ADVISORY: chapter contains implied, underage adult situations (~17)
"An introduction to the study of brain and behaviour, perception, learning, memory, cognition, motivation and emotion."
[ : The Curriculum : ]
Chapter 6 | Psychology
As the first month of her tenure wrapped up, Headmistress Lockhart continued to prove her - arguably - insane dedication to the job. She was always the first one in the building and the last one out, barring the few times her assistant, Yuffie, was pretty sure she had slept on her office couch. With one manicured hand, the persistent woman tightened the reins on Midgar Preparatory's staff (enforcing the dress code, extracurricular involvement, more refined syllabuses, etc.) while the other summoned higher class budgets, a library refurbishment and various scholarship fundraising events seemingly out of thin air.
The few times Cloud ignored the rules, daring to don a beat-up pair of running shoes and/or forgo his tie on days he knew would be spent in the woodshed sifting through debris and sweating buckets, a violet-colored memo never failed to appear in his inbox. She never missed an opportunity to remind him that his benefits could be cut should he continue to breach contract.
He wanted to be annoyed. However, something about Tifa keeping tabs on what he wore every day, even though their paths rarely crossed, couldn't help but amuse him.
Even Barret wasn't immune to her threats nor charms, the brawny Phys. Ed. teacher sporting a grey suit near bursting at the seams and pair of scuffed, brown loafers whenever outside the gym walls.
"I'd be pissed if she wasn't working so damn hard to make this place nicer and safer for my kid," he admitted after joining their ever-expanding lunch posse. "Couple'a blisters are a small price to pay. Lockhart may be tight-assed and way too concerned with appearances, but she's a good person. I can tell."
Cloud wasn't sure he agreed, but didn't comment. Especially on the 'tight-ass' part.
Thinking of Tifa's ass, or any other part of her, really, had started invoking issues that were getting more and more difficult to ignore. Twice that week, ever since their conversation in the hallway regarding the fate of Ruvie Tuesti, he had awoken wrapped in sticky sheets and burning shame. Even during the day, in the midst of any innocuous task, his body would viciously react if his mind dared flit towards her. It was as though he was a damn, hormone-driven teenager again, getting sucker-punched in the groin every couple of hours with absolutely no rhyme or reason. Thank Gods he was usually alone or half-hidden behind a desk.
Nevertheless, ignore it he did. Why, he had just managed to successfully ignore it in the shower that morning. Even with soap-slicked hands gliding over his stomach, itching to reach a little lower and relieve the tension, all he had to do was recall any of their recent interactions and stinging humiliation would rush in to throttle the more delicate desire. For the first time, he was grateful for how easily he could feel emasculated.
On that day, it was still dark when Cloud locked the door to his unit and sprinted down the three flights of stairs, out the residence and towards the school building. The Advanced class had received a shipment of parts that he hoped to unpack prior, ensuring precious workshop time was spent assembling instead of staging packing-peanut wars.
He had just rounded the bend, gleefully envisioning the shock absorbers Marlene and Denzel had ordered for their bike, when he was hit by a flash bomb of a sight, stopping so abruptly that his loafers left skid marks.
"Good morning, Mr. Strife," said Ruvie Tuesti.
The Ruvie Tuesti.
The 'ruined' heiress was standing in the hallway outside his workshop, staring in as if it were a shop window displaying treats she could no longer afford.
He often used to find her in this exact spot near the end of lunch break; oil-stained fingers clawing at the glass like a toddler at an aquarium, chestnut hair gathered into a tight, no-nonsense braid as she impatiently waited for him to unlock the door.
In jarring contrast, her hair was now dyed a blinding shade of gold, styled into voluptuous waves which cascaded down her back, unnaturally long nails painted matte-beige. She was dressed in an elegant, cream-colored wrap-dress with raw lace trim that had probably been ripped straight off a runway model, but appeared slightly offset and wrinkled, as if someone had wrestled her into the thing. Every inch of the girl was so devoid of color and cheer that she seemed much older, more veteran-like, than her sixteen years should allow. The drab effect was unaided by the black-suited man with an earpiece lingering nearby, holding multiple tote bags filled with textbooks and paper.
Cloud swallowed to dampen the burning in his throat. "Hey. Ruvie."
"Did not think anyone would be here this early," she explained with the ghost of a grin. "I came to collect my incomplete projects."
Glancing down at her hands, Cloud was drawn to an ornately carved but still raw-pine birdhouse. It was one of the first things she ever built in his introductory course the previous semester. He remembered her thrilled squeals when the Dremel tool cut the final pieces off the damask pattern stenciled onto the wood she had chopped, sanded and treated all by herself. The reminder made his heart thud against its hastily soldered cracks.
