Melodies at Midnight

by Somebody's Nightmare

Cloud's life is defined by tragedies and failures. Following the tragic deaths of his best friends, Cloud is raising their child, still reeling from the inadequacy and anger he's had since he was ripped from the girl he had fallen in love with 10 years ago, until they reunite. She was supposed to teach his son how to play the piano. Instead, she taught him how to love again.

6. Chapter 6

AN: Thank you to everyone reviewing! You guys are the best. I really appreciate you. Thank you to everyone who keeps reading!

Chapter Six

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[ ν ] - εγλ - 2007 |April 21st

Anxious Heart

The following Saturday night, Cloud stood in front of the faded mirror in his bedroom, fumbling with the buttons of the navy blue dress shirt he was wearing, disbelieving that his fingers were actually shaking as he went.

It was a little after five PM, and in just over an hour, he would be making his way two sectors over to Sector7 to Tifa's apartment with Denzel, where they would be joining her for dinner. Cloud would be lying if he tried to say that he hadn't been thinking about this very moment all week long, that he hadn't been constantly checking and rechecking his PHS, waiting for her text to let him know where and when they should meet.

It had finally come that Tuesday evening, not long after Cloud had cleaned up the kitchen once he and Denzel had swallowed back his rather poor attempt of cooking a spaghetti dinner. Cloud hadn't been able to stop opening his device and rereading their exchange ever since it had occurred.

Tifa: Heya! Are you still free this weekend for dinner?

Cloud: Hey. Yep.

Tifa: How about Saturday? 7PM?

Cloud: Sure. What's your address?

Tifa: 1717 Waverly Lane. Sector 7

Cloud: We'll be there.

While Cloud found that not only could he not stop rereading those messages, his throat tightening up every time his eyes skimmed over the words and conjured an innocent image of Tifa in his mind again, he also could not stop thinking about the moment that she had asked him to dinner that past Sunday. It had caught him completely off guard, despite the way that he was finding himself slowly sinking back into her, accepting her invitation to listen to her play the piano and share a drink with him, sitting side-by-side with her on the bench as her fingers drifted over the keys.

His entire week - as all of his weeks had been since she'd reentered his life - was filled with distraction. As much as Cloud had insisted over and over again in the back of his mind that he would not let himself get mixed up with Tifa Lockhart again, he found himself powerless to stop the way that her coy smiles and lilting voice and shy invitations were pulling him right in her direction. Anything that she asked him for or offered him, he knew that he was ready to give or take.

None of this was helped by the fact that his attraction to her probably burned a thousand times brighter now than it had when they were teenagers. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman - he had entertained a few after joining SOLDIER and had a difficult time finding a connection with any of them, and had eventually given up - but Tifa reawakened feelings and urges inside of him that he had tried to bury for so long and that now he realized were in desperate need of alleviation.

Cloud adjusted his collar over and over again, pulling at the hem of the shirt, toying with the top button, trying to decide whether or not to close it or leave it open. He eventually settled on leaving it, then tugged at his sleeves, rolling his shoulders and feeling uncomfortable and overdressed. Most days, he wore his Shinra contractor's uniform, a stiff ensemble made of easy to recognize black mechanical stretch twill. In the years prior, he'd spent most of his time in the standard, dark indigo-blue SOLDIER fatigues, and outside of work, he'd always dressed as casually as possible, jeans and t-shirts and hooded sweatshirts and his leather jacket his standard form of apparel. The last time he could remember actually getting dressed up for anything had been Zack and Aerith's wedding, and that had been years ago.

The black slacks and dark blue shirt he was presently donning were the most formal pieces of clothing that he owned, and something in the back of his mind prickled with a fair degree of embarrassment at this realization. Feeling a rise of annoyance, still unsure of his appearance, Cloud spent far too much time tearing his fingers through his hair as he stared back at his reflection in the mirror, pushing his mess of fluffy spikes in every direction until he was somewhat satisfied with his appearance. He was spritzing a light aftershave into his neck and wrists when he heard a knock at the door, and he looked up in the mirror behind him to find the door slowly creeping open, Denzel standing and peering into his room. Pushing his own thoughts aside, Cloud set the bottle down and turned to him.

"Hey. You ready?"

Denzel nodded, pushing the door open a little wider. He was already wearing his jacket, and he folded his hands together as he looked Cloud up and down.

"Wow, Cloud!" Denzel blurted, his blue eyes growing wide. "You never get dressed up."

Cloud couldn't help but crack a smile at Denzel in response, looking down at himself, brushing his hands over the front of his shirt. "Do you think I look alright?" he asked, and Denzel snickered, his features lighting up into a bright smile.

"You look cool, Cloud," Denzel responded. "Tifa will think so, too!"

Cloud hadn't expected that response, and he raised an eyebrow at Denzel, who was giggling again as he waited for him by the door. Shoving it to the back of his brain, he swiped his wallet off of his bedside table and shoved it into his back pocket, catching up with Denzel by the door.

"Come on, let's get going," he told him, offering him a wink.

It was a warm evening outside, the sun still in the sky, but despite the fact that it was late April, Topside was still affected by the cool breezes that dragged through the streets and left an occasional chill in the air. Cloud, wearing his leather riding jacket, was soon driving his bike through the sectors with Denzel behind him, clutching to his waist as they left Sector5 and soon entered Sector6, one of the larger financial districts.

While Denzel looked around and admired the sights around them during their ride, Cloud was trying to concentrate on driving and not on the percolation of his nerves, knowing that in just a few short moments, he would be seeing Tifa again, inside of her own apartment and sitting down for a meal with her. His palms were sweating inside of his leather riding gloves, and he was imagining every scenario that might present itself when they arrived. What might Tifa be wearing? What did she cook? What would they talk about? Would they have a moment alone?

And if so, how would he handle it?

It wasn't long before Cloud found her street, stopping in front of a hi-rise brick apartment complex that was bordered by tightly manicured lawns and artificially-planted trees. Resting his boots on the asphalt, Cloud killed Fenrir's engine and stared at the building, sliding his goggles over his head and storing them away on his bike.

Denzel was moving quickly, clearly eager, already hopping off the bike and making his way toward the building without waiting for Cloud. Sliding off behind him, Cloud watched him, wondering about his enthusiasm as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Wait for me, kid," he called behind him, and Denzel slowed to a stop, waiting for him to catch up with him. When he did, Cloud ruffled his hair and then dropped his hand to the boy's shoulder.

"You're excited, aren't you?" he teased, and Denzel blushed slightly, nodding a little.

"Everyone says that Tifa is the best cook in all of Midgar!" Denzel exclaimed as they made their way up the path toward the complex's front doors. "I can't wait to have a good meal."

"Hey," Cloud chided, holding open the door for them to both enter. "Don't you like my cooking?"

Denzel turned back to him, making a face. "Your cooking is really bad, Cloud," he complained, twisting up his nose. "And we eat pizza and Wutain almost every day!"

Shit, Cloud thought, I hope he isn't going around telling everyone this.

Cloud ignored him with a smirk, instead focusing his attention on the elevator in front of him, calling it to the seventh floor where Tifa's apartment resided.

The entire ride up, Cloud watched the numbers rise, feeling thin strands of sweat develop along the lines of his collarbone and drip down his neck, signaling the way that his nerves were beginning to heat up in anticipation of seeing Tifa again. His mind was torn in a furious dance between thinking he was still making a terrible mistake by agreeing to spend any time with her, and being overeager to do just that, part of him desperate for the kind of companionship they had shared all those years ago.

Not to mention, he couldn't stop imagining what she might be wearing when she showed up at the door, and that thought alone was enough to have his heart beating faster and his skin colored red with prickly heat.

When they reached the seventh floor, Cloud dropped his hands into his pockets once more, walking with Denzel side by side until they reached Tifa's apartment. Swallowing and steeling his nerves as best he could, Cloud pressed the buzzer, taking a step back away from the door.

He was staring at his boots, Denzel right at his side, when the door slid open, revealing Tifa standing in its frame. As soon as the heavy slab of wood was no longer separating them, his eyes widened, unable to stop the way they fell from her forehead all the way to her feet in a long, seeking trail.

She was dressed in a three-quarter sleeve, sweetheart-necked knit midi dress, a dark blue color that coincidentally matched his shirt. The top half of her hair was done up in a messy bun with glittery chopsticks stabbing through it, while the lower half was brushed long and hung loosely around her shoulders and down her back. Her legs were wrapped in sheer black nylons, her feet slid into black patent-leather ballet slippers.

She smiled at Cloud as soon as she saw him, and the sight of her full lips spreading and her brilliant white teeth shining sent sparks flying inside of his chest. But then she was turning away from him, focusing her attention on Denzel first as she bent slightly at the waist and leaned forward toward him.

"Hi, Denzel!" she greeted cheerfully, her voice laden with a bright lilt, and Cloud inhaled, crossing his arms over his chest as if this might somehow calm the way the sound of her voice was setting him on fire. He shifted uncomfortably where he stood, looking down at Denzel, who offered Tifa a toothy smile.

"Hi Tifa," he responded at once. "Thanks for having us over for dinner. I'm really looking forward to it!"

Impossibly, Tifa's smile widened as she rose to her full height again, dropping her hands to her hips.

"So polite!" she responded, offering Cloud a sidelong wink. "I'm glad you came! Come on inside. You can watch some TV while I finish up dinner."

She stepped out of the way, and happily, Denzel entered behind her. As he stepped inside, Tifa finally turned to Cloud, her sunny grin turning into a coy smirk, and he didn't miss the way the rubies in her eyes glittered in his direction as she finally focused her attention on him.

"Hi, Cloud," she greeted, her voice dropping low, losing some of its glowing exuberance but instead turning husky and melodic. She was peering up at him under her lashes, still holding on to the door as she held it open. "I'm really glad you could make it."

Fuck. Cloud just stared at her for a long moment, feeling his stomach sink and then melt away into liquid at the sound of her voice and the way that she stared at him, her lips so pouty he was almost certain she was poking them out at him in that goading manner on purpose. Unable to keep his eyes from once again traveling the winding roads of her body beneath her snug, stretchy dress, he forced himself to look back up at her face, wondering if she were trying to kill him or if she were purposefully fucking with him.

"H-hey, Teef," he greeted her back, disgusted with how his voice broke, his palms suddenly sweating again as he realized he was standing in front of her and slowly falling apart. He swallowed thickly, trying to wet his throat. "Thanks for having us."

