A/N: Hello, friends! I hope everyone is doing great! It's been way too long, holy shit. I've been (and still am) dealing with my hand/wrist situation, hence the delay. But hey, I still got this done slowly but surely!
Jumping back into this story was also a challenge. And thus, this chapter is kindly brought to you by my wife Kotaface, who broke my overthinking spiral by telling me I should go back to my yolo roots and "use the chaos". Wise words.
I hope you like it!
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Maybe we're from the same star
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part nine
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Life goes on.
When Tifa turns nineteen, she lays on her bed to stare at the childish galaxy adorning her ceiling; she holds her phone close but doesn't look at it. And she waits. She waits even though she knows she shouldn't, and eventually, her eyelids grow heavy and her grip on the phone slackens as she is lulled to sleep.
In the morning, she checks her phone, but Cloud's name is nowhere to be seen through her notifications. The lack of messages—or calls or emails or anything—coats her mind, her heart. She suffocates as it fills her lungs with emptiness and bitterness, as it spreads a coldness that anchors itself with icy bites and sharpened claws.
Her heart sits heavy in her chest, fracturing her ribs. But she expected this—how could she not, after all that happened? So Tifa leaves it alone; she doesn't untangle the strings that bind her emotions into a snare, even if a part of her demands the freedom to unearth what she's bottling away. In truth, it's easier to yield to the repercussions of her choices than to dissect their origin. She falls asleep gripping her phone; her hold remains strong until the hours become days; it waxes and wanes as those days become weeks that grow into months. In the end, Tifa can only teach herself to endure disappointment and school resentment.
The tangy taste of anxiety becomes familiar. It feels as if it delves deep, deep inside her for something she can't name. She prefers brushing the problem away over admitting her fear that they will burrow in a fathomless chasm—because then the pain will follow her forever.
Once it's morphed into a constant shadow, it becomes difficult to discern what the pain even means—what it even is.
Maybe that's why Tifa doesn't realize the endless ache isn't caused by her soulmate mark.
Not at first.
—
Tifa had forgotten how much Nibelheim loves to gossip.
It's a small-town problem, where everyone knows everything—people don't bother hiding the gleam of disapproval in their eyes or the patronizing tilt of their smile. She thought it'd be fine, that the townsfolk would respect the unspoken over their own curiosity. Most of them think of her not as a whole but as a pair, and it's hard to ignore the disheartened tone of their voices when they inquire about Cloud. But it's not something she wants to confirm or deny—she doesn't want to talk about any of this when she can't even admit the truth to herself.
She looks for a job, applying here and there without giving it much thought. Most of the applications are followed with a short interview that falls flat; the employers can't mask their discontentment at her lack of her interest. And Tifa can't help it—though she's set her anchor in Nibelheim once again, it was never about the future. It was only ever about escaping the present by running through a maze of memories, a futile quest to capture whatever ties she had to the past. All the interviews end in a similar way—I need a serious employee for the long-term and aren't you going back to Midgar?
Tifa hates that she has no answer for them, as she has none for herself.
Her lucky break comes in March. Tifa is sick of staying at home, of searching, of asking around and gritting her teeth out of frustration at every turn. She passes one of the town's few restaurants, a place where a lot of memories were made with friends she lost sight of so long ago. Or at least high school feels like so long ago, almost like an alternate reality she closed the door on when she left town. In a way, it seems fitting that she ended up back here—alone. Nostalgia mixes in with curiosity, and she twists on her heels to head into the restaurant.
The moment she steps in, familiarity assaults her senses—the sound of the bell when the door opens; the low chatter and loud laughter; the clamor of the kitchen when she looks past the counter. But it's the swearing that strikes her most, like something out of place yet fully at home. Tifa seeks out the source, her eyes settling on the owner as he argues with two teenage guys.
Cid Highwind never bothered with nice words or flattery, and Tifa cracks a smile as she realizes that nothing changed. There's a strange comfort in that, really, though she can't find good enough words to string together an explanation. He spots her as she walks over to one of the many empty booths; he meets her stare head-on with a frown. Tifa pretends to busy herself in the menu after a second or two—nothing changed on that front either.
"Well, that's an uncommon sight. Tifa Lockhart, alone in my restaurant."
She lifts her head, pulling her eyes away from the menu. "Long time no see, Cid."
"You here 'cause you're hungry or 'cause you want a job?" His usual irritated expression transforms into one of poorly veiled concern.
Tifa braces herself—she knows the questions and comments are coming, though she supposes Cid will cut right to the chase.
But the questions never come. Cid waits, arms crossed over his chest and clearly not leaving despite a customer raising a hand to get his attention. It's unexpected—it's very, very unexpected, and not only because it's the opposite of what she's gotten used to. It's the sentiment that the concern is wholly and solely for her, that it's genuine and not an afterthought. She doesn't know what to do with that, and that thought is the most surprising of them all.
