He didn't want to go there, he didn't want to see all the women strutting around and all the men who thought that they were perfect. Those women were not perfect, they were fake. They starved themselves to look like that and had implants all over their body just so they could gain such a status.
Tifa was real, though. She had a natural beauty to her that most other girls could only dream about. He decided that he would attend however, just to get out and to try and get his thoughts away from the realm of suicide. Maybe if he saw all the women he would remember who he once was, who he had been before Tifa.
He put the gun back in the closet and prepared to leave for the show. It was to be held in Gonganga, the fashion capital of the world. He headed out to his helicopter and called for the pilot, who arrived a few minutes later. He watched as his home and city became small beneath his feet as the helicopter took flight towards Gonganga.
He took his seat in the front row, close to the end of the runway and off to one side. He could see other large business owners and socialites taking their seats around him, along with the cameras and the press behind him. He had never been to a show this large before, and figured that it must be the unveiling of a new clothing line that needed dozens of models.
He could hear the music begin to play; it was one of Tifa's more upbeat songs. One by one the models began to enter the stage and turn at the end, glancing down at Cloud and smiling. Having him in the audience made each one want to perform their best, because they all wanted to look good for him.
Then all the models returned backstage and nothing happened for a few minutes, but the music continued. He knew that the finale was coming and he was glad, he was getting tired of sitting there for over an hour being gawked at by all the paper-thin women. He was glad that he had been invited, not because he wanted to go but because he felt like he was becoming less of a hermit, and getting back into the swing of his life.
All the cameramen moved closer to the stage as the curtains drew back for the finale. Only one woman entered the stage instead of the usual few. Her thick dark brown hair was flowing all around her, cascading over her shoulders as she strutted towards the end of the stage, flipping around without even noticing Cloud and walking back towards the center. She bowed, her long red dress hanging over the sides of the stage it was so long.
Cloud now didn't know why he had been invited. The last thing the world should have done was to invite him to be in the same room with Tifa. They were as dead to each other as two people in a graveyard, so why had he been invited? Angered by the notion, he briskly turned and headed for the door when a man grabbed him by the shoulder. He turned around, ready to fight the man off, but he didn't.
"You're wanted backstage Mr. Strife." The man said gruffly.
He stood about a foot taller than the blonde air and was nearly three times his size, perfect for a security guard. Cloud nodded, confused, but followed the man back into the dressing room area. He followed anxiously, wondering why he was being called backstage. He was led to a private dressing room with a star on it and allowed to enter.
Tifa stood there, her back to him. She wore a turquoise silk robe that barely covered her buttocks and was tied in front, the neckline hanging low between her breasts. She was pulling her hair up into some sort of a messy bun and was looking at him in the mirror. She didn't say anything, just finished putting up her hair, then turned to face him, leaning against the counter.
"You...sent the invitation?" Cloud asked, perplexed. Tifa bowed her head and looked back up at him. "...Why?"
Never in a million years had Cloud ever expected her to summon him, though he had fantasized about her doing so. He hoped that she would apologize, no, she didn't need to apologize for ripping his heart in two, he needed to apologize...for being such an ass.
"It's been a year, hasn't it?" She asked, her voice sounding distant and forlorn. Cloud nodded and cautiously took a step towards her.
"Yes...it has." He said, staring at the floor. Never had he been so afraid in the presence of a woman.
"Are you well?" She asked, tilting her head.
"Yes..." He responded, obviously lying. Tifa nodded and pushed herself off of the counter.
"I just...wanted to say..." She looked away from him for a moment, then looked straight into his eyes. "That I'm sorry...for last year."
"Tifa, no, I'm the one who should be sorry." He said, taking another step towards her, but she raised her hand to stop him from coming any closer.
"I guess you've heard the latest story, huh?" She said, looking down.
"I saw that interview, what happened?" Cloud wanted to rush to her side, to comfort her and hold her, but he knew that he couldn't.
Tifa wanted him to hold her. She wanted to let him come to her and love her, but she couldn't, not while she knew he was still obsessed with money. The college had become a brazen signal to her, a beacon of dreams that have been shattered. She wanted to be with Cloud so badly, but she couldn't tell him that the college stood between them, he needed to figure out what was most important in his life; money, or love.