Had this been a month prior, if he hadn't known what he now knew, Cloud would have offered her the handle of an axe and an invitation out to the woodshed, sensing and appreciating that she had some frustration to vent. Instead, he was careful to keep several meters between them. Just to be safe.
Ruvie of course noticed this reluctance and the corner of her lip twitched into a masochistic smirk. As if her favorite teacher's discomfort was yet another item on the list of ceaseless punishments.
"You are disappointed in me, Mr. Strife?" she said in a strange tone that was half question, half statement, wholly broken.
Against better judgement, Cloud forced himself to take a single, tentative step closer, like how one would approach a chimera with a thorn in its paw.
"That's not possible, Ruvie," he insisted with a smile that, though difficult to summon, was sincere. "It'll be okay. You can always come back to finish next year."
At this, she huffed a little laugh and turned back toward the glass. Cloud wasn't sure if she was staring into the workshop or at her haggard reflection. "Sure I can, Mr. Strife."
After touching his earpiece, the black-suited man slapped a hand on Ruvie's shoulder and guided her toward the back exit.
Watching her walk away, Cloud was reminded of one of Makology's more grisly Spring traditions: an innocent lamb selected to make the ultimate sacrifice, just for the sake of everyone else's fortune and comfort.
After tearing open a package with the delicacy of a rabid hyena, Cloud diagnosed himself as freaked-out and marched toward his woodshed. This was meant to be an exciting day for the class. He was determined to not let anything, not even his own surly mood, ruin it for them.
This quick-trigger temper was hardly new. However, up until the previous week, he had been able to disguise it when among the students. Something had changed since. Something was grating at him like an itch that he couldn't locate let alone scratch. Zack still pushed for him to take another swing at a date with Jessie if only to 'get it out of his system', but sexual frustrations were but a small part of the many physical failings which had him on edge.
Only one of Hojo's experimental mako pills remained, carefully buried in the leather satchel he carried everywhere. His old amber vials, now replenished after a trip to Midgar proper the previous weekend, seemed so outdated, bland and dangerous in comparison. Like driving a rusted bike that sputtered globs of black tar versus a materia-infused super speeder. He knew he wanted to get more, perhaps even needed to, but had yet to summon the required level of courage/desperation to approach the slimy doctor. First, he needed to figure out exactly how far his personal boundaries were willing to stretch.
That was a problem for future-Cloud.
He didn't envy that guy...
The first sun rays were glittering upon the tin roof as he entered the clearing, taking a grateful breath of crisp, forest air and already sensing the iceberg of his frustration start to soften. He had just reached for the door handle when a burst of color caught his eye where there used to be nothing but half-dead grass.
A fresh plot of earth had been dug along the shed's south side. Kneeling for closer inspection, he discovered a row of lilies planted there, their buds still shyly closed but promising to soon burst into lushness.
Aerith.
The two of them hadn't really spoken since snapping at one other over how to handle Shinra's goons. He supposed, as far as silent peace offerings went, this one was pretty damn sweet.
Stargazer Lilies, they were called. The golden mutation. His mother's favorite, having grown them in their Nibleheim window boxes.
As the wind tickled his cheeks and made the green stalks dance, Cloud lost all desire for violent exercise. This time would best be spent putting the finishing touches on that engagement ring Zack had designed. He was far from the only one having a rough year and if anyone deserved a happy ending, it was those two selfless idiots.
Without any more ado, Cloud strode over to the shed doors and slid them open.
The last thing he expected was to be hit by a second bombshell before dawn.
"What the f- DENZEL?!" Slapping both hands over his glasses, Cloud turned his back on the repulsive tableau which included a young girl on her knees. "Sssshhit!"
"Mr. Strife!" There was a flurry of gasps, hurried breaths and rustled clothing.
This sort of crap was beyond his pay-grade.
"Apologies, Mr.!" some unrecognized, girlish voice stuttered as it sped over the threshold and towards the building. With a groan of annoyance, Cloud dared to peek through the gaps in his fingers if only to confirm a theory. Sure enough, he gleaned just enough to confirm that the figure sprinting away as if her life depended on it was wearing a grey kilt and burgundy socks, not black and green. She did not attend Midgar Prep.
"We weren't doing anything, I swear!" Denzel had the gall to insist as Cloud carefully swiveled around to glare at him. "I- we… Dear Goddess, I'm expelled. Ar-aren't I? My parents are going to kill me."
Cloud released a lengthy sigh, summoning all his will-power to meet the kid's wide and terror-filled, blue eyes. Standing there with his uniform tie hanging around his neck like a noose, trembling and confused, it was impossible not to see some version of himself at that same age. More than he didn't want to get involved, more than he wanted to avoid the awkwardness bubbling inside his chest like gas, he decided he mostly never wanted to see the expression he had just seen on Ruvie Tuesti's face on another student.