"Both," she says, her voice steady.
Cid blinks a few times, then hums in affirmation—or so she'd like to think at least. "Let's start by some lunch."
He's gone before she can give him her order; she sighs and lets her head fall back against the booth. Her hopes soar for a moment before she grounds them with a rigid hand—she'd rather be pleased than disappointed. She turns towards the window to watch people and cars—and she can't help but think of how small everything is. The noise and size of Midgar had been scary from her first night on, but she'd gotten used to that awareness—like the city would swallow her and never give her up, leaving her to fester in its shadows. It all seems stupid now—the city was never meant to take control of her life, but she'd let it because it was easier to endure than to defy.
Nibelheim has become empty—it's still bright and tranquil and friendly, but it's also lifeless and quiet and meddlesome. Tifa closes her eyes to the world. Just like the restaurant and the menu, Nibelheim hasn't changed—she's the one who did. She can't decide if she's glad for it or hates it. A bit of both, maybe, because she knows a part of herself had to shatter one day—the part that had formed a cage around her soul, that had tinted her vision and made her ignorant of what could exist beyond. Finding her soulmate at a young age meant they built the world for themselves instead of carving out their places into the universe.
She figures it's better it happened now and not years down the line.
The bell above the door jingles as customers head outside, and Tifa focuses on the noise to avoid slipping inside her foggy mind again. She smothers the urge to check her phone, knowing it will drive her to check Cloud's last messages. But the usual nervous restlessness wins out and she unlocks her phone.
[02/03 - 04:19] C: i'm sorry but i don't want to talk about it
[02/03 - 11:46] T: is it because of me? because i didn't want to go back? at least tell me that
[02/03 - 12:49] T: please
[02/03 - 13:05] C: no
The messages haven't changed—of course they haven't. She already knew that. Over a month later, Cloud's words make little to no sense to her. It's the silence and the dishonesty that hurt her most, and she hates how normal it seems now—Cloud retreating into his shell when times are bad is nothing new. Tifa sometimes wishes it was.
"There you go."
Cid places a plate in front of her, startling her. Before she's had the time to process the massive amount of food, he takes a seat across from her.
"What?" He lifts his eyebrows as she doesn't move. "You hate club sandwiches now?"
"Uh, no." Tifa clears her throat. "Thank you."
"For fuck's sakes, just eat the damn sandwich."
Maybe it's because of Cid's tone—overly irritated yet obviously worried—but Tifa laughs. And to her shock, she realizes it's been a while—but the thought stops there. She refuses to let it grow and overwhelm the moment. Instead, she lets it run its course.
"Thank you," she says before taking a bite.
Cid nods and starts drumming his fingers on the table. The rhythm doesn't ease up as he asks, "You got any work experience?"
"Retail."
"Hm, good enough. Don't move from that seat and finish your food."
He gets up and Tifa knows he's resumed working without looking. Understanding is slow to unfurl through her, warm and gentle and a little heart-rending; she holds down the tears that threaten to overwhelm her. Cid didn't ask any questions because he already knew—small-town gossip reaches everyone, eventually. But he only kept the parts that mattered to him, and for that, Tifa is thankful.
She stays until her plate is empty—and leaves with instructions to show up at 10:00 the following day.
—
[05/02 - 23:51] T: why[…]
[Message unsent]
[05/02 - 23:57] T: why can't you be honest[…]
[Message unsent]
[05/02 - 23:59] T: why do you keep lying and hiding[…]
[Message unsent]
[05/03 - 00:07] T: happy birthday to me, i guess[…]
[Message unsent]
—
"Hey hey, are we getting that pitcher tonight?"
Tifa rolls her eyes at the customer's cheeky question and the ensuing laughter. She schools her features into as pleasant of an expression as she can—her boss' muffled snort lets her know she failed miserably.
"I'm gonna punch one of them."
"Don't waste your time on these dumb kids," Cid says as he hands her the infamous pitcher of beer. "There are better criminal endeavors."
"I don't even want to know." She takes a deep breath as he shrugs in dismissal, adding to the drama of her annoyance. "Alright, I'm ready," she adds before turning around.
Cid's low whisper of Godspeed is coated in mirth, almost making her smile. Unfortunately, it wilts as she reaches the guys' table. She hates that she knows them, that they went to high school together. None of them could be called a friend, but the shared history is seemingly all they need to permit their over-familiarity.
"Here you go."
Her irritation is very much apparent, making one of them snicker. The second the pitcher is set on the table, she twists on her heels, thankful for another table signaling for her attention.
"Hey wait, we need something else!"