She knew that as long as he still owned the college that that would be gain the majority of his attention. She didn't want to risk being hurt again so that he could further his bank account. She could sense that he knew that she had something more to say, but before she started crying, she felt she should ask him to leave.
"It was nothing. I'm sorry Cloud...I need to be alone." She said, turning from him once again, too afraid to make her move, too afraid to let him know how she felt.
He was confused, but he knew that he was no longer needed. He turned and left the premises, wondering why she had invited him. He knew that she was hiding something, but what? Why wouldn't she just tell him? He could see the tears in her eyes when she turned from him, he had seen her disappointed expression in the mirror, but he had said nothing, again, he was without her.
Cloud walked down the halls of Midgar University, searching for some sign that life was worth living. He had become a shadow of his former self over the past year, having lost the ability to feel like a normal human being. He closed his eyes and stopped in front of a portrait of his father that was hanging on the wall near the main entrance.
He glowered at the painting, cursing his father for having done this to him. He wished he had never been born in his position, an heir to a fortune. He wanted to be a normal person, like the students at his college. Most of them were around his age, but he couldn't connect with them. They would see him walking down the halls and wanted to speak with him, but they knew from experience that he would not respond. He was always lost in his own world.
That never deterred the girls of the school from trying to coax him out of the depths of his own personal hell. They would crowd around him and grope his muscles, cooing and pleading with him to respond to them. They would follow him all around the school, often being late for classes, with the hopes that they could be the one to bring him out of the darkness.
He stared at the painting for a few minutes, a twisted glare furrowing his brow as he showed his teeth and snarled. His nostrils flared and the picture fell to the ground, shattered into broken shards. The glass littered the hallway and the paper itself was left with a large hole through the center.
Cloud brought his hand back and looked at his fist. It was covered in blood and was dripping to a puddle on the floor. He slowly plucked a piece of glass from his skin and let it fall to the ground. He could hear footsteps running towards him and then, he saw darkness.
He did not faint at the sight of blood; it did not make him queasy. It was the pent up emotions of the past year that had all caught up with him all at once. He was in the infirmary of the school, staring up at the nurse through sunken eyes. His hand was completely bandaged up and he could see bloodstains on the cloth.
He sat up and gripped his head, feeling the pain from where his head had hit the floor. He was not accustomed to being so weak; in fact, he had never fainted in his entire life. His father had died a few months ago, leaving him completely and utterly alone in the world. There wasn't the thought of another human being alive that cared for him the way he needed them to.
He let his legs dangle over the edge of the bed and gripped its side. He slowly got up and stammered, feeling a little dizzy from the medicine he had received. He blinked his eyes to get them into focus and walked out the door, disappearing without a word to the staff.
He walked home with his head bowed and his hands in his pockets. This was no way for him to live. He was still the world's sexiest bachelor but he didn't feel it anymore. He thought that by now he would have lost his image, having not been with a woman in over a year and a half. There were several times when he thought about picking up his old ways again but something inside of his soul wouldn't allow it.
He may have been living and breathing, but his heart had died. His dreams had ended and he was left with nothing but regret. He had all the money in the world but still he was not complete. Like every person who seemed to have it all, the one thing he wanted most in life was totally beyond his reach.
He slinked to his front door and removed his key, fumbling with it for a moment, his hands shaking. He hadn't eaten anything all-day and dreaded yet another sandwich for dinner. He could still not hire a maid for that was not company he longed for. He walked through his front door to the stale air that had once been alive with fresh scents and a morning's glow.
He picked up the mail that had been shoved through the slot and threw it on the coffee table in the foyer. Most of it landed on the ground, but he didn't care, he would probably just throw it all away anyway. It had been a long time since anything outside of his own realm had interested him. He had sentenced himself to die alone, slowly and painfully, in remorse for what he had done a year ago.
He couldn't keep his mind off of her and what he did to her. Her fame was growing throughout the world, she was broadening her horizons. She had begun acting in films and on television and had even been asked to do a little modeling. Her face was plastered across every magazine and on every billboard. Her image sold everything from clothing to food and her record sales continued to climb substantially.
She had never spoken to him again, and no one ever asked her another question about him. The stunt at the summer show had long since faded from existence, along with all his hope. She was always in the news and in the papers; he couldn't avoid her and everything that happened to her. There always seemed to be a big story going on in her life, something was always happening to her that she couldn't get away from.