Never.
"No," Cloud declared, massaging a stress-strain from the back of his neck. "As long as you promise that I'll never find you here - or anywhere on campus for that matter - like that again, I saw nothing. Deal?"
"Of course! Thank you, Mr. Strife!" Swiping his grey sweater-vest from the floor, Denzel bent over in a deep bow before attempting to follow the path of his paramour. However, before making it over the threshold, one of Cloud's hands shot out and yanked him back by the collar.
"One more thing," he said darkly, cursing his conscience for making him extend this scene. "That girl and you - whatever you're doing or not doing - you're being careful, right?"
"Uhhh…" Red rising in his cheeks, Denzel looked out towards where the girl in question had disappeared. "I don't- I'm not sure what you...mean?"
Of course he didn't.
This fucking place...
Before he could figure out how to broach the subject, a completely overwhelmed Denzel exploded into a hurricane of half-formed excuses. "I never...She's- That's my girlfriend, Aya, by the way. From my Sector 7 High School I went to before here? We, uh- We hadn't seen each other since winter break and- I dunno, she hitched a ride somehow and I was so happy and I told her I think I- I love her. Yes. And she loves me, probably. And then things just started happening before I even-"
"I don't need to- just shut up and listen, okay?"
Leading the shell-shocked kid over to the chopping stump, Cloud sat upon it and yanked off one of his loafers while his pupil plopped down into the grass. As he rolled the fabric of his sock into a coil, Cloud asked Denzel to list any biology courses taken at his previous school, doing his best to keep his voice confident and authoritative, as if this were any other tedious interview.
Thus the most uncomfortable conversation of both their lives began.
Thankfully, after a few cringe-worthy minutes, Denzel proved to be aware of the basic anatomy and reproductive health thanks to the less-conservative, state-run education system he had attended prior to his father's promotion. All Cloud felt the responsibility to mention was the most common tool that existed to reduce the likelihood of dire consequences.
In the end, it was almost like any other lesson he had ever given, once he got into the lecture flow. No different from describing how a gear-shift worked.
"But how does it stay on?" Denzel soon inquired, discomfort dispelled by intrigue. Like any true engineer. "If it's only thin latex, then..." He trailed off, unsure of how to end the question. Thankfully, Cloud was prepared. Holding up the sock coil, he shimmied the loop over his bare toes and slowly unfurled it over his foot and calf, keeping the tip pinched. It was as good a demonstration as anyone would ever get in this relic of a facility.
"Okay then!" After shoving his foot back into his shoe, Cloud slapped his hands to his thighs to signal a wrap-up. "Be smart. Be safe. I'm done. Think I've checked off enough fireable offenses for one morning."
"No, you didn't," Denzel insisted, pushing to his feet and brushing away grass from his pants; surprisingly nonchalant. "I saw nothing. Right, Mr. Strife?"
Then he bowed again. More purposefully and deeper than before, careful to meet his teacher's eyes as he rose and nodded. Once.
Expelling an appreciative though frustrated breath, Cloud also nodded. "Sure, Denzel. Sure."
The train-wreck of a day didn't end there.
A peanut-packing war did inevitably break out as the Advanced Industrial Arts class unwrapped their component orders, but Cloud was too drained to do anything more than let it happen by that point. Somewhere beyond his pile of potatoes doused in syrup, the lunchtime gang of Zack, Yuffie and Barret chatted and jibed as usual, though Cloud couldn't find it in him to contribute a single syllable. Especially because Aerith, who he had finally summoned the guts to properly apologize to and thank for the flowers, wasn't present.
Zack said she was out sick. A bit of a cough, she had told him, but the excuse didn't sit well with Cloud. Aerith had shown up for work one October morning minutes after her shoulder popped out of its socket in a biking accident. Another time, she had still honored her appointments with students between bouts of vomiting from food poisoning. The mystery of her absence irked him all afternoon as he carefully etched the final leaf-vein detail into the silver band meant for her finger and wrapped up the project around sunset.
More exhausted, confused and tense than he had ever felt in his life, Cloud trudged up the three stories to his unit with every intention of switching on the air conditioner, faceplanting into the mattress and not moving until those stupid, Saturday temple bells yanked everyone on campus out of sweeter dreams.
At least that had been the plan.
The first hint that someone was amiss was that the hallway was filled with music. Some sort of upbeat, jazzy number that may have been popular thirty-odd years ago. Friday nights were normally dead around the faculty residence, especially prior to a long weekend, since most staff ventured off campus to their true homes and families.
The second hint was the potent scent of frying oil and sweetened-soy.
His bad feeling took root as he made a few tentative steps down the hall and his corner unit proved to be the source of both.