Tifa almost stops in her tracks, the habit rooted in her, but she refuses to grant them the satisfaction of her compliance. She keeps walking towards the other table, only turning her head enough to tell them Just a minute. But her dismissal only prompts them to be louder. Once she's taken care of the other customers, Tifa takes a deep breath before heading back to their table.
"Yes?"
The guy to her right smirks as he leans forward, and she just knows whatever he'll say will have nothing to do with their order.
"So, that's your soulmate mark? Just looks like a tattoo."
Tifa hates that she was right. She really does.
"What do you need for your order?" she asks through gritted teeth.
"Where is—uh, wait—" The guy turns to his friends. "What was his name again?"
"Cloud," one of them says without looking up from his phone.
"Right, right—Cloud. Where's he now? Still in Midgar?"
And she's had enough.
Tifa leans forward, startling the guy into backing up. "Do you need something else?" The coldness of her voice leaves no room for negotiation.
The guy blinks. "Uh—"
"We don't." His friend looks up from his phone to give her a tight-lipped smile.
She leaves without another word. Cid's stare is heavy over her shoulders, and it does nothing to abate the rush of anxiety filling her up—but as if aware of this, Cid signals at her to take a break. Though part of her wants to refuse, she nods and heads off into the break room.
The door shuts behind her, dulling the restaurant's noise, and Tifa finally feels like she can breathe. She wishes she had no reaction at the mention of Cloud, especially at work, but she's discovered there's no point in toughing out these moments in silence. The anxiety always catches up somehow and finds many ways to escape her body, distracting her and leading to mistakes.
She kind of regrets not punching one of them—specifically the nosy one.
Five minutes pass before Tifa's breathing evens out; it's not perfect—it never is, to be honest—but it's good enough for her to step out of the back store. She takes a quick glance at her phone out of habit, expecting the usual text from her Dad, but something else catches her attention. Tifa blinks a few times, like the notification would go away, an illusion drawn up from the depths of her mind.
[MESSAGE FROM CLOUD: 21:24]
The restaurant's noise fades away as her focus narrows down on her phone. This is—
Impossible is the first word she can think of.
She knows it isn't—but it's how reading that simple line feels.
"Tifa!"
Cid's booming voice snaps her out of her nervous spiral; her breathing grows irregular again at the thought of resuming work. She can't—she'll never be able to plaster on a smile and serve customers while knowing that Cloud finally showed signs of life.
A heavy hand drops over her shoulder, startling her. Tifa looks up from her phone, finding herself staring into Cid's worried eyes. It's then that she notices the tremors of her hands; how will she even wait tables if she can't stop shaking—she really can't—she can't—
The sudden cold is what finally grounds her, and she inhales deeply, holding her breath for a few seconds before exhaling slowly.
"What happened?" The smell of nicotine floats up from behind her; Cid must have dragged her outside, away from prying eyes.
"I'm—" Whatever she was going to say lodges itself halfway up her throat; Tifa forces the words out anyway. "Cloud sent me a message." It feels almost ridiculous now that she says it aloud.
Tifa inhales and holds her breath until her body forces her to release it—she does it again, then once more, but it fuels her panic more than anything else. In the darkness of a sleeping Nibelheim, the drum of her heart sounds too loud, as if it will burst out of her chest, tired of its confines—and she almost wants it to.
The screen seems too bright as Tifa opens her phone. Her hands are steady as she checks her notifications again, doubting her own eyes. But the message she got earlier really is from Cloud.
She wants to open it. She wants to open the message so badly, and yet she can't move, can't bring herself to do so. There's no way to tell how she will react to his words; she isn't sure she wants to risk it, and Tifa hates this. She hates that her heart is beating too quickly, that her chest is caving inwards to suffocate her, that she can't even discern if the pain is truly hers or the one granted by the soulmate bond—the same pain she's learned to live with.
"You okay?"
She lets out a yelp at the sudden intrusion despite the familiar voice. All thoughts of her boss had flown out of the window. Though the surprise doesn't help her heart regain its normal rhythm, it shifts its attention to the present moment, and she can finally breathe.
Cid walks closer, his usual lighter in hand. "You forgot I was here, uh?"
"Sorry," she says, still staring at her phone.
Despite how gruff Cid can be, it's never been something that made her nervous. But right now, as Cloud's unread message calls out to her and the messy stitches on her soul start to unravel, brutal honesty coated is the last thing she wants to hear, no matter how good the intentions.
And for a moment, Tifa debates running away; part of her aches to leave with no regard for tomorrow—but she knows it's not Cid she wants to escape from. It's the knowing, the gossip, the pity, the understanding, the curiosity. It's Nibelheim she fears—and that loneliness she carved out for herself.
