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.

8. Chapter 8

A/N Thank you everyone for your patience and your love and reviews! I'm happy to share an update to this fic. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Eight

—

[ ν ] - εγλ - 2007 |May 8th

Linen and Sunlight

Cloud woke early the next morning to the sensation of the first rays of sunlight casting heat over his eyelids, and in an effort to avoid it, he pulled the linens higher over his head and curled closer to the warmth that was sinking into his skin.

The light smell of vanilla and jasmine invaded his senses then, and his eyes were opening, glancing down to find Tifa Lockhart lying beside him, curved close against his body, completely tangled in his sheets and her limbs tangled with his. Her hair was spilled across his pillows in an inky puddle, and her face was tucked in close to the crook of his arm, resting by the inside of his chest. She was breathing lightly in sleep, a leg and one arm thrown over him, holding onto him closely, her slender body snug and adorable in his oversized clothing.

Cloud shifted slightly so that he could get a better look at her as sleep slowly drifted away, and he reached up one hand to gently comb her hair away from her cheek with his fingers. At the movement of his body and the light caress of his touch, she heaved a delicate sigh, latching onto him more tightly and burrowing herself deeper into the throes of her slumber.

Cloud's fingers tangled themselves into her hair, his heart beginning to beat a little faster as her warmth pressed closer into him, reminding him of their night together. As the days continued to pass by, he found himself falling deeper and deeper into her, the flames of his old desires and buried and repressed feelings being reignited and pulled back up to the surface. Last night, their second date in as many as days, it had almost fully burst forth to the surface, and Cloud had found himself on his knees in front of her, moments away from ripping her fully apart with all of the love and affection that had been bottled up inside of him for a decade.

They had been forced to stop, though, and the rest of their night was spent together in complete innocence. Even now, their bodies pressed close together in a warm but gentle embrace that had carried them through the night, Cloud managed to remain respectful throughout the long hours, resisting the urge to use their time alone together to push them both past the boundaries they were both creeping toward. With Tifa lying so purely beside him, drifting quickly into a quiet but exhausted slumber at his side, he couldn't help but behave himself, despite how his most impulsive urges were dictating otherwise.

Something about her scent and her softness so close to him, though, was calming, and he realized that he had slept through the night better than he could recall in a long time - probably since before Zack and Aerith's death, maybe even long before that. For whatever reasons, her presence, slid beside him under the cover of darkness, was a balm on his soul, silently easing and calming the storm clouds that raged and plundered through his head and left his heart constantly feeling heavy.

His fingers were threaded deep into her tresses when she opened her eyes, his palm trailing a line down her shoulder while he continued to admire her face. Her eyes fluttered and then widened, scarlet crashing into azure with the subtle hints of daybreak's orange sunlight cresting across them both. Catching him staring at her as she slept, Tifa lifted her head slightly and shook her head out, blinking as her pupils adjusted.

"Cloud?" she questioned thickly, her voice throaty and still trapped beneath the encasement of sleep, and Cloud realized he could wake up to that husky melody for the rest of his life.

"Morning, Teef," he greeted her, pulling his fingers away from her silky strands, instantly missing the weight of them when he dragged away. He leaned back slightly to give her a little space and to get a better look at her face. "Did you sleep okay?"

She smiled, and he didn't miss the distinct pinkness that crept into her cheeks when she glanced between them, noting their pose that had grown more intimate through the night, and the fact that she was wearing his clothes. It was endlessly endearing, and without thinking about it, he found himself returning her smile.

"I did," she replied softly, yawning then, stretching away the vestiges of sleep. "Thanks for letting me crash here. It was… nice."

"Sure," he responded, almost a little too eagerly, thrilled by her sentiment. "Anytime, Tifa. I didn't want you heading home by yourself at that late hour."

Her cheeks darkened even further in hue, and she pulled her arm from around his body, balling her fist up as she pressed it between them. Gently, she rested it against his chest, unfurling her fingers against his heartbeat. For whatever reason, Cloud stopped breathing.

Long moments passed while Tifa lay still beside him, her hand burning through his shirt as she focused on the sound of his pulse. She was looking down, and Cloud studied her lashes, wondering what she was thinking, the words to ask on the tip of his tongue.

"What time is it?" she suddenly asked before he could speak, glancing up at him. He sighed inwardly as she pulled her hand away and sat up, and Cloud glanced up at the ribbons of sunlight that were pouring through his blinds.

"Looks like the sun just came up," he said, then leaned over to reach for his PHS on the bedside table. "Yeah, close to seven."

Tifa hummed quietly and nodded, sitting up fully. She looked down at herself in his clothing as the sheets fell away, blushing again as she wrapped her arms around herself. Everything about her mannerisms were so damn cute that Cloud had to actively fight the urge to wrap his arms around her again and press her into the mattress with a kiss.

"I better get going, then," Tifa responded softly. "I need to get ready to open up for the Sunday morning breakfast crowd. Plus, I'd rather not be here when Denzel wakes up. He might have too many questions."

She hadn't moved yet, but Cloud was already mourning the warmth of her body from his bed. He nodded, sitting up beside her.

"He's getting to be a big boy. I'm sure he can handle it."

She chuckled lightly in response. "You're the one who will have to have that conversation with him, not me," she replied, finally pulling the covers back and kicking her feet out of the bed, her hair slithering long and black across his sheets as she moved.

Cloud shrugged, and he noticed her wince slightly as she stretched and then moved to rise to her feet. The same subtle, backdrop of pain was living behind her eyes and the furrow of her brow that he had observed her with from time to time as they had spent time together, pricking at something in the back of his brain, and he found himself watching her with his head cocked to one side, his thoughts burning with the dozens of questions he wanted to ask.

He kept quiet, though, and it wasn't long before Tifa was changed back into her own clothes and gathering her purse, handing him his sweats.

"Thanks again," she told him as they stepped together into the living room. The sun was fully awake in the sky now, and Aerith's flowers sat at the windowsill, leaning into it gracefully. "I'll take a cab home."

"I'll call one for you," Cloud said immediately, reaching for his PHS, and pulling it out to order a cab for her, Tifa only nodding in response as she turned away to admire the flowers by the window. When he'd finished, Cloud glanced at the date on his PHS, and suddenly something was poking his mind again, a memory resurfacing that he had all but interred.

"Hey, Tifa?"

"Hm?" she turned to him again, pulling her coat closer around her, her crimson eyes latching onto his.

"Isn't your birthday this month?" he asked her, taking a step closer.

The already tentative smile she was holding faltered a bit, and she was looking down at her hands, running her fingers of one across the knuckles of the other. She shrugged dismissively.

"It was a few days ago, Cloud," she answered after seconds ticked by in a long stretch. "May third."

Cloud frowned a little. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. That had been just that past Tuesday. If he would have known, he would have tried to make their dates even more special, would have even got her a gift.

He glanced down at the ring on his finger from Andrea, wondering if somehow the strange benefactor hadn't known more than he had let on.

Tifa tossed her head slightly, her smile returning, though it was humorless and didn't quite warm her face. "I don't really celebrate," she admitted quietly. "There's nothing really special about it for me, so it's no big deal. I pretty much even forgot it had come."

Cloud couldn't avoid closing the gap between them even further, unable to digest the depression that was laced behind her words, though he could empathize with it. In recent years, he'd come to not give a fuck about his own birthday, either. It brought back too many painful memories, of friends and loved ones who were gone, of failures and mistakes made in the past that were forever burned across his historical record.

Still, it wasn't right for Tifa. She deserved anything and everything that brought forth her any happiness or joy in the world.

"I'll make it up to you," was all he said in promise, and Tifa only blushed, turning away from the flowers to face him fully.

"Okay," she whispered her response, and then she took a final step closer to him, carefully leaning up to press her lips to his in a gentle and virtuous kiss, her lips soft but sealed against his.

Cloud felt the burn race in dual pathways to the center of his chest and the back of his brain, but before he could deepen it or respond with the wildness that was rising up inside of him, she was backing away. He watched her lick her lips after they broke apart, and he felt his entire body begin to swell with heat, barely registering the sound of a taxi's horn blaring from the street below.

"We'll talk later this week, right?" she asked, making for his door. "And don't forget, Denzel has a lesson this afternoon."

"He'll be there," Cloud assured her, walking her down the stairs and outside. "I'll call you, Tifa."

She waved shyly at him as she disappeared down his front steps, Cloud watching her hips as she made her way to the taxi.

He leaned against the doorframe, his lips still hot and wet from hers and his mind still racing with a thousand thoughts of what he was going to say to her when he spoke to her next, how he was going to help her celebrate her birthday and make her realize that it was worth it, and how he was going to trim away the remaining space that existed between them in their relationship so that she could once again be his the way that she was always meant to be.

—

[ ν ] - εγλ - 2007 |May 11th

Kid Gloves

It was later that week when Cloud was pulling his motorcycle up in front of First Midgar Elementary. The school year was almost over, and the end-of-year report cards were being distributed that afternoon during mandatory parent-teacher conferences. Cloud would have completely forgotten about it if it were not for the reminder he had programmed into his PHS.

He entered the school, waiting in the lobby and trying to hold back his frustration when he was told he would have to wait a bit until Marle was free. He stood in one corner, arms crossed over his chest, watching the hustle and bustle of students and teachers and parents as they passed by, wincing occasionally at the noise levels of the school.

He was checking his watch when a secretary approached him, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Mr. Strife? Mrs. Collins will see you now. Denzel is waiting with her in the classroom."

Cloud nodded wordlessly, turning and heading down the hallway in the direction of Marle's classroom. Ignoring the way that excited children ran past him in the halls, their sneakers squeaking against the tiled floors and their voices bright with laughter, Cloud dropped his hands in his pockets and tried to focus his thoughts. The truth was, he had been moving through work and his home life in a light fog, mystified and still thinking over and over again about Tifa and the events of the weekend. Despite how tangled and desperate he was becoming when it came to her, the one thing that he was realizing was that his mood was actually beginning to, somewhat, improve.

At least, when he was thinking about her or exchanging innocent text messages with her, light and tentative notes where they asked each other how their days were going, mundane details about their lives traded like secrets between them. Still, though, Cloud hadn't managed to ask her out again, still trying to decide on the best way to help her celebrate her belated birthday.

Eventually, he found Marle's classroom, and as he peered inside he found Marle at her desk, looking over some papers. Denzel was standing in the back of the room, hanging up posters on a bulletin board.

Marle looked up when he appeared. "Ah, Mr. Strife," she greeted, her blue-gray eyes lighting up as she rose to her feet. "I'm so glad you could make it this afternoon. Please, come in."

Cloud crossed into the room, trying not to grimace at the way that Marle insisted on referring to him so formally. "Please, Cloud is fine," he reminded her for the hundredth time.

She ignored him, gesturing to him to have a seat in one of the pupil desks, while across the room, Denzel turned to him and waved.

"Hi, Cloud!" he greeted, and Cloud didn't miss how bright Denzel's smile was, a cheerfulness in his disposition that Cloud absolutely thought was entirely new.

"Hey," Cloud waved back, offering the kid a smile of his own.

He sat down across from Marle, pulling on the sleeves of his leather jacket, feeling himself begin to sweat. Why were these school classrooms always so ungodly warm?

"Denzel is our class leader for this month," Marle explained, nodding her head at the way Denzel worked at the bulletin board. "He's responsible for updating all of our charts, and for making sure that all of the other student helpers keep up with their tasks. He's doing a great job."

"That's great," Cloud responded, his own lips expanding into a smile, wondering how Zack might react if he were alive to hear this praise.

"Cloud," Marle began, keeping her voice low so that Denzel would not be distracted by their conversation. "Of all the parents I was scheduled to see tonight, I was most looking forward to meeting with you. I'm very pleased to share Denzel's progress with you."

Cloud only nodded, leaning over on the desk, folding his hands in front of him as he waited.

Marle handed him a slip of paper. "As you know, the school year is over in just a couple of weeks. We've already tabulated final grades. That is Denzel's final report card for this school year."

