A/N: Had to make this three parts in the end; this story got away from me, what's new. This is for the favourite trait/physical feature prompt (vaguely, oops). The last part is still going to be posted on the last day of Tifa week. Enjoy!

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Maybe we're from the same star

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part two

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Cloud spends the summer of his eleventh birthday getting to know his soulmate.

He still does not understand what a soulmate is supposed to be, really. His Mom talked to him a week after the soulmate mark showed up on his wrist; she used that tone, the one telling Cloud she's hiding something from him. It's the same tone she used when she announced his father left because he had things to work through, he'll call soon. But Cloud knows his father left because he got tired of them and that he will never call. What his mother doesn't know is that Cloud was awake the night his father was fighting with her about this, the night he grabbed a suitcase and disappeared. So when his Mom says don't think about it, darling, you're young still, Cloud knows she's not telling him everything. And he trusts his Mom, so he doesn't understand why she'd do that when nothing about having a soulmate sounds bad. Tifa is nice and funny and she's good at soccer, so he doesn't mind her being his soulmate.

They've seen each other since the first day; they are neighbors after all. But they haven't really talked. It's one of those things their parents seem to have decided on their own. Cloud doesn't like that—he's never liked that—but it's worse in this situation. He figured it must because of the same force that made his chest hurt when Tifa left that day—something out of his control, something handed down to him by whoever decided they'd be soulmates. But then Cloud overhears his mother speaking on the phone. It's a month after his mark appeared. Cloud can't sleep. The insomnia happens often, and he's starting to know how to deal with it. He gets up and pads out of his room, careful not to make too much noise as he passes by his mother's room. That's when he hears her low voice—and his name. Cloud stops before the half-open door.

"—want Cloud to live that," she says to whoever is on the other end of the line, then falls silent a moment. "I know. Cloud tries to act tough, but he cares so much. That's what worries me. They're so young. It shouldn't have happened." The way her voice wavers on the last word makes Cloud's heart constrict, though he's not sure why. His mother listens to the other person; her tone changes, becoming harsh and full of anger, as she says, "He won't go through what I did."

Cloud stops listening, then. Something is off about his Mom; she sounds like a different person, bitter and scared, and that's not the Mom he knows. He continues his trek to the living room and plops on the couch before turning on the table lamp so he can read his comic book. He tries not to think about what he overheard, but it proves difficult. It sounds like his mother doesn't want him to have a soulmate. And he wonders why that could be. Soon, he puts the comic book down and stretches out on the couch, the light still on. It's how his Mom finds him.

"Cloud?" She speaks softly, afraid to wake him up. When he sits up, she comes close. "Can't sleep again?"

"Yeah."

His Mom sits next to him, pushing the comic book aside. "Anything bothering you?"

Cloud glances up at her. She looks tired, too tired. "No," he lies.

"Okay. Do you want to watch a movie?"

That's how he usually falls asleep—sometimes he reads. But tonight, Cloud isn't ready to sleep. His mind whirs too much.

"No," he says again. "I'll go back to my room."

If his mother finds his answer strange, she keeps it to herself; she only bids him goodnight with a weary smile. Once in his room, Cloud checks the time on his old school alarm clock his uncle got him—22:50. He looks at his bed, then at his window seat; the latter wins. A large tree hides most of Tifa's house—but not her room. He never noticed before, but now that her light is on, he can see her sitting at a desk below her window.

Cloud stares at her as she appears to be writing or drawing—he can't tell from the distance. His mother's words float around him, a reminder she doesn't want him to think of Tifa. And it angers him, he realizes, because isn't his soulmate his? Not his mother's or anyone else's; isn't that the idea behind soulmates? To have that one person for you? Cloud doesn't know what is meant to happen between them, or how it works—but the one thing he knows is that it's for him and Tifa to find out. He doesn't like the idea of someone else deciding how they should do that.

Not thinking twice about it, Cloud puts on his sneakers and a hoodie. He opens the window and throws a glance over his shoulder before climbing on the windowsill. The tree's branches are sturdy and extend far enough to brush the house; Cloud is careful as he grabs unto the closest one and scrambles for the next. After a while, he manages to make his way down, letting his body drop from the lowest branch. He lands on the grass and stays still for a few seconds, afraid all the noise will have attracted his mother. Once it's clear it didn't, Cloud takes off towards the hole in the fence. He's still surprised Tifa's father—or his mother—hasn't repaired it yet, but he won't complain.

He squeezes through the hole and walks under Tifa's window; her room is the only illuminated one. It hits him then that she doesn't know he's here, and there is no way to climb up, not on her side of the fence—but her window appears to be ajar. He calls her name, but his voice is too low for her to hear him. He tries again, a little louder this time. Still nothing. Cloud looks around for something to throw but soon dismisses the idea, afraid it'll scare her.

"Tifa!" he says again, as loud as he'll dare.