"Let me get your jackets," she replied, nodding her head and turning away from him, stepping aside so he could enter the apartment. Already, Denzel had shrugged out of his windbreaker and was handing it to Tifa, while Cloud stepped inside the apartment, removing his gloves and sliding his arms out of his leather jacket, passing it to her as well. As she took it from him, her fingers brushed across the back of his hand, and Cloud felt an electric charge race through his body, unable to stop himself from glancing down at her hand and catching the sight of her polished, pale pink nails.

He knew she felt it too because when he looked up, her cheeks were rosy, but she was turning away to hang their jackets in another room. Suddenly flooded with heat and feeling immensely awkward, Cloud dropped his hands back to his pockets as he looked around Tifa's living room, Denzel already finding his way toward her couch in front of her modestly sized flat-screen television. As she disappeared, Cloud leaned back on his heels, taking in her apartment.

Her living room was nicely sized but by no means extravagant, but Cloud could see Tifa's tasteful aesthetics painted all over it. The walls were a pale gray color, contrasted by deep black couches upholstered in soft suede, the carpet a muted shade of steel. The lighting in the room was dim and gentle, yellow bursts from a lamp in the corner and a contemporary ceiling light that hung above with large crystallized bulbs. The coffee table was made of glass, and there were a few abstract paintings hung on the walls.

And in one corner, facing the windows that overlooked the street outside, Cloud's eyes fell on a miniature piano, far smaller than the one in Tifa's studio above Seventh Heaven. It was wooden and worn, scratches from years of use dug into the surface of its lid and across its legs. It stood out like a sore thumb among the decor of the room, a light, unpolished oak that was ugly against the deep cherry wood that made up Tifa's faux fireplace and the wood panels that bordered her painted walls.

Cloud recognized it instantly.

It was the piano from Tifa's room in Nibelheim.

Momentarily awestruck, Cloud found himself falling back in time, images of Tifa's coral-pink and deep lilac room floating around him, the chords of songs he heard long ago replaying in his ears. He was choked for air as he stared at it, torn suddenly out of his reverie when he felt something warm brush against his legs.

"Huh?"

He looked down with mild surprise to find a small white cat with black paws and a black patch on its nose inching over the toes of his boots. Caught slightly off guard, he stumbled a step back, startling the cat until it jumped slightly on its paws where it stood and looked up at him.

He heard a giggle, and he turned to find Tifa standing at his side, her hands clasped behind her back, leaning forward slightly and looking up at him before she bent down and lifted the feline into her arms.

"What's wrong?" she asked, taking a step forward, and Cloud found himself shaking his head as he looked down at the cat, even though he didn't back away this time. "You don't like cats, Cloud?"

"Uh, I…" he blinked, giving his head a little toss. It wasn't that he didn't like them, they were just skittish animals, nasty sometimes, and he didn't really care for them. He was indifferent to them if anything. He tended to avoid them. And he hadn't really expected one to creep on him the way this one had. He glanced at Tifa, catching her smiling as she scratched the cat's neck, and seeing the smile on her face as she adored it with affection, he felt the defensive charge that had lit up in him ease down, and he nodded and relaxed his shoulders.

"…they're alright," he finally conceded, not sure what was coming over him.

"Want to pet her?" Tifa asked, stepping forward. "Her name is Luna."

Cloud felt a mild, ridiculous sort of panic rise up in him, and he glanced down at the cat, who seemed perfectly content and at ease in Tifa's embrace. Luna yawned widely as he hesitated, exposing sharp incisors and the ridgy roof of her mouth, and Cloud scratched the back of his neck nervously, looking up to find Tifa staring at him expectantly.

"Uh, sure," he gave in, reaching forward and stroking his hand over the top of the cat's head, once, twice, then three times before he finally stopped and backed away. As soon as he dropped his hand, Luna shook her head out, flattening her ears slightly.

"Can I pet her?" Denzel asked from the couch, turning and facing their direction.

Tifa laughed lightly and then dropped the cat to its feet. "Go say hello to Denzel, Luna," she told the cat, who padded across the room and did the opposite of that, instead stopping by the fireplace to lick at a patch of fur. Tifa shook her head and then approached Denzel, showing him the remote so that he could turn on the television before she returned to where Cloud stood, who followed her with his eyes the entire time that she moved.

"Can you help me set the table?" Tifa asked him, her voice low again, her head tipped to one side. "I'm just waiting for the rolls to finish warming."

"Sure," Cloud answered immediately, already moving in her direction even though she was still standing rooted in place.

She offered him a smile, then turned away with a nod that was too endearingly cute before she waved at him and showed him into the kitchen. Behind him, Cloud could hear the subtle chirp of cartoons from her television as Denzel figured out how to turn it on.

He followed her into the kitchen, once again watching her hips as they went, unable to stop himself from admiring the way the fabric of her dress clung to the soft hills of her backside. He stopped by the door, watching as Tifa made her way over to the sink to wash her hands before she picked up a bottle of wine on the counter and held it up to him.

"Would you like a glass of wine while I finish?" she asked him. "I figured a cabernet might be nice tonight. Pairs well with what I cooked."

"S-sure," he answered, instantly wincing inwardly, looking away from her as he felt his cheeks heat up, staring down at the tiled floor of her kitchen.

He heard her chuckle almost inaudibly under her breath, and Cloud felt himself burn up even hotter. Why the fuck did he keep stuttering? He had never behaved like this around Tifa when he was younger, so anxious and stunted. No, if anything, he remembered, he had always left her flustered.

He watched her work open the corkscrew, and he noticed the sudden strain across her forehead, much the way it had been when he'd watched her try to open the bottle last Sunday in the piano room. Frowning slightly as he watched her, he started to move in her direction to help her, but she popped it off before he could take more than a step, and she let out a tiny exhale before she shook out her hand and then proceeded to pour them each a glass.

Cloud watched her carefully, feeling his Adam's apple bob uncomfortably as his mind began to run a brand new race around itself. There was something slightly off about her movements; he had noticed it the other night when she had grimaced a few times as if in pain, and that same look had just flashed briefly across her face again. But he couldn't exactly place what it was, and before he could fully complete his thoughts, she was stepping in his direction again, coming close enough this time that he could pick up the sweet and citrusy fragrance that lived in her skin tonight, something that reminded him of sugarplums and lemon drops. He blinked as she held his glass out to him.

"Thanks," he said, accepting it, grateful that he hadn't managed to stutter that time. He pushed his earlier thoughts aside and looked up to meet her eyes. "What did you cook?" he asked instead, picking up on her earlier conversation.

She smirked, swirling her glass a little and lifting it to clink gently against his. "I thought I'd go with something native to Nibelheim," Tifa responded. "Beef stroganoff, with egg noodles."

At that, Cloud heard his stomach rumble, and he couldn't stop the way that he responded by smiling at Tifa, trying to hide it by lifting his glass to his lips and sipping his wine. He hadn't had stroganoff since the last time he visited his mother in Nibelheim, which had been almost four years ago. It had always been one of his favorite meals.

"That sounds good," he replied, the words slipping past his lips without him even giving it much thought, and he wished he didn't sound so goddamn enthusiastic.

"I remember it was one of your favorites," Tifa acknowledged, her voice coquettish as she turned away from him to head toward the stove. He watched her take one sip from her glass before she set it down on the counter and then opened the oven to pull out the dinner rolls with a towel.

Cloud hid his face behind his wine glass again as he watched Tifa bend over, his eyes following her all the way down and back up again, his cheeks warming, soon matching the color of the wine in his glass.

She set the tray of rolls on the stove and then tossed the rag to the side, turning to him and shoving her fringe away from her eyes. "Everything's ready," she told him, her eyes lighting up again as she smiled. "Can you help me set the food out?"

Cloud nodded, and for the next stretch of minutes, he found himself under Tifa's complete command, following her every instruction as she grabbed silverware and bowls and asked him to carry some of the heavier plates of food into the dining room. She laughed and scolded him gently when she realized he had no idea how to formally set a table, and she came over to stand next to him and show him, reaching across the front of his body as she leaned forward to set out a placemat and utensils, teaching him how to do it properly. She was too close to him again, her body warm and her skin smelling sweet, and his blood caught on fire, the mako inside of him suddenly filled with gunpowder.

Trying to push it aside, he helped her set out the piping hot bowls of noodles and meat and the salad she'd prepared, and after Tifa had set out a pitcher of water, Cloud called Denzel over to join them. Quietly, they sat around the table, but Cloud couldn't stop himself from watching Tifa as she slid into her seat, noticing her slight grimace as she settled.

He stared at her, filing the moment away into his memory, before he turned at the sound of Denzel's voice.

"This looks really good, Tifa," Denzel said. "What is it?"

Tifa pushed the bowls in Denzel's direction, gesturing to him to help himself. "It's stroganoff," she explained. "It's native to my and Cloud's hometown, Nibelheim. It's a hearty, creamed beef stew that is served over noodles. Comfort food, my mama used to say."

Cloud kept his eyes trained on Tifa's face at her words, his heartbeat rising, watching her slide against the back of her chair, her smile faltering a little at the corners.

Denzel was carefully scooping a helping of the food onto his plate, concentrating so as not to spill anything. But when he finished and set the bowls down again, he looked back up at Tifa, an innocently inquisitive look on his face.

"You and Cloud's?" he repeated, then turned to Cloud.

Cloud hated how easy it was for his face to turn bright, and he tried to suppress it, but he knew from the rising warmth that it was impossible. And nothing could stop him from turning to Tifa, his eyes meeting hers, finding her scarlet pools suddenly wide before she looked away, blushing now too.

"Oh, Cloud and I are from the same town, but Cloud didn't grow up there," Tifa explained, pushing the bowls in his direction. But Cloud shook his head, pushing them back towards her in insistence, and she was lifting her hand to protest when it collided with his, singeing his skin where they met.

He thought it was impossible for either of them to redden anymore than they already had, but that was clearly not the case, because Tifa was suddenly lit up like a Yule tree, and Cloud could feel his face practically melt. He cleared his throat, sitting back again, refusing to touch the food until she had fixed her plate first.

Eventually, they had filled their plates and began to eat, Cloud dousing the scorch that was assaulting him with alternating sips of his water and wine, the tension between them as thick as the taut pull of a tightrope. He was finally pulled away from his distracting attraction to Tifa when he dug into his meal, but as soon as he started eating, he was once again transported back in time. He had only had Tifa's cooking a few times back in Nibelheim when they were young, but when the first bites hit his tongue, he was instantly reminded of how good a cook she was, and it wasn't long before he was heaping his second plate.

The conversation during dinner revolved mostly around Denzel, Tifa peppering him with questions about school and his hobbies, and for a while, they talked about his music lessons and how much progress he had made. Cloud noticed that Denzel was far more talkative around Tifa than he had seen him since Aerith had been alive, and by the time he had cleaned his second serving, he was sitting back in his chair, watching the boy, somewhat awestruck by their ease in conversation and how they had bonded over the course of the last several weeks.