Cloud accepted the slip of paper and held it up, glancing over the grades and the comments in the columns. On Denzel's last report card, he had earned mostly Cs and a few Bs. This time, though, Cloud had to admit that he was impressed to see that all of the C's had disappeared and that Denzel had earned Bs in almost everything with the exception of Music, Art, and Math, where he had scored As.

Cloud sat back, stunned by the progress that was foretold on the page. At the beginning of the school year, Denzel had been on the verge of failing everything. He refused to do homework, frequently misplaced or lost his assignments, and was getting into trouble more often than not. Cloud had been at his wit's end for most of the year, certain that he would never be able to help set Denzel on the right track, that he was a failure as a stand-in for a father whose shoes he could never fill.

Now, he couldn't help but smile, thinking that things maybe weren't so bad after all.

"Wow," he finally said, looking up at Marle.

Marle was grinning back at him, the wrinkles by the corners of her eyes pinched tight as she tapped her pencil against her grade book a few times. "He's made quite the turnaround, Cloud," she agreed. "I'm very impressed by everything that I've seen. Not only has he made great progress academically, but he continues to be such a shining example for his peers. He's become very helpful around the classroom and gets along with all of the other students, and is much more social than he was in the beginning of the year."

"I'm glad to hear that," Cloud conceded.

"I assume Denzel is still meeting with Ms. Lockhart?" Marle asked.

Cloud felt himself tense up and flush at the unexpected mention of Tifa. "Y-yeah," he heard himself stammer, unsure of why. "He's seeing her twice a week now, actually."

Marle's smile became suspiciously knowing, and she leaned back in her seat, smirking slightly. "Is that so? You know, during music class last week, Denzel mentioned that he had an interest in playing with the school's concert band next year. I mentioned it to Mr. Valentine, the school's music teacher and band director. We both think it will be a wonderful idea."

"Great," Cloud agreed.

"As I've said before," Marle went on, lowering her voice even further, "It is important that Denzel remains in activities that will hold his interest, especially as he continues to grapple with the loss of his parents. Not only is the distraction nice, but it will help him to cope with the difficult feelings he'll be processing, especially as he gets older. It will provide him with an outlet, of sorts."

Cloud just nodded, unsure of what to say, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation and not really in the mood to think about Zack and Aerith. But Marle kept going without pause.

"Did Tifa invite you for that dinner yet?" she asked him, her voice turning up with mirth, and the nature of her question had Cloud's cheeks brightening.

"Y-yeah," he responded after a moment. He tried to shift the direction of the conversation to keep from setting his nerves any further on fire. "Denzel showed me what he had learned on Tifa's piano."

"Ahh," Marle clicked with a nod. "Well, I'm glad to hear of it. Tifa is quite the cook, isn't she?"

"She is," Cloud agreed carefully, despising the rising warmth in his cheeks.

Marle's eyes were studying his face far too closely, forcing him to shift in discomfort in his seat. What the fuck was she looking at?

"You know," she went on then. "Tifa is a very dear friend of mine. I've known her for a long time, since she moved to Sector7 several years ago and started working at Seventh Heaven. It was right around the time she retired from her symphony career."

"Yeah," Cloud said lamely, not sure of where this was headed.

Marle glanced at Denzel, who was still preoccupied with decorating the bulletin board, before she turned her attention back to Cloud. "Listen, Tifa has been through a lot these last few years. It hasn't been easy for her, and it's not my place to say why. But I know that she cares very much for Denzel, and maybe even for you."

Cloud just sat there, staring, his heart starting to beat faster, his mind racing as he wondered just how close Tifa and Marle actually were and how much she might have told her.

"I don't want to see her hurt anymore, so whatever happens between you two, you better take care of her," Marle warned, her voice now gruff and roughed over, that smoker's edge to her tone more evident than usual. "She needs a friend more than anything, someone who will listen to her, really care, and not just go through the motions."

Cloud suddenly felt the urge to snap, his feelings and emotions of the last ten years bubbling to the surface at her words, barely repressed. "I'm already her friend," he bit out, working hard to keep his tone from sounding nasty or petulant. "I've known her for over ten years."

Marle only raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth tugging as if she were greatly amused by this bit of information, as well as his defensive tone. "Is that right? Well, then you should know more than anyone that she needs someone in her life who will actually care about her… someone who isn't an old lady or a washed-up martial arts master, if you catch my drift."

Cloud definitely did catch her drift, and her boldness had his entire face on fire, and suddenly he was in a big hurry to get the fuck out of this school.

"Anything else about Denzel?" Cloud abruptly changed gears in the conversation.

Marle only laughed lightly in response, and Cloud could detect the teasing edge in her voice, and he did his level best to ignore it and not let it heat him up any more than he already was. She shook her head, carefully sliding to her feet at her desk.

"No, I think that will be all for today. As a reminder, Denzel should start taking home some of his things and clean out his cubby by the end of next week, before we break for the summer. Since grades are already out, the last days of school will be dedicated to recreation and social-emotional learning activities, so I suggest he dress in comfortable clothing, as we will be spending a great deal of time outside."

"Alright," Cloud replied, some of the tension slipping out of his shoulders.

"Denzel, come along," Marle called, and the boy set down the papers he was working with and walked toward them. Cloud noticed that he had been hanging up photos of their third-grade class from that school year, and he cracked a small smile.

Denzel joined him, and Cloud couldn't help but ruffle his hair when he came to stand beside him.

"We're all very proud of you, Denzel," Marle said as she walked them to the door.

Denzel grinned at this.

"You're doing an excellent job with him, Cloud," Marle finally said as he made his way out, his hand on Denzel's shoulder, and Cloud felt his face heat up again, this time for a brand new reason.

"Th-thanks," he stuttered sheepishly.

As they left the school together, Cloud stopped Denzel as they approached his bike, dropping to a slight crouch and turning the boy to him so he could level his gaze with his and look him in the eye.

"Denzel?"

"Yeah, Cloud?"

Cloud cleared his throat, suddenly feeling more nervous than he usually was with these kinds of parental interactions. "I- I'm really proud of you. Your teacher had a lot of great things to say about you, and you knocked it out of the park with these grades."

"Thanks, Cloud," Denzel said timidly, though he didn't turn away from him, his sky blue eyes growing wide. At that moment, they reminded Cloud so much of Zack's. "I wanted you to be proud of me. And… Tifa, too."

At that, Cloud rose to his full height again, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, intrigued by this admission.

"You really like Tifa, don't you?"

"She's really nice, Cloud," Denzel answered. "And really helpful. I learned a lot from her. Don't you like her too?"

Cloud bit the inside of his lip, instantly turning to his bike to climb on, reaching for his goggles, hoping that Denzel would not see the color that his cheeks had taken on. "Yeah, she's great, Denzel. I've known Tifa for a long time."

"We should have her over for dinner one day, Cloud," Denzel said. "And maybe she can bring Marlene!"

Cloud thought about that for a long moment, adjusting his goggles as he revved Fenrir's engine to life. That idea sounded terrible. He was an awful cook; in fact, he could just barely boil water without something going horribly wrong. He tended to rely on takeout or meals that came ready-made in frozen packages and could easily be warmed in the oven or microwave. After the dinner Tifa had made for them a couple of weeks ago, that seemed like it would be a huge insult.

"I don't know, Denzel - "

"Come on!" Denzel suddenly exclaimed, jumping up and down. "I'll help you! It will be fun!"

Denzel was climbing on Fenrir behind him, and Cloud was immensely grateful that he could not see his face, it was so flushed. The entire idea had him getting worked up and hot as he considered the possibilities.

"I'll think about it," he promised Denzel, although in the back of his mind, he had already resolved to do it, thinking it might be a nice way for them to celebrate her birthday together, like some sort of makeshift family. "But enough about that. I think you deserve a little celebration - want to go check out that new arcade in Sector3?"

"Yeah!" Denzel cheered happily, grabbing onto Cloud's shoulders, dropping his earlier conversation, though the brightness and warmth did not leave Cloud's face and neck for hours.

—

[ ν ] - εγλ - 2007 |May 13th

Like a Family

That Thursday evening, Cloud was standing over the stove in Aerith's old kitchen, shaking his head in despair at the disaster he and Denzel had created.

Despite his better inclinations, he had immediately acted on Denzel's advice and called Tifa on Tuesday night, asking her over for dinner that Thursday, extending the invitation to Barret's daughter, Marlene. But even Tifa seemed to have better sense than he did, and she was instantly surprised by his offer.

"Really?" she had repeated, "You don't have to do that, Cloud. Do you even like to cook? I seem to remember -"

"I want to do something special for your birthday, since we missed it," Cloud had argued over the phone, glad that she couldn't see the childish way his lips turned down in a pout. "And it was Denzel's idea. He really wants to help cook something for you and Marlene."

Tifa had only laughed airily in response. "Well, if Denzel insists, I suppose it's a date, then," she'd replied, and Cloud told her to come by around six.

He'd remember that one of Tifa's favorite foods was baked chocobo and macaroni and cheese, comfort food that had been all too common back home in Nibelheim. He recalled how much Tifa had loved it when they went out together, and how she had always said his mom's version was the best she could remember having. That had led him to the conversation that he found himself having with his mother, thousands and thousands of miles away in Nibelheim when he picked up the phone to call her for this first time in months.

"Cloud, sweetie," she'd brayed as soon as she answered the phone. "So nice to hear from you. I wish you would call more often. How are things?"

Cloud had felt the guilt creep its way up his spine at her words, and he tried to fling them free, apologizing sloppily for his negligence and promising to do better, vowing again to visit sometime in the coming months. He shared a little about how Denzel was doing in school, listening as his mother talked about her garden and her friends in town before he asked her for her recipe.

"You're cooking?" Claudia Strife was instantly amused by his request. "Well, darling, I have to say I find this a little surprising. Anytime I ever tried to teach you, you just couldn't get a knack on it. I am glad to hear it, though. I was beginning to wonder how you were managing to feed that young man."

Cloud only felt his cheeks brightening, wondering if he would be able to tell his mom why he was really doing this.

"Yeah, I figure I better get better at that," he agreed sheepishly. "But I'm having guests over on Thursday, and I wanted to cook her favorite meal."

"Her?" Claudia repeated instantly.

Cloud had found himself rubbing the back of his neck, staring out of the window absently as his cheeks burned even further. "Yeah, Mom. Tifa. I'm having Tifa Lockhart over for dinner."

From there, the conversation had unraveled completely, Claudia instantly unleashing a torrent of questions on Cloud about Tifa and how long they had been together and when they had reunited, the tenor in her voice brightening with excitement. She shared that she had not seen Tifa since she had left the village for college, mentioning, much to Cloud's chagrin, that her father still lived next door, though he'd retired from City government some time ago and mostly led a quiet, lonely life, rarely venturing outside except for trips to the grocer or the liquor store.

Cloud tried not to think about Tifa's father as his mother embarked on a litany of town gossip about Nibelheim that he honestly could not give a wererat's ass about. He listened patiently, then finally wrote down the recipe as she narrated it to him, promising once again to call her soon.

At the present moment, though, Cloud was realizing that simply having a recipe in hand was not enough to help someone as inexperienced in a kitchen as him cook a meal. Cloud wasn't sure how, but standing in the center of the kitchen, he realized that he and Denzel had somehow managed to undercook the choco meat, that the pasta and cheese had a strange consistency, and that he had completely forgotten to even start the salad and that it was nearly six o'clock.

"Cloud?" Denzel began as Cloud shook his head over and over again at the pan of pasta. "Why does it look like that? It's supposed to be thick and cheesy, not runny."

Cloud sighed, glancing at his watch. "I think we used too much cream." He was only thankful that he'd had the foresight to pick up cupcakes from a local baker and not attempt to bake anything himself, knowing that would probably only be an even bigger catastrophe.

"What are we gonna do?" Denzel asked.

Cloud was contemplating calling his mother for help when he heard the doorbell ring, and he realized with a burst of panic that Tifa was almost ten minutes early. He dropped the spatula he was holding onto the counter.

"Shit."

Denzel began to giggle at his swear, but Cloud only shook his head again, wiping his hands on a towel before he smoothed out his polo and his jeans, turning away to get the door.