The last he had heard was that she had forced a popular penthouse magazine out of business because they had continuously hounded her for a photo shoot. After her many declines, they still refused to give up, and eventually she sued. She had kept herself under close lock and key, trying her best to be free of any scandals that would tie her back to Cloud or her days as a stripper.
The world knew where she lived, or so they thought, and her bar had become a worldwide landmark. She still gave concerts there, but they were growing less and less frequent since she was on the road most of the time. Whenever she returned to her bar it seemed like the entire city of Junon would attend. Her performances there always remained free, something she had decided to do to keep herself grounded and to not become a stuck up celebrity like so many others had.
Cloud had often thought about going to one of her concerts but after what happened the last time he didn't feel that he could put himself through that again. He couldn't have what remained of his heart ripped in two a second time. She had been the first and only girl to ever refuse him, and it made him want her more, but he knew that his chance was gone.
He sat down on the couch to go through the mail, gathering it up off the floor and leaning back to examine it. He tossed aside all the junk mail that he got from day to day. There was a magazine that had somehow found its way to his house, something that did not happen often. He rarely got other peoples mail so he was surprised to find that something had slipped through.
He flipped it over to look at its cover. It was her. She was smiling at him, seducing him and begging for him to come closer to her. Her hair was blowing back from a fan and her lips were parted. She wore a white dress with a wide neckline that stretched to her waist, her trademark style. The sleeves hung off of her shoulders and flared extensively at the ends, like the wings of a dove. There was a flap of material that covered her from her waist to her ankles, but it was blowing up to the side and the sides of her legs showed up to her hips. The back of her dress would have dragged on the ground for several feet behind her but it too was flowing all around her, giving her the appearance of an angel or a white butterfly. (A/N: Yuna's 'Floral Fallal' dress sphere).
He reached out and stroked the magazine gently, as if she was in the room with him and he was touching her face. She had grown more and more beautiful with each passing day, while he felt as though his looks were fleeting. His life had grown so dismal without her; he had never known rejection before she came along. He couldn't get over her, he had tried for a year but it just wasn't working. That magazine was his final glimpse into the reality that would never be.
He stood up and walked over to the hall closet. He stood on his tiptoes to reach up to the highest shelf and brought down and light blue blanket. He unfolded the cloth and took out a small handgun. He had been saving it for an intruder but he felt like he was an intruder in his own life. He had ruined his own life and the only way out was through death. Then he could move on, then she could be completely devoid of him. He walked back over to the couch and placed the gun down on the table. He sat down at stared at it, continuing to thumb through his mail.
"Thank you, Yuffie." Tifa said quietly as the young girl finished dabbing on another layer of loose powder.
When Tifa's fame had taken flight, she had asked Yuffie to come with her on the road and help out in any way possible. Her pupil did everything from fetching her water to putting on makeup or doing her hair. Tifa didn't know what she would ever do without the young girl by her side.
"That's all." Tifa added, excusing Yuffie from the room. She had an interview in a few minutes and just needed a last minute touch up before they arrived.
She crossed her legs and gripped the ends of the arms on her chair. She wanted to look seductive, but not give too much away for the interviewer. She wore a dark denim miniskirt and a yellow halter top that cut off just below her breasts. She had on a thick black collar with a bowtie in the front and a brown leather coat with fur around the edges that stretched to her knees. She had on yellow track sneakers and lightly tinted sunglasses. Her hair had been blow-dried and was lifted from her sides, with her bangs flowing over her face, nearly hiding her features. (A/N: she and Cloud have matched, and she never knew it!)
The woman who was going to give the interview knocked and was granted access. She walked in with her crew and sat down adjacent to the bright young star. She shook her hand nervously, afraid that she would turn to stone in the presence of such a prominent figure in the entertainment business.
"Hello Miss Lockheart, how are you?" She stifled. Tifa smiled, reassuring the woman that she would not bite.
"I'm good, how are you, Michelle?" She replied, shifting her weight towards the young reporter.
"Very good, so I see that your latest movie has just come out in theatres and is a large success."
"Yes it is, and I'm very proud of it."
"This next question might be a little bit forward, but its something that I've always wanted to ask you, I hope you won't mind."
"Go ahead."
"You've become the biggest sex symbol in the entire world, you've been named the most beautiful woman alive by several big magazines and yet, you have no boyfriend or any man of the sort in your life, why is that?"