"Denzel, did you tell Cloud what you told me?" Tifa asked, leaning forward after they had all finished eating, her lips turned up into a smile. Under the soft citrine lighting above her dining room table, Cloud could see the red shine in her eyes, bright like rubies, reminding him of how they had looked under the stars in Nibelheim, which had shone so brightly it was as if the sky was filled with the beacons of lighthouses.

"No," Denzel responded shyly, not looking up at him when Cloud turned to him.

Tifa held her smile, and Cloud found that he was kind of dumbfounded by the way that she reached across the table to take Denzel's hand.

"Do you want to tell him?" she asked gently, "Or do you want me to?"

Denzel looked up at her, blushing slightly, and he gave his head a little toss. "Can you?" he asked.

Tifa sat back again, nodding as she turned to Cloud, who couldn't stop himself from fixating his gaze on her lips this time. "Denzel wants to join his school's concert band next year," she informed him happily, her smile widening with pride. "I told him that he should absolutely go for it, and that I would of course help him get ready."

Cloud blinked, turning away from Tifa to glance at Denzel, who was staring down at his glass of juice. Cloud had to admit that he was surprised by this piece of information. Even before his parents had died, Denzel had always been a quiet, shy kid, never the type who liked large group activities or being around a whole lot of other kids. And he certainly didn't strike Cloud as the type who would want to be on stage as any type of performer.

The more he thought about it, he realized, he reminded Cloud of himself when he was his age.

"Really, Denzel?" he finally managed to say, forcing the kid to look up at him. "I didn't know that. I think that would be really great."

The way that Denzel suddenly smiled at him, bright and stretching his lips, pulled at Cloud's heart a little more roughly than he had expected, and he swallowed, unnerved when he felt himself smiling back.

"You know what?" Tifa chirped. "You haven't really heard Denzel play, have you, Cloud?" he turned to her then, watching as she pushed herself to her feet, using the table as leverage. He didn't miss the way that the corners of her eyes pulled back in a flinch as she did so, and again, he wondered if he was imagining it. "Let me clear the table really quick. Denzel, why don't you take a seat at my piano so you can show Cloud what you've learned?"

Denzel began to blush again, but Cloud noticed that he was nodding eagerly, getting up to return to the living room.

Tifa began to gather some of the plates, and once they were alone in the dining room, he slowly rose to his feet, picking up his own. He felt the tension building again in the air, most of it hovering right between where he and Tifa stood, thick enough that even his Fusion sword would have trouble cleaving through it.

"Let me help you," he said, cutting through it, watching as Tifa piled her arms with dishes.

"I've got it, Cloud," she responded, shaking her head and moving around the table. "Just go have a seat on the couch."

She wasn't looking at him, and then, she had her back turned, making her way into the kitchen. Cloud felt his body begin to grow warm, a bubbly sort of heat expanding inside of him as he watched her disappear. He wasn't sure where it was coming from, but it was linked to a rising impulsiveness inside of him, and he found himself picking up a couple of bowls that were still on the table and bringing them into the kitchen in her wake.

He found her standing over the counter, rubbing her wrists, a faint frown pulling at her features. He stopped by the doorway, silently watching her for a moment, temporarily frozen by both her beauty and by the disturbing misalignment of her countenance. There was something disjointed and afflicted, lingering in the way that she craned her neck, something dark and disquiet in the energy that he could feel drifting off of her even from where he stood several feet away.

Compulsion suddenly driving him, he entered the kitchen with quiet footsteps and set the dishes on the table behind her. She looked up at the soft clatter, but already he was moving to stand beside her, his hand reaching for the wrist that she was holding, a thick pulse of magnetism pulling him closer and closer until he was acting without full possession of his wits or his body.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, and somewhere deep inside of himself, he was marveling at how low his voice had grown, how its tenor was laced with a softness that he almost never deployed.

When was the last time he had used that tone with anyone? Who had provoked it?

Her.

It was always her.

She was shaking her head swiftly, but her eyes were trained on his grip on her wrist, light and warm but still fully locked around her narrow bones and the thrum of her pulse in that thick, center artery. She took too long to respond, and Cloud felt his chest tighten and restrict as if gripped by an ugly, powerful fist, wondering if there was something else he should be doing right now to help.

"I'm fine," she finally answered, still not looking up at him, and Cloud knew she was lying, could feel it in his bones. "Just a little tired. Besides, I told you, piano hands. Remember?"

She finally glanced up at him, her eyes glassy and wide, and suddenly, he was seized by the full weight of her attention on him. He swallowed thickly, feeling the gentle heat of her body wrap around him in a blend with her fresh, sweet scent, and all of it was making him feel like he was losing control of himself, especially as he looked down at her lips, seeing them so pouty and thick and full, enough to make him go mad. His heart was splitting away into tiny pieces in his chest, his fingers beginning to ache and unconsciously wrapping tighter around her wrist, and without realizing what he was doing, he was inching closer to her, his eyes fixed to hers as he felt his lips part, ready to taste her and soothe whatever aches she was plagued by.

"Cloud," she suddenly cried quietly, seconds before he could lower his face any closer to hers. "My wrist. You're hurting me."

Instantly, he backed away, releasing her skin, and Tifa was back to rubbing her arm, right in the spot that he had held her. He shook his head out, feeling like a complete idiot, wondering what the ever-loving fuck was actually wrong with him and why he was standing in front of her losing his shit like this.

Why the fuck was he messing around with Tifa Lockhart again?

"S-sorry," he responded sheepishly, the stupid stutter back in his voice.

"It's okay," she responded immediately, looking up at him, and it seemed like the glassiness in her eyes had quadrupled, as if she might spill into tears at any moment. "You're…just strong. I hadn't realized."

He took a step back, tearing his eyes from that penetrating vermillion gaze, taking great interest in her tiled floor suddenly, looking for anything to blame his impulsivity on.

"It's the mako," he said lamely.

She nodded, looking back at the dishes in front of her. She was quiet for a moment before she turned back to him.

"Come on, let's not keep Denzel waiting. I know he's really excited to show you what he's learned."

Following Tifa back into the living room, Cloud was grateful for the distraction and was especially appreciative when Tifa handed him another glass of wine. But he couldn't stop the tornado that tore through him, crashing his emotions with his deep, lingering feelings about Tifa and the way that just being in the same room as her unraveled him and left him completely out of control of his words and actions. He kept looking down at his hands as he sat on her couch, flexing and clenching them in front of him over and over again, wondering what his problem was and how he was going to fix it.

Part of him was scrambled, unable to assemble any coherency, wanting to bolt through the front door to never return and never confront any of this ever again. But the larger, perhaps more logical part of him was already weighing his options, realizing that there were only two ways to move forward from here.

Either he cut it off with Tifa to save himself some heartbreak, or he make a move to relieve the aching desire that was leaving him behaving as if his brain was completely muddled and disordered.

He was pulled from the electric rage of his thoughts when Tifa sank beside him on the couch, way too close, pulling all of her intoxicating fragrances right in his direction. She had left Denzel sitting at her old piano, showing him some sheet music before he got settled on the bench. Feeling her warmth drift over him, Cloud cleared his throat nervously when he realized that Tifa was leaning closer to him, crossing one long leg over the other, and he looked down, feeling a scalding pain race to his groin when he caught her narrow ankle begin to roll.

She let out a breathy sigh as she settled into the couch, and he tried to breathe, feeling his palm sweat around his chalice. He didn't dare look over at her, instead focusing his attention on Denzel, screaming at his brain to get itself under control.

"Go ahead, Denzel," Tifa called across the room, and Cloud tensed up at the sound of her voice, so thick and melodic it was as if it were coming from those very ivory and black keys.

Sipping his wine, Cloud watched as Denzel settled over the keyboard, beginning to tap out a rift of notes. He was concentrating on its pattern when Tifa leaned in close to him, and he almost shot through the roof when she dropped her palm innocently to his forearm.

"He's starting with the scale," she whispered so that Denzel couldn't hear, but all it did was cause Cloud's breathing to quicken, imagining her whispering to him like that beneath a pile of linen bedsheets, or maybe under a curtain of stars, like they once had.

Stop stop stop stop

"Then," she continued, and she was so close that he could feel her breath carry in a warm wave toward the flesh of his neck, "He'll play the song that I played for you. It's the first one that I taught him."

Fuck Fuck Fuck.

He said nothing, but he realized that Tifa wasn't moving her hand, that she was leaning even closer, and the small space that existed between them on the couch was now practically nonexistent. He was submerged in her, and his mind was at war with itself, half of it wanting to disappear into the couch and the other half wanting to lift his arm and wrap it around her.

It only got worse when Denzel finally began to strum the notes of the song that Tifa had gifted to him so long ago, the boy's fingers nervous and unsure above the keys but tapping out the melody precisely nonetheless.

Do, Re, Me, Ti, La. Do, Re, Me, So, Fa, Do Re Do.

Cloud tried not to breathe too heavily and betray the way that hearing Denzel play those notes that were so precious and buried so deep in his heart for so many years affected him. Instead, he closed his eyes and listened, and somehow, his left hand was crossing over his body and falling on top of Tifa's where it still rested on top of his right forearm.

He opened his eyes when he heard the tiny noise she made at the connection of his rough palm above the smooth, fine bones of her hands, her fingers long and graceful and her skin baby-soft. It was a cross between a whimper and a light gasp, and it unthreaded something deep inside of him, his insides racing with heat while his heart beat like mad, wanting to leap out of his chest and go straight to her.

Denzel was still playing, repeating the refrain when Tifa turned to look at Cloud again. Her eyes were wide, and she was so close that he could see every thick line of kohl she had swept around her eyelids, leaving her doe-eyed, the look on her face one of pure hope.

She shifted slightly in her seat, drawing impossibly closer to him, bending one knee and tucking her leg under her body as she shifted to face him fully on the couch, and as if guided by some outside force, Cloud was turning to her, instantly facing her, his shoulders turned in her direction. Her warmth and her scent were flooding him now, and he couldn't stop himself from admiring the portrait of perfection in front of him, thick dark hair done up so stylishly, ruby-red eyes wanton, thick red lips gapping at the center, porcelain skin carved into a representation of the most-high goddess. He licked his lips, and Tifa straightened her back, lifting her breasts slightly. He couldn't help the way that he dropped his eyes before he leaned forward, the Planet's gravity dragging him in to kiss her as his son awkwardly but gently tapped out the song that she had dedicated to him all those years, over and over again on repeat.

"What do you think, Cloud?"