"Welcome home, dear breadwinner!"
Zack, with those eerily sharpened senses of his, yanked open the door before Cloud could backtrack more than a meter. His eccentric friend wore a grey t-shirt and jeans under a frilly, pink apron, as confident in his masculinity as ever. "Come on in! I got a super sexy surprise for ya, if I do say so myself."
"Zack…" Cloud growled in warning, really not in the mood for such games. "For fuck's sake, how many times do I have to-"
"Cloud Strife! Language!"
All biting words dissolved on his tongue like honey in tea.
For there, leaning against his threshold, dressed in a simple denim dress and white apron, was Claudia Strife.
"M-mom?" he sputtered, rushing forward to absorb the burden of her weight. Beneath his hands, the bones of her forearms felt like twigs. "W-what are you doing here? You shouldn't be- You can't just-"
"I'm fineeee," she insisted, eyes crinkling at the corners in a smile as she shoved Cloud back a foot to stop crowding her. "Doctors agreed I could use a change of scenery, so I took a cab here to surprise you with your favorite: shrimp and vegetable tempura!"
"And I'll drive her back in an hour when I go meet Aerith at her mom's place," Zack butted in, placing a supportive hand on Claudia's shoulder. "It's a win-win-win! Especially the tempura eating part."
"You shouldn't have left," Cloud insisted, shaking his head, horror seizing hold of his lungs. "Don't you remember? Last time you-"
"Oh, shush now." Tapping him on the cheek with a wooden spoon, Claudia proved her displeasure in the most typical of country-mother ways. "No one's gonna shatter tonight, especially by making a simple dish for my favorite boys. Look at you! Practically skin and bones!"
"He's a damn genetic marvel," agreed Zack, chewing on a carrot that he had pulled from the front pocket of his fancy apron. "Honestly, the way he eats, he should be two, maybe three hundred pounds by now. Instead, I can practically do laundry on his stomach. Totally un-fucking-fair, ya know?"
She smacked both of them on the arms with the same spoon, jaw dropped in offense. "What potty mouths you two have grown! There's a lady present."
"Heh. You're no lady, Claudia." Zack winked, inspiring the older woman to giggle while Cloud barely suppressed a gag.
"As fun as it is for me to watch you mock-flirt, can we get inside and sit down please?" Dragging his mother by the arm as forcefully as he dared, he didn't relent until she was lowered onto his desk chair; the only proper seat in the place. On a hotplate, a pot of oil was bubbling away next to a tray of battered vegetables and seafood. Without hesitation, Cloud scooped up the tongs and dropped the first six pieces into the basket before anyone could protest his involvement.
"More wine?" Zack asked, holding up an uncorked bottle.
Claudia, her papery, pale cheeks beaming, held up a disposable cup. "Of course!"
"You're drinking, too? Mom!" Goddess almighty, she really was trying to give him a heart attack. "They said-"
"I know what they say, Cloud," she interrupted, grin unyielding as Zack topped her off. "I hear it every day. Every hour, practically. Have I not earned one hour of fun after seven months on lockdown?"
Cloud tried to catch Zack's eyes, to glean some support, but the guy seemed equally determined to ignore him. He should have known the two of them would form some sick sort of collusion, both cheerleaders for living life to the fullest no matter the consequences. There was no point in fighting.
An hour, she had asked for. Only an hour.
With a groan of defeat, Cloud grabbed a roll of paper towels to line a plate while Zack, sitting cross-legged on the floor, continued to candidly converse with Claudia like they were college roommates. They discussed her newfound hobbies at the St-Lucretia treatment center, the latest best-selling novel and how it was overly-verbose, until, as was inevitable, their focus shifted to romance.
"I'm sorry to report that your son's dry spell - well, more like a dry era by this point - continues," Zack said with a tsk. "I practically had to drag him, kicking and screaming, onto a date with the cutest, most eligible woman on campus: Miss Raspberry. With the amount of complaining, you'd think I was pushing him to share a bed with a cactus."
Claudia burst into giggles at the same time as Cloud winced. "Zack, can you not?"
"Not what? Do you think I'm alone on the 'Cloud needs to get some' mission?" He pointed an accusatory finger at the elder blonde, who was chuckling unabashedly by that point. "She's worse than I am!"
"Well, it has been a while, my dear boy. Has it not?" The way his mother looked at him, with more genuine sympathy than teasing, was more than Cloud could handle. With a gruff breath, he turned his back on them to concentrate on the fry basket, silently but firmly declaring the subject closed.
Thankfully, Claudia knew exactly where, down to the millimeter, her son's lines were drawn and never crossed them.