He found Tifa standing on the front porch waiting for him, Marlene Wallace at her side, both of them smiling. The weather was warm again that May evening, and Tifa was sans jacket, wearing a mint-green seersucker blazer over a wispy white blouse and powder blue jeans, a pair of white, block-heeled sneakers on her feet. Her hair was tied in a dolphin-tail at the base of its long strands, tendrils spilling into her eyes. As soon as his eyes met hers and then swept over her form, absorbing every detail, her ruby discs widened and lit up with an even broader smile.

"Hi, Cloud!" Marlene cheered first, waving up at him and baring her perfect line of small teeth in a grin.

Cloud glanced down at the little girl, offering her a smile in return. "Hey, Marlene," he greeted her back. "Go ahead upstairs. Denzel is waiting for you."

Marlene responded with a nod, bounding past him and shooting up the stairs. Cloud turned back to Tifa, their eyes reconnecting.

"Hey."

"Hi, Cloud," she greeted him coyly, her lips holding her smile as she glanced down at her feet for a moment before turning back up to look at him. "Thanks for this, and thanks for including Marlene. She's really excited about seeing Denzel, and Barret appreciates the break."

"Sure," Cloud conceded, nodding his head. "I'm glad you could make it."

He held eyes with hers for a little longer than was truly necessary before he finally got a hold of himself and gestured for her to follow him upstairs. The entire time he went, he thought about the mess in the kitchen, and wondered if he could get away with ordering takeout.

When they stepped into his apartment, Marlene and Denzel were already sitting on the couch together giggling about something. It seemed that Denzel had moved on from their cooking predicament and was leaving Cloud to deal with it.

"Mm, smells good in here," Tifa commented as she looked around, only sending Cloud's anxiety into a spike. "Is that macaroni and cheese?"

Cloud scratched the back of his head nervously. "It is," he admitted, "But there's a little problem."

Already, Tifa was wearing an amused expression on her face.

"Problem?" she repeated.

Cloud could feel the hot color rise in his cheeks. "I got the recipe from my mom," he told her, "But I don't think Denzel and I followed her instructions very well. We did our best."

"Let me take a look," Tifa said, her smile widening, only serving to make Cloud's face swell and darken further. He led her into the kitchen, gesturing to the undercooked chocobo and watery pasta.

"I put everything in the oven for as long as my mom said," Cloud practically whined, "But it didn't come out right."

Tifa just smirked at him, moving toward his sink to wash her hands. Cloud watched her as she worked the suds through her fingers, bending and flexing them again with that slight frown of discontent pulling at her face again. Making a mental note of this, he folded his arms across his chest as Tifa shut off the tap, drying her hands on a dishtowel.

"Are these free-range or industrial chocobo?" Tifa asked.

"Uh…"

"Where did you buy it?"

"The Farmer's Market in Sector 3."

Tifa only shook her head with a tilt of a smile at his confusion, and rolled her sleeves up, leaning over the stove to get a better look at the cuts of meat arranged in the tray. She nodded at him.

"If it's free-range, it will need a bit more time to cook, Cloud. Industrial chocobo are raised in cages and are pumped full of mako and other additives to make them more efficient to produce. They are far less healthy, but it's cheaper and they cook faster. A lot of restaurants prefer to go that route."

"I see."

"Free-range is better," Tifa went on. "It adds to our overhead, but Barret doesn't like what industrial farms do to the environment nor the animals, and neither do I, besides the fact that it's so unhealthy. So free-range is what I use at the bar. Also…" she narrowed her eyes at the meat. "Cloud, these birds need a lot more seasoning. Chocobo is flavorful meat, but not that flavorful. Where's your spice cabinet?"

Feeling embarrassed again for his domestic ineptitude, Cloud pointed to the rack above, grateful for all of the spices that Aerith had kept there.

For the next stretch of minutes, Tifa went through the cabinet and pulled out an assortment of seasonings - garlic, onion, turmeric, rosemary and thyme and on and on - and taught Cloud the best use of each one and how much to use when flavoring food, playfully letting him know he wasn't beholden to salt and pepper alone. He watched and listened carefully, finding himself unable to avoid standing close to her as she demonstrated, locking the information away in his brain even as his heart stammered as he learned from her.

When she was satisfied, she shoved the tray of chocobo meat back into the oven, fumbling with its dials a bit before she turned her focused attention to the tray of pasta. Cloud watched her, chewing her bottom lip as she thought.

"It looks like you used too much cream," she told him, and Cloud only nodded, not daring to admit how haphazardly he and Denzel had measured their ingredients. "Did you create a roux?"

"A what?" Cloud repeated stupidly.

She smiled at him again, and this time, it made her bottom lip poke out in a way that had him heating up in ways that had nothing to do with the warmth emanating from the stove. She pressed a hand to her hip, then turned away and started going through his cabinets and fridge as if she lived there.

"A roux is a base for your cheese sauce, made with butter and flour," she explained, locating some cornstarch and extra cheese. She brought the items forth and began to add them to the pan, turning the flame up on the stove to bring everything to a boil. "It's what gives it its creamy thickness. Here, this will fix it. Just stir while it warms up, and then we can put it back in the oven until the chocobo finishes."

He started to say something, but Tifa was reaching for his wrist, guiding his hand to the wooden spoon she was holding. Gently, she began to roll his hand beneath hers, showing him how to stir and fold the pasta and blend the added ingredients together as the cheese began to bubble. The feeling of her soft, warm hand over his was enough to drive him towards lunacy, and Cloud found his attention distracted again, staring down at her face instead of at the food he was preparing.

"…Thanks, Tifa," he said, and impulsively, he bent down and kissed her on the cheek.

She instantly flushed a bright shade of pink, the warm stains in her cheek lighting Cloud's chest up again. She giggled slightly, but she didn't back away, and for long moments, they stood side by side and hand in hand, stirring the meal together.

It was sometime later that Tifa had managed to help Cloud completely correct the almost ruined dinner, and after exchanging light banter about their week alongside shy smiles and reddened faces, Cloud carried the finished meal into the dining room. Realizing that Cloud had neglected to prepare any vegetables, Tifa laughed and found enough ingredients in his fridge to piece together a basic salad, chastising him playfully for not including all of the food groups. He only smiled as he watched her put everything together, trying to ignore Kunsel's voice in the back of his mind asking him if he could imagine Tifa being his wife.

They set the table together, calling Denzel and Marlene to join them from where they sat together on the floor, watching cartoons. Cloud still found himself slightly marveled over how close the two children had grown during the last few months, and both he and Tifa sat back and ate quietly, letting the kids dominate the conversations while they only intervened with questions or comments. Throughout all of it, Cloud found his attention torn between his warm admiration of Tifa and the swell of his chest at the way that Denzel had grown so much and come so far out of his protective shell in the past year since his parent's death.

Tifa's corrections to the meal had done wonders, and Cloud polished his second plate before he enlisted Denzel to help him clear the table, insisting that Tifa remain in her seat. Once they were in the kitchen, he pulled the little boy to the side.

"I'll bring out the cupcakes," he said to him. "You go get Tifa's gift that we picked out for her and give it to her after we sing Happy Birthday to her."

"Okay," Denzel happily agreed.

Cloud nodded, and Denzel disappeared from the kitchen while Cloud pulled the small tray of yellow and red velvet cupcakes from the fridge, placing a small red candle in the center of one and lighting it with a match. They weren't much, he thought - not a fancy birthday cake like Tifa deserved - but he hoped that she appreciated his feeble attempt, anyway.

He brought the tray into the dining room, catching up with Denzel in the hallway just outside, the boy holding a gold-foil paper bag in one hand. He nodded at him, Denzel's face brightening with a smile, and Cloud killed the lights to the dining room's overhead chandelier as they entered.

"Happy Birthday to you…" he and Denzel began to sing, Cloud wildly off-key and Marlene quickly and eagerly joining in.

In the dimness, Cloud could see Tifa's mouth drop open and her cheeks flush as they sang to her. As he set the cupcakes down on the table in front of her, his eyes never left hers.

"Make a wish, Tifa!" Marlene chirped when the song was finished.

Tifa pursed her lips together, clearly embarrassed but in a way that Cloud found completely endearing. She let a moment pass, and then she leaned forward, blowing the candle out with her eyes closed. The kids both began to clap and cheer, but Cloud could only watch Tifa's face, wondering what she had wished for.

He snapped out of his thoughts and turned the lights back on, and Denzel stepped forward with the golden bag, offering it to her.

"Happy Birthday, Tifa," he said again. "This is from Cloud and me."

Cloud noticed the way that her bottom lip quivered, and she shook her head slightly, lowering her eyes.

"Oh, guys… you didn't have to…"

"Open it!" Denzel cried, barely able to contain his excitement.

Tifa smiled then, accepting the bag. She glanced up at Cloud, and he returned her expression with a nod before she reached into the bag to pull the gift out.

It was a stuffed Fat Chocobo, sitting back on its hind legs with its front wings curled around its portly belly. Cloud was almost certain that he heard Tifa squeal in the back of her throat as she admired its cuteness, and Cloud studied her until she found the loop of bluish-silver around the chocobo's neck, her perfectly polished pink nails slipping around it as her eyes widened and then glistened.

It was a filigree charm bracelet made from Mythril, studded with chocobos and bomb monsters and cactuars. She turned it over in her fingers for a long moment, and Cloud held his breath the entire time, feeling his chest pressurize as he watched her and waited.

"I picked out the chocobo," Denzel announced proudly. "Cloud picked out the bracelet!"

At his words, Cloud's cheeks began to rush and flood again, and he felt the flames melting his skin away when Tifa looked up at him, her eyes wet but her smile so, so wide and full of joy that the pressure under his rib cage suddenly broke into shards.

"This is beautiful!" Tifa cried, clasping a hand to her mouth. "How thoughtful. I love chocobos, and these little monsters."

"I know," Cloud couldn't help but smugly respond.

Marlene crowded around her to gush at her gift, and Tifa reached forward and wrapped Denzel in a tight hug. Cloud just stood on the other side of the table, watching with his hands in his pocket, a slight smile still pulling at his face.

It wasn't long before the kids were indulging in the cupcakes, stuffing their faces full of sugar before Denzel asked if he could show Marlene some toys in his room. Tifa nodded, and the kids skippered off, finally leaving Cloud alone with her.

She was still admiring her bracelet, cradling the fat chocobo in her lap, her cupcake untouched. Cloud pushed away from the wall, some sort of magnetism dragging him around the table to drag a chair to sit beside her.

"Aren't you going to eat your cupcake?" he asked softly, nodding his head at the vanilla iced sweet sitting in front of her. Tifa was still admiring her gift; she had pulled the bracelet off of the chocobo and was turning it over between her fingers. She looked up at him at the gentle tenor of his voice, and Cloud scooted even closer, taking the bracelet from her grasp and carefully undoing the clasp.

"Aren't you going to eat yours?" she asked him back, her voice slightly teasing, just as he looped the bracelet around her wrist and locked it into place.

He let his hand close around her wrist as he looked back up at her and met her eyes again, feeling the crimson flames behind them spark and flare into him. Their warmth was drawing him in closer, and Cloud rubbed the underside of her wrist with his thumb tenderly, right over the soft line of her pulse. He leaned in, his lips curving into a smirk, and impetuously, reached for her cupcake with his free hand and held it up to her lips.

"You first," he whispered.

Tifa smiled again, and she lowered her eyes from his so that he could see the dark velvet of her lashes curl up at him. Coyly, she bit into the cupcake, smudges of the icing rimming her bottom lip, and before she could lick it away, Cloud tugged on her wrist and pulled her close to him so that he could kiss it right off of her mouth.

He felt her tremble as his lips pressed into hers, but it was followed by her free hand dropping to his knee as she leaned into the warmth that was brewing between them. Gently, he parted her lips with his tongue, tasting the sugar on his as she let him in, parting her knees slightly so he could press his between them.

He put the cupcake down and carded his fingers through her hair by her ear, craving its silky coolness while his mouth sought out the soft warmth of her mouth. His hand slid away from her wrist and up her arm, soon gripping her shoulder and crowding her closer to him, their kisses growing more fervent and demanding and Tifa burning up when she moaned into his mouth.