Cloud's lips were inches - no, centimeters, maybe - away from Tifa's when Denzel's boyish voice cleaved through them, and he backed away instantly, tearing his hand from hers. Tifa slid away, sliding her palm off of his arm, pulling away her delicious warmth and leaving him feeling suddenly iced out. He swallowed thickly to push down the raging tempests that were now careening through him, his throat dry and rough with pain, and he leaned forward over his knees as he turned to Denzel, quickly putting as much distance between him and Tifa as he could in that moment without knocking himself off of the couch completely.

Denzel was staring at him, expectant but smiling slightly, and Cloud wondered just how much the boy had seen or noticed when he turned around.

"That was great, Denzel," Cloud finally responded, gathering his wits. And he meant it. He was both thoroughly impressed with how much Denzel had learned in the last couple of months and how Tifa had managed to cultivate him so well in that short amount of time. For the first time, he was beginning to think that maybe these piano lessons were beginning to pay off.

He didn't think about the deeper implications of that notion, still feeling Tifa's warmth at his side. But when Denzel brightened with a smile that Cloud realized was solely for him, he knew that no matter what was happening between him and the woman he had never stopped loving years and years ago, it was all still worth it.

It wasn't much later when they finished their wine and Denzel was yawning. Cloud was still hot under the collar from his lofty caresses with Tifa and their near-kiss, and ever since they had pulled apart, the tension had unfolded into something that was almost too hot to touch, dangerous and scalding, and they kept a careful distance until Cloud quietly suggested they get going, Tifa up and getting their jackets.

When she came back, meeting Cloud and Denzel at the door, she offered him a shy smile before she handed them both their coats. He shrugged into his leather jacket, his mind playing over and over again the right words to say to her in a goodbye that wouldn't seem majorly awkward after the way that their evening had almost played out.

"Denzel, I'm really proud of you," Tifa was saying, bending down to offer the boy a hug, and Cloud didn't miss the way the kid soaked it up, smiling wide with his eyes closed as he accepted Tifa's affection. "I'm glad you came for dinner tonight. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon for your lesson, okay?"

Denzel nodded as she released him. "Thanks, Tifa. Dinner was really good."

She cocked her head to the side with a smile, a cute, shy gesture that Cloud remembered from eons ago, and it had the hot impetuousness rising in him again, begging him to give in and lean forward and just fucking kiss her already.

"Why don't you go say goodbye to Luna?" she asked Denzel. "I just want to talk to your dad real quick."

Cloud had not been expecting that turn in the conversation at all, and he watched in a mild panic as Denzel nodded and stepped across the living room, finding the cat curled up in a ball in front of the fireplace.

Cloud's palms began to sweat as he looked down at her, watching as she clasped her hands behind her back. All this did was elongate the outline of her body, her curves forming a perfect hourglass in that tight but somehow conservative dress that she wore, thrusting her full breasts out until he was at war with himself to keep from staring right at them. He chanted orders at himself to not dare look down, leveling his gaze with her face, but all this did was send him into a completely different sort of breakdown as he got lost in her eyes.

"Hey," he heard himself say to her, low and soft, and he hated the way that he couldn't control his goddamn tone of voice around her anymore.

"I wanted to talk to you about Denzel's lessons," Tifa responded, still looking up at him and still holding that cute pose, and Cloud wondered if she were oblivious to the effect she had on him, if she had any idea that all of his internal organs had melted away into nothing and that smoke was rising from the brushfires inside of his skull. "If he's serious about performing with his school next year, he's going to need a bit more practice. I think he should come for lessons twice a week. I'm open on Thursdays, if that helps. He can come right after school."

Cloud resisted the urge to groan, the shift of the discussion throwing ice water on his desire as he thought about his wallet and the shitty assignments he kept receiving from SOLDIER. Instantly, he winced, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away, his lips turning down in a scowl.

"I really can't afford it, Tifa," he told her, his throat constricted with embarrassment, and now, he was suddenly in a hurry to get out of here.

But then her fucking hand was on his arm again, this time right at the peak of his elbow where his arms were folded, her pinky barely grazing his bicep. Stunned, he looked down, his eyes following the line from her prettily painted nails all the way up her long fingers, across her arm and up and up until he was looking again at her face, and once again, he was completely under her power, an invisible force that was shutting down all of the logic centers in his brain.

"I won't charge you for the extra lessons, Cloud," Tifa said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "In fact, I don't want to charge you for any of Denzel's lessons anymore."

Great, fuck, now she thought he was a goddamn charity case. How much worse could this get?

"What? No, Tifa. I can pay, it's just - "

"No," she interrupted him firmly. "Cloud - Denzel is more than just a pupil to me. I really want to see him succeed. And…" she paused for a moment, her eyelids dropping as she pondered, letting him see the full flush of her dark lashes clash with her pale skin. "…You're my friend. I can't charge you anymore."

He blinked at her words, half of him cherishing her sweet thoughtfulness and the other half wanting to scream that he didn't want to just be fucking friends with her.

"Yeah, okay, Tifa," he finally responded, doing his best to be cool, even though her palm was still melting the leather of his jacket. "T-thanks. I appreciate that."

"Anything for you, Cloud," she replied, and as innocent and kindhearted as she had meant it, her voice still carried that low, sensual husk that kept him up at night, and now his heart rate was climbing and it was suddenly too hot in here and goddamnit he needed to get the fuck out of this apartment.

"Come on, Denzel," he called, but his voice cracked midway, and he knew that he was losing it.

Denzel got back to his feet from where he had crouched down, rubbing the cat's belly. He waved another quiet goodbye to Tifa before he slipped out of the door into the hallway.

Cloud made to turn and follow him, but Tifa was still holding onto his arm, and before he could say a word, she squeezed him.

"I'm really glad you came over tonight, Cloud," she told him, purposefully keeping her voice small so that Denzel could not hear.

It was enough to break him. That was all it took to send his wildest urges into hyperdrive, and he could not stop the way that he whirled back on her, stepping so close that she had to back up until she was almost against the wall beside the door.

"You want to go out with me sometime?" he couldn't believe he was asking.

Tifa's eyes widened, her cheeks suddenly brightening, and Cloud felt his heart slam against his sternum, doing its best to break every bone and level his entire ribcage. He was cursing himself for his impulsivity, but Tifa was smiling at him, blushing harder as her entire face lit up.

"I would love to, Cloud."

For the rest of the fucking week, Cloud couldn't concentrate on a single goddamn thing.

—

[ ν ] - εγλ - 2007 |April 26th

First Date

For the rest of the week, Tifa couldn't concentrate on a single thing.

There was active combat occurring inside of her body, violent warfare between deep, untangled desires that were growing and burning bright, and the bleak, throbbing pains that assaulted her joints and left her lower back sore and her lungs more winded than usual. The combinations of sensations were sometimes dizzying, leaving Tifa to have to sit down and collect her thoughts, all the while popping more painkillers just to make getting through the days tolerable.

Despite her aches and pains and the ways that they refused to relent, Tifa was still caught up in the aftermath of her dinner with Cloud, with the way that their relationship seemed to be slowly but surely taking a turn despite her earlier fears that it might be irreconcilable.

Every day since, she found herself constantly daydreaming about their date, thinking over and over again about every moment of that dinner, how their skin had brushed against one another's at times, how Cloud's eyes had lingered on her body and hovered over her face the entire time he was there. She couldn't stop thinking about the way they both made one another blush, both ignoring it as if it weren't happening before their very own eyes, both trying to brush past the electric charge that beat and pulsed in the space between them no matter how big or small the room they were in was. She was still hung up on the way that he had grabbed her arm in the kitchen, the way that he had stared at her with so much concern blazing in his bright, aquamarine eyes. She couldn't get over the way that he leaned in close to her on the couch, as if he might kiss her.

And she still was in disbelief that he had ended the entire night by quickly, sporadically, asking her out.

For the remainder of the night, after he and Denzel had left, Tifa was stuck living with a miserable ache between her thighs that rivaled the sick pains that traveled her nerves and tendons and was almost impossible to quell, even under the spray of a cool shower, late into the night. Her feelings were unwinding and settling themselves in deep, and Tifa knew that she could not ignore the old longings that had crept up so suddenly in her, and the fact that Cloud was carefully, slowly letting his guard down with her, rocking back and forth with her as they took these tiny baby steps together.

Tifa knew, though, that she had to work between her feelings for Cloud that were threaded into her desire for him as well as her own selfish need to heal her heart of the affliction that was ruining her body as the years and months and weeks stretched by and away from her. And although it had been a couple of weeks since she had last cried those painful, glittery tears, her body was still hurting, still filled with pain and exhaustion, her vision still blurry at times, and her head still foggy, no matter how much she and Cloud got on better terms. She wondered idly what it would take between them for all of this to skid to a complete halt, but she stopped short of letting that thought carry her too completely away.

At the present moment, she was wrapping up her Thursday afternoon lesson with Denzel, his first now that he was coming to see her twice a week. He was finishing up a practice rendition of a new piece that she had taught him, still fumbling slightly over the combination of the notes as he learned the sequence, biting his tongue in the corner of his mouth as he concentrated. She watched him, occasionally correcting him or demonstrating, but mostly, she was looking forward to the moment that his father would pick him up.

It came soon enough, and eventually, she was walking him downstairs to Seventh Heaven, and as had begun to become habit, Cloud was already there, waiting at the bar. He was drumming his gloved fingers across the counter, and Jessie was standing in front of him, running a dishrag across the wood, plainly talking his ear off.

"Tifa used to be sooo famous," she distinctly heard her say to him as she approached. "People all over the world used to want to hear her play. Not so much after she got sick, though."

"Got sick?" Cloud immediately repeated, sitting up and suddenly taking interest in the conversation.

Horrified, Tifa watched as Jessie began to open her mouth, and in a mad rush, she quickly made her presence known.

"Jessie," Tifa cried from the stairs, then pushed Denzel along, hastily approaching the bar. "It's time for them to get going." At her sudden appearance, Jessie blushed as if she realized she had been caught, and she turned away, making herself scarce by tending to another patron.

Cloud, on the other hand, slid off of the barstool slowly, a question in his eyes.

Tifa smiled brightly, ready to combat it. "Hi, Cloud," she greeted him, hoping she could uproot whatever seeds Jessie had started to plant. "Denzel did an excellent job today. He learned a brand new song, isn't that right, Denzel?"

"Yeah," Denzel responded cheerily, shouldering his backpack, clearly basking in the praise and proud of himself. "It's called, Fur Elise."

"That's great," Cloud agreed, ruffling the boy's hair in that affectionate manner that always had Tifa's heartbeat start to pace faster whenever she saw it. "Hey, Denzel, go get on Fenrir and wait for me just a moment, okay? I'll be right out."