Cid lights another cigarette. "Listen, I know you don't like people meddling into your business. But I want to tell you something." He scratches his cheek as if he can't figure out his thoughts—or his next words. "Most folks here see all this one way—you stayed, he left. You know… He came to the restaurant a lot in the two years before he left. Always alone and looking lost in his head."
Tifa can't disagree—it's not as if this facet of Cloud is a secret to her. But Cid's words have awakened a repressed curiosity she can't control, and for a short moment, it distracts her from the phone in hand. "What are you getting at, Cid?"
"You've been working here for six months, give or take, and I've never seen you look like that. That's why I wanna say what's on my mind." Cid gestures at her with his cigarette; ashes fall and scatter on the ground. He doesn't give her the chance to object. "I'll be honest, that damn silence of his, something about it feels wrong to me. It reminds me of when he'd come to hide in the restaurant." Cid trails off, and for the first time since she's known him, he seems tense and hesitant. "He's a good kid, but he never seemed able to control his emotions too well. Makes me think he's acting that way because of something he did and not 'cause you stayed here."
Cid's statement is nothing revolutionary, yet Tifa senses the beat of her heart jump; nausea unfolds in her stomach, in her throat, and she fears she'll be sick if she speaks. Part of her always believed Cloud's silence was more about him than her—at times she convinced herself it was wishful thinking, sometimes it was the only option she could endure, but she usually didn't even want to think about it. To have someone else see the same thing she did—
"Then what could it be?" Tifa can hear how panic weakens her voice, how her erratic breathing amplifies the unsteadiness of her words.
"Hell if I know, Tifa." He shrugs as if to apologize, but she knows it's to hide his discomfort. His eyes drift down to her hand, and he points at it. "You got a call, kid."
Tifa jumps, almost dropping her phone, and brings it up to answer—a strange feeling of foreboding spreads through her when she sees CLAUDIA STRIFE flashing on the screen. Still, she answers the call before her mind can process it all.
"Hi, Claudi—"
"Where are you?" Claudia's words tumble over each other in their frenzy. As if realizing the urgent tone of her voice, she adds, "Nothing terrible happened." Her heavy breathing tells Tifa otherwise, though she says nothing. "Cloud got into an accident."
"What?" Tifa knows her shock is showing when Cid's eyes widen comically. "Is he alright, what ha—"
"He'll be okay. His friend Zack said he has a broken arm and some nasty bruises, but he'll be okay. He said he sent you a message."
Tifa blinks in confusion. "A message…? No, I—" She swallows down the words. The message from Cloud—it must have been Zack who sent it. Relief washes over Tifa but so does uneasiness—something about this situation feels all wrong.
"I'm flying to Midgar tonight," Claudia says. "Are you coming with me?"
This time, the uneasiness overtakes everything. The thought of going to Midgar with Claudia is both paralyzing and elating—the perfect excuse to return and one of her biggest fears come to life.
"Tifa? I have to leave within the hour. Preferably as soon as possible." Impatience sneaks into her voice, but Tifa can't find it in her to be annoyed.
"Give me a second." Her gaze seeks out Cid when she notices he isn't standing in front of her anymore. She whirls around, finding him inside the restaurant, near the entrance; next to him is an employee who keeps nodding with wide eyes as he listens to whatever their boss is saying.
Tifa jogs towards the doors, but Cid spots her first; he steps outside and stops her before she can reach him.
"Cid, something happened in Mid—"
"You're free to go, Tifa."
"What?" Claudia says something but all Tifa can focus on is her boss shooing her away with a wave of his hand. "I can go?"
"Unless you want to deliver more pitchers to those shitheads, yeah you can go." On this, he closes the door.
"Tifa!" Claudia's shout is like being dunked into cold water, pulling her back into reality. "I need to leave now if I want to pick you up at work, so you get your things for the flight."
"Okay," Tifa breathes out, still staring at the restaurant. "I'll be waiting for you outside."
The call ends after a quick confirmation, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Tifa turns away from the restaurant and towards the street; she collapses on the bus rest's bench and finally opens the unread message—it doesn't seem so daunting now that she knows the reason for it.
[09/06 - 21:24] C: Hey Tifa I hope you're doing ok. This is Zack (sorry to probably disappoint). Cloud got into an accident (the little shit will be ok but my car, not so much). I already called his mom but I thought you should know as well. She said to call her asap once you read this.
PS: Just so you know, I didn't delete your number, I dropped my phone down the toilet a few months ago (don't ask) and I had to reprogram everyone's number. Don't be sad about it, pretty please? See you soon.
Tifa knows it's the clash of humor and stress that has her chuckle when in truth, there's nothing that funny about the situation. But there's a certain comfort in reading that message, like a reminder that she can still find good moments buried amidst the bad ones.