Cloud waits, tense from anticipation, but breathes out when her head appears in the window; he waves at her, suddenly shy and embarrassed. But it all evaporates when Tifa smiles and waves back. She opens the window wider and leans over her desk so he can see her.

"What are you doing here?" There's no denying the excitement in her voice.

The words get stuck in Cloud's throat because, really, he doesn't have an answer for her. He has no clue why he sneaked out; all he is sure of is that it felt right to do so. So he grasps for the first excuse that comes to mind.

"I thought we could watch the stars again."

"Oh. I'm not supposed to go outside at this hour."

Cloud chastises himself—he was stupid to expect anything else. But there's something about the way Tifa says the words, like she's rehearsing a line she's heard a million times before, that incites him to say, "I'm not supposed to either."

His cheeks heat at her silence, and he looks away. It's not because he is angry at the adults deciding for them that Tifa thinks the same. The June night air is both cool and hot, refreshing and stifling. Cloud wishes he hadn't put on his hoodie—agitation warms him up and discomfort has him want to run away.

"Okay, well, I'll head back," he says since Tifa still hasn't said anything.

But when he glances up, Tifa isn't at the window anymore. The light is still on—and so is the one from the kitchen. His heartbeat speeds up at the thought of being caught by her Dad. Cloud almost runs for the fence when the door slides open and Tifa walks outside. Tension he wasn't aware burdened him releases at once, and it feels like he can finally breathe after being underwater too long. He jogs up to her, stopping before the deck. She joins him; her eyes sparkle with mischief, and he can't help but smile.

"Hi," he says because nothing else comes to mind.

Tifa giggles. "I've never sneaked out like this. This is great," she adds in a whisper as if her father will overhear.

"Me neither," Cloud admits. "It's kind of cool."

They lay down in the grass; the stars twinkle in welcome above them. Tifa points at something in the sky.

"That one is so bright. Do you think it's a plane?"

"Could be." Though Cloud is the one who said they could watch the stars, the truth, he finds out, is that he wants to talk. "Tifa, did your Dad say you couldn't see me?"

"What?" She sits up, stars forgotten in an instant. "No! Why would he do that?"

He holds in his breath for a few seconds as if the lack of oxygen will clear his mind; he exhales and then speaks. "My mom—it's weird, it's like she doesn't want us to be soulmates. I don't get it." Cloud allows the annoyance to surface in his voice. "She's deciding for me, I don't like that. You're my soulmate, not hers." He can't help his shocked expression when Tifa lets out a laugh. "What's funny?"

Tifa shifts, sitting cross-legged. "It's cute," she says with enough enthusiasm to make him blush again. "I asked my Dad about soulmates again."

"Ah, yeah? And?"

"He says you and I are people who fit together. That soulmates usually share a destiny." She frowns, and Cloud gets the impression she's reciting what she was told without understanding everything.

"What, like if something happens to me, it happens to you, too?"

"I'm not sure." Tifa rests her cheek on her hand. "I think it means we have to do things together?"

Cloud hums as he takes in what she said. "We'll see."

They talk into the night, their voices hushed like they're afraid someone will overhear even if they are alone. Cloud tells her of Midgar; of how big it is; of how crowded it is. When Tifa says she'd love to see it—she can't imagine a place that huge—Cloud says they could go one day. It makes her smile, her eyes sparkling with delight at more promises. And Cloud likes the idea, too. There's something exciting about dreaming of a future where someone is a constant presence next to him. He wonders if maybe that warm, heartening feeling is part of being soulmates, but he keeps it to himself. Because if Tifa doesn't experience it, then it means he's alone in this, and the thought is scarier than it ought to be.

When Tifa yawns, Cloud gets to his feet. "We should go back."

"I don't want to," she says, then yawns again.

Cloud chuckles. "You're almost asleep." He extends his hand to help her up. "Come on."

She sighs and takes his hand, but doesn't let go. "Can I tell you a secret?"

The shy note in her voice makes him curious. "Yeah, of course."

"I don't want to wait another month to talk with you like that." She looks down at her feet.

"That's your secret?"

"Yes," she bites out. She goes to slip her hand out of his, but Cloud tightens his grip, not allowing it to escape.

"Because it's also my secret," Cloud says, a little embarrassed. Still, he senses it's important for him to say it.

Tifa's head rises at that. "Okay," she whispers.

They stand facing each other for a moment, and Cloud releases her hand and steps back. "I'll see you soon, alright?"

She nods. "Yes. For sure."

As they part and Cloud crosses into his backyard again, the tightness in his chest comes back. With difficulty, he climbs back up into his room; once inside, he collapses on his bed, exhausted. He kicks off his sneakers, wincing at the loud thud they make landing on the floor. But his mother doesn't come to check.

Cloud thinks, maybe, he understands what the pain in his heart is. But it sounds so momentous that he decides it can't be real. It can't be because he already misses her. No, Cloud tells himself, it must be because he was nervous about sneaking out and that's why it hurts. They happen sometimes, these bursts of trepidation that morph into pain and shortness of breath. And he was afraid of being caught, so that must be why.