He was moments from pulling her into his lap when they finally broke apart for air, and Tifa was so flushed and bright by the end of it that Cloud grinned at her, causing her to burst into giggles as she sat back again, finally putting some space between them. Cloud wanted to look away from her, feeling his face and neck burn, but he found that he couldn't, not when she looked so cute and enamored.

"Those cupcakes were pretty good," he finally breathed, "But I'm not sure it was them that tasted so sweet."

Her giggle erupted into a laugh, and she shook her head, lowering her eyes again to her gift. The chocobo was centered in her lap, but her fingers were back around her bracelet.

"Thank you, Cloud," she told him softly. "I never really celebrate my birthday, but this was really nice. The gifts are beautiful. You are really sweet. You and Denzel."

He shrugged, only happy to see her happy, wanting his insides to inflate with this same feeling forever and ever and now realizing he would do anything to keep chasing this high. "It's nothing, really, Teef. You deserve more than that."

She blushed again, and distracted herself by reaching for her PHS. She checked the time, then looked back up at him.

"It's getting late," she finally sighed, almost regretfully. "I told Barret to pick us up by nine. Marlene has school tomorrow, and I didn't want us to take a cab home this late."

Cloud was relieved to hear this. "Good," he responded. "Let's finish your cupcake before he gets here, Birthday Girl."

And so they did, the sugar from both the pastry and her lips melding against his when they kissed and kissed again before his heart was aching when it was time for her to leave.

—

[ ν ] - εγλ - 2007 |May 14th

Showing Myself to You

"Thank you, Ms. Lockhart. I'll see you next week!"

"Great job today, Kyrie," Tifa bade her client goodbye with a wave as they descended the final steps leading from Seventh Heaven's studio to the bar below. The young girl disappeared through the front doors, and Tifa sighed and turned, making her way behind the bar to take over.

Biggs was there, wiping down some glasses. "Everything going alright?" she asked him, reaching for the dishrag he was using.

"Been kinda slow," he answered. "Jessie should be back from her break in a bit. I'm going to head out with Barret for a while to take a look at a dumping site that has been causing a lot of monster outbreaks by the reactor. Thinkin' we can clean it up for the residents on that side of the sector."

"That will give them a little bit of peace of mind for a while," Tifa agreed, reaching for another glass to clean. "Go ahead, I'm done with lessons for the day."

Biggs nodded, offering her a warm smile as he tore off his apron. He started to move around her, but just when he was about to come from behind the counter, he stopped and turned to her again with a different sort of smile on his face.

"How's Cloud?"

Tifa stopped wiping the glass and glanced at him, noting the way his lips were curved into a knowing smirk. She dropped a hand to her hip.

"He's fine," was all she said in reply.

"He's a nice guy," Biggs responded. "I helped him out with his bike and his sword a lot at the shop I worked at. At first, he was really reluctant to take on any upgrades, but I convinced him, and we kinda became friends. He's stubborn, I'll say that much. And a little broody. But a nice guy and pretty good at what he does, to be honest."

Tifa pursed her lips, looking back at the sink to keep him from seeing the way that her face warmed up, her insides beginning to liquify just at the thought of Cloud Strife.

"I think you're good for him," Biggs went on when she didn't respond. "Anyway, I'll catch you later, Teef."

She looked up finally and offered Biggs a wave as he pushed past the counter and left the bar. Even though he was gone, his words lingered, and she found herself smiling wistfully as she thought more and more about Cloud.

It had only been last night when they'd shared a quiet dinner at his apartment with Denzel and Marlene, Tifa helping Cloud fumble through his attempt at cooking for her before he surprised her with cupcakes and a gift that was dearer to her than anything she'd received in recent memory, even more special than Andrea's rings. These had come straight from Cloud. The chocobo was sitting on her bed and the charm bracelet was around her wrist. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Tifa had briefly felt like she was part of a family with all of them around her, and she couldn't stop thinking about how good that feeling had been.

And then, Cloud was feeding her cupcake and kissing her, and the burn between her thighs hadn't left since.

When Barret had picked them up, Marlene had quickly fallen asleep in the backseat, and he took it upon himself to prod at Tifa with questions about the evening and her relationship with Cloud.

"How you been feelin' since you started takin' it up again with that fool?" Was the first thing he'd asked her when they merged back on to the highway back toward Sector7.

Tifa had simply exhaled, staring out of the window and watching as Midgar passed by, dark skies filled with the bright green glow of mako energy in the distance, the tall spires of silver and black skyscrapers stabbing into the sky. She was still feeling warm inside, her fingers still tracing over the bracelet he had given her and the chocobo in her lap.

"I'm okay, Barret," Tifa answered, still staring out of the window, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she replayed the events of the evening in her mind. She could still smell Cloud's subtle, masculine scent, a faint blend of his birchy cologne and the undertones of mako that lived in his blood, and she wanted so, so badly to be close to him again.

Barret just made a low grousing sound in the back of his throat. "Is that so?" he huffed as he turned a corner. "You gettin' back with him or something, Tifa? I see the way you two look at each other every time he comes to the bar."

The idea was a daydream to Tifa, even if she could tell from Barret's tone that he wasn't exactly thrilled with the prospect. But the truth was, neither she nor Cloud had put any specific terms on what was happening between them; they were simply two binary stars, moving in orbit and slowly drawing closer to one another. Eventually, she figured, they would end up colliding.

"It's complicated," Tifa had answered.

The rest of the car ride had been filled with a bit of unsolicited relationship advice from Barret, who told Tifa about his courtship of his deceased wife, Myrna, while Tifa just listened with her head against the headrest, a smile on her face and her fingers buried in the chocobo's plush feathers. He lectured her gently but worriedly about her health before he let the topic drop, but Tifa didn't need him to talk too deeply about that; her constant aches and pains were enough of a reminder.

At least she hadn't been crying rivers of blood and stars in recent days the way she had been in prior weeks.

That entire night stretching on into today, Tifa had been unable to pull Cloud from her mind; even now, she was filled with distraction. She'd struggled to maintain her focus through her lessons that morning, and manning the bar, customers had to call more than once to get her attention. With Biggs gone and Jessie still on break, Barret and Wedge out working in town, Tifa was alone, and she worked desperately to push Cloud and his kisses from her brain, working on fixing sandwiches and wings and pitchers of beer for the lunch crowd.

Her sense of clarity didn't last long, though. It was only a half-hour into the start of her shift when her PHS buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans, and she reached for it, her eyes lighting up almost as brightly as the screen when she saw the name across the display.

Cloud: Hey.

Tifa chewed into her bottom lip, feeling the sudden gush of excitement and electrified energy rising up in the center of her belly. Without even thinking about it, she leaned over the bar and immediately swiped up to open the message, her fingers dancing across the screen as she typed her reply.

Tifa: Hey!

Cloud: How's your day going?

Tifa: It's been going pretty well. How about yours?

Cloud: I can't stop thinking about you.

Tifa instantly blushed at his response, glancing up at the dining room of patrons who were gathered at tables and booths, enjoying their lunch and minding their own business, chatting away quietly. No one seemed to require her attention, and so digging her teeth deeper into her lip, she tapped out her response.

Tifa: Same. I had such a good time last night. I really liked my gifts, Cloud. I wanted to give my chocobo to Marlene, but she told me that it was special since you gave it to me.

Cloud: She's a sweet kid.

Cloud: Can I see you again tonight?

Her heart pounding at the idea, Tifa started to type her response, but the tiny bubbles beside Cloud's name were jumping up and down, and soon, his next reply was already on the screen before she could even finish.

Cloud: Denzel has some overnight club trip with some kids from school. I'll be free all night. There's somewhere I want to take you.

Cloud: And then maybe we can go back to my place, or yours.

Cloud: whatever you want.

He was typing his messages so fast that Tifa just set her device down and watched them appear like incoming bombs, her eyes widening a little further with each one that she read. She waited for a long pause after his final one to be sure he had gotten his thought completely out, her heart racing as the implications of his messages rang crystal clear to her.

Cloud wanted to spend the night with her.

Alone.

She swallowed, the electricity that was pulsing inside of her belly alongside the rumble of butterflies falling lower and lower across her body. She squeezed her thighs together behind the bar, the heat in her cheeks leaving her feeling sunburnt, and she typed her response, her heartbeat growing louder and wilder with every letter.

Tifa: I would love that. What time are you going to pick me up?

Cloud: I'll be at your apartment at eight.

Tifa: I'll be ready.

Cloud: I can't wait to see you.

Tifa: I can't wait to see you either.

"What's got you smiling like a devil?"

Tifa looked up at the inquisitive but knowing voice, finding Jessie standing beside her, peering over her shoulder as she tied her apron around her hips. She had been so fixated by Cloud's subtle text-message flirting that she hadn't even noticed her friend approach. Instead of answering, she backed away and killed the screen on her PHS, sliding it back into her pocket.

"Too late," Jessie huffed in laughter, turning to wash her hands in the sink behind them. "I saw just enough of that screen to know what's going on. So, Loverboy is finally making his move, huh?"

"Jessie, please."

Jessie dried her hands on a towel, then took notice of a customer who had come up to the bar and was waiting. She handed him a paper menu, then turned back to Tifa, who stood there trying to will the color out of her cheeks. "Does this mean your star sickness is finally going to go away? I told you all you needed was to get laid, Tifa."

Exasperated, Tifa untied her own apron from her waist and handed it off to Jessie. "I'm checking out early," she said rather than reply. "I have a few things to take care of at home. I'll see you tomorrow."

She shoved away from Jessie, her cheeks still on fire, hearing the woman's colorful laughter follow her all the way out of Seventh Heaven.

—

A few hours later - after spending most of the afternoon soaking the fatigue out of her muscles in the bathtub, shaving her legs and painting her nails, curling her hair in front of the mirror, and finally dressing and swiping dark lines of kohl around her eyes and shimmering gloss to her lips, Tifa sat in her living room, holding her purse in hand, nervous energy scaling her throat as she stared at the time on her PHS.

It was 7:56.

The sky beyond her bay windows had begun to darken with purples and magentas, twilight waning as the sun faded below the horizon. She was only moments away from seeing Cloud, but for some reason, tonight had her filled with more anticipation and subtle anxiety than she'd ever felt before any of their other dates. His suggestive hints in his messages earlier, messages that she was once again rereading as she sat there waiting for him, were all the reason why she was so eager and excited and antsy all at the same time.

Cloud: And then maybe we can go back to my place, or yours.

Cloud: whatever you want.

She couldn't stop chewing her bottom lip as she waited, pulling at the hem of the zip-front black body con dress that she wore, reading those two sentences over and over again.

At 7:59, her screen lit up again as he texted her.

Cloud: Hey. I'm outside.

Exhaling a deep breath, her heart beginning to pick up speed again, Tifa got to her feet and made her way out of her apartment, her black block-heeled pumps clicking against the concrete in front of her apartment complex as she made her way toward where Cloud was leaning nonchalantly against Fenrir.

She swallowed as she approached, holding her purse in front of her, feeling her hair tickle the back of her legs as the wind swayed it behind her. Cloud was dressed in dark clothing tonight, black pants and a black pullover shirt, his dark gray motorcycle jacket open and betraying the way his shirt fit him a little too well. She felt the heat swell up inside of her again, and trying to ignore its effects on her, Tifa concentrated on walking until she was standing right in front of him.

She didn't miss the way that he let out a slow breath before he spoke, his eyes sweeping over her fully before they came back up to her face.

"Hey, Teef," he greeted, his voice somehow smooth but tremulous at once.

"Hi, Cloud," Tifa responded, stopping a few paces away from him, but still close enough to catch the cool crispness of his scent. "We match again. Are you sure you're not reading my mind?"

"I promise," he laughed lightly, remembering their flirtations from a few nights ago. "You look beautiful, Tifa."

She was prepared to thank him in response, but was instead caught off guard by the way that he pushed off of his bike and leaned in towards her, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her in close for a kiss.