A glance at the time tells her Claudia will be here in a few minutes. Tifa calls her father to let him know; he picks up on the last ring, his voice thick with sleepiness. The conversation doesn't last long—he's too out of it to maintain one, but it's mostly that there's so little to discuss. He's brought up the topic of returning to Midgar so many times already, and Tifa knows that it'll be more efficient to call him again once they land in Midgar.
As she hangs up, that feeling of uneasiness she had earlier strikes her once more. It's difficult to untangle any of this—there is too much she doesn't know and too little she can be sure of. Her brain keeps running anyway, wanting to solve a problem that may never have a solution.
She reads Zack's message again, and it hits her suddenly—an arrow piercing her chest to expose her misgivings and doubts.
Why didn't she know that something had happened to Cloud when he did, that time she fell down the gorge? The bond had warned him then—he'd even been able to tell where she was exactly.
Then—
She should have known about the accident in some way, right?
Her pulse booms in her ears, drowning out everything else around her. The question eats at her, at her unvoiced suspicions, and Cid's words resonate at once—he never seemed able to control his emotions too well. Makes me think he's acting that way because of something he did.
Something he did—something he chose—something she wouldn't be able to know if she kept her distance—
It hurts when they leave, doesn't it?
Claudia's voice rings out in Tifa's ears—she suddenly remembers that car ride back to Nibelheim, the first time Cloud got on a flight for Midgar. Her mind keeps whirring as her thoughts crash into one another, leaving chaos and little else in their wake.
It doesn't matter now, of course. That was years ago.
Why wouldn't it matter now if the pain isn't meant to go away?
Headlights blind her as Claudia's car pulls up to the curb. Knowing they don't have time to waste, Tifa hushes her doubts and jogs towards it and gets in without a word, only a quick nod of acknowledgment before they speed off.
She'll know soon enough—for better or worse.
—
The drive to the airport seems to last forever.
Claudia's silence is soothing in its own way, and yet Tifa wishes something would break it. She doesn't feel brave enough to do so right now, not when she's trapped within a whirlwind of emotions.
Shadows fly past outside the windows, and the forest's shapes blend into a blur of nothingness. For a moment, everything feels surreal—like she's not really in the car, heading for the airport; like she's just travelling down an endless road leading nowhere. Like she isn't scared of everything waiting for them in Midgar, of the people she left behind and the ones who gave up on her—of facing her broken soulmate bond and the bitterness of absence.
Maybe that sense of void is what pushes her past her anxiety to break the silence—because if she pretends that they are somewhere with no consequences, she can be daring.
"Do you remember what you told me as we drove away from the airport? When Cloud left for Midgar?" Tifa doesn't turn to look at Claudia; she can't, or she'll lose her courage. "You said it hurts when they leave."
Claudia doesn't reply immediately—an awkward silence settles between them for a few seconds. Tifa doesn't take her question back.
"I do," Claudia says at last, her voice coated in wariness.
"Why?" This time, the lack of answer makes Tifa turn around; Claudia keeps staring at the road. "What did you mean by that? It wasn't the pain from distance, right?"
"From absence." Claudia lets out a resigned sigh. "From absence, not distance."
Tifa conceals her flare of irritation as best as she can, though she clearly does a terrible job at it as Claudia allows herself a small smile.
"What do you think I meant?"
Inhale, exhale, once, twice—Tifa steadies herself before saying, "They break the bond willingly."
Claudia's hands tighten around the steering wheel and her mouth pinches into a line. Tifa counts the seconds that pass in silence, too tense to think of anything else—six, seven, eight, nine—
"You're almost right," Claudia confesses. Her tone is neither hard nor soft—there is no apprehension or nostalgia, only bland impartiality. "It's not what I meant in your case—but I was thinking of it, for myself."
"Could you please tell me?" Tifa asks quietly.
"Will you tell me why you brought this up?"
"No. Not now."
Claudia sighs again; she knows better than to push, and if anything, Tifa is grateful for that. "Soulmate bonds are very simple in nature. It's what we make of them that is complex. We always say it's fate that everyone has a soulmate but… Fate means nothing. Most people don't even meet their soulmates. They might walk past each other a thousand times yet stay ignorant unless they happen to touch each other."
Tifa's eyes stray to the undefined shadows blurring past the car. "If it's an accident, like what happened to Cloud and me, doesn't it seem like fate?"
"It does, doesn't it? But you two may have never met if I hadn't left my soulmate and met Cloud's father. Don't you think that sounds like defying fate?"
"Yes." A stifling weight slowly settles around Tifa, a mantle of doubts she's fashioned out of her own curiosity. "What happened?"
"We met as teenagers. When you love someone believing it's fate, everything hurts. Small missteps feel like impossible challenges. You cling to them and they don't want to leave, but in the end, all you do is make each other miserable." A few seconds pass before Claudia carries on. "Sometimes the greatest act of love is letting go."