Tifa sat back and pondered that question for a moment. She was still not over Cloud, but she couldn't admit that to the cameras. After the way she must have hurt him, after her rejection, she could only imagine that he had moved on with his life. She knew that he was not dating, and had not seen any mention of his romantic life in the papers on television, but she also didn't get a chance to check up on such things either.
She looked down at her lap and clasped her hands together, twitching her fingers. She didn't know how to respond, if Cloud was watching, she didn't want him to be hurt or angry with her. When she said that she had forgiven him on that day, one year ago on the stage in Costa Del Sol, she had meant it, even if afterwards she had turned him away.
She knew that he truly did her best interest in mind when he said those things about her. She had realized that after replaying his speech again and again in her head. He knew that she hated her job and would not want worldwide publicity for being a stripper. He had tried to make the world forget for her, but he couldn't. Even though he had meant well, his actions had failed. And she couldn't be angry with him for that.
"I just haven't met anyone that makes me feel...that way..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes stared off into a distance that did not exist. There was longing in her eyes that the camera crew picked up on.
"Stop the cameras." Michelle ordered, waving her hand. The interview had been live, so the whole world had just seen the anguish in Tifa's eyes.
"I'm so sorry..." Tifa said, shaking her head, tears in her eyes.
"Hey, there's no sorry about anything, Miss Lockheart, I'm the one who should be sorry, I shouldn't have asked that question, forgive me." Michelle bowed her head.
Tifa let out a cry and buried her face in her folded arms as she lowered her head down to her makeup counter. She had never cried so hard in her life, her shoulders were rising and falling violently with each outburst. Michelle put a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort the broken star.
"Miss Lockheart, what's wrong?" Michelle cooed, rubbing Tifa's back, trying to calm her.
"Please leave." Tifa asked, motioning towards the door. Michelle immediately obeyed like a lost little puppy.
Tifa hated her sudden weakness. She couldn't believe that she had just let the world see her so upset. Never had she trailed off in an interview like that, allowing the viewer's to catch a glimpse of the real her. Behind all the fake smiles and happy songs, was just a simple girl who had lost the love of her life.
She wanted to turn back time and apologize to Cloud. She wanted to tell him that she forgave him, but she knew that she couldn't. She was just a stripper to him; after all, she was not someone who could change his life in the way that he had changed hers. He had probably already tossed her aside and had found a new girl, ready and willing to forgive him for any mistake he made.
She slowly raised her head and looked in the mirror. Her makeup was running down her face and her eyes were bloodshot from the tears. She reached out and ran her finger along the glass, tracing the outline of her face. How could she keep on pretending like this? How much longer would she be able to fake happiness?
She could see the headlines already. 'Famous Star Chokes on Camera'. That's what they would all say. She would never hear the end of it, all the questions that would be asked about the event. They would want to know why she spaced out, if she was on drugs, if it had something to do with Cloud.
Cloud...he was so distant from her. How could she have ignored her feelings for him? She had settled into a life without him, had even tried dating, something that the cameras or the press had never caught up on. But no one could make the butterflies dance in her stomach like he did. She closed her eyes and remembered that day, one year ago, when she listened to her head instead of her heart.
The heart is a very powerful thing. The only true way to happiness is to follow your heart, not your head, but Tifa had deceived that. She had cast her feelings aside and now where was she? Crying in her dressing room like a little child, shut off from the rest of the world. What kind of a life was that?
Cloud stared at the envelope in front of him. He had set it down on the table, leaning away from it just to make sure that it was real. He recognized the letterhead as an exclusive invitation. He slowly opened it up and removed the piece of paper from inside. It was an invitation to a fashion show, something he had not been invited to since he was known for being a playboy.
He didn't want to go there, he didn't want to see all the women strutting around and all the men who thought that they were perfect. Those women were not perfect, they were fake. They starved themselves to look like that and had implants all over their body just so they could gain such a status.
Tifa was real, though. She had a natural beauty to her that most other girls could only dream about. He decided that he would attend however, just to get out and to try and get his thoughts away from the realm of suicide. Maybe if he saw all the women he would remember who he once was, who he had been before Tifa.