"Speaking of 'making long overdue moves'," she asked, expertly diverting the English-Lit teacher's attention. "When, exactly, are you going to pop the question to your lady friend?".
"Oh, trust me, I'm working on it!" He assured, with gusto. "Just need a couple of more gil for the stone and Cloud's...actually, I don't know where Cloud is with the band. He never gives me any updates, just mutters 'it's coming' every couple of days, which means Goddess-knows-what. And I-"
"Had you bothered to ask, I would have told you that I finished today." One hand holding a plate of sizzling tempura with its bowl of dipping sauce, his other dug into his pant pocket, fished out the ring and tossed it over. "Jackass," he couldn't help but tag on.
Zack caught the thing midair and laid it flat in his palm for his and Claudia's inspection. Unexpectedly nervous, Cloud made himself a seat on the floor in front of them, sliding the plate onto the desk while awaiting review.
There was no need to inform anyone that he had scavenged the silver from a cracked, antique bedpan. For, as unfamiliar as he was with the subject, he assumed it would probably ruin the 'romance'.
"You made this, sweetheart?" Claudia asked with awe, shaking hands hovering over the delicate twists of silver vines and leaves, the empty grips in the center waiting to clutch a modest stone. "How striking. So organic looking! I had no idea you could do such intricate metalwork."
"I didn't either," Cloud confessed with a self-deprecating chuckle. "If you like it, I can make you one too. Different design of course."
"Oh darling, that's so sweet of you. But there's no point wasting decorations on this failing bag-of-bones."
"Mom…don't-"
"Let the record show," Zack interrupted, determined to rescue the festive mood. "I had no doubt that he could pull it off."
Rotating the piece for another viewing angle, Zack's breath hitched upon finding the inscription that had been etched-in as a last second impulse.
"I can easily grind that out," Cloud was quick to assure. "It was stupid. I just-"
"It's fucking perfect, bro." The man's eyes were blatantly glistening by then.
Swallowing an urge to remind him of his disdain for the nickname, Cloud took a deep breath through his nose and nodded. "Good. I'm glad."
"Ohh! This is so exciting!" Claudia wrapped a hand around the back of both their heads, pulling them into an uncomfortable though warm trio-hug. "A wedding! Maybe I'll even get a pseudo-grandchild to spoil before I return to the planet, huh?"
"I'll do my best, Claudia," Zack said with a broken chuckle. Cloud didn't respond. He couldn't.
Before the situation grew more tender, there was a knock at the door. Cloud leapt towards the opportunity to escape. "Probably Barret needing help with their TV again," he explained, sniffing away all traces of emotion. "I swear, that thing short-circuits twice a week."
"Don't expect us to wait for you!" Zack called, reaching for a piece of steaming, sweet potato and popping the whole thing into his mouth. Cloud didn't bother hiding his smirk when the guy started sputtering on the much-too-hot food.
"What is it this-" The sentence died on his lips when faced with his new guest: the last person he would have expected to show up at his room, especially considering the late hour.
"Miss L-Lockhart?" he stammered, as if saying her name would confirm she was no illusion.
"Good evening, Mr. Strife."
Those were the first words they had directly exchanged in days, though it felt more like months since their tense conversation in the hallway; when she had dared to assume he could be the male responsible for Ruvie Tuesti's 'delicate situation'.
She wore her usual power-suit but in a shade of deep violet, with puffed, three-quarter sleeves and corset-like fastenings, pencil skirt flared at the hem. The ensemble was so very vibrant and bravely fashionable compared to the past weeks of straight lines, monochrome and accessories restricted to the school's uninspired palette of emerald and gold. Even her hair was different, messily half-pinned up with a pencil, the remainder loose over her shoulders. On top of all that, for the first time, she wasn't sporting the Goddess' gold halo pin.
Something about the accessory's lack made his mouth go dry. As if he was seeing her minus a modesty-enforcing, layer of armor.
"Sorry, I'm- I know it's late," she said, grinning shyly as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
"No!" he said with a, perhaps, embarrassing level of zeal. Stepping out into the hallway in his socks, Cloud ensured the door was closed firmly behind him. "Not at all. I was just...I thought you were Wallace."
The corner of Tifa's mouth twitched at that. "That's probably the first time someone's mixed the two of us up. Perhaps it's time to renew your prescription?"
Chuckling, Cloud pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, his cheeks beginning to burn. In a good way for once. Something in her tone, perhaps due to them not being in the vicinity of the classrooms or students, was lighter than usual. Leaning more towards friendly teasing than the harsh reprimands he had grown accustomed to. "Noted. How can I help you, Headmistress?"
At the use of her formal title, she seemed to remember something and her spine grew rigid while shooting glances down the hall. Cloud was reminded that this level was indeed strictly for males. Though the executives surely had carte blanche, that wouldn't salvage her reputation should someone witness her lingering outside an employee's private room.