A thousand thoughts invade Tifa's mind as the words swallow her up. It all sounds so real and awful—too real and awful—and she doesn't know what to make of it. Her heart lurches; her lungs constrict over nothing. She knows that suffocating feeling, she's used to it—to the briars that sidle into the space between her ribs and wreathe around the bones—to the thorns that corrode their confines whenever she breathes.
"Then—"
"This is not about you and Cloud." Claudia's firm voice is both reassuring and unnerving—it's hard to tell if she's trying to convince Tifa or herself. "We hurt each other enough that all we had left was unhappiness. And I wanted him to be happy."
"I see," Tifa whispers.
The words are empty—she doesn't see anything, but she had to say something. If she hadn't let something out, she would have been crushed under the pressure of restrain.
In truth, she wants to scream.
She wants to exorcise the anger and the resentment, the heartache and the apprehension. Nothing is right anymore. Not the truth she held close to her heart, that belief in destiny that made every moment sweeter. Not the assurance that all the soulmate bond needed was perseverance and time. Not the confidence in herself, in Cloud, that they belong together because they made it so. Now, everything is blemished, fatal flaws surging at every turn.
The worst is the urge to destroy it all.
In that moment, she understands the meaning of Claudia's words; that letting go can be an act of love—because she'd rather walk away than set her destructive yearning reign.
Tifa rests her forehead on the window; the cold is a sharp contrast to the burning of her heart. "What happens to the mark if you leave?"
She expects Claudia to pry, to let her own curiosity triumph, but the answer comes quickly.
"It disappears."
Tifa closes her eyes as she fights the urge to pull up her sleeve and check the state of her mark. "Completely?"
"Not at first." There's a sadness clinging to Claudia's words now. "It starts to fade. When you've fully let go, so does the mark."
"So yours is gone?"
"Yes."
Darkness stares back at Tifa when she opens her eyes. "Can you get it back?"
The quiet lull is enough of an answer, but still Claudia says, "Not as far as I know. Tifa—" She stops herself, like she reminded herself that ignorance is sometimes better. "You should rest a little. I'll wake you up when we get to the airport."
Tifa doesn't fight it—she shuts her eyes again, hoping she'll wake up from a dream.
—
Zack is waiting for them at the airport. The feeling of déjà vu slams into Tifa the moment she spots him through gaps in the crowd.
Claudia hadn't mentioned that. Not that she should have, Tifa tells herself—Zack is the one who called her after all.
"Oh, here he is," Claudia mumbles. She picks up the pace, walking ahead of and forging a path through the swarm of people.
The closer they get to Zack, the more panic seizes Tifa, tightening its hands around her throat. They haven't spoken since she left Midgar—what if he only contacted her out of obligation, what if it's awkward, what if—
"Mrs. Strife, hi! Did you have a good flight?"
Claudia replies, but the sound gets drowned amidst the airport's noise and Tifa's heartbeat. She can't see Zack while she stands a bit behind Claudia and she doesn't dare show herself, not yet, not—
"Tifa."
She clears her throat and lifts her head to look at him. Dark circles line his eyes, evidence of his fatigue, but his gaze is clear, free of judgment. A sliver of hope rises within her.
"Hey, Zack."
For a moment, Tifa fears for the worst. Zack stands in place and stays quiet, like he doesn't know what to do, or maybe he doesn't care beyond expected politeness. But the spell breaks suddenly as a smile lights up his face, and before she can react, he wraps his arms around her in a hug.
It's her turn to freeze—of all the scenarios she'd fretted over, this one wasn't even considered. Any hesitation evaporates and she returns the hug.
"It's been a while," he says as he pulls back. His smile is still present.
Though her absence is the last thing she wants to discuss, Tifa is aware that avoiding the topic won't do any good. And the warmth of his greeting fuels her resolve to speak the truth.
"Yeah, it has." She bites her lip, debating her next words. "I missed you a little."
His eyes widen. "Just a little?"
Tifa chuckles at his display of mock displeasure. "I guess."
"Well, I missed you more then."
A pang of guilt strikes her, dimming her smile. "Probably."
As if sensing the change in atmosphere, Claudia tugs on Tifa's arm to get her moving towards the doors. "Let's go, you two."
Zack picks up the pace and leads them towards the parking lot, chatting with Claudia along the way. The undercurrent of tension swells as they climb into the car, Claudia in the passenger seat and Tifa in the back. The moments of silence get longer as they closer they get to Cloud's apartment, though Tifa knows they are all preoccupied with different things. Part of her wishes they could continue talking if only to distract her from the storm building inside her mind.