"Sure thing," Denzel said, turning to Tifa then. "Bye, Tifa. I'll see you on Sunday."

She smiled at him, offering him a nod. "Okay, sweetheart."

He stepped outside, and Cloud quickly turned to her.

"Everything okay?" he asked her instantly.

Tifa held her smile, her insides boiling, silently wanting to stalk behind the bar and drive her fist into Jessie's chin. Instead, she nodded, looking up into those too-blue eyes, stained with a rim of green that she was still trying to get used to.

"Everything's fine!" she replied as cheerfully as she could muster. "I'm having a great week. And you?"

Cloud cleared his throat, nodding and mercifully dropping what she was expecting to be an awkward line of questioning. Instead, he lowered his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

"Everything's great," he replied, and she realized he was having difficulty maintaining eye contact with her again, that his cheeks were taking on a distinct, red blotchiness. It made her heart swell to see him so affected by her presence, and she couldn't help the fact that her smile widened into a grin.

"Are you free tomorrow night?" he finally blurted, and Tifa felt that swell in her heart burst.

"I can be," she answered without much hesitation.

He finally let their eyes connect, and for a long moment, he seemed to transform, the nervousness behind his stare dissipating and replaced by something a little more steely and strong, the same look that flared behind his irises when he almost backed her against the wall in her apartment before he asked her if she would go out with him. He took a step closer to her, shaving away the space between them, right there in the middle of the floor of the bar, surrounded by its early evening bustle.

"Seven," he told her. "I'll pick you up at seven."

And then he was gone, leaving her standing there, a whirlwind of emotion cycling around her as she caught her breath.

In the next moment, Jessie was strolling by with a tray of drinks in hand.

"Looks like things are heating up," she commented as she passed her, reminding Tifa that she needed to kill her.

—

At six fifty-five the very next evening, Tifa was standing in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, looking over her appearance for what felt like the thousandth time.

She had chosen that evening to dress in a purple pleated skirt with a black, low-cut, form-fitting v-neck top, her waist belted with thick patent leather. She pulled a sheer pair of black nylon thigh highs on, and at the present moment, she was staring at two pairs of silver shoes, trying to decide between them.

One pair - the ones she really wanted to wear - were Mary-Jane style with thick, three-inch heels and a modest platform. They were one of her favorite pairs of shoes, but she hadn't had the opportunity to wear them often, in fact, she couldn't remember the last time she had worn them.

The other option was a pair of simple but pretty silver ballet flats - shoes that Tifa liked well enough but that she wore plenty often. She sighed, staring at them, knowing they were probably the safest option.

Tifa had avoided wearing heels in recent years for the simple fact that they were uncomfortable now in ways that they hadn't been before she'd gotten sick. Walking and standing in them aggravated the inflammation in her knees and made her lower back hurt, and despite the fact that over the years she had come to collect dozens of pairs of high-heeled shoes, she'd eventually given up wearing them altogether. Just like the coffee she'd had to abandon, it was another small luxury in life that had to be sacrificed thanks to her illness.

Staring at her reflection and then back down at the twin pairs of shoes, she found herself again wishing that this disease would finally just loosen its grip on her life so that she could at least live a little before it was too late, and she wondered once again what she would have to do to ease the painful hold that was wrapped tight around her throat, choking her to death.

She thought again about Cloud, and she made the impulsive decision to go with the heels. Part of her wanted to stun him tonight, to make him do a double take so that his eyes swept over her again the way that she had caught them the other night when he'd come over for dinner.

Maybe, she thought as she slipped her feet into the Mary Janes, if he liked what he saw enough, he might even actually kiss her this time.

She was blushing as she thought about that, her cheeks adopting a rosy hue even as she dusted them lightly with rouge. She watched herself in the mirror, lining her eyelids with thick stripes of kohl and running a pink gloss across her lips, her heart beginning to race in her chest as she thought more and more about the possibilities of the evening that she was spending with Cloud as she ran her brush through her hair.

She stepped away from the mirror, admiring her finalized appearance with a nervous apprehension building in the center of her belly. She thought again about the way that her and Cloud's relationship had ended all of those years ago, how badly they had both been hurt by her father's wrath, but how Cloud had been especially hurt by how she had handled everything. Ten years had passed, and Tifa had done nothing about it, had never made any real effort to find him and try to repair the damage, even when she knew her broken heart was slowly killing her.

And now, she stood in front of her mirror, dolling herself up as she waited for him to take her on their first date in a decade, her deepest, darkest desires hoping that he might touch her again in the way that he had touched her all those years ago, that he might look at her again with that same longing in his eyes before he dropped his lips to hers.

She was daydreaming about the soft plushness of his lips when her PHS began to buzz on her vanity table, and she tore herself away from the rapidly escalating heat of her thoughts, quickly picking up the device and glancing at the display.

Cloud: Hey. I'm outside, in front of your apartment.

Tifa: I'll be right down!

Deadening the device's screen, Tifa exhaled, closing her eyes for just a moment as she summoned all of the strength she possessed. She felt her heart begin to pound faster, the words on the screen letting her know just how much closer she was to being near him again, moments away from seeing those brilliant blue eyes that had been infected by mako and that soft yellow hair that she had always wanted so badly to run her fingers through.

Maybe, if she were lucky, she would get the chance to feel those too-soft tufts again the way that she once had.

She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder; it was a warm springtime evening again and so she decided to forgo a jacket. She locked her apartment, tucking her hair behind one ear as she departed, her stomach rolling over and over itself with turbulence.

Outside, the sun was still at the border of the horizon, cradling the sky in a hazy twilight that was streaked with bright ribbons of pink and violet. There was a gentle breeze, but the temperatures were still mild, and Tifa smiled at the weather, feeling the warmth melt into her skin even as the wind blew gently through her hair.

She glanced toward the sidewalk, finding Cloud leaning against his motorcycle. He was dressed in dark colors, wearing his leather jacket again, reminding her so much of the one he'd worn when they were young. His arms were crossed over his chest as he waited, and even in the distance that separated them from where she stood by the gate of her complex, she could detect the intensity of his blue gaze on her, watching her as she approached.

She crossed her hands in front of her, folding them together, her heels clicking against the asphalt. She felt slightly uneasy and unsteady as she went, her legs reacclimatizing to standing in heels, her calves tightening with every step that she took. She tried to ignore the slight burn, instead focusing on Cloud as she advanced in his direction, his image becoming clear in her line of vision as she approached.

Before she knew it, she was coming to a stop only a couple of feet in front of him, and as she drew nearer, Cloud rose to his full height, ceasing his casual lean against his bike. He dropped his arms from his chest, opening up his body to her, and Tifa could see the dark purple henley he wore under his jacket, pressed firmly against the toned muscles of his chest. She immediately tore her stare away from where it hovered there, looking up to catch his eyes, finding them wide and bright blue when they crashed into hers.

"Hey," she greeted him, still holding her hands in front of her, her heart slamming against her chest, her cheeks warming.

"Hey, Tifa," he replied, his eyes rising and falling as he drank her in, and she didn't miss the way that he carefully licked his bottom lip as he stared. "You… look really nice."

She couldn't stop the way that his compliment made the heat rise even higher inside of her, and she leaned forward as if being pulled by a string that joined the two of them together, tugging her closer to him. "Thanks, Cloud. You look nice too. Are you reading my mind or something? This is the second time we've matched."

His own cheeks deepened in color, despite the casual smirk that he tossed in her direction in response.

"Nah, I can't read minds… yet."

There was something flirtatious in his tone, and it was lighter than Tifa was used to hearing him, sending her heart into flutters as she caught the way his smirk deepened. She giggled in response, watching as he turned behind him and reached for something that was clipped to one of the handlebars of his bike.

He turned back to her, presenting her with a yellow lily, his gloved fingers wrapped around its bright green stem. Its petals were smooth and full, and Tifa's eyes widened as he held it up in front of her, his eyes still holding hers, his lips still curved in a lazy simper.

"Is that for me?" she asked, and he only nodded, waiting for her to take it. Her hand shaking and her cheeks flushing, Tifa reached for the flower, bringing it up and sniffing it before she twirled it between her fingers. "When did you get so thoughtful?"

Cloud only shrugged, and their eyes held one another's for a long moment before she couldn't handle the blazing blue any longer and dropped her gaze back to the flower. After a beat passed, Cloud stepped closer to her, raising his hand to hers to take the flower away from her again.

"Here, I think it will look pretty like this."

He recaptured the lily, but in the process, she felt the cool leather of his gloves collide with her bare fingers. He didn't seem to notice the slight touch, but the sensation raced through Tifa upon impact, a bright dazzle that ran up her arm and left gooseflesh in its wake. Yet as if that weren't enough to render her a complete wreck, Cloud was reaching up and tucking the flower into her hair, right above her left ear, leaving shivers running down her entire body when his fingers brushed against the side of her skull as they pressed into her hair.

As soon as he dropped it there, he stepped back, shrugging a little as if he had not done anything significant at all, as if he hadn't just nearly melted her where she stood with his simple but affectionate gesture. She knew that her face was on fire, and she looked down at her silver heels, trying to distract herself from the effect he was having on her by focusing on their sparkle in the wavering sunlight.

"Thanks, Cloud. That's sweet," she finally managed.

He shrugged again, clearly trying to brush it off, and then he stepped out of the way, gesturing to his bike.

"You ready?" he asked her.

She stared at the beastly assembly of curved and coiled aluminum and steel, powerful and wrapped in leather seating with large, rolling tires. It was an intimidating sight to be sure, and Tifa realized suddenly that she was a little terrified of riding on anything that looked like this.

"What?" he pushed, sensing her hesitation. "You never ride a motorcycle before?"

"No," she admitted quietly, looking back up at him, not missing the way that his smirk turned a little bit smug.

He held out his hand to her. "Come on," he coaxed. "Get on. I won't let anything happen to you."

That last sentence crashed through her, bringing with it a dangerous hotness that soared straight between her legs, leaving her feeling suddenly flustered and maybe just a little bit embarrassed by the pulse of excitement he had awakened with his calm, gentle words. There was something about the way that he promised protection in such a simple and easy-going manner that had her mind floating through other possibilities, wondering what it might be like to be under his care in a hundred different ways.

She took his hand with a nod, trying to ignore the scorch she felt when he gripped her lightly by the waist as she climbed onto his bike, carefully swinging her leg over. It was awkward enough in her heels, but the movement pulled at her muscles and her joints, her body screaming its protest back at her with sharp juts of pain. She winced but tried to swallow it, settling herself on the seat, its smooth leather cool against her thighs as she carefully adjusted her skirt around her.