For the rest of the summer, they sneak around on some nights—and every time, Cloud lives that same tight sensation when he climbs back into his room.

By the time he turns eleven, he can't lie to himself anymore.

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Cloud discovers the kids in Nibelheim don't like outsiders. He should have guessed considering Tifa told him everyone knows everyone before school started. When the kids learn Cloud was held back a year, they snicker and make annoying jokes about how he is too dumb to move on to the next grade. Cloud doesn't have the energy or the intention to explain why—it's none of their business, after all. Tifa asks one night before they start school, as they hang out in not-so-secret; Cloud knows his Mom is aware by now, and he figures so is Tifa's father. And though Cloud doesn't enjoy talking about the last year, he tells her about his parents' ending relationship and the fights at school and his inability to focus. Tifa's eyes widen and she nods as he talks—Cloud doesn't think she understands what happened exactly, but he doesn't fault her for that; she's not the one who lived through it. And, truly, it's enough that Tifa cares.

He hates that they are a grade apart, and he wishes she could be in his class. Because he knows it would make school bearable, then—to have someone you know has your back close by. Still, she isn't far away, and they do what they can to hang out together. The evenings are where they talk, though. Once they are away from the rest of the world, everything just feels so much more real to Cloud, like he dreams during the day and lives at night. Perhaps it's because that's how they got to know each other; perhaps because Tifa is the only person Cloud cares about in Nibelheim other than his mother. This is what makes him reflect on soulmates again. Cloud still isn't certain he gets what they are supposed to be, but now he knows what it means to him.

It begins a little before school starts in September when Brian and his mother tell them they have to hide their marks. Something about the idea makes Cloud angry. He blurts out a biting why, to which his mother snappily responds that it is for their own good. It almost devolves then, since Cloud and his Mom haven't seen eye to eye for the last year, creating tensions. But Tifa's Dad steps in, the more composed of the two, and says children can be mean when they don't understand something, and soulmates marks rarely show up on kids your age. His words calm Cloud down—he understands what Brian means too well. So he nods his agreement. After a moment, Tifa speaks up. Shyness saturates her voice when she tells them but I don't want to hide it, I'm happy Cloud is my soulmate and my best friend. Her declaration warms Cloud, like the sun rose within him and touched every part of him with its rays. Me too, but I don't want them to be mean to you—Tifa relents when he says this, and the conversation ends there.

He wonders what he could use to hide his mark. The eight-pointed star isn't too big, but a watch doesn't cover it. The day he resigns himself to wearing long-sleeved shirts, Tifa knocks on their door; his mother lets her in immediately so she can take shelter from the rain. Cloud frowns when he notices she isn't wearing a raincoat, and he gets a towel from the bathroom. Tifa smiles when he hands it to her. She dries off her hair and clothes.

"I have something for you," she says after removing her wet sneakers and padding after him to his room.

"Yeah?"

They get comfortable on the window seat, and then Tifa fishes for something in her pants' pocket. "Close your eyes," she asks.

Cloud huffs but complies. Her firm grip on his left wrist almost startles him; his pulse accelerates, and he hopes she can't discern it. She wraps a few things around his wrist and then lets go.

"Okay, open them."

He knows what he'll see—she got him bracelets to mask his mark—but it still surprises him. There are two wide ones of braided leather and one with wooden beads—together, they conceal his mark almost perfectly. The lower point of the star is still visible, but only from up close. Cloud stares at his wrist, at a loss for words.

"You don't like it?" Tifa asks.

Cloud looks up, noting the way her eyes squint a bit and the way her hands twist in her lap, all signs of her nervousness. "No, I like it! I'm just…" He hesitates, not wanting to upset her, but carries on, knowing the truth is more important. "I'm a little sad. That we have to hide it, I mean. But I love what you got me."

"I'm sad, too," Tifa says, the words tumbling out of her. "I don't get why we have to hide something right. Why is it we're the ones who have to act like it's wrong?"

"It's not wrong." Cloud grabs her hand, squeezing. "It's the others who are."

As he speaks, Cloud senses his world shift—it expands and retracts, engulfing Tifa and constricting around them until there is no place for anyone else. That's when he decides it doesn't matter what being soulmates really is—why should it when they have to pretend they aren't? What matters is what he chooses it to be. And he chooses it to be a universe of their own.

"Tifa," he says as he tightens his hold on her hand, "if we hide it, it becomes ours only. No one else has to know because no one else needs to. Just you and me."

Panic swells when a few tears trickle down her cheeks, and Cloud lets go of her hand to grab a box of tissues nearby. Tifa sniffs as she dabs the tears away; he sits down again, unsure of how to act.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," he mumbles.

"It's fine." Tifa balls up the tissue in her hand. "I'm not crying because I'm sad."

Cloud can't help his frown. "Then why?"

"I'm not sure," she admits. "But when you said that, I got so happy. It made me feel safe."