It was quick and hot, barely more than a greeting, but right on the center of her lips, sending a wicked scorch all throughout her body and hinting heavily at his barely contained desire. It lasted only seconds before he backed away again and released her, his hand sliding away from her body, his lips shining as Tifa tried to gather her bearings.

"I like your dress," he offered while she was still trying to catch her breath. "Come on, let's go."

"Thanks," she replied, her voice far lower than usual as he offered her his hand and then helped her onto Fenrir's seat. "Where are we going tonight?"

Cloud made sure she was secure and comfortable on the bike before he responded, climbing on in front of her. "I thought we'd go to AIR this time," he responded. "Thought you'd like the music."

But Tifa felt herself stiffen slightly, the mention of the AIR music gallery sending a cold chill through her body.

She hadn't been to AIR in over five years, not since she'd left the philharmonic and not since she'd gotten sick. It was a place that held too many memories, memories of dreams stolen and dreams forgotten, and she had purposefully avoided it ever since.

Of course, there was no way for Cloud to know that, and Tifa wasn't going to go out of her way to tell him this, not after he'd planned a night for them that she had been anticipating for hours, and if she were honest, for weeks now.

Instead, she buried her feelings far and deep, willing them into an abyss to be ignored while she clasped her hands onto Cloud's shoulders, pressing her cheek against his back and closing her eyes to the wind as he pulled away from the curb.

—

When they arrived in Sector2 at the AIR Music Gallery, a tall, gleaming glass and steel building that housed live music, a record shop, and, most importantly, a gallery dedicated to preserving the memorabilia and history about professional music in Midgar, Tifa held onto to Cloud's hand tight, trying not to betray the anxiety that had pooled into her gut.

At first, the visit had actually gone better than she'd expected, and some of the tension and unease she was feeling began to dissipate. The first floor was casual and enchanting, featuring a live band with a bar that Cloud and Tifa sat at for a while, ordering a light dinner while they sipped on cocktails and listened to contemporary jazz. The music was soothing and uplifting, and Cloud was leaning into her as they enjoyed it quietly, blanketing her with his warmth as the heat of the alcohol seeped into her veins. She found herself humming along, and soon, she was forgetting the reasons that she hadn't really wanted to come here in the first place.

They listened to the music for a while after they ate, then went upstairs, stopping by the record shop. Tifa was reminded of how vast the collection of music for sale here was, rows upon rows of vinyls and compact discs lining the walls and centering the shop in stacks, along with other merchandise. Almost everything was produced by the music industry's monopoly Shinra Records. As they made their way through the aisles together, Tifa remembered Cloud's taste in heavy metal when they were kids, teasing him about it as she led him toward the Rock section.

They passed by a station that gave Tifa pause, a song bellowing from the speakers with a folksy twang. It was called Midgar Blues by Akila, and despite its upbeat nature, she clicked her tongue as the lyrics hit a little too close to home, and she bobbed her head and rocked her hips against Cloud's until he was reluctantly falling to rhythm beside her as they listened to the song.

Flushed from that experience, they each picked out an album, Cloud settling on a greatest hits compilation from a band he'd liked years ago, while Tifa picked up a new album from Final Heaven, an alternative group that she'd listened to as a teenager as well, not aware that they were still producing music. As soon as she held the case between her fingers, Cloud was at her side, peering over her shoulder as he stood behind her.

"Final Heaven," he read aloud, his breath warm over the side of her throat. "I remember them. Do you remember our first real date?"

"Hm?" Tifa hummed in query, turning to look back at him.

"At Willie's," he explained, cocking his head to one side, a crooked smirk on his face. "That hick bar we went to in Nibelheim. Remember when we danced to that Final Heaven song?"

Tifa found herself blushing, unable to resist the way that her lips pulled back into a smile as the memory came back to her. It was so long ago, but at his mention of it, it returned freshly to her, and she was, for a brief moment, reliving the first bitter taste of beer and the warmth it poured through her veins and the way that Cloud's body had felt pressed against hers when they danced together on that smoky dance floor.

She laughed lightly, looking back up at him. "Yeah, I remember," she replied, and Cloud was looping his arm into hers, pulling her along, Tifa still tangled in memories, only this time they were happy ones.

It didn't last long, though. After Cloud insisted on paying for both of their purchases, they made their way to the third floor where the gallery was located, the prized jewel of AIR, where tourists and enthusiasts came to learn about the rich musical history of the City of Midgar and the Eastern Continent. By now, Tifa had all but forgotten about her earlier worries, holding onto Cloud's arms as they walked through rows and rows of memorabilia and artifacts and awards from decades of Midgarian and Shinra music history.

They admired photographs and antiquated instruments, passing by scenes of old jazz clubs and speakeasies in Midgar that had been a part of the old towns that made up the land before the city's erection. They listened to old 8-tracks of disco and synth music, and they read plaques that detailed the evolution of contemporary music in Midgar and Shinra's role in shaping the entertainment landscape.

But when they came upon the display dedicated to the world-famous Midgar Philharmonic, Tifa found her footsteps slowing at Cloud's side.

"Tifa?" he asked after a moment, staring at a black and white photograph that was centered in the exhibit. "Is that you?"

Tifa didn't respond right away, nor did she realize how she had begun to squeeze Cloud's bicep tightly in her grip where she held it as she stared at the wall.

Tifa easily recognized the photograph. It had been taken five years ago, at the 2002 Philharmonic World Tour. The photo was of the entire orchestra, captured as a troupe following a performance in Cosmo Canyon. As the solo pianist in the group, Tifa was standing near the front of the arrangement, her cheeks fuller as she smiled, her head tipped to one side and her hands folded in front of her.

She stared at the photo for a long moment, vaguely aware of the way that Cloud looped his arm around her waist and held on to her. She remembered vividly the night that photo had been taken. It had been one of her best and most memorable performances, one that she had received many accolades for in the press alongside her colleagues, one that had labeled her a rising star among the professional classical music scene.

And it had only been a few months before she had gotten sick, instantly crashing all of her dreams away into ruin.

Tifa was remembering now why she had avoided AIR for so long and why she had been nervous about coming here tonight. Unable to stop the sudden surge of emotions that rose in a volcanic eruption from her gut to her throat, the corners of Tifa's eyes began to swell with tears, her body shivering involuntarily until she turned away from the photograph, dropping Cloud's arm and wrapping hers around herself.

"Tifa?" he called after her as she took a few steps away.

She shook her head swiftly, trying to push the tears down, feeling hot and embarrassed for her weakness and for breaking down in front of him like this. The last thing that she wanted was for him to know her deepest, darkest secret, to know how broken and diseased and corrupted she was, for him to see the blood and sparkles that would light up her skin anytime she lost control of her emotions. She could already feel the telltale burn, and panic rose up inside of her along with everything else, and she fought desperately to push it back, gasping slightly for air as she tried to suppress the coming deluge.

"Tifa," Cloud's voice had grown low and soft, and now his hand was on her shoulder, and she could feel the heat of his body behind hers.

She exhaled, and when she felt sure that the stars and the blood would not fall, she finally turned to face him. His face was both inquisitive and concerned, brows slightly furrowed as he tipped his head slightly to the side. His hand slid away from her shoulder as she turned, trailing down her arm and capturing her hand.

"Sorry," Tifa replied, swallowing to keep her voice from sounding so choked. "I guess I just got a little emotional seeing that photo. It's been so long."

He drew in closer to her, squeezing her hand gently, his other hand coming up to rub her shoulder. "It's okay," was all he said, and Tifa felt some of the pressure in her chest begin to deflate at his soft tone of understanding.

"I'm just a little tired. I had a good time, Cloud. Thanks for bringing me."

Her words seemed to placate him, because the sudden distress in his features eased, and he nodded, backing away a little bit.

"Do you want me to just take you home?" he asked.

But Tifa didn't want this development to ruin the night that she had been so looking forward to all day, remembering her text exchange with him that afternoon. She shook her head, stepping close to him again.

"No," she replied softly. "Let's go back to my place."

—

The entire ride back to her apartment, Tifa held on to Cloud tighter than she ever had before, seeking the warmth and strength of his body to ease the aches and pains that were crawling through her own and the blistering sense of melancholy that had descended over her during their visit to AIR. She kept her eyes closed to the breezy spring winds as he drove Fenrir, her hair whipping behind her and her mind torn in a thousand different directions.

She was eager to spend the night alone with him, and had been thinking more and more about rekindling the intimacy that they had shared so fondly as teenagers for weeks now. But part of her was stricken by guilt, reminded of it every time she felt another stab in her lower back or a sear against her joints, every time images and shapes turned fuzzy around the edges in her vision or her mood began to dampen suddenly for no reason.

Being around him seemed to temporarily allay these aches, somewhat confirming her suspicions about the root cause of her illness all along. But it was only staving them off, leaving them to rise again as easily as they had faded. She wondered if their permanency was part of a deeper problem that lay with her, or if it was because she still had not confessed her condition to him.

Whenever she thought about that, she felt the hot burn of painful tears threaten the corner of her eyes again. Telling him that she had the same disease her mother had suffered through and soon died from was too much for her to bear. After seeing what it could eventually do to a person, Tifa knew that it would only push him, a man already so surrounded by tragedy and unfortunate circumstances, away. And she couldn't bear that, not after she had just gotten to know him again.

He was pulling up to the curb in front of the building when she realized that her selfishness was leaping out of bounds, and she worried over and over again how she might get through this entire duplicitous situation without hurting him, or making him hate her more than he did when they'd broken up ten years ago, ultimately leaving her sicker and closer to death.

She tried to push that thought away when she felt his sturdy heat slip away, Cloud soon reaching out and helping her off of the bike. She stepped down carefully, and she tried not to betray the way that her feet hurt and that the muscles in her legs were beginning to throb after all of the walking they'd done that evening. She relaxed her breath, calmly letting Cloud take her hand as they walked inside of her apartment together.

An awkward fissure had developed in the air between them ever since her near-breakdown in the gallery, and Tifa found herself fidgeting nervously as they rode the elevator up to her apartment. Suddenly, she was desperate for a drink, anything that would tamp down the anxiety in her blood so that she could process her thoughts and feelings without diving so deeply into the ugliest parts of her mind.

Cloud followed her silently into her apartment, and the first thing she did was slip out of her heels, kicking them in a heap by the front door, the balls of her feet instantly grateful for the relief of the pressure. She then turned and took Cloud's jacket from him, hanging it up in the foyer before she gestured for him to sit down on her couch.

"Take your shoes off," she told him. "I'll get us a drink,"

But Cloud hadn't listened to her, and she soon realized that he was following her into her kitchen. He stopped by the counter, leaning against it with his arms folded across his chest, watching her as she found a bottle of Hagur's Reserve in her pantry.

Catching his eyes on her, Tifa couldn't help but smile slightly at his poorly veiled admiration. She pulled two tumblers out of her cabinet, then began to twist open the bottle of whiskey.

She winced, her fingers locking up with pain. She could feel the heat that was rising in her cheeks in embarrassment as her hands failed her. She didn't dare look up at Cloud, sensing him watching her from where he stood. She tried to ignore the lasers that burned with curiosity from those deep, sapphire eyes, shaking her hand out and concentrating on trying to open the bottle again.

Cloud moved swiftly, and suddenly, the full warmth of his body was beside her. He stopped her wordlessly, dropping a hand to hers and curling his fingers over hers as he held onto her hand gently. She looked up at him, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before he took the bottle away and opened it without saying anything at all.

He put the cap down, then slid the bottle back to her. Tifa couldn't do anything but nod her thanks at him, her cheek warming, and carefully, she poured them each a drink.

She didn't even wait for him to pick up his before she was sipping her own, badly needing the blurry distraction in her brain to function properly. The heat opened up with a spark in her bloodstream, and it numbed some of the pains in her body, loosening her muscles just a little as she began to roll her neck.

"Tifa."

Tifa turned to Cloud, finding him with his eyes trained on her face. He stepped closer to her, dropping his hand to her waist.

"Hm?"

"Will you play something for me on your piano?"

Tifa offered him a small smile, her heart picking up speed again. He was standing so close again that she was flooded by his calming scent, and his palm was so warm on her waist, his fingertips barely grazing over her hip and the curve of her rear, she couldn't help but lean in closer to him, the alcohol that was beginning to course through her offering her a break from her inhibitions.