"You okay?" he asked her immediately, and Tifa caught his eyes again. They were blazing with intensity as he watched her, and she turned away, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth out of nervous habit, nodding her head.

"I'm fine. Where are we going, Cloud?"

He watched her for a moment longer, his lips separating as if he wanted to say something, but he seemed to toss it aside and instead, nodded at her. "There's a park in Sector4 where they have all these outdoor events and things like that," he said to her softly. "Tonight they're showing a classic film - The Wrath of the Last Sunrise."

Instantly, Tifa burst out laughing, covering her face with her hands.

"No. Really, Cloud?"

He smirked, but then he chuckled too, low and dark and hidden by the gruffness in his throat, but there nonetheless.

Tifa was almost giddy when Cloud turned away from her and climbed onto the bike in front of her, twisting its handlebars to bring its engine to life. The Wrath of the Last Sunrise was a film based on a terribly boring classic novel she had to read in high school, and Cloud, who had been an even bigger reader than she was and enjoyed history and war stories, had talked her through her essay, both of them poking fun at the writer's needlessly angsty writing that had clearly been unearthed in an alcoholic haze. It had become a bit of a joke between them after that, and one evening when Cloud invited Tifa over to his house, they'd watched the old classic movie version of it on a VHS tape in his living room, Cloud sitting close to her on the couch with his arm around her as they both laughed until they were in tears.

That memory burned and tore at her, and she tried to shove it away, focusing when Cloud's foot attacked the pedal of his bike.

"Just hold onto me," he told her over his shoulder. "I won't drive too fast."

Blushing again at something hidden in the undertones of his voice, Tifa carefully, tentatively, wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tight, right away feeling the firm warmth of his back across her chest, the steel of his abdomen pressed against her forearms as he pulled off into Midgar's roadways.

—

It was sometime later that Tifa found herself sitting side by side with Cloud on a bench in the park, surrounded by other couples and groups that were stretched out on lawn chairs and picnic blankets, watching the credits of The Wrath of the Last Sunrise roll as the film ended. Cloud and Tifa had sat side by side on their bench throughout the entire film, maintaining a respectable distance, but at some point, Cloud had opened up one arm and draped it behind her over the bench, his warmth seeping into her skin as he leaned casually closer in her direction. She tried to ignore him, tried to play it off and pretend that it was nothing and that it wasn't affecting her, but she could feel the heat in her skin flush, even as the night grew later and the breezes grew colder.

Now, though, the film was finally ending, and the crowd was beginning to move about and dissipate. Cloud dragged his arm away from her back, never once touching her but somehow leaving her feeling as if he had singed her with a Fira spell the entire time they sat together.

"Been a while since I've seen that," he told her, now leaning forward over his knees and turning to look up at her. "I still say it's a classic."

"It's boring," Tifa chided, tipping her head to one side as she looked down at him, their eyes meeting again. "I still never got what you saw in that book that appealed to you so much."

"What's not to like?" Cloud asked, his voice tinged with just a subtle hint of sarcasm. "A Shinra expatriate, living in Wutai with his wounds, falling in love with a woman who is far out of his league, that he can't really ever have?"

He laughed, but it was dark, and Tifa found herself drawn to him, questions that she hadn't found the courage to ask before beginning to rise to the surface again.

"Cloud.." She began softly. "What… what's SOLIDER been like?"

She paused, holding her breath and waiting. The last time she'd broached this subject, it had provoked a nasty reaction from him, causing him to dig up ugliness from their past and then throw it back in her face with a snap. But that had been weeks ago, and since then, it seemed that they had begun to turn to a new page, and he did not seem so reticent about topics that reminded them of days gone by, a decade behind in their rearview.

He finally shrugged at her questions, sitting back up straight. "What's there to say? When I was drafted, the war was still going on, but it was dragging to a close. I was in Wutai for six months when I was in the infantry, and all I did was stand around and guard shit. When I got back to Midgar, it was nothing but working for Shinra, and eventually, I made it into SOLDIER. Zack was already in SOLDIER before the war even ended."

"Zack?" Tifa queried, finding herself leaning closer to him, blinking as her curiosity piqued.

She saw Cloud flinch when she repeated the name, and there was a brief flash of something broken and sad across his face, something that Tifa thought might be regret, especially with the way that his lips turned down and his eyes met the ground. He shook his head in response.

"Never mind."

Without even intending it, Tifa was compelled by the need to alleviate whatever was holding him back, to pull open the gates and let him run free to her. She dropped her hand to his knee, startling him as he looked up at her in mild surprise, but all she did was slide even closer to him on the bench.

"Is Zack… Is Zack Denzel's father?"

Cloud was still looking up at her, and she noticed that his right hand was clenching at his side. From where she sat, she could feel the tension wind and coil inside of him, stiffening his body until his back was as rigid as a washboard. Tifa left her hand where it was on his knee, though, now terrified by the prospect of severing the connection she had suddenly initiated with him.

"Yeah," he finally admitted, shaking his head just enough that the blond hair that hung around the sides of his face swept with gold shimmers across his cheeks, distracting her momentarily. "He… he was my best friend. At least, after I moved to Midgar."

Tifa thought that last sentence he'd tacked on was odd, but she dismissed it, instead thinking back to what Marle had shared with her about Cloud and the accident and the deaths of Denzel's parents. Her tongue hovered at an odd degree in her mouth, half of it dripping with hundreds of questions that she wanted to ask, desperate to know how Cloud was coping and feeling and if there was anything she could do to help him after facing such a terrible loss and so many burdens in its aftermath.

The other half of her wanted her to shut her mouth before she ruined what little progress they'd managed to build between them in the last few days and especially in the last few weeks.

She was saved when Cloud got to his feet, though, offering her his hand and changing the subject of the conversation altogether.

"You want to go for a walk through the park?" he asked her. "There are street vendors all over the place if you're hungry. It's still early."

And so Tifa found herself walking side by side with Cloud through the park, following a winding asphalt path that looped its way through thick grassy knolls and fields, around gardens and groves of trees, beyond soccer pitches and playgrounds and a watercourse full of ponds that were attracting geese returning from the southern climes. Cloud strolled with his hands again in his pockets, while Tifa clicked quietly at his side, wrapping her arms around her as the evening wore on and the chills in the wind sharpened like blades. Her feet were beginning to ache in her heels, the balls of her feet feeling pinched, but she didn't dare say a word, pushing the pain aside and hoping it wasn't readable on her face.

They were both quiet for a while, Tifa admiring the scenery when she felt Cloud's hand suddenly on her wrist, much like it had been nights ago during dinner at her apartment. She stopped, turning to face him, his eyes glowing with mako in the darkness.

"Are you cold?" he asked her softly, and Tifa felt her heart beginning to thunder again, realizing his voice had dropped to octaves that had once soothed her so much, that she realized she had been longing to hear again for years and years now. He'd moved close to her again, and Tifa could feel his warmth and could smell his aftershave, a scent that was light and crisp and clean, and she had to actively fight the rising urge to step forward and wrap her arms around his waist.

"Oh, um, I - "

He didn't wait for her to stutter through her answer, instead began to slide out of his jacket, pulling it away and then moving even closer so that he could drape it over her shoulders. Tifa couldn't stop herself from admiring how his biceps flexed against the material of his henley as he moved, the soft cotton clinging to his well-defined form. Her eyes roved his chest, seeing the lines of his body pressed against the fabric, and by the time he had pulled her hair out of the way of his jacket around her shoulders, his knuckles skimming past the back of her neck, Tifa had almost forgotten her own name and where she was.

"Better?" he asked her, stepping away and dropping his hands back into his pockets.

Everything was happening way too fast, but Tifa only nodded, her face growing so hot she almost didn't need his jacket. But she wouldn't have given it up for the world now that she had it, its leather heavy on her shoulders, his lingering warmth and masculine scent enveloping her from within.

They walked on a bit more, Tifa ignoring the pain in her feet and shooting up the backs of her calves until they stopped at a food truck serving Costan food. Neither of them in the mood for a heavy meal, they opted for churros instead, thick tubular pastries stuffed with chocolate and vanilla creme. They found another bench not far away, and then sat side by side as they quietly ate.

"What about you?" Cloud suddenly picked up their earlier conversation. "What's Midgar been like since you moved out here? University, and all that."

He leaned back, indulging in his sweet with another bite as he glanced over at her, his blue eyes punctured by emeralds under the nearby streetlight. Tifa found herself momentarily frozen by them, and she looked away, chewing and swallowing down a bite.

"Oh… university was… an adjustment," she replied, and her words rang true, peeling at layers she had tried to bury and ignore. Coming to Midgar on her own had been a rough, lonely experience. Her relationship with her father had been dragged across coals, and she had still been in tatters over her breakup with Cloud and how miserable their separation had been. She'd been so depressed that first semester that she had nearly not made it through, teetering on the brink of failing more than just a few of her classes. It had only been some sudden, last-minute surge of self-determination, and perhaps the guidance she found in her training with Zangan, that had pulled her out of her rut before it was too late. "I was… very lonely at first. I wasn't getting along with my dad, and I didn't have any friends in the city. I started training with a local sensei, and I think he helped me overcome a lot of my fears."

"Training?" Cloud repeated, ignoring the comment about her father and still staring at her, only this time his eyes had lowered, scanning her body for a quick moment before they came back to her face.

"Zangan-Ryu," Tifa replied, turning away as she felt the heat rise again under his gentle but appraising stare. "Black belt."

"Shit," Cloud swore, leaning back against the bench. "Remind me to behave around you."

"Don't you forget it," she couldn't help but tease back.

He laughed somewhere low in his throat, finishing his pastry. "And after college?" he prompted her.

Tifa sighed wistfully, finishing the last of her pastry as well and licking the last bits of sugar from her fingertips. "Well, I was recruited into the Midgar Philharmonic right after I'd graduated. They'd been scouting me for much of my senior year. I played with them for a few years, traveled the Planet, that sort of thing."

She cut her explanation off, feeling the stab of disrupted opportunities and broken promises that littered her past cut into her heart, colliding with the sparks of shooting pain that still tore through her insides from the illness that had ruined it all. And sitting right beside her was the heart of it, the reason she had begun to fall apart, though more and more she was beginning to realize that she had brought her own destruction upon herself.

"Why'd you stop?" Cloud asked her. "Your pamphlet said you retired. Aren't you kind of young?"

Tifa could feel the weight of that cobalt gaze on the side of her face, but she refused to look at him, instead chewing on her bottom lip in an effort to keep her emotions in check. How badly she wanted to confess the truth to him, but she knew that she couldn't. Once he knew the truth, she reasoned, he would want nothing to do with her.