"Oh." He bites his lip, relief spreading inside him, and the urge to make a promise storms through him. "You'll always be safe with me."

Tifa smiles. "Thank you."

After she leaves, Cloud goes back to his room and lays down on his bed. He fiddles with the bracelets, making sure they cover up the mark as much as possible. It's weird not to see the star on his wrist, but he knows he'll get used to it in time.

And he does. Cloud only removes them to shower; he becomes so accustomed to the sensation on his wrist that it's stranger to have them off. But once he looks down at the mark, it's never unfamiliar—sometimes he even stares at it as the water flows over him, contentment filling him. When he puts the bracelets on again, it feels wrong until he remembers how the kids at school can be mean to him. He doesn't want Tifa to experience that. She has to wear long sleeves to hide her mark; it's too high on her forearm for anything else to cover it. She swears she doesn't mind, saying it gets cold enough past summer for her to wear them for the entire school year. Cloud knows her concealing it the way he does will have the opposite effect—people will wonder what she is hiding. Still, he wishes he could offer her something.

The other kids end up finding out, of course. For years, Tifa and Cloud keep it a secret. People know they are best friends, attributing their closeness to being neighbors. Neither of them dissuades these assumptions. When Cloud moves on to middle school, he makes friends. He's not sure why people suddenly become nice to him; these are the same kids who insulted and laughed at him last year. But he softens down the line, and he blames his loneliness for it, being unable to see Tifa until they both get home. And really, he knows it's not a bad thing—it's just that he can't let go of his distrust of them after having spent an entire year being the object of their mean-spiritedness.

That's also when Cloud realizes the difference between friendship and what he has with Tifa. Though he enjoys his new friends' company, it never compares—it always seems too shallow. These people don't get him the way Tifa does, and he doesn't want them to; he doesn't want anyone else to know him so deeply. There's something sacred about having no secrets with someone, and Cloud decides that is also what a soulmate is. He thinks he's beginning to understand better what 'sharing a destiny' could mean. He can't imagine something Tifa does not affecting him.

On a weekend towards the end of his last year in middle school, Cloud and his friends have decided to hang out at the park. So have a lot of other kids from school; Cloud isn't that surprised considering the beautiful weather. Tifa comes with him, wearing her usual long sleeve cardigan. It's a warm day, and Cloud can see she's uncomfortable despite the lightweight fabric.

"You gonna be okay?" he asks as they approach the park.

"Yeah." She gives him her usual soft smile, the one nobody else gets to see. "I'll just tie up my hair."

Cloud scratches at his bracelets as she searches for a hair elastic in her pockets; the temperature makes the leather stick to his skin, but he still keeps them on. It's second nature to wear them now. His friends decide they want to play soccer. Tifa sits out and goes to join other kids from school; Cloud hates that she chooses not to play because she'll get too hot with the cardigan, but he says nothing about it. Keeping their secret has been engraved into their heads for three years now. He keeps an eye on her as he plays, but the game gets serious, and he forgets to check after a while. When he takes a break, he realizes Tifa is nowhere to be seen. It happens at once, this horrible feeling of dread, this terrifying sense of foreboding. There's no telling if it's his own fear speaking or their soulmate bond letting him know something is wrong, so so wrong. But it doesn't matter; finding Tifa is all that does.

"Where did they go?" he asks the nearest guy who sat out of the game. At his blank look, Cloud adds, "Tifa and her friends."

"Oh, I think they said something about taking a short trek through the mountain."

Cloud doesn't thank him; he runs in direction of Mt Nibel without a backward glance. His heart beats a crazed, overbearing rhythm, drowning out all other sounds. He curses himself for not having checked on her, curses her for not telling him where she was going. Fear seizes him the closer he gets to the mountain, and he wonders if it's because Tifa is also afraid that he feels it so strongly; his thoughts spiral down until they crash into a pit of possibilities he would rather not think about. After an eternity, he reaches Mt Nibel and, though he doesn't understand why he knows he must take the hiker's path leading to the suspended bridge. As he heads further in, the faint echo of screams tell him he was right, goddamn it, he was right, and so wanted to be wrong.

Five kids from school stand on the edge of the bridge, staring down at the bottom of the small gorge and yelling at each other. Their panic is tangible; Cloud tastes it in the air and he wishes he could spit it out, but it's made its way down, down to his stomach.

"What happened?" he shouts as soon as he gets close enough. Tifa is nowhere to be seen, and he almost vomits as his fear concretizes. He doesn't wait for an answer before pushing them out of the way to stare down.

Cloud sucks in a breath when he takes in an immobile Tifa at the bottom of the gorge. He doesn't even realize someone is talking to him, doesn't realize someone is trying to hold him back as he steps towards the edge. The gorge isn't that deep and the slope leading down is rocky and steep; not so much that he couldn't get down there but enough that he won't be able to come back up. Cloud pushes at the hands grasping at him, not heeding the shouted someone went to get help, don't go down there!