"What do you want me to play?" she asked him, her voice falling into a low lilt.

"Anything you want," he answered. "How about something that you used to play when you performed? I never got to see you on stage."

Tifa held in the inclination to make a face at that. She was probably overreacting, and so she pushed it down, picking up her glass and quickly swallowing back another sip of her whiskey. The acidic fire burned a trail down her throat, but it calmed her nonetheless, and soon she was nodding at him and taking his hand.

"Okay."

She quietly led Cloud into the living room, both carrying their drinks with them, right to her childhood piano that faced the window and the night sky, the moonlight and distant mako lighting sliding between the divide in her curtains. She sat on the bench, Cloud coming to sit beside her the way he always did, facing away from the keys with his knees parted so that he could watch her face.

Between the alcohol and the intensity of his eyes on her, Tifa felt herself melting away into nothing where she sat. She tried to breathe evenly to cool herself off and ignore it, but with him so close and his attention so focused on her, she realized that it was becoming impossible to not respond to the pull that he had on her.

She rolled her fingers, dropping them to the keys as she stared at the ivory for long moments, trying to decide what to play. She thought back on the hundreds of concerts she had performed with the Philharmonic in the years that she had been with them, but she found herself unable to ignore the one song that she had loved the most.

It had ended up also being the one that she had played on that fateful night before she had soon been relinquished from her role in the orchestra.

Despite the misery inherent in this memory, Tifa's fingers began to move on their own accord, driving across the keys as she played Jurrivh's As I Lay Dying.

.

.

.

Tifa was sitting behind the piano under the oppressive stage lighting of the theater in Junon, sweat pooling around her collar and under her armpits. They were now into hour two of the night's performance, intermission barely enough of a reprieve for the musicians to drink water and rest their hands from their instruments. They had moved onto the final movements of the last act, and Tifa was uncharacteristically sluggish, her head feeling dizzy and heavy as she opened the first notes of Jurrivh's As I Lay Dying, the finale piece of the show.

The piano was the dominant instrument in this number, accompanied by the gentle introduction of wailing violins and violas, the other musicians mostly silent and still as they and the audience listened to the dismal, melancholy melody. The song told the story of a man on his deathbed, staring hopelessly into the eyes of regret, mourning the loss of hopes and dreams each time a note was struck across the keys.

It was one of Tifa's favorites to play, reminding her of deep hurts that she still carried inside of her, vows she had made to no longer let her life become torn and weighed down by the mistakes and the tragedies of the past. When she settled into Midgar and made her way through college and a new life that she largely lived on her own, she resolved to cut off ties with the demands of her father and to sever herself from the emotional bonds that were tangling her deep with Cloud, even though a day never passed where she didn't think about him, knowing that even if there were a way that she could find him again, she could never repair the damage that had laid so much ruin between them.

But most importantly, she had resolved to never, ever become like her mother, and for that reason alone, she had pushed forward with her own passions and pursuits, leaving the emotional tatters of her heart behind her in a trail of blood and fire that followed behind her from Nibelheim.

Every time she played this song, those haunting memories returned to her, but Tifa turned them into gasoline, using them to fuel her drive to succeed at the one thing that she knew no one could ever take away from her. Not her father, not jealous ex-boyfriends, not a dying mother, and not even her own unhappiness and broken heart.

Her fingers slamming into the keys, Tifa reminded herself, playing those notes for what might have been the thousandth time, that the piano was everything and all that she had.

She was nearing the broken crescendo of the song, the violins fading away and abandoning her, when the first spasm broke loose in her wrist. It crumbled her bones against her nerves, suddenly leaving her with a loss of control of her right hand. Her fingers stumbled aimlessly across the keys, the notes jumbling together, completely off-key and ruining the rising lilt of the melody.

The pain was bright enough to sting her eyes, blurring them for a moment, the lights overhead becoming far away beacons, her colleagues sharing the endless rows on the stage with her turning into dull black and white shapes. She closed her eyes and tried to focus, panic rising like an ugly, threatening chimera in the center of her chest, clawing at her ribs and tearing her heart down in an effort to break free.

She breathed in heavily, managing to push it away, curling her fingers in an attempt to correct themselves quickly. She rolled them over the keyboard, resuming the melody again, but the damage had already been done. She could feel it in the eyes of everyone on stage and in the sea of black beyond the lights as they stared at her.

When the curtain had gone down after she had struck the final note, Tifa could vaguely hear the din of concert-goers beyond as they filed away following their applause, barely taking notice of the scrape of her fellow musician's chairs as they gathered their instruments and rose. She was staring at her hands as they began to file out, her eyes still burning as her mind screamed a thousand horrified questions.

She had only gathered her bearings and gotten to her feet when the conductor had come over to her and demanded an explanation, waving his hand in her face and swearing at her egregious error. Her colleagues still on the stage all stopped to turn and watch, and Tifa felt the mortification and the horror wilt her away into the stage's dusty floorboards, her mouth agape as her brain short-circuited, unable to produce a response to his criticisms.

When he had expressed his complete disgust with her, he abandoned her, walking away with a hand in the air. Awash with the scald of embarrassment, Tifa slowly marched off of the stage, her bottom lip quivering, though she refused to lower her head and bear any more shame than she was already painfully experiencing.

It was only when she had made it backstage and rounded a corner into a dark and quiet hallway did Tifa cave to the pressure that was building inside of her from her failure and from his admonishment. She instantly leaned against the wall, succumbing to the tears, sobs wracking her body and plunging her further into darkness.

But something was wrong. Never before had Tifa felt this kind of pain when in the midst of crying. It was a sharp burn, the stab of knives behind her eyes, and she found herself gasping, bracing herself against the wall as she felt the liquid stream across her cheeks.

Horror erupted inside of her when she saw the first splatter of blood splash across the cream-colored carpet where she stood, bright and violent and red. She was frozen in time as she stared at it, the corners of her eyes on fire as she found herself trapped in a surreal bubble that was choking away all of the air around her.

She continued to watch the sanguine liquid pool at her feet as she wept, but it was only when the bright sparkles joined the trickles of scarlet on the carpet did Tifa begin to register what was happening, bringing her hands to her face and dragging her fingers through the stains on her face.

She pulled them away to see them red but mostly silver and gold and glittering opalescent under the chandelier lighting overhead.

Instantly, Tifa thought of her mother, of the mountains and of her father, and of the years and years of pain she had tried to bury and forget.

No… No…

No!

.

.

.

"Tifa!"

Cloud's hands were viced around both of her upper arms, and he was shaking her, calling her name over and over again, trying to capture her attention. Tifa opened her eyes to a searing pain, the memory fading from her vision as it became clouded by red and gold.

She didn't dare look at him, realizing what was happening as her thoughts began to clear. Miserably, she brought her hands away from the keyboard to cover her face, sobbing and feeling the liquid and the dust slide between her fingers, spilling all over the piano's keys. The mortification and the fear and the panic she was now feeling outweighed anything she could remember feeling in recent memory as she fell apart in front of him, and all Tifa could do was weep and weep, wishing she would disappear into the ethers of the Lifestream right then and there, never to be seen again.

"Tifa!" Cloud kept calling her, trying to garner her attention, his voice sharp with concern and maybe even a little desperation. He was now tugging at her wrists, trying to pull them away from her face, but Tifa used all of the strength in her body to fight him, not wanting him to see the ugly truth even though she knew it had already stained her arms and dress and the piano and maybe even him.

He was swearing at her side, but he refused to give up, and with a sudden show of force, he lifted her entire body with both arms, setting her down on top of the piano. She heard the shatter of glass as he knocked their tumblers away, sending them against the wall and to the floor as he kicked the bench out of the way and centered himself between her legs.

"Tifa, look at me," he demanded.

She heaved another sigh, but something in the strength behind his voice was suddenly too much to ignore. He was yanking at her wrists, but this time she let her muscles fall slack, easily allowing him to pull her hands away and pin them both to her sides.

Despite the burn, she opened her eyes to look at him. His own royal blue stare was wide, lit up with the pulse of mako around the rim of his pupils, his mouth slightly parted to expose the fine line of his teeth as he studied her face. Tifa tried to read his expression, unsure of where the shock collided with the fear and the horror and which emotion outweighed another.

She trembled, the movements of her body striking odd chords against the piano's keys. But the notes went unnoticed because Cloud was lifting his hands to her cheeks, cupping them both and wiping his thumb across them, holding her firmly but tenderly.

"Tifa…"

She wept in titters, unable to stop. Cloud pulled his hands away slowly, holding them out in front of him as he stared down.

Tifa looked down at his hands, too. They were streaked with a little bit of red, but mostly they were covered in liquified stardust, gold and silver particles of glitter sticking to his skin. He rolled his fingers against the substance, mystified as it stuck between his fingertips, and then he looked up with his eyes now softening as understanding began to flood behind those fiery sapphire pools.

"I knew something was going on," he began, "Tifa, are you - "

"I'm sorry," she cut him off, shaking her head back and forth in despair. "I'm sick. I- tried to - I didn't know how to -"

"Shhh," he crowded closer to her, grabbing her by the waist to still her body, staining her dress with the residue left on his palms. "It's okay, Tifa. Why didn't you just tell me?"

But she couldn't answer that. He would never understand, and now that he knew everything, she feared that nothing would ever be the same.

It was all ruined.

When she looked away from him and stayed silent, Cloud continued to stare at her. She felt his grip on her waist tighten as if the urgent strength in his hold might wrench the words out of her. But she resisted, her mind already flipping over the doomed landscape of her life, part of her wishing she had never been born.

It seemed like an eternity had passed, and Tifa had mostly ceased her hiccuping when Cloud brought one hand to her cheek again. She had been ready to just ask him to leave, to cut this entire miserable affair off where it stood, wondering what she had even been thinking in trying to string any lingering hope from it. But the warmth of his gentle hold on her face enraptured her, and she looked up at him to feel him stroking her skin with his thumb.

"It's okay," he breathed. "Let me help you, Tifa. Tell me how to help you."

Their eyes were locked together as if by an invisible chain, and Tifa couldn't look away. The longer that she stared into the cosmic cerulean of his stare, the more she found herself reminded of the sweet, passion-filled boy who she had fallen in love with in her youth, the boy who pursued her relentlessly despite everything that it had cost him, the boy who didn't care what anyone thought as long as he had her, the boy who put his life on the line when no one else would.

Despite the mako in his eyes now, she could see that true blue reflection, could see that boy staring back at her, and the pain and the trepidation began to dissipate, the ugly bruises of infection and disease that clung to her heart and her most vital organs and systems like ghouls finally quieting their rage. She brought her hand up to his on her cheek, brushing her fingers over his warm skin before she clasped his hand in hers, a new resolve bubbling forth in her mind. She leaned into his touch, still holding his eyes with hers.

"Love me," she whispered, her voice barely audible as it escaped her throat.

"I already do," he whispered back, completely without hesitation.

Sometimes, it only took a few words, if any at all.

Cloud carried her gaze for a moment longer before he nodded, and then he was pulling away from her, long enough only to drag his shirt over his head, leaving him there in a white undershirt. Voicelessly, he balled his shirt up in one hand and then gently used it to wipe the star-tears from her face and off of his hands, leaving the black fabric covered in sparkling gold dust.

He tossed it to the floor, but the stuff was highly transferable like child's glitter, and it was all over them both by now. But Tifa realized that neither of them cared, because Cloud was between her knees again and grabbing her face once more, this time crushing his lips to hers.

The back of her legs disrupted the keyboard again, but Tifa didn't pay the notes any mind as they rang out around them. As soon as Cloud's lips were on hers, Tifa felt the sadness and the frenzied apprehension fade away, replaced by raw, untethered need that was spreading like wildfire throughout her insides. His lips were hot on hers, but his kisses were somehow a confusing blend of slow and passionate, taking his time even though he was carefully devouring her.

Her hands came first to his shoulders, holding on to him before dropping to his ribcage, her fingers curling into his undershirt, seeking the firm warmth of his body as his palms began to wander. They found the back of her neck and squeezed and cradled her, displaying a possession and a desire that had her knees widening as she felt her body come alive and the ache between her thighs igniting.