"Most of the staff are gone for the long weekend," he was quick to assure, mourning the loss of the casual atmosphere. "You don't have to worry."
"I'm not worried," she insisted, even as her cheekbones flushed with color. "I, umm...I just wanted to let you know, educator to educator, that Ruvie Tuesti is going to be fine."
At the summoning of such an uncomfortable subject, the source of so much recent stress, a lump so solid rose in his throat that it stole his ability to speak. Realizing this, Tifa pressed forward.
"I'm sorry to bring it up again and I understand you have an aversion to gossip, so I promise this is official intel and will be announced publicly sometime within the next few weeks. The baby's father is another student and both families have come to an agreement that suits everyone involved."
"Ms. Lockhart…" he warned once he regained control of his tongue. "I really don't need to-"
"I needed you to know that you were right," she pushed, shuffling a few inches closer, crimson eyes hard with determination. "The whole 'lecherous faculty member' angle was just a scandal gimmick to sell papers and boost ratings. To think, I was about to-"
Shaking her head, she huffed, fists clenching at her sides. The rare display of vulnerability again reminded him that she was the same girl who, at seventeen, had fearlessly climbed into his window the night before he left Nibelheim. The only person who bothered digging past a battalion's worth of mental and physical barriers and proved to them both that he was more human than machine. The girl he had once, oh-so-briefly, thought he loved.
"Telling me about the upgrades to Ruvie's car must have been hard for you," she whispered after a long, tension-filled pause. "But it was enough to spur her to talk. You saved everyone's jobs, mine included, probably. So..." She stared down at her feet, biting her lip while contemplating the words, cheeks becoming more red by the second. "As a thank you, I thought, if you're free this weekend, that maybe we could-"
"Clouuuuud! It's gonna get coooold!" His mother's horrendously timed sing-song floated through the door behind his back. Cloud swore under his breath as Tifa, clearly flabbergasted, staggered as though the voice had shoved her.
"Oh! I didn't know you had...company," she said, unable or, perhaps, unwilling to hide the irritation in her voice. Whether because he was breaking the rules or because he proved to be unavailable, he would probably never know.
Cloud tried to salvage the moment, needing her to finish her sentence. 'Maybe we could-' what? WHAT!?
"It's not what you think. That's just my-"
Tifa held a hand up to stop him. "I don't need to know the details, Mr. Strife. Have fun. I won't file a report this time and you can consider us even from now on."
"Wait. Please, Tifa-"
"Tifa!?" Yanking open the door, Claudia dove passed her son and had his boss in a gut-busting hug before either knew what was happening. "It is you! My dear, dear girl. I had no idea you worked here too!"
Over Claudia's shoulder, Tifa stared at Cloud with wide, confusion-filled eyes before slowly but forcefully pushing the stranger away to see their face.
"Ms. Strife!" she exclaimed, a wide, genuine smile blossoming onto her lips for what Cloud deemed to be the first time all semester. "W-Wow. It's been-"
"A long time," Claudia finished, brazenly cupping the adult woman's cheeks. "My, my, I didn't think it was possible for you to get any more beautiful. Isn't she beautiful, Cloud? "
Cloud choked on air while, in the distant background, Zack's giggles haunted the exchange.
"And what style." Taking a step back, the elder scanned Tifa's perfectly fitted suit, shaking her head in awed disbelief. "Why, it's like you've been plucked straight off a magazine cover. Though far too skinny! Please, you must join us for tempura and wine."
"Mom!" Cloud scolded, eyes rolling heavenward. "This is the Headmistress of Midgar Preparatory. My boss."
"So?" Claudia glared over her shoulder at her son, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Are you implying that powerful women don't have needs?"
The woman was officially shameless.
"That wasn't even close to...We don't have-"
"Really..." Tifa protests piled upon his. "I have a ton of work, so-"
"Oh, now both of you, cut it out! It's appetizers, not a cruise." Without any more fanfare, Claudia gripped both of their sleeves and yanked them inside with a surprising amount of strength for someone in her condition. Honestly, Cloud wondered how she summoned it. Perhaps it was one of those 'desperate mother lifts car to save trapped baby' type of situations.
As Tifa paused to pull off her heels, she scanned the space floor to ceiling, and Cloud was made all too aware of a lack of decoration. Even after seven months, the room held only the bare essentials abandoned by his predecessor. Except for a few books piled on his desk and the scent of his mother's cooking, it would have been easy to assume this place was unoccupied.
"Heya, Ms. Lockhart," Zack greeted through an overstuffed mouth, waving towards the pile of what appeared to be every vegetable type on the planet, crispy golden and steaming. "Please, dig in! Claudia's sauce is the stuff of legend. Though, sorry, Strife-the-loner here only has one freakin' plate."