When Zack parks on a familiar street, across a familiar building, Tifa almost tells him she'll wait in the car. The sight of her former home unearths too many memories, good and bad, and she can't help but feel overwhelmed. Still, she takes a deep breath to ground herself into the present before stepping out of the car.
Claudia is already in front of the building, but Zack stayed near, waiting for Tifa. He starts walking when she does, slowing down his strides to keep up with her shorter ones.
"You gonna be okay?"
His concern is genuine; Tifa can tell from the softness of his voice, like he wants to make sure she won't cut herself over sharp words. Embarrassment colors her cheeks as she wonders why she ever thought he didn't care about her.
"I'll try to be ok," she says firmly.
They cross the street to meet up with Claudia, whose patience is obviously running thin. She fidgets as Zack unlocks the door, pushing past him and inside the building without a word. Zack laughs under his breath ands holds the door open for Tifa while watching Claudia power-walking towards the stairs.
"Does she know that he's not about to die?" he whispers conspiratorially.
Tifa sends him a are you serious look. He nods with a serious frown in place. "She's his mom. Wouldn't your mom be worried if you got into an accident and broke your arm?"
"It did happen and she was worried, but I was also 10."
She shakes her head as they walk up the stairs to the third floor—the conversation is a decent diversion from her thoughts.
"Tifa, wait."
She goes to keep on walking, but the seriousness in his voice is hard to ignore and it's what makes her stop. "Yeah?"
"There's something you should know." Zack looks down at his feet like he doesn't want to face her reaction to whatever he's about to say. "When I took his phone to send you a message, there was a saved dra—"
"Are you two coming up today or what?"
Claudia's sudden shout startles him into silence, and Tifa doesn't miss the opportunity to run away, climbing the stairs as fast as possible. Footsteps echoing hers let her know Zack followed her. As soon as they get to the third-floor landing, Claudia rushes towards Zack to demand he opens the door. He shoots Tifa an apologetic glance before complying.
They go in, but Tifa realizes she can't move, her regrets and her fears anchoring her to the hallway. Voices flow from beyond the open door, nothing but a reminder of the all-consuming presentiment that has been eating at her ever since she got Zack's message. She doesn't know what she'll find once she crosses that threshold—her belongings she never got back, her memories scattered through the apartment, her soulmate who avoided her. Worst of all, her own self, the one she abandoned by running away.
It's not unexpected, Tifa thinks, it's normal to be scared. And yet, it feels embarrassing to recognize her weaknesses.
Movement catches her attention, forcing her out of the maze she built; it's Zack, his expression a strange mix of worried and pleased, and he waves at her to come in.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the doors will be closing in one, two—"
Her body acts on its own—she crosses the distance separating her from the apartment and marvels at how short it was.
"Seriously?" Tifa mumbles as he shuts the door behind her.
"You clearly needed an ultimatum. Anyway, c'mon."
Tifa moves fast, grasping his sleeve to hold him back. "Zack."
She lets go once he turns around. "Yeah?"
"Does he know I'm here?" Her voice is so low, so feeble, that she expects Zack not to hear her, though she doesn't want to ask the question again. But he did hear her; she knows the second his features relax into a satisfied smile.
"Nope. Aerith wanted him to suffer a bit. Payback's a bitch and all that."
A laugh escapes Tifa, loud and bright—so much so that it surprises her, and she slaps a hand over her mouth. "Fuck," she breathes out. "She's—"
"Evil?"
Tifa slaps his chest, the compulsion an aftershock of her sudden amusement. "She's the best. I love her."
"Welcome to the club," Zack deadpans. "Now, let's rip off that band-aid."
He doesn't give her room to protest, grabbing her around the shoulders and pulling her along with him into the kitchen.
A heavy stillness greets them—Tifa almost turns to run, but the notion is cut short by Zack's loose grip. While she could free herself with a shrug, she chooses not to, feeling bolstered by the show of support. She raises her head and faces ahead—right across Cloud as he stands up abruptly.
"Hey," she says softly.
His eyes widen, from shock or surprise, and perhaps from unrest—part of her hates that she can still read him. "Why—"
"Cloud." Claudia's stern tone shuts him up quickly.
He averts his gaze, twisting his head the slightest amount so that she can't see him well, and the gesture is jolting. Not so much because of its avoidant nature, but because it highlights the mess of bruises and cuts marking his face. A sling encases his right arm, wrapping around his shoulder. Some bandages cover his left arm, disappearing under the sleeve of his T-shirt.
Her curiosity gets the better of her, and her eyes stray down to his left wrist—it's a relief to see his usual leather bracelets encircling it. It means there's still something he wants to hide, not blank skin.
The possibility kindles a small flame into her chest. It's no raging fire but rather a steady blaze to forge the foundations of her resolve. It hurts, still—by now, Tifa knows that it will always hurt in some way. But it's not like what's been consuming her these last months—intense, ravaging, ephemeral bursts of emotions that leave her drained for days. Instead, it burns slowly, softly, enduringly.