"Oh, no real reason," she lied, pulling his jacket closer around her shoulders. "I guess I had grown tired of traveling. Wanted something quiet and simple. I like teaching."

She was ready to let it drop, but Cloud wasn't finished, leaning even closer to her, the gentle breeze tossing his flaxen hair across his forehead. "Jessie told me you got sick," he whispered.

Tifa winced, remembering the conversation she'd dropped in on, catching Jessie about to give away all of her secrets as if she were reporting out the six o'clock news. She shook her head, her mind scrambling to kill his line of thought.

"Oh, well… traveling takes its toll on you, y'know?" she deflected. "I'm sure you can relate, having been in SOLDIER. Didn't you ever feel a little sick when you were overseas in Wutai from time to time?"

Cloud stared at her face so intently that Tifa certain he was reading right through her fabrication. He then dropped his stare to her hands, studying them for so long that they began to tremble where she'd centered them in her lap.

"Yeah," he finally agreed, though she detected a hint of reluctance in his tone. "I think I know what you mean."

The wind blew with a stronger chill then, and Cloud leaned in closer to her, dropping his arm behind her on the bench again, only this time, it was pressed against her back and his wrist was just barely resting against her shoulder.

Overcome by his heat and closeness, Tifa found herself sinking closer to him, and she tried to distract herself from the invisible rope that tugged her in his direction by looking up at the sky. It was a clear night above Midgar's Topside plates, and although the city's light pollution was muting the glows of the heavens, Tifa could still make out the bright prettiness of the stars, scattered spills of white and gold dust that contrasted with the black canvas, filtered by the green glow of mako.

"Tifa?" Cloud was asking at her side.

She turned to him, her eyes widening slightly at the low edge in his voice. "Hm?"

"Did you have a good time tonight?" he asked, and his voice was so quiet, chased away by the wind, that it almost seemed like he had been scared to ask, afraid of her answer.

She smiled at him, her hand snaking across her lap and over his own, moving on its own volition as it found his hand and wrapped around it.

"I had a great time, Cloud. This was really thoughtful and lovely."

"Will you go out with me again sometime?" he asked her as soon as she had finished her thought.

She swallowed, still holding her smile, but hearing thunderclaps in her chest as her heart raced and slammed into her ribcage. Impulsively, she squeezed his hand to bolster her response.

"Of course," she whispered, her voice colored with a little too much enthusiasm.

But Cloud was bending his face down, leaning toward her then, and Tifa felt a rise of excitement and panic, her entire body charged as he moved in close near her face. As her mind began to disintegrate with anticipation, he pressed a kiss to her cheek, dangerously close to the corner of her mouth, so close to her lips that she could feel the scalding wet heat of his emanate over her own.

He lingered there with his lips pressed to her skin for what felt like an eternity, though it couldn't have lasted more than a couple of seconds. Yet by the time he pulled away from her, she knew that he had seared her, that he had marked her flesh forever, not unlike the way he had done all of those years and years ago.

"Come on," he said after a moment, still holding her hand, while she just sat there dumbfounded. "I should get you home."

The entire time he drove back to her apartment in Sector7, Tifa held onto his body tighter and closer than she had when he'd first picked her up, desperately chasing the heat and the strength of his body, the pulse between her legs aching, her heart heavy and fast, her body sore and her emotions wild.

When he dropped her off, he climbed off the bike and helped her to her feet, blushing mildly when she adjusted her skirt. He took her hand this time, walking her to her apartment's gate, dropping his hands into his pockets as she turned to go inside.

"Goodnight, Tifa," he said to her, turning to leave.

"Wait!" she called after him, pulling his jacket from around her shoulders. "Your jacket, Cloud."

"Keep it," he told her, walking backward with a smirk. "I've got plenty of them. Besides, that one looks better on you, anyway."

He finally turned away, making for his bike before Tifa could voice another word of protest.

When she got upstairs, after finally pulling her painful stilettos off of her feet, she placed the yellow lily in a glass of water in front of the window by her kitchen sink, and she brought the leather jacket to bed with her, Cloud's scent and the warmth of his body lulling her to sleep and dulling the aches that traveled the rivers of nerves in her body, her dreams imagining his lips moving just a little further to the left the next time, and perhaps a little lower.

—

[ μ ] - εγλ - 1996 | 8th December

Snowcapped Valleys

Cloud was standing on the sidewalk across the street from Nibelheim's only high school, his hands buried deep in his pockets, a few light snowflakes falling around him in gentle flurries, catching into his hair as the winter's first snowfall began to descend on Nibelheim, a town that was growing sleepier as the season wore on. The Yule cheer began to infect the landscape, colorful fairy lights decorating houses, and the large Yule tree propped up in the center of the town's square, inviting passerby to admire its grandeur.

Despite the deep chills and the stinging winds that bit into his cheeks, Cloud still wore his favorite worn-out leather jacket over his turtleneck, his hands slung low in his pockets as he waited for Tifa to appear on the street. His hands were dried out from working in the reactor, early mornings spent trudging up into the mountains, pulling on heavy protective gear before he went to work on the maintenance of the cooling units on the upper level. It was one of the less dangerous jobs inside of the reactor, and Cloud realized he'd been given that particular assignment because of his age, noticing most of the other workers who labored in his section of the reactor were also young men who were relatively recent high school graduates as well. Every morning at six AM, they would report to the reactor to begin their work, inspecting the airflow of the vents and making repairs, ensuring that the deeper functions inside of the reactor did not overheat and the pumps were able to adequately extract Lifestream that flowed buried within the mountain and refine it into raw mako for energy consumption. It was dull, monotonous work, and Cloud despised the early morning hours, but the pay was decent, and such early shifts usually meant he was home by the time most of the village was breaking for lunch.

On the days that he was able to borrow his mother's car, he started to pick Tifa up from school. He hated the idea that she would walk home in the cold weather, and even though she'd broken up with her boyfriend - that silly, stuffed-shirt punk Jody- he couldn't avoid the way that his possession was taking route in his limbs, and he really didn't want any of those lame high school boys thinking they had a shot with her. So any opportunity he had to make his presence known, he took advantage of.

He watched the teenagers empty in a swarm from the high school's front steps, moving onto the sidewalks and nearby streets in packs, some of the older kids finding their cars in the adjacent parking lot. Although Cloud was only a year older and in some cases the same age as the oldest students at this school, he couldn't avoid the air of superiority he felt in watching them, knowing that he had already completed this absurd phase of life and no longer had to deal with the mundanity of high school. He smirked at the laughter and antics of the students as they passed him by, pulling his hands out of his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest, glad to no longer be among their ranks, now a working man with his own hard-earned cash in his pockets.

Tifa sometimes had after school activities, he knew, meeting with her teachers or her counselors or for student council activities, and he would often wait for her in his mother's car until she got out. Today, though, she didn't have any extracurriculars, and being a Friday afternoon, he had something planned for the two of them.

It wasn't long before the crowd of students thinned out and Cloud spotted Tifa in the back of the group, splintering off from a troupe of girls who were laughing cheerily, their cheeks colored from the wind. But Tifa glowed like the brightest star among them, her face resplendent with a rosy hue, the flurries sticking to her hair like sugar crystals before they melted away into her dark tresses. Even from dozens of feet away, Cloud felt his heart arrested by the sight of her, the divinity of her beauty captivating him and locking his stare onto her as she approached.

Her girlfriends made their way down the road, Tifa heading in Cloud's direction, her lips pulling back into a smile when she spotted him, her face radiating impossibly brighter when their eyes met. Cloud pushed away from where he leaned on the back of the sedan, unfolding his arms as Tifa began to jog in his direction.

"Tifa!"

Tifa was only half a dozen feet away from him when the voice cut through the space between them, its sound instantly setting Cloud's nerves on edge. He turned, finding Jody Hartley approaching, wearing his varsity jacket and one arm at his shoulder as he held onto where his backpack was slung there.

Tifa came to a stop, turning to Jody, and Cloud could see the way that her eyes narrowed, could feel the way her entire body tensed even from where he stood. Instinctively, he took a few steps closer, closing the gaps between the three of them.

Jody tossed him a caustic glare as he moved closer, his pale blue eyes narrowing for a brief moment before he turned away and looked back at Tifa, effectively ignoring him. At his sides, Cloud was clenching both his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

"What is it, Jody?" Tifa asked, her tone betraying a complete lack of patience, on the border of exasperation.

Jody cast another sidelong look at Cloud, but he noticed that he refused to make eye contact with him before he turned back quickly to Tifa, his brow furrowing. "Can we talk in private?"

Tifa blanched, clearly displeased by this idea, and Cloud felt himself hovering over the precipice of a hasty decision that was likely to get him into a lot of trouble if he did not calm his sudden impulses. He clenched and unclenched his hands over and over again, trying to unwind the tension in his body that had him ready to step forward and intervene.

But he watched Tifa as she stepped forward, and he decided to let her handle it herself.

"I don't think so, Jody," she said, and Cloud found himself stunned when she stepped beside him and looped her arm through his own. "If you have something to say, you can say it in front of Cloud."

Cloud dropped a hand into his pocket, now feeling smug, especially as Jody's lips turned down into a nasty scowl. Their pairs of blue eyes met briefly, so different in shade, Cloud's bright and effervescent and Jody's muted and icy, and Cloud couldn't help but smirk while Jody only continued to frown.

The boy was stewing in anger, but he was turning his attention back to Tifa.

"I'm calling my Confirmation to the Goddess on Sunday morning," Jody finally continued, dropping his voice lower, as if somehow Cloud might not hear him. "My mother told me that you were going to be my Companion. That's all I wanted to talk to you about."

"What?" Tifa questioned, clearly incredulous.

Cloud raised an eyebrow at all of this. Neither he nor his mother were very religious - he suspected this was yet another reason that his mother had always been a bit on the outskirts of the social circles in town - but he knew enough about the Minervian religious practices and how faithfully they were attended to in backwater dumps like Nibelheim where people were dumb enough buy into legends that men had written long before their time, somehow thinking that their confessionals and rituals would spare them from eternal damnation and the finality of death if they just believed.

That thought only left the smirk deepening on Cloud's face as he unhooked his arm from Tifa's and instead wrapped it around her shoulders, earning another grimace from Jody.

"I don't know anything about that, Jody," Tifa finally said. "Listen, I've got to go."

"Whatever, Tifa."

Jody leveled one last look at Cloud, and this time, he did drag his eyes to meet his. Cloud stared at him, his palms beginning to itch, wishing he would say something to him to give him an excuse to smash his teeth into the concrete.