The ground is slippery beneath his feet as he slides down the rock face, scratching his hands and arms. He almost loses his balance at the steepest section but regains it in time; when he reaches the bottom, his actions still haven't caught up with his brain. He kneels beside Tifa, careful not to move her despite needing the reassurance touching her would give him. His breathing is loud, uneven, and there isn't enough air, not enough—

"Tifa?" It comes out as a whisper at first, but his voice raises soon enough, and her name leaves him in a strangled yell.

Above him, the kids move and talk, their words carrying down to Cloud, but he can't listen to them—he can't bring himself to focus on anything else than his motionless soulmate. Blood drips from her right arm, a cut she must have gotten from the fall, and he figures she hit her head—she just hit her head and she'll wake up, won't she? Is this even happening or is he hallucinating? The pain that grips him is too intense to be real, too scary—fuck, he's never been this scared, and this can't be real, it can't be—

Tifa moves—a slight twitch of her uninjured arm—but it's enough for Cloud to break. A cry escapes him, and he grabs her hand, squeezing to let her know he's there, not knowing if it does anything, but if it does—

She mumbles something he can't make out and then her eyes flutter open. She looks around, dazed and lost, but when her eyes rest on him, they clear. "Cloud?" Her voice is almost inaudible, nothing more than an exhale, really, but he hears it anyway.

"Yeah," he croaks, surprised he can even speak. "Yeah, it's me."

"I'm a little dizzy," she says, louder and more distinct this time.

"Don't move. The others went to get help." His hold on her hand tightens, and it saps all the strength out of him when she returns the squeeze.

She blinks, the motion slow like she's waking up from a dream. "How did—how did you get here?"

"I was so scared." The confession leaves him in a breath. He wonders how he can form words when he chokes on both relief and terror. "I was so scared, Tifa."

Though it's not a genuine explanation, Tifa understands him. She groans as she tries to sit up.

"Don't!" Cloud reaches out to prevent her from moving, but she half-heartedly slaps his hand away. "You can't move if you hit your head."

"But I'm scared, too." She says it so simply; her voice shakes as if what happened suddenly came back to her.

Cloud notices then that he's trembling, and when Tifa hugs him and cries against his shoulder, he can't find the will to push her away, to repeat she shouldn't have moved. He needs the contact in order to believe she's here—his arms wrap around her of their own volition. They say nothing else—they don't need to—until help arrives.

What comes after is all a whirlwind to Cloud. He experiences everything like he's out of his body, Tifa's hand in his an anchor to reality. When she lets go to head to the hospital, Cloud feels stranded—the sheer terror he lived through still seems unnatural to him, and he swims in it all the way home. His mother fusses over him, asks him how is Tifa. She doesn't chide him for being reckless, either guessing now is not the time, or understanding why Cloud did it. It doesn't matter, he's just glad she leaves him alone in his room. Once he shuts the door behind him and finds himself in darkness, Cloud's emotions get the better of him. It's almost like when he has those bursts of anxiety. Only it's much, much worse because this time the fear is real, not something his mind conjured.

The notion of loss has never hit Cloud as hard as it does now. He understands loss as a concept—doesn't everyone, after all? But now he lived the possibility of loss, truly believed it was happening for a moment, and the all-encompassing distress that blazed through him has left behind nothing but charred bones and ashes.

Cloud's movements are jerky as he removes the bracelets hiding his mark. He stares as if expecting it will disappear. But the mark stays the same as it's always been—dark against his skin, a perpetual reminder inked by fate. Cloud keeps looking at it, willing the contentment that usually streams through him to appear. But it never does—now all he can think of is the panic and the horror of today. Then, the guilt at not having protected her washes over him, violent in its intensity. He promised her she'd always be safe with him—but it's not the case anymore, is it? That night, Cloud doesn't sleep. His old insomnia comes back to life, and he torments himself with what-if's and maybe's until the sun rises.

When Monday comes around, Cloud doesn't wear the bracelets anymore. The students don't show their surprise at the sudden revelation of his soulmate mark, not after this weekend. But Tifa does—he hasn't seen her since the incident on Saturday; his mother told him she got lucky and doesn't have any lasting damage, only a large cut on her arm and some bruises. Cloud couldn't bring himself to go see her yesterday, but he regrets it when she spots him at school and notices he didn't hide his mark. Her face falls; she tells her friend something and walks away. Cloud doesn't follow. It's not that he doesn't want to—he knows school isn't the place for this conversation.

They always go home together; Brian comes to pick them up that day. He tells them to climb in, but Cloud shakes his head and chooses to walk. He wants to give Tifa some time before talking to her. Though she appears hurt at his refusal, she stays silent as she gets into her father's car. It's only once the sun has set that Cloud walks into her backyard. The fence was repaired two years ago, and he wouldn't fit through the hole now, anyway. Brian once gave him permission to come into their backyard whenever, as long as it's not too late on a school night. Cloud has always respected that, not wanting to risk losing the quiet evenings he shares with Tifa. But tonight, he doesn't care. And he knows neither will Tifa.