His hands were lowering, trailing over her shoulders and arms, his touch loving but strong, enough to melt her into the oak and ivory of her piano. Their tongues curled in a dance around one another's, and Tifa arched her back, feeling her nipples stiffen when they brushed against Cloud's toned chest. The more that he kissed her and the more that he touched her, the more that she wanted him, and she crossed her legs around his waist, drawing him in even closer.

Cloud's hands were growing more demanding, now sliding up and around the sides and the front of her body, squeezing the indent of her waist, thumbs brushing over the stiffness of her nipples. Her breasts were feeling achy and heavy as he pressed her down against the wood, smoothing his palms over her belly, but not for the usual reasons that pain radiated throughout her body. This time, it was all inspired by the fervency and the desire behind his touch, his fingers burning through her dress like branding irons as he palmed her breasts.

The yearning grew deeper in her as she laid back in front of him, looking up to find his eyes low lidded as he pulled the zipper of her dress down in a slow trail all the way down past her hips. When the fabric fell open, he pulled her back up, anchoring her body to his and wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her close to him as he kissed her again. He pushed her bra up over her breasts with one hand as his mouth shifted to line her cheek with kisses, soon dropping to her throat and drawing throaty moans from deep somewhere deep inside her belly as he sucked and nipped at her flesh. His fingers were soon teasing one pink nipple, rolling over it and pinching it into a stiff peak, and Tifa's clit was now throbbing, her center leaking against her underwear as she began to gently beg Cloud for more, more, more.

Now, wrapped tightly in his embrace while his hand left her breasts to find her thigh, Tifa found herself falling into an oasis of abandon that was brighter than the burn she had felt at any point during their last few dates where all of her old desires first began to incinerate into lust. It was driven by more than just a physical need and the rekindling of a girlhood romance; it was submerged into years of longing and pain and an emotional connection that was rising like the tides of the ocean following a hazy but vengeful summer storm.

She couldn't let go of him, not now and not ever, not when he was palming and squeezing her like this, his lips drawing rivers of liquid fire across her skin. She moaned his name again, clawing now at his hair with both hands, and Tifa was not prepared when he buried his face into the crook of her neck as he held her tight and dropped his free hand between her thighs.

His fingers drew long trails over her underwear, finding the dampness there and sending a white-hot surge of pleasure through Tifa's body when he brushed over her clit. He circled it and pressed, and she keened, wrapping her arm around his neck so that she could hold him even tighter to her, afraid that she might lose control and fall with the way he was unwinding her. He continued to roll the pads of his fingers over her desperate heat through that thin, silky stretch of fabric, and Tifa could hear their bodies produce a discordant melody across the keyboard as they pushed and pressed into one another. It was an oddly satisfying and soothing backdrop, somehow echoing the merciless passion that was erupting between them.

Cloud continued to rub her most sensitive spot in a circular motion, whispering something sweet and encouraging but completely unintelligible in her ear, his breath hot through her hair. She focused on the sound of his voice, his calm baritone soothing her as he worked her into a frenzy, her thighs widening until they could go no further despite the strain it was putting on her sore musculature.

"Cloud…please," Tifa heard herself suddenly whining, feeling herself hovering on a precipice that she badly needed to be thrown from. "Please, Cloud, I need…"

She couldn't finish her sentence, because her vision was whiting out as Cloud tore away from her, long enough only to find the hem of her underwear and slide them down in a swift, rough motion down her legs. He tossed them to the side, instantly bringing his fingers back to her wet flesh, sinking two inside of her and dropping his thumb to her sore clit as he rolled his wrist, rubbing her into oblivion as she leaked all over his fingers and the keys.

Her ankles rolled and her toes curled, Tifa pulling her legs back until her feet were planted on the keyboard, allowing Cloud full and unbridled access to her soaked, needy heat. He watched her face as his graceful digits worked her, climbing in deep and stroking her blissfully, her clit throbbing with a hot, barely fulfilled sensation of desperate, listful pain every time he brushed over it. The rough and sore surge of pleasure left her wide open and begging for him like he was the only thing keeping her alive, her insides clenching eagerly to be filled.

He kept stroking and caressing her, and soon, she whimpered and cried out, the corners of her eyes stinging with new tears as her first orgasm rocked into her. It carried through her body in powerful but balmy waves, stroking every nerve ending with gentle caresses, and Tifa reached for Cloud's shoulders, crying his name in ecstasy. She didn't notice the way that he was working at his buckles, though, and she was completely unprepared for the way that he suddenly hoisted her up in his arms and sank himself deep inside of her in one hot, fast thrust. Her wetness from her release was a pleasant guide for this sudden intrusion, but it had been so long since she had felt this sort of fullness - ten years, in fact - that her eyes went wide at the sensation and Tifa cried out his name, instantly clawing at him.

Cloud growled insatiably, tucking his face by her shoulder again as he pinned her against the piano and began to rock into her, thrusting her left leg over his shoulder to open her up wider. His left arm held her around her waist, keeping her safe and close, while his right hand was on her hip, holding her in place while he began to drive a slow but steady rhythm into her. With the position he had her in, the stretch was unbearable, but the mild pain was somehow welcome, reminding her of everything she had lost with him so long ago, especially when she felt him tap into a spot inside of her that brought starlight into her vision with pleasure that ran so deep it was becoming a part of her forever.

"Cloud," she cried senselessly.

Cloud was only a half a dozen thrusts in, but he was growling and sweating, squeezing Tifa impossibly in his grip, and she tightened her walls around him, focusing on the sensations that he was dragging out of her.

"Tifa," he groaned in response.

He began to move faster, and Tifa felt a new climax build in her, lacing a sweet, hot burst of pleasure all the way to the roots of her hair to her fingertips and her toes. It climbed her nerve endings and laid ruin to her heart, the blend of his care and passion and love enough to cure her of every malady forever when she was coming apart for him like this. She soon arched and flexed, feeling Cloud's heavy pants across her skin as he fell apart inside of her.

She felt all of his heat fill her, sticky and warm, and he didn't move away from her for long moments, still holding her tight against the piano. Feeling the pain of the position they were in now assault her body, she whined, tearing at his undershirt, and Cloud finally gained the coherency to pull away from her shoulder to look up at her.

"Tifa…"

She couldn't respond with words, shaking her head as she felt wetness pooling her eyes again. Only this time, the tears weren't painful, and she knew that they were real and salty, not celestial and sparkling.

He gently lowered her leg from his shoulder as he slid out of her, taking a moment to right his pants, and she wrapped both legs around him as he gathered her into his arms. Tifa held onto him tight, crying her elation and her devotion into his shoulder, and Cloud just rubbed her back consolingly in response.

"Where's your bedroom?" he asked her after a long moment, his voice low and soft.

She pointed to the hallway behind him, unable to speak, keeping her eyes closed as she felt Cloud carefully pull her away from the piano and carry her away. She only opened them again when she felt her back pressed into the cool coverlet of her bed, Cloud hovering above her with nothing but love and hope and new promises in his deep blue eyes.

—

[ μ ] - εγλ - 1996 | 23rd December

Mountains, Monsters, and Mourning

Cloud's heart was racing as he jogged up the dusty bend in the road, the incline letting him know he was heading closer toward the dangerous peaks of the mountains up again. He was following Tifa as she made her way in a quick but trancelike stride toward the northernmost point of the village, in the direction of Mt. Nibel. He had realized she was gone when he came downstairs after changing the sheets in his room, his mother still cooking and oblivious in the kitchen as she hovered over the stove, their front door wide open the way that Tifa had left it.

At first, he had searched for her frantically, racing down their block and then trying to decide which direction she might have headed in. His first thought was to go to the hospital, thinking that she may venture there to see her mother's corpse. It wasn't exactly rational, but Cloud knew after the day that she had and the condition she had been left in when he and his mother brought her back to their home that evening that Tifa was in a state of pure shock and was likely operating off of pure, base emotions.

He had been heading in that direction when he turned toward Mulberry Ave, a street filled with row houses that climbed a steep incline against the valley, pressing forward north in the direction of the mountains. His eyes narrowed when he caught the distinct glimmer of dark hair against the moonlight at the top of the hill, instantly recognizing that shimmer anywhere.

"Tifa!" he called after her.

She didn't stop, and soon, she was disappearing again around the curve of the road that led toward the Shinra mansion.

That was why, at the present moment, Cloud was making his way in a light jog up the street, turning the corner to find the main road that led closer to the foothills. When he reached the top, he turned the corner, scanning the road ahead, looking for Tifa, seeing the Shinra Mansion looming among a wild orchid grove at the top of the street, fenced in by wrought iron. To the right, the road forked off into a narrow stone pathway, leading to the trails that veered off into the mountains.

Working in the reactor, Cloud knew the pathways well, but he also knew how dangerous it was to navigate those paths by foot. Shinra employees took the ropeway up to the reactor. Realizing that Tifa was on foot and that the ropeways were non-operational at this time of night, Cloud was suddenly panicking at the prospect of her navigating those trails in the darkness alone.

Swallowing back his anxiety and fear, he made his way down the road in the direction of the mountains, just as a pair of headlights came to life on the street beyond.

Cloud didn't pay it any mind as he continued to follow Tifa, at least, not until he saw Jody Hartley emerge from the passenger seat of the red sports car, wearing his varsity jacket. He slammed the door shut, and Cloud narrowed his eyes, peering at the vehicle and spotting another jock from the high school behind the wheel and two more in the backseat.

"Strife," Jody called boldly from across the street. "What's going on?"

Cloud stopped, anxiously looking up at Mount Nibel before he turned back to Jody, narrowing his eyes. He didn't have time for this shit. What the fuck did this punk want?

Cloud didn't bother to respond. He only crossed his arms over his chest in frustration, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, his blue eyes sending lightning bolts of hate in Jody's direction as the younger boy got up the nerve to cross the street in his direction.

"I saw Tifa running towards Mount Nibel," Jody accused when he was a few feet away from Cloud. The street was dark and quiet, most of the villagers inside, finishing supper and turning in for the night, teenagers the only ones ambitious enough to venture out at this late hour. Cloud noticed that Jody's friends were all staring out of the car's windows, watching the confrontation intently. "Where is she going? Is she trying to get away from you?"

Cloud's face crumbled in irritation. He could smell the distinct, bittersweet scent of beer clinging to Jody like a raincloud, and he realized that the boy was wasted. "What?" he couldn't help but respond, his frustration growing thicker. "Get the fuck out of here."

Jody laughed, the sound almost a slur. Cloud realized that standing close to each other now in a way that they hadn't before, Jody was almost half a foot taller than him. Cloud couldn't give a shit about that, though, he would still drag him up and down the block if he had to.

"I thought something was wrong with her, until I saw you coming up the block behind her," Jody went on. "Then it made perfect sense to me."

"Fuck off," Cloud responded menacingly, taking a step forward. "Her mother just died."

Jody's blue eyes flashed with something unreadable at this, and Cloud realized that he hadn't known this piece of information. He stood there for a moment, staring Cloud down as he tried to process through his next thought, finally dropping his hands into the pockets of his basketball jacket before he nonchalantly tossed his head back at Cloud.

"Why don't you just leave her alone?" Jody asked instead of addressing the comment about Tifa's mom. "Tifa's going to marry me, anyway. We have an oath, in case she forgot to tell you. She's just playing with your stupid ass. Tifa gets around. Doesn't surprise me she'd pick the biggest loser in town to be her boy toy."

All of Jody's words were like snakes under Cloud's skin, easily slithering their way to the explosive center of his brain that had him reacting in a blind rage. Without even thinking about it, he closed the space between them, throwing his fist into Jody's face.

He knocked him back into the asphalt of the road, Jody caught off guard by his swift movement and the brute force of his punch. He landed on his back, his hands both instantly cradling his nose as it bled through his fingers, wailing as he went down. He kicked his feet out in front of him in frustration, trying to push back up to his feet but unable to fight through the shock and the pain.

"What the fuck!" Jody screamed, finally scrambling to his knees.