"No one's stopping you from littering your own carpet with crumbs, Zack," Cloud muttered while sheepishly handing over a paper towel to Tifa.
"It's fine. I get it." She pinched a slice of zucchini off the offered plate. "My place is worse, believe it or not. The only item in my cupboard is a mug borrowed from the cafeteria."
"You mean 'stolen' from the cafeteria?" Zack dared to correct with a cocked eyebrow. "How scandalous!"
Claudia chuckled while gingerly lowering herself onto the edge of the bed. "Ooo. Office intrigue. I love it!"
"Knock it off, you two." Sliding the desk chair closer, Cloud gestured for Tifa to sit, which she did after nabbing a few dips of the sauce.
"For your information, Mr. Fair, if one intends to return the equipment post-use and it remains on campus, then 'borrowing' is indeed a legally appropriate term." Her tone may have been the same, firm authoritarian one used within the school halls, but the upturned corner of her lip implied a wholly different sentiment. "I simply haven't finished 'using' it yet."
"On campus. You mean you live here? In this building?" Zack's neck swung towards Cloud as if to ensure he absorbed this most-intriguing of tidbits. Cloud, justifiably, pretended he didn't exist.
"Yes. I mean, I know it's not standard for the Head of School to remain in residence. I didn't want to go into debt living on the plate or deal with a long commute. Seemed to make sense."
"So you're below us on the female-only, not the family floor, right?" Zack pushed.
"Yessss," Tifa answered suspiciously, brows cinched.
"Which must mean you're not engaged or living with anyone or-"
"Zack," Cloud cut him off. "Stop being such a-"
"A what? I'm just trying to get to know our boss a little better and encourage a more open work environment. Exccccuusee me for being progressive."
"What you're being is inappropriate." Catching Tifa's eye, he mouthed 'sorry', to which she raised a hand to her mouth to shield a giggle.
"I'll let Lockhart be the judge of that. Headmistress? A verdict, if you please?"
Still chuckling beneath her palm, Tifa side-eyed Cloud and shrugged. "Though I appreciate your open-mindedness, Mr. Fair, for the sake of professionalism, perhaps we should draw the line at discussing relationships?"
"Fine. Fine! I suppose you make the rules. Literally. Speaking of appropriate..." Zack gestured to Claudia, who was pouring a more-than-generous portion of wine in a new paper cup. Meanwhile, Cloud settled into the carpet and tried not to feel envious of his friend's flawless social skills. Considering that most of his interactions with the Headmistress ended with them snapping at one another, he didn't dare open his mouth this time. Not when Tifa seemed so atypically at ease for once.
After a few seconds of internal debate, soon enough Tifa was accepting the wine with a modest 'thanks' before leaning back into the chair, her stockinged foot tapping along to the music. Again, Zack met Cloud's eyes, grinning like he had just proved something long debated.
So their boss was willing to break a few, innocuous rules. It didn't mean anything. For all they knew, a deeply ingrained need to respect Nibelheim's elders simply overshadowed all other etiquette.
"These are fantastic, Claudia. Perfectly crisp. And the sauce...Mmm!" Tifa groaned in pleasure. The sound made something spark in Cloud's head and he had to fold his knees up to his chest, running through a practiced series of images guaranteed to help him calm down. "Reminds me of home."
"Thank you, dear Tifa. Though I cannot take all the credit. The produce is from Aerith."
"You mean our Medic, Ms. Gainsborough?"
"Yeah," Zack sat up straighter at the mere mention of her name. "She volunteers at this run-down temple in the Sector 5 slums. They let her use the back lot to grow things with and for the local orphans and hospitals. Every Saturday, all Saturday, without fail, she tends to it. She's just soooo perf-...a very, uhh...she's a generous person."
Wisely, he cut himself off there, remembering his audience at the last second. If Tifa chose, she could make life very difficult for them. The no-relationships-between-staff rule was an especially taboo one.
Then again, as Cloud watched the Headmistress take a deep gulp of cheap wine, staining the corners of her mouth purple, he realized that she was far from calling security on this illicit gathering.
This time at least.
"Oh, I used to love this song!" Tifa exclaimed as the radio switched tunes. In solidarity, Zack turned it up a few notches.
"Midgar Blues?" he determined after a couple of bars. "Huh. Wouldn't have pegged you as such a cheese-ball romantic."
"Oh, I am. Or I used to be, I suppose. All Senior year of highschool, I'd just play this on repeat in my room for hours. Drove my father crazy."
'Oh Midgar, Midgar, city that's always on my mind
For Midgar, Midgar, I left my one true love behind'
A hush fell over the group as the ballad permeated both the space and their very bones.