He put the gun back in the closet and prepared to leave for the show. It was to be held in Gonganga, the fashion capital of the world. He headed out to his helicopter and called for the pilot, who arrived a few minutes later. He watched as his home and city became small beneath his feet as the helicopter took flight towards Gonganga.
He took his seat in the front row, close to the end of the runway and off to one side. He could see other large business owners and socialites taking their seats around him, along with the cameras and the press behind him. He had never been to a show this large before, and figured that it must be the unveiling of a new clothing line that needed dozens of models.
He could hear the music begin to play; it was one of Tifa's more upbeat songs. One by one the models began to enter the stage and turn at the end, glancing down at Cloud and smiling. Having him in the audience made each one want to perform their best, because they all wanted to look good for him.
Then all the models returned backstage and nothing happened for a few minutes, but the music continued. He knew that the finale was coming and he was glad, he was getting tired of sitting there for over an hour being gawked at by all the paper-thin women. He was glad that he had been invited, not because he wanted to go but because he felt like he was becoming less of a hermit, and getting back into the swing of his life.
All the cameramen moved closer to the stage as the curtains drew back for the finale. Only one woman entered the stage instead of the usual few. Her thick dark brown hair was flowing all around her, cascading over her shoulders as she strutted towards the end of the stage, flipping around without even noticing Cloud and walking back towards the center. She bowed, her long red dress hanging over the sides of the stage it was so long.
Cloud now didn't know why he had been invited. The last thing the world should have done was to invite him to be in the same room with Tifa. They were as dead to each other as two people in a graveyard, so why had he been invited? Angered by the notion, he briskly turned and headed for the door when a man grabbed him by the shoulder. He turned around, ready to fight the man off, but he didn't.
"You're wanted backstage Mr. Strife." The man said gruffly.
He stood about a foot taller than the blonde air and was nearly three times his size, perfect for a security guard. Cloud nodded, confused, but followed the man back into the dressing room area. He followed anxiously, wondering why he was being called backstage. He was led to a private dressing room with a star on it and allowed to enter.
Tifa stood there, her back to him. She wore a turquoise silk robe that barely covered her buttocks and was tied in front, the neckline hanging low between her breasts. She was pulling her hair up into some sort of a messy bun and was looking at him in the mirror. She didn't say anything, just finished putting up her hair, then turned to face him, leaning against the counter.
"You...sent the invitation?" Cloud asked, perplexed. Tifa bowed her head and looked back up at him. "...Why?"
Never in a million years had Cloud ever expected her to summon him, though he had fantasized about her doing so. He hoped that she would apologize, no, she didn't need to apologize for ripping his heart in two, he needed to apologize...for being such an ass.
"It's been a year, hasn't it?" She asked, her voice sounding distant and forlorn. Cloud nodded and cautiously took a step towards her.
"Yes...it has." He said, staring at the floor. Never had he been so afraid in the presence of a woman.
"Are you well?" She asked, tilting her head.
"Yes..." He responded, obviously lying. Tifa nodded and pushed herself off of the counter.
"I just...wanted to say..." She looked away from him for a moment, then looked straight into his eyes. "That I'm sorry...for last year."
"Tifa, no, I'm the one who should be sorry." He said, taking another step towards her, but she raised her hand to stop him from coming any closer.
"I guess you've heard the latest story, huh?" She said, looking down.
"I saw that interview, what happened?" Cloud wanted to rush to her side, to comfort her and hold her, but he knew that he couldn't.
Tifa wanted him to hold her. She wanted to let him come to her and love her, but she couldn't, not while she knew he was still obsessed with money. The college had become a brazen signal to her, a beacon of dreams that have been shattered. She wanted to be with Cloud so badly, but she couldn't tell him that the college stood between them, he needed to figure out what was most important in his life; money, or love.
She knew that as long as he still owned the college that that would be gain the majority of his attention. She didn't want to risk being hurt again so that he could further his bank account. She could sense that he knew that she had something more to say, but before she started crying, she felt she should ask him to leave.
"It was nothing. I'm sorry Cloud...I need to be alone." She said, turning from him once again, too afraid to make her move, too afraid to let him know how she felt.
He was confused, but he knew that he was no longer needed. He turned and left the premises, wondering why she had invited him. He knew that she was hiding something, but what? Why wouldn't she just tell him? He could see the tears in her eyes when she turned from him, he had seen her disappointed expression in the mirror, but he had said nothing, again, he was without her.