Cloud just stared down at him as he tried to stand, shaking his hand out, his knuckles on fire from the collision with Jody's nose.

"Bring it on, bitch," Cloud threatened, already ready to knee Jody in the chin.

The car doors then flew open, Jody's friends ambling out of the vehicle. All of them, it seemed, were in varying states of inebriation, including the driver. Cloud didn't give a fuck, but he did realize that all of them were bigger than he was, and they were crossing the street in his direction, calling Jody's name.

Cloud snarled at them as Jody finally got to his feet, still holding his nose, which was now leaking all over the concrete. Cloud narrowed his eyes, watching as Jody stumbled on his feet, his pale blue eyes alight with fury, his ash-brown hair spilling into his forehead.

"I'm going after Tifa," Cloud warned him. "Stay out of my way."

Cloud turned, but didn't get far before he heard Jody laugh behind him as his posse fell in step at his side.

"Whatever," Jody huffed. "To hell with that bitch."

Cloud resisted the strong urge to turn around again and tackle him, instead pushing his words from his ears as he passed the "Danger - Mt. Nibel Trails Ahead" sign that was buried into the earth on a wooden post.

—

Cloud followed the trails for what seemed like hours, when in reality it had only been a few handfuls of minutes before he caught up to Tifa on the crags. The higher in altitude he went on the mountain, the stronger the gales blew and the more violent the windstorms became as they passed through in steadfast intervals. It was late December, just two days before Yule, and the weather was already stark and cold, but it was punishing under these oppressive conditions. Cloud's leather jacket was doing him no favors, the wind biting him right through to his skin.

His breath came out in ragged puffs as he climbed higher, the mountains eventually opening up into twin peaks that faced one another, connected by a rickety suspension bridge that wavered in the wind. With the wail of distant dragons throttling vibrations through the rock, Cloud pushed through the pain in his thighs as he navigated higher and higher, searching frantically for Tifa, his eyes scanning the horizon. All around him, the sky was punctured by the crowns of Mt. Nibel's angry points, sharp apexes of snow-capped rock that bled into the heavens.

Above it all was the blanket of stars, the same ones that Tifa had shown him that first night they spent together on the water tower, now so close he could almost touch them.

He was staring up at them in fascination when she caught another glimmer, and he saw Tifa a few hundred feet away from him on the trail, higher up the steep incline. She was closing in on the bridge that led to the other side of the mountain, where Shinra's mako reactor was nestled deep inside of the stone, sucking the life out of the Planet's deep underbelly beneath.

Where did she think she was going?

"Tifa!" Cloud shouted at the top of his lungs.

His voice echoed through the surrounding chasms, sharp reverberations that made him shudder. He saw Tifa stop, turning to face him, and he narrowed his eyes trying to read her face from where he stood. It seemed like she was smiling, and then she waved at him, before she turned back and kept going.

Cloud used every cell in his body to break into a run, ignoring the scorch of the wind in his lungs and the cold that assaulted the exposed parts of his flesh as he hiked the trail, higher and higher, trying desperately to close the gap between him and Tifa, never once taking his eyes off of her as she kept inching closer toward the bridge. He stumbled over the rocks as he pushed himself, but he ignored the way they cut into his hands like blades, rising again and feeling his heart plummet every time he saw Tifa take a similar spill in the distance.

As he closed in on her, his mind replayed the endless hardships that had stacked on top of Tifa in the months since he'd met her. She was trying to live life as a normal, happy teenager, one who was talented and smart with goals and passions to pursue. But at every turn, she was roadblocked by her own family, by choices made for her and by circumstances she couldn't control.

He thought about the condition he'd found her in when he came to her house that afternoon with his mom, stained by her mother's bloody and shimmery tears as she wept her own, shaking with her knees up to her chest. Her father had been passed out on the floor, his skin filling the air with the scent of booze, her mother a lifeless doll who was strewn across the bedsheets in a puddle of red and gold. It had been the most unnerving and terrifying thing that he had ever seen in his life, and Tifa had been mute and unable to walk, Cloud carrying her away from the scene to safety.

Cloud knew a little bit about Star Scar. He'd learned about it in school, and Tifa had told him some things about her mother. He knew that it was ugly and painful and that it affected people differently, that their susceptibility varied, that it was all dependent on the root causes of the disease and the emotional traumas that brought it to bear. But despite this knowledge, Cloud had not been prepared for the horror he witnessed in that bedroom, an image he would never be able to erase from his mind.

He knew that the disease was hereditary, and he only hoped and prayed that Tifa never, ever experienced anything like her mother had.

That thought was leaving him when he realized that he had almost caught up to Tifa. She had stopped by the lip of the mountain, hovering just before the suspension bridge, hesitating before crossing. Cloud cleared his mind of all distraction and ran for her, falling in step behind her with a cry of her name.

"Tifa!"

She gripped the ropes of the bridge and turned back to him, her hair tangled and whipping in every direction from the gales. Her cheeks were bright red from exposure and coated with tears. Her bottom lip was trembling, her crimson eyes dark and glassy, and she shook her head at him, unable to respond before she turned back to face the other side of the mountain again.

Cloud stopped less than a foot away from her, almost close enough to touch. He was compelled to reach out and grab her, to lock his hands around her arms and pull her close and away from the face of danger. But he restrained himself, not wanting to startle her or prompt her toward further rashness. Instead, he clenched his fists at his sides, turning his next words carefully over in his mind before he spoke.

"Tifa," he began softly. "What are you doing out here? Why did you come here? Why didn't you tell me?"

He saw her shiver, and it dawned on him that she wasn't wearing a coat, still dressed in the clothes she'd pulled on after he'd carried her to his house and she'd washed her mother's blood and star-tears off of her skin in Claudia's shower. The urge to pull her close grew stronger, and he took another step forward, ready to reach for her and fold her into his arms.

"I can't stay here," Tifa finally answered, still with her back to him, her voice chased by the wind. "I have to go find mama."

Cloud started to respond, but another gale tore between them, this one violent and rough, swirling Tifa's hair through the air like black, liquid streamers. Cloud brought his arm up in front of his face to shield it from the torrent, gritting his teeth as the windstorms kicked up dust and snow into his eyes.

"Tifa, it's not safe here," he told her, inching closer. "Come on, let's go home."

But she wasn't listening. She was now beginning to cross the bridge, unsure of her step as she went. She held onto the ropes, moving slowly, her sneakers padding carefully against the wooden planks beneath her feet. Cloud felt the frustration swell inside of him at her stubbornness, but knowing there was nothing else he could do, he followed her.

He was a pace behind her, pleading with her to turn around and come home with him, all while she ignored him and inched forward at a snail's pace. He was about to reach for her wrist when a screech pierced the sky, quickly followed by a roar.

Tifa paused, looking up with Cloud following suit. A bright green dragon was circling the air above, its scales an iridescent purple under the moonlight, crying out into the sky and sending shockwaves throughout all of Mount Nibel's treacherous peaks. His heart pounding with inoculating fear, Cloud turned to his left to see a portion of rock break away from the cliff face, tumbling down the mountain to the chasm below and destroying everything in its wake.

The dragon breathed a plume of fire to the north, lighting up the sky with its fury. Cloud heard Tifa's distinct cry of terror, and without thinking, he came up behind her, looping his hand around her wrist. The dragon roared again, and the bridge shook and swayed more violently under the vibrations of those screams than it had even with the windstorms, and Cloud knew that they had better get out of here before it spotted them and sent all of its fiery rage in their direction.

"Come on!" he called to her, pulling her back the way they came. They were only a few paces away from the precipice; once they made it to the other side, they could make a mad dash back downhill to safety. If they had to, they could even find a cave to hide in until the dragon disappeared.

Tifa had seemed to snap back to her senses, because she was following Cloud obediently now, allowing him to tug her along. His chest was on fire from the sharpness of the cold, his skull aching and his fingers numb, but despite all this, he pulled her behind him, stepping onto the rock just as the dragon roared again behind them, a fierce, guttural sound that broke away into a high-pitched scream.

It slammed into the cliff face on the other side of the mountain, just beyond the suspension bridge, only dozens of feet from where they had been headed. The force of the impact sent the bridge rocking and swaying, and Tifa tripped, falling backwards, her foot slipping between two planks. Still locked hand in hand with Cloud, she pulled him with her as she went down, and Cloud found himself being dragged away from the safety of the rock back onto the bridge.

He fell back onto her, and the force of both their bodies was too great on the rackety old bridge. The slats of wood tore apart like tissue paper, breaking away and opening a big enough gap for them to both fall through. The dragon screamed again, and the sound blended with Tifa's cries, Cloud still holding her wrist tight as he found himself becoming weightless.

He looked up into the sky as he fell, seeing the stars creep farther and farther away from him as he sped toward the abyss below. They were horrifyingly beautiful, and his chest bloomed with fear, the cold realization that he might die running like rivers of ice across his spinal cord.

But nothing was more horrifying than the split second when the velocity of their descent pulled Tifa out of his grasp, and as Cloud slammed into a shallow crag against the side of the crevasse, he shouted Tifa's name as she spun away from him with an equally frightening call of his own before she disappeared deeper into blackness.

He couldn't think about what just happened, ducking and covering his head with his hands as he rolled down the side of the chasm. He felt the sharp rocks slice into his skin, cutting open his knees and tearing the leather of his jacket. The entire ride down was excruciating, and Cloud felt every moment of it, only able to breathe again when he rolled to a stop at the bottom of the dark pit.

He laid there, shaking, letting long moments pass as he waited for something terrible to happen again. But it never came, and after the dragon roared a final time, the entire terrain became filled with a heavy silence that descended like a quilt on the hills and valleys around them. Stupefied but lucid and alive, Cloud slowly unfolded himself from the fetal position he'd tucked himself into and lifted his head, slowly looking around.

His eyes taking a moment to refocus in the darkness that was only illuminated by the faint glow of the moon and stars so far above, Cloud realized he was surrounded by nothing but bleak, gray rock. The earth was cold and harsh, all of the rocks and pebbles around him sharp and smooth like freshly sharpened knives. They had cut open his knees and arms on his way down, but otherwise, he was left unscathed.

Once this thought had cleared his mind, Cloud immediately thought of Tifa, how she had fallen first and how he had dropped her. Despite the pain in his limbs, he gathered himself to knees and began to crawl through the chasm, calling her name.

"Tifa!" he shouted, his voice echoing in a burst against the steep walls that closed in around him like angry golems. "Tifa, are you okay?"

That there was no answer scared Cloud more than he had been when they first fell. He tried to get to his feet, but the pain in the back of his left calf was almost unspeakable. He winced and shook it from his mind, dragging that leg behind him as he searched, every minute that stretched by sending him deeper and deeper into panic.

It was only after he rounded a bend in the pit that he finally found her, lying face down among the crags. She was surrounded by broken rock, one arm splayed out in front of her while the other was folded in by her head, protecting her face. She had lost a sneaker somewhere along the way, her legs both bent up close to her belly as if she had tried to roll into a sheltering stance but hadn't quite made it.

Cloud discarded all of the pain in his own body as he swiftly made his way to her. He knelt by her side, ignoring the burn in his knees, gently leaning over her and sweeping his eyes over her body as he inspected her. He couldn't see any surface damage, aside from the way that her clothes were torn and dirty and her hair was askew. And she was breathing, the biggest relief, her chest rising and falling in slow beats.

"Tifa," he called to her softly, gently shaking her shoulder. "Tifa, please wake up."

She didn't respond, didn't move a muscle, just laid there like a rag doll tossed out amongst the ruins. Cloud tried over and over again, his panic returning, and when she still said nothing, he carefully brushed her hair out of her face, turning her so that he could look at her.

Her cheeks had a few light scratches from the rocks, but there was a thick red line of blood pouring across her hairline, just beneath her bangs. It was leaking down the side of her face, crawling under her chin and pooling by the base of her throat.

It scared Cloud. He tried repeatedly to wake her, and when minutes stretched by and she didn't stir, he gathered her into his arms, stroking her cheek over and over again, cradling her close as he began to cry, tears lining his face and stinging the open scrapes on his cheek.

What have I done?