But Jody only rolled his eyes and turned away, heading back down the sidewalk and eventually catching up with another group of boys, all of them wearing the same varsity jacket as he was.

Cloud turned to Tifa, finding her face red but her eyebrows furrowed in anger as she watched Jody disappear. Not wanting her attention on that loser any longer, he reached up with his free hand and gently grabbed her chin.

"Hey."

She looked up at him, and her features immediately softened and relaxed when their eyes met.

"I thought you broke up with him?" he teased, and Tifa blushed, shaking her head.

"I don't know what he's talking about," she replied, leaning in closer to him, sharing her warmth and snatching away some of his. "I never agreed to participate in his Goddess Confirmation. I have enough things on my mind right now."

At that, Cloud flung the Hartley boy from his mind and now wrapped both arms around Tifa, pulling her in close to him, still keeping his eyes connected with hers, dark rubies that were shining under the sunlight as the snow continued to fall in gentle puffs. "Speaking of," he began, "Do you have to go straight home today? It's Friday, and I thought maybe we could hang out for a little while. The snowstorm is supposed to get worse tonight, so we probably won't be able to go out later."

Tifa thought about it for a moment, pursing her lips and then biting her bottom lip before she looked up at him again. "I think we can sneak off for a little while," she granted. "My dad probably won't be home until late. He usually has to help with the city's preparations before a big storm. What did you have in mind?"

"Come on," Cloud said to her instead of answering, walking her to the car and opening the passenger side door for her.

It was sometime later when he had driven her to the other side of town toward the northwest, passing by the Shinra Mansion and then the gates that led into the mountains. He bypassed them, finding an off-road that climbed alongside the dangerous mountain path, cutting through a line of trees.

"Cloud?" Tifa questioned as he drove. "Where are we going? I don't think we are supposed to be here. This is off-limits to everyone except for Shinra."

"I work for Shinra, remember?" Cloud replied, turning to her just long enough to offer her a wink before he turned back to the road. "I have my badge, if anyone stops us. Anyway, we aren't going far. I just wanted to show you something."

She nodded, but he could see the hesitation etched across her face even from his peripheral. It was no secret that Mount Nibel was a treacherous place. Aside from the reactor and the obvious dangers of raw mako, the mountains were populated by monsters, especially the nasty green dragons that breathed fire and ate men whole. Every day that Cloud ventured up to the reactor, he held onto the fear that the Shinra ropeway might be attacked by one.

Still, he isn't planning to take Tifa that far - his destination was only a short distance away and not deep into the most perilous parts of the mountain. Not to mention, he would never bring Tifa anywhere that might put her in danger.

He eventually found the spot he was looking for - a small outcropping of flat rock that was lower in the valley than other parts of the cliff face, but overlooked a vast precipice that gave a brilliant view of the sharp, jutting point of Mount Nibel's proudest peaks in the distance. To their immediate left was a small cave, one that Cloud had found a few days ago when he had been wandering around the mountain during one of his breaks.

He put the car into park, shutting the engine off as Tifa turned in his direction.

"Wow," she said to him, somewhat breathless. "This is quite a view. I've never been up in the mountains this far before. My father would kill me if he knew I was up here."

Cloud found that somewhat amusing, for whatever reason. "First time for everything," he taunted. "Come on, I want to show you something."

They both got out of the car, and as soon as Tifa came around to join him, he took her hand. Her skin was cold, and her cheeks were still bright and wet, the snow falling even more thickly up here than it had down in the lowest valley where the village was located. He pulled her close to him, then started in the direction of the cave.

"Cloud?" she queried as they made their way. "Is that a cave? I don't want to go in there!"

"Relax," he told her, finding her trepidation the most adorable thing in the world, and all he wanted to do at that very moment was squeeze her tight, anchoring her to him. "Just trust me."

He heard her huff at his side, but her hesitation was mild, and soon, she was letting him pull her along. When they reached the cave, a small, dark opening in the pearlescent gray crags of the rock, the clearance was so low that Cloud had to duck a little to enter, pulling Tifa along and then wrapping his arm around her waist and positioning her in front of him so that his eyes remained on her at all times.

He heard the distinct chirps as they moved closer inside of the narrow space, the inner walls of the cave glowing with a faint green hue, raw materia buried somewhere deep in the rock. In front of him, he heard Tifa's sudden, distinct gasp, and he realized she had found the source of why he had brought her here.

"Baby chocobos!" she exclaimed.

Cloud's smirk turned into a real smile, and he couldn't stop himself from leaning forward and turning his gentle hold on her waist into a full-fledged hug from behind, dropping his chin to her shoulder, still feeling her body's warmth despite the thick of layers of fabric that they both wore. His eyes dropped to the nest that was woven into the gap of rock in front of them, a trio of baby birds nestling inside, pecking away at each other and emitting tiny, high-pitched cries into the air.

"Where's the mommy?" Tifa asked innocently.

He squeezed her tighter, and Tifa hummed low in her throat as she leaned back into him, flooding him with even more warmth. "I saw a wild chocobo running around here a few days ago. I thought it was strange, and that's how I discovered the nest. I think she leaves them during the day to find food and comes back at night. I know how much you like them, so I thought you'd want to see them before she moves the nest again."

"They're so cute!" Tifa gushed, clasping her hands in front of her.

Just like you, he thought, unable to stop himself from kissing the shell of her ear through her hair.

She giggled at the sensation, then reached back and ruffled his hair messily, and the feel of her fingers across his scalp almost made him purr.

"Your hair reminds me of a chocobo," she told him, this time with a laugh that was a little too husky, and Cloud felt his cheeks begin to blaze.

They admired the tiny birds for a moment longer before Cloud backed up and gently pulled at her shoulders, suggesting they leave them alone before the mother returned. Wild chocobos were known for their nasty attacks, especially when defending their young or their territory.

He walked her back to the car, the snow now being blown in every direction as the force of the gales picked up, and once they were inside, Cloud brought the engine back to life and cranked the heat up. The sky was beginning to darken - it was close to five - and if they stayed out here late enough, they might be able to see the stars.

Tifa reached over his lap when she'd settled back into the car, finding his hand. He accepted it, squeezing hers back as he leaned in closer to her, their shoulders meeting.

She was staring out of the windshield, up at the sky and the juts of mountain peaks climbing into the sky beyond. Cloud found himself studying the profile of her face, the way her dark hair swept and bordered the perfect rises and slopes of her cheeks and her chin, the button of her nose, and the soft pout of her bottom lip. Wanting her even closer, he let go of her hand and then wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her tight, trying to collide the warmth of both their bodies together.

"Cloud?" she began, her voice small.

"Hmm?"

"The old legends say that people go to the other side of the mountain when they die. Do you remember that?"

"I don't know anything about Nibelheim legends, Tifa."

"I guess not," she laughed lightly. "I keep forgetting that you didn't grow up here. Sometimes… I feel like I've known you my entire life."

He didn't know what to say to that, only that his heart started pounding and that his chest was flooded with heat, appreciating the sentiment.

She heaved a little sigh, settling in closer to him, growing comfortable with the firmness of his body as a cushion for hers. "You know, I used to believe it?" she continued with another laugh. "I really believed that when I died, I would just go to the other side of the mountain, where everything was perfect and no one ever hurt, where everyone was happy."

"Adults liked to teach us a lot of bullshit when we were kids," Cloud said in concession.

"Cloud, I think my mother is going to die."

At that, Cloud turned to her, caught off guard by her sudden statement, her bottom lip beginning to tremble as she stared ahead at the view beyond the bluff, of the violent, volatile mountains that rose up high into the blackening sky, hiding great perils and secrets behind their stony faces. He held her tighter, feeling his throat tighten, a snake constricting his windpipe.

"Tifa, I - "

"She's not getting any better," Tifa suddenly choked out, and Cloud realized with horror that her voice had broken into a sob, that she was on the verge of spilling tears, that she was trying to hold them back. "She's been bedridden since Harvestfest. She hasn't said a word to me or my dad since she got out of the hospital. She won't eat. She won't take her medicine unless Dr. Brewster gives her a shot, which just keeps her from tearing her own skin off."

Her words climbed out of her with a brutality that Cloud had never seen from Tifa before, worse than the way that she had cried in his arms the night before Harvestfest when her mother had splintered apart. That night, Tifa had been broken and mournful, crying her sorrows into his shoulder as he held her tight and tried to soothe her desperate worries away. This time, though, she seemed angry and panicked, the ridge of her voice raw and sharp, and he finally saw the tears begin to crawl down her cheeks, colliding and splashing into the hem of her turtleneck beneath her throat.

He was seized by the terror of watching her slowly fall apart, and he found himself inwardly cursing circumstances for making her life the way it was. His life wasn't the grandest - he was kind of a screwup and an underachiever, hadn't figured out what he was going to do with his life, and was pretty much settling for whatever would keep his mother off his back for the next ten minutes. He was impulsive and antisocial and a little bit of an asshole, especially to people he didn't like, his retorts sharp and sarcastic and his eyes prone to rolling. Trouble followed him around like a moth to a flame, and he knew easily that he wasn't most folks' favorite person in the world.

But Tifa didn't deserve any of the misery she was living with. She was hardworking and smart and determined, talented and sweet and kind. Yet she was stressed by a father who drank until his liver shrank and his pores leaked, by a mother whose mental and physical illness was rendering her into a state of complete hysteria, burdening the entire family. And Tifa had her entire future to look forward to, was still planning for it, and somehow, somehow, she still made time for him.

He didn't deserve her, but he knew that he would do whatever he could for her to make things better.

He pulled on the side lever of his seat and slid it all the way back, putting as much distance between him and the steering wheel as possible. Wordlessly, he pulled on Tifa's arms, guiding her until she complied and climbed over the console, folding herself into his lap.

"I'm sorry, Teef," he whispered, brushing his thumbs under her cheeks to flick her tears away. "I know it's not much, but no matter what happens, I'm here for you. Okay?"

He felt her shiver, despite the way that the heat was blasting from the car's vents. Her eyes met his, thick garnets that twinkled like glass in the approaching darkness, the snow falling harder and now coating the windshield in a light film.

"Thank you," she whispered to him before she crushed her lips to his.

And Cloud kissed her and held her as the snow piled and the stars fell, forgetting about her sick mother and her drunk father, about Jody and Goddess Confirmations, about the reactor and baby chocobos and dragons and not going to college and all of it, his senses dulled by the notes of cherry blossoms and lily-of-the-valley in her skin, all of it falling away until nothing remained but her, all that he needed as he tried to give himself to be all that she would ever need, too.

Unfortunately, nothing that Cloud could give her could stop her mother from dying, two days before Yule.