She sits on the deck when he arrives, bundled into a large cardigan to ward off the chill, her knees brought up to her chest so she can rest her chin on them; her eyes don't stray to him when he sits next to her.

"Hey," he says, aware it's the lamest greeting he can come up with. Now that he's here, words fly away from him.

Tifa doesn't hesitate. "Why didn't you tell me you'd taken off the bracelets?" Because that is the actual issue, and not that he chose not to wear them. "You always said it was our secret," she adds when he says nothing. "Something we didn't have to share with the world."

"I need the reminder," Cloud admits. "I need to see the mark." Too late, he realizes how his words might be interpreted.

"You need a reminder I'm your soulmate?" Her voice is so low, he barely hears her.

"No." He turns to look at her; she's already facing him, and his heart breaks when he notes the shine in her eyes. "Of course not," he says gently. "Remember how I promised you'd always be safe?"

Understanding clears her features, but then she frowns. "This wasn't your fault. It was mine for not paying attention and walking too close to the edge."

"I knew something was wrong, Tifa." At her curious look, he points at his chest. "I felt it. That's how I got there so fast. And I think, if I had paid more attention to that, I could have prevented this from happening. I kept checking on you that day, like part of me knew something would happen." He gulps, then exhales loudly. "But I didn't pay enough attention."

They stay quiet for a few minutes. To Cloud's dismay, the sky is obscured tonight, preventing them from observing the stars.

"You're not responsible for everything I do, Cloud." Tifa's statement sounds too loud to him. "Or everything that can happen to me."

"I can try to prevent it," he whispers, the admission ripped from him in a need to justify himself. "Don't take that away from me. Please."

"I don't think I can." Sadness drips from her words. "I just wish you'd talked to me before."

"You know I usually tell you everything," he says after a moment.

"Usually," she bites out.

Cloud is aware there is no good answer here. The damage has been done and taking back words he meant won't lead anywhere.

"I'm going to sleep." Tifa stands up and doesn't look at him as she walks back inside. The door slides shut behind her, the noise so final to Cloud's ears.

He waits, hoping she'll come back while knowing she won't. After fifteen minutes, Cloud goes back home, but instead of heading inside, he sprawls down on the grass of his own backyard. There's nothing to look at in the sky since the clouds are so dark and dense—it'll rain tomorrow for sure, he thinks. But he feels better like this; he can pretend he's eleven again and he sneaked out to watch the stars with Tifa.

Eventually, he goes back to his room. As he is about to slip into bed, he goes to his window, peeking through the overgrown branches to catch sight of Tifa's room. The lights are off; part of him had hoped she'd still be awake. He sighs and goes to sleep, twisting and turning most of the night, a presentiment that things won't be the same invading his mind.

And things do change. Not right after that night, but slowly and surely. When Cloud starts high school, he senses the distance between him and Tifa widen. Tifa doesn't hold what happened against him—it's not like her to do so, and he never thought it would be the case. But despite that, there is a fragility between them that is new, unknown; something neither of them knows how to solidify.

It's when Tifa starts high school that the difference in their relationship becomes obvious—both to Cloud and everyone else. It's minor things at first, like them not having as much time to hang out after school, and thus leaving behind their routine of talking late into the night. They still do, but it's no more than once a week if that. They spend as much time together as they can at school until Tifa makes enough friends that she divides her time between them, and Cloud figures he has to give her that necessary space. He resents those friends—it's childish and jealous of him, he knows it. He would never bring it up to Tifa, and by now it's just one more unsaid thing that floats between them. So Cloud has his friends and Tifa has hers—there is nothing abnormal about that, and yet it hurts in a way he has difficulty explaining even to himself.

When he turns seventeen and his mother asks what he wants to do, he says he doesn't want to celebrate his birthday—no small party, no special dinner, nothing. His Mom looks baffled that he would refuse dinner with Tifa and her father, but she doesn't push as if understanding something is afoot. That day, Cloud doesn't stay home. It's stifling to be so close to Tifa and yet feeling so far away from her. They haven't planned for anything, but then again, they've spent all of their birthdays since her ninth one together; it's an unspoken tradition. On his seventeenth birthday, for the first time in six years, Cloud wants to be alone.

He goes to a favorite spot of his. It's a field on the outskirts of town, but still near to his house, with a large, abandoned house and several tall trees surrounding it. Cloud never enters the house, knowing it'd be stupid to do so considering its dilapidated state—instead, he sits beneath the biggest tree or lays down on the grass. Tifa is aware he likes to come here; she's accompanied him many times. That's why when he hears footsteps and sees her approach, he isn't surprised. The warm breeze tousles her long hair; she doesn't brush the strands away from her face.

"Happy birthday," she says softly.

She leans against the tree he sits against, disappearing from his sight.

"Thanks."

"Did you want to be alone?"

The way she asks is tentative; he wonders if she's afraid of his answer or if she's just become uncomfortable with him. "Yeah," he replies.