Tifa doesn't look away. "You could at least say hello."
Claudia's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the sole reaction she allows herself. Next to her, Cloud flinches but still lifts his head, the sharpness of his every movement defiant.
"Thanks for coming," he says, his voice devoid of emotions. Though it's clear his attitude bothers his mother, Tifa doesn't dwell on it—not anymore.
Zack steps up from behind her in a poorly veiled attempt to ease the tension. "So, where are you two staying? I can drive you there or get you something to eat. You guys must be exhausted, what's with the time difference."
"Food would be good," Claudia says immediately. "Let's go. What about you, Cloud?"
But Cloud is already striding past them and into the living room; he plops down on the couch, laying down on his back and hiding his face behind his arm. "Not interested."
"But—"
"Claudia." Tifa puts a hand on her arm. "It's fine. We can just grab something for him, too."
"Right." Claudia looks back at her son for a moment. "Let's go," she says again.
The second they step out of the apartment, she lets out an exasperated sigh, and it prompts Zack to chuckle. "I thought he'd left the dramatics back in his teenage years."
"Don't worry, Mrs. Strife. It doesn't typically last long."
Claudia glances at Tifa. "We'll see."
"Yeah, we'll see," Tifa mumbles.
Zack takes the lead without asking, showing them the way to a nearby restaurant. It's a small place, enough that a short line feels like a crowd, and with the tiredness from the last day, the ambient noise irritates Tifa. She asks Zack to order for them and goes to wait outside with Claudia. The cool air lessens her stress right away.
"What's happening, Tifa?"
Claudia's question is everything but unexpected, especially considering their talk on the way to the airport. Still, something about it stings—it makes Tifa wonder if Cloud even told his mother anything.
"I wish I could tell you," she sighs. "He's been hiding something since he flew back to Midgar."
"And…you think it has to do with the bond?" Claudia settles beside her, making space for pedestrians in a hurry. "All you asked me—"
"It's just conjecture, Claudia. Honestly."
There are no more questions as they wait. Claudia keeps fiddling with her phone, her purse, her nails, all indications of her nervousness. Zack comes out a few minutes later. While they walk back towards the apartment, Tifa's mind whirrs as an idea forms; it refuses to leave her no matter how many times she tries to dissuade herself. As they are about to head inside the apartment building, she halts, staring at the ground for a beat.
"Claudia, can I talk to you before we go in?"
Maybe it's the determination in her voice that prompts Claudia to agree without hesitancy. She hands the take-out bag to Zack before coming to join Tifa.
"What is it?"
Tifa takes a deep breath. "There's…something I want to do. But I want to know what you think first."
"I'm listening."
It doesn't take a lot of work to persuade Claudia—if anything, Tifa thinks her suggestion is a relief to Cloud's mother. She buzzes the apartment so Zack can let them in; her heartbeat accelerates at each step bringing them to the 3rd floor. The apartment door is ajar, and as they're about to go in, Claudia stops.
"Are you really okay with doing that?"
Concern shines through her words, making Tifa's decision easier. "Yeah, I am."
Inside, they find Zack sitting on the floor, in front of the coffee table covered in food containers, utensils, and empty plates; he doesn't stop shoveling food in his mouth to greet them, only waves his fork around. Cloud is still on the couch, but he moves so his mother can sit next to him. Without a word, Tifa sits on the floor with Zack. They eat in relative silence for a while, though Cloud barely touches his plate.
The food is mostly gone when Zack asks, "How long are you two staying?"
Tifa controls her reaction and focuses on her last few bites of pasta.
"Just 2 days for me," Claudia says with a furtive glance at Tifa. "I have to work on Monday."
"Lemme know when your flight is, I'll drive you." Zack twists his head to look at Tifa expectantly. As her silence stretches, he takes the plunge. "What about you, Tifa?"
She doesn't give them an answer instantly. Instead, she puts down her fork and takes a sip of water. Tifa lifts her head to look at Cloud's face, finding him already staring back at her—something akin to wariness tightens his features, like a string about to snap.
"I'm staying here," she says simply. "I'm staying in Midgar."
Next to her, Zack reacts loudly, his shock evident. On the couch, Claudia starts babbling to her son. But Tifa doesn't truly hear any of them; she watches Cloud, waiting and hoping for a sign—something, anything—as the meaning of her decision sinks in. Cloud doesn't move, doesn't say a word, doesn't look away.
Not until his expressionless mask cracks and she glimpses the dread in his eyes.
—
A/N: Tifa was really channelling some "Surprise bitch, bet you thought you'd seen the last of me" energy in this chapter and we have no choice but to stan.
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