Cloud had never bothered listening to lyrics. Music had never been more than background to even out the roar of competing power tools. But Tifa revealing that she had listened to this her Senior year, a poignant year in his life as well, made him want to pay attention.
'Our parting words never said, only to be washed away
Swept up and lost in the stream of life'
All his musings were interrupted when Claudia let out a raspy cough. One which, within a few seconds of throat clearing and sputtering, quickly became chest-wracking heaves that forced her to fold over and claw at her dress collar.
"Mom!" Jumping to his feet, Cloud rushed over to thump upon her back.
Zack similarly leapt into action. "Where's her stuff?"
"Purse," Cloud said, not letting up the smacks and then circular massages along her spine, trying his best not to let his absolute panic show as her breathing grew shallow and strained. "Seven milliliters."
"On it."
'You and me girl — watching and wishing
We both burned so very bright — brighter than the sun'
While Zack dug into the rainbow, crochet bag hanging on the back of the door, Tifa knelt in front of Claudia with a stack of paper towels ready in her hands. Cloud didn't question how she knew what to do, was just grateful for any help.
"Spit it out if you can, Ms. Strife," she instructed, placing a reassuring hand on the side of the older woman's head as it shook through heaves. When she did, the whole scalp of flaxen-haired slid sideways. If this shocked Tifa, she didn't show it. Without missing a beat, she straightened the wig in a disguised stroke for comfort, aiming not to embarrass her.
"Here." Zack arrived at the bedside holding a syringe, filled nearly all the way to the plunger with shimmering green liquid.
'I can't see the stars no more — but they still fall'
"That's too much!" Cloud growled, yanking it out of his friends' hand. Holding it up to the light and tapping any air bubbles to the surface, he prepared to dispose of the excess.
"Label says nine point five per dose," Zack assured, holding the vial up for review. "Doctors must have upped it recently."
"Dammit." Nothing good ever came out of a dose that high. It meant options were running out.
"Good. That's good Ms. Strife!" Tifa encouraged as a large glob of black and red speckled phlegm slipped out of her mouth along with a whimper. "Keep it up!"
"Hold her still, guys." Without any more ado, after Tifa clamped onto Claudia's shoulders and Zack her legs, Cloud grabbed his mother's arm, yanked up the denim sleeve and slid the needle into the most prominent vein near her inner elbow.
'Electricity — oh how the sparks would fly'
She spasmed when he began pushing the plunger, but Zack and Tifa were prepared and held her as still as possible. He knew the mako burned when it went in. Oh, did he know how it burned.
"You're gonna be fine, Mom," he promised, careful to keep his voice as steady and confident as possible. "Just another few seconds, and you'll be fine."
In the end, it took several minutes.
Her breathing and whimpers grew deeper, slower. Her limbs stopped trembling. A few more globs were spat up, more black than any other color. Finally, as slowly a morning glory unfurled its petals, as the mako forced her cells to pause their rotting for just a little while longer, she floated on back to them. Or at least a mortified, broken version of her came back.
"I-I'm ssso so sorry, Cla-Cloud," she stuttered between hoarse breaths, looking up at her son with eyes that glowed green like those of the Goddess herself. "You-You were right. I shouldn't...shouldn't have come. I shouldn't ever-"
"Don't worry about that." Cupping the back of her neck, he leaned down to place a kiss on her sweat-soaked forehead, lingering there for a perhaps unseemingly number of seconds as he tried to wrangle a stampede of thoughts. "It was so good to see you. But Zack's going to take you home now. Okay?"
"Home," Claudia repeated with a sigh so full of longing it broke his heart. "That place...St-Lucretia...it's not home, Cloud."
"I know, Mom." Glancing up at his colleagues standing in his dim, spartan apartment on the outskirts of nowhere, faces filled with pity, Tifa clutching the soiled paper towels in her fist, Cloud had never felt more alone. "I know."
The song had long since been cut, the first thing Zack did was switch the radio off after the worst was passed. Still, it lingered in the air like a bad smell.
'Oh Midgar, Midgar, city that's always on my mind
For Midgar, Midgar, I left my one true love behind'
**Author's Note**: MERRY CHRISTMAS, FELLOW CLOTIS! Meant to post this last night but got distracted with last minute gift wrapping and trying to nibble carrots in just the right way that it looks like deer did it lol. Also, in past weeks I went on a random, smutty tangent with The Curriculum: Extracurriculars. Please check it out if you need a break from the painfully "slow roast" of this one! Glad to finally be arriving at the second phase of the typical enemies to friends to lovers trope. Thanks again for your continued support and, as always, I truly appreciate and am fueled by your comments & kudos. Happy Holidays.