"Oh, I see."

"You know you're always welcome, Tifa." He sighs.

She comes to sit across him. It's hot outside today, a typical August day, but Tifa looks at ease in her shorts and tank top; her mark is visible to all, has been for a few years now. Cloud's heart aches as he looks at her—it longs for what they had and for what they should be.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming here?" she asks while running her hand over the grass. "Did you want to be alone? Or did you want to be without me?"

"Both." His confession just expands the chasm between them, but lies have never worked for them. "I needed time to think."

Tifa stiffens, then brings her hands in her lap; in spite of her apprehension, she doesn't look away from him. "Think about what?"

"A lot of things."

"Why can't you tell me?" The question is more of an accusation; it bursts out of her, and he hears the dejection and frustration in her voice. "It's like you're leaving me behind," she says, words rushing out like she's afraid to lose her courage. "Ever since the incident at Mt Nibel, you've grown more distant."

"It's not because I'm your soulmate that you have to spend all your time with me." It hurts to say, but Cloud figured that out long ago. "You have other friends, and I don't have to be part of everything you do."

Tifa's wide eyes are the first sign that a storm is brewing. "I made these friends because you wouldn't spend as much time with me! I wouldn't have if you hadn't pulled away from me. It was enough for me to be with you. I miss you. I want my best friend back." Her voice wavers, and Cloud's breath hitches. "I want my soulmate back."

He doesn't know what to say—his jumbled thoughts whirl too fast for him to keep up. He latches on to the realization that he might have been wrong this whole time. Across of him, Tifa dabs at her eyes as tears fall; her efforts are futile as more follow. Something in him shatters, but it's hard to tell what. His resolution to give her space, maybe, or his restraint over his jealousy of her friendships—he's not sure. Cloud scoots closer to her, as close as he can get, and pulls her hands away from her face. Tifa stays still as he cradles her cheeks and musters the gentlest touch he can to wipe the tears away.

"I want you back, too."

Her hand comes up to grip his left wrist; her fingers wrap around his mark and her thumb presses against his pulse. "Can it be just you and me again?" Her plea is so soft he would have missed it if he wasn't so near.

"Yeah, I'd like that," he says just as softly. "I'm sorry for before."

Tifa shakes her head, and his hands fall at his side; she doesn't release his wrist, though, and turns it around so she can look at his mark. Her thumb strokes the skin over it.

"Happy birthday," she says again.

This time, she smiles, and Cloud's heart skips a beat.

—

The abandoned house in the field becomes their new place, succeeding Tifa's backyard. While it's within walking distance of their houses, they still can't go every night—instead, they go on the weekends. Occasionally during daytime, most often at night. This time spent together is like a grown-up version of their childhood. It's the same but so different; in this field beneath the stars, they are alone and together at once, protected from the rest of the world. They still meet during wintertime, bundling up as needed. For the first time since Tifa fell down the gorge at Mt Nibel, Cloud is at peace.

Because Tifa and him are a team again—it's them against the world, an echo of when they were young. It's deeper than what they used to have, maybe because they've known bad times and learned from them. But beyond that, Cloud feels grounded around Tifa, like he never knew he was adrift before grabbing on to her hand. The tight sensation in his chest almost disappears, a radical change from the last two years—even when they are apart, Cloud doesn't get the impression of being too far.

It's all in his head, he thinks, until one night Tifa confesses it's the same for her. They lie on the grass as usual, the late October wind chilly enough for them to have brought a blanket. They're out later than usual, but it's a Friday night, so neither of them cares, and his Mom and her Dad trust them with each other. Cloud startles when she grabs his wrist—always the left one, always over his mark.

"What's up?" he asks, twisting his head to glance at her. It's not abnormal for her to do this, but the way she grips him a little too hard betrays her.

"Today was…weird."

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," she says while keeping her eyes on the sky. "Like something was off. But I feel better when I touch you." She gives his wrist a squeeze. "That's okay, right?"

Cloud holds in his breath a few seconds, almost afraid to have this instant pass—it's as tangible and real for Tifa as it is for him. The revelation fills him with an indecipherable mess of emotions; the only distinct one is a gentle kind of bliss. It's like understanding something makes you happy—so happy—but being unable to bask in that euphoria yet. When Cloud exhales, Tifa's hand still circles his wrist; it's not enough all of a sudden, so he moves to grasp her hand and intertwine their fingers.

"It's more than okay," he replies. "I feel better when we touch, too."

After that, it becomes an unconscious habit of theirs. But something about displaying their own brand of affection to the world appears almost disloyal, so they stifle the addictive urge. Still, when Cloud can, he will rest a hand on her back or her shoulder; when Tifa can, she will clasp his wrist or lean against his arm. Once they retreat to their little universe, they sit with their shoulders touching or hold hands as they watch the stars. There's just something so right about this to Cloud that it never crosses his mind it could be any other way.

On Tifa's sixteenth birthday, they hide away in the field. It's a beautiful night, warm but breezy, with a clear sky. The stars twinkle down on them as he wishes her a happy birthday when midnight hits.

"I forgot my gift at home," he says with a sheepish smile. "I'll give it to you when we head back."

She says nothing, only grabs his hand; Cloud sits against the tree and Tifa across him. Her lack of answer paralyzes him—he lets it grow for a moment before it becomes too much.

"I'm sorry I forgot." The way he says it sounds comical to him. He knows this isn't the reason for her silence, but nothing else comes to mind.

Tifa takes a deep breath as if steeling herself, and her eyes raise to meet his. Though he's never told her, Cloud has always loved her eyes. Their color is unique—a strange, warm shade of brown some have said. He's always thought they shine a deep, clear red. And, really, if he's the only one who sees it, it's just another thing about Tifa that's his.

"I'm happy you got me a gift, but…"

Cloud tightens his hold on her hand. "But…?"

"There's something I'd like to ask for my birthday."

"Yeah, of course," he says, a little puzzled she never brought this up before.

She breathes in deeply again. "I want you to kiss me."

Cloud blinks several times, stunned at her demand. "What?" The word leaves him of its own volition. It's hard to say through the dimness, but he's sure her cheeks redden. He senses his pulse drumming in his throat.

"I want my first kiss to be with you," she says. Determination lights up her eyes. "Don't you want your first kiss to be with me? Unless…" She trails off, her mortification apparent.

Cloud doesn't catch on her meaning immediately, but when he does, his voice comes out louder than he wants. "No! That's not—" He blows out a breath to steady himself. "I want that, too. I didn't expect you to ask for that."

"Why not?" She frowns and lets go of his hand. "There's no one else I'd want to kiss. Only you. I thought you'd know that."

"I'm not—" Cloud sighs and drops his head in his hands, feeling both thrilled and scared. "I'm sorry, I just need a minute."

"Okay," Tifa says in her soft voice, the one spelling her insecurities.

He rubs his hands over his eyes as if to will the shock away. When he looks at Tifa again, there are unshed tears in her eyes; he gulps at the sight and curses himself.

"Don't cry, please."

"I never thought you'd react like that," she says before hastily wiping the stray tear on her cheek.

"Tifa, I just… I want to kiss you, too," he admits. "But you shouldn't ask for this because I'm your soulmate." Her disbelieving expression has him swallow whatever else he was going to say.

"I don't want to kiss you because you're my soulmate. It doesn't even matter right now. I ask because I want it to be you. Not my soulmate. Just you."

He stares at her with wonder. Ever since they met, Cloud has known he's loved Tifa. There have been times where he's wondered if his love was real or a consequence of their intertwined fates—but he left those questions behind a long time ago. He can't count the ways he loves her. A lot of them are old, dating from when they were kids; most of them are new, starting from the day he was so terrified to see her in the gorge, so horrified at the idea of having lost her. In the last year, he's come to understand being soulmates isn't the reason he loves Tifa—she is his soulmate because there's no one else he could love like this.

It's suddenly all too much for him. His voice is a rasp when he says, "I want it to be you, too."

"Then why did you—"

"I was afraid, okay?" He clears his throat once, twice. "That it wouldn't be for the same reasons as me."

"Cloud, you know me better than that."

Tifa's gentle reprimand makes his heart constrict and draws a hushed confession out of him. "You scare me." He doesn't stop when she frowns. "When I think of what you mean to me, I'm—terrified, Tifa. If you'd only wanted this because you thought you had no other choice—"

She shushes him as she shifts, kneeling before him; Cloud sucks in a breath when she frames his face in her hands and tilts his head back a little. His vision narrows down to Tifa and the starry sky haloing her. As she leans forward, he stares into the twinkling eyes he loves so much until it becomes too intense—his heart will explode—and his eyelids flutter shut. When her lips brush against his, it feels impossible, surreal. Tifa pulls away a little, and Cloud opens his eyes, having the need to confirm this is reality. And it is, he realizes when Tifa kisses him again; his heart does explode, then. His arms wrap around her, bringing her close, so so close.

Tifa's lips drift to his cheek, lingering there for a second before she breaks away; she keeps her hands on his shoulders as if refusing to let go completely. Cloud blinks, a little dazed.

"Can you hold me?" she asks in a whisper.

He nods and moves so she can sit in between his legs and lay against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. Tifa grabs his left wrist, bringing it up to look at his mark. She's run her fingers over the skin there a thousandth times, and yet Cloud shivers at her touch.

Her breath caresses his neck as she says, "Do you remember when we met and we promised to figure this out?"

"Yeah, of course." Cloud is pretty sure there's nothing about his time with Tifa he could forget.

"Do you think this is it? Have we figured it out?"

"I don't know," he says because it's the truth, "but I hope so."

"Me too," she whispers.

Cloud rests his cheek against the top of her head and closes his eyes. He allows happiness to engulf him and prays to the heavens for the night to never end.

Above, the stars sparkle in a wordless answer.

—