A/N: This was supposed to be for Day 2: Warmth & Traditions for Cloti Fall Festival, a bit late but hey! Better late than never.

Only in a Pinch

Tifa didn't like to wear dresses. Even though she looked pretty in them. Atleast, that's what everybody said. Looking at her reflection, she frowned, tugging at the hems of her dress, the bright teal startling against her light skin. She did a little twirl in the mirror, watching as her dress flowed and bloomed like an upside down flower. As her eyes scanned her body, they stopped at the small mounds growing on her chest. Scowling, she raised her arms to conceal them. Do not grow, she commanded, as though she had any control of her genetics.

If she had it her way, she would've loved to wear what the neighbourhood boys wore. Comfortable pants. Loose t-shirts (that covered up her chest). Really, anything that would hide her ever-changing body. Pouting, she placed a hand over her chin. "Hm…" Placing her hands to her hips, she exclaimed, "Ah ha!"

Specifically, she would've loved to sport an over sized, white t-shirt. With black sleeves underneath! Add in the baggy jeans, and trade in her heels for chunky, clunky, boots and she would be all set! No more worrying about tripping over her own feet when she stepped on the dirt road or her spaghetti straps slipping off her shoulders. Giggling, she thought about cutting all her hair off and wearing a ponytail at the back. Her giggles erupted into sweet laughter.

She sure as hell would not suit that look. That was only reserved for one boy she knew: the boy who lived next door. A sharp pain pierced through her chest then, making her press her hand there, to quiet the loud emotions. Once, she was able to let it fade, she opened her eyes.

Tifa bared her teeth, smiling as wide as she could while sticking out a peace sign at the mirror – almost as if she were declaring a truce with her reflection.

She rushed to her closet, to remind herself of the reasons she wore dresses everyday. On an array of mismatched hangers, a rainbow of assorted dresses hung. Some short. Some long. The styles differed. The designs, never the same. Running her hands over the clothing, she wistfully sighed.

All these dresses were handmade. From the mother, she wished were still here.

Tifa needed to apologize to Cloud.

Sitting over a washbasin, face screwed up, her fingers were raw from scrubbing her underwear. The stupid stain was still there. A mean circle on the crotch. She scrubbed harder. Maybe if the stain went away, it'd erase all that ugly guilt she felt.

Why don't you just apologize to Cloud?

The stain was red yesterday. Today it was brown.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Her knuckles scrubbed it with rigor. She twisted and wrung out the offending panty. Disappear! Eventually, she threw the panty over the edge of the basin, sprinkles of dirty water splattering her arms.

When she went to the sink to wash her hands, she imagined the stain. Then saw Cloud's hurt expression on his face. She blew her bangs in self-inflicted frustration. Never in her life had she yelled at a boy before, let alone Cloud Strife.

"Tifa, Tifa!"

Yesterday was the first time, in a long time that she heard him call out to her first. Usually, she was the one to make a move. Maybe it was nerves, or perhaps excitement, but she quivered a bit when she realized that the cracking prepubescent voice belonged to him.

"Tifa!" His boots thumped loudly, crunching the rocks and gravel underneath.

As she turned around, hoping her grin was more sweet than teasing, she saw Cloud running towards her. He stopped when it seemed like they were at a reasonable, more comfortable distance. Huffing and puffing, he held her eyes for more than a second. To her surprise, he didn't avert them.

"Heya Cloud."

"-I- uh- I saw- are you?" He coughed, brows knitting together, fingers pulling at each other. He looked away, taking a deep breath. Then his eyes shot straight at her again. Concern and fear. Her smile faded.

"Are you okay Tifa?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Tifa!" The sense of urgency in his tone shook her ever-glowing composure. He surveyed her body. Head to toe. Making her feel more aware of her growing curves. She wanted to run away, until Cloud grabbed hold of her.

His hand coiled around her forearm. Hot and sweaty fingers burned tenderness into her skin, making it permanent. The heat rose to her cheeks.

Cloud never touched her before. No one had. Late nights, where she peered out the window and into the stars, she longed for affectionate touches and the hugs her mother used to give her. But she knew those were never coming back, they were sealed away in memories. Never to be retrieved. In that moment, her heart thumped as she foolishly wished for Cloud's embrace.

"You're bleeding, Tifa!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Look!" Cloud pointed to the fat droplets of blood evaporating on the sand, already drying up beneath the sun. The blood trailed from behind him all the way up to Tifa's feet.

Oh. My. God.

Her eyes widened, ready to pop out of their sockets.

She had leaked again. This wasn't the first.

Tifa yanked her arm out of Cloud's grasp.

"Tifa? Are you hurting? Did you cut your ankle?" He bent down to examine her feet. His breath was shaking.

She yelped, "No!" Tifa pulled the ends of her dress tightly to herself, cocooning her legs, as she crossed one leg over the other so no more blood would seep out to embarrass her any further. She backed away from him.

"But Tifa, you're hurt." He stood up, brushing his knees, taking in her eyes. There it was again. The crinkle in his brow, the open mouth in distress. A gaze that wanted to soothe her despite all the worry.

Cloud, who couldn't even keep eye contact for 10 seconds with Tifa – who couldn't even think to touch her, to even hold her – held a gaze so intense that Tifa's lips trembled. She bit them down to prevent a whimper. "I'm fine. It's nothing."

"No it's not, Tifa," he softly said, reaching out towards her again.

A bead of warm blood dribbled down her inner thigh, shattering any resonance of the moment shared between them, replacing it with sheer panic.

"Leave me alone Cloud!" she shouted, shocked at her own voice, as her fists clenched at her dress seams. "Go away! I don't need your help!"

Dark clouds admonished the sun above them, casting shadows on his face. Tifa saw his eyes disintegrate into hurt. His breath hitched into a gasp, like her words had physically hit him. The ends of his mouth pulled downwards. The corners of his eyes glimmered with what looked like tears. When his gaze fell from her, she felt her heart break.

Tifa knocked three times on his door. The first two taps were light, the last, boisterous. Gulping, she rehearsed the lines in her head.

I'm sorry for yelling at you yesterday, Cloud. I panicked because I was going through things that are hard to talk about because you're a boy and I'm a girl.

Or…how about this?

Please forgive me, Cloud. I never meant to hurt you. I feel like I'm the worst person in the world. I cried really hard into my pillow after what I've done.

No way. That sounded like she was trying to force him into accepting her apology. Maybe the first one was more feasible. If all ended well, then maybe she'd continue her 'include Cloud' mission. Maybe her friends would see how nice and cool he was! Witnessing him be so caring towards her really made her head spin. However, that was only short lived. Bliss was stung with guilt.

"Hello Tifa."

The door was cracked open only a couple of inches. Claudia peered out to her. The scent of baked chicken drifted into air eliciting a grumble from Tifa's stomach. She had barely eaten that day. Shame had swallowed her appetite.

"-Uh, hi Ms. Strife." Tifa gave her, her most practiced brightest smile. Claudia did not budge.

"Is…" The words couldn't come out her throat. "Is Cloud home?"

"No, he is not. I'm sorry Tifa."

I should be saying sorry.

"Oh, okay. Can you let him know that I stopped by?"

Claudia's lips curved into a smile. "Of course, sweetheart."

Tifa suddenly remembered.

Her mother used to call her that.

A sting came to her nose, one she needed to pinch to make it disappear. Tifa promptly thanked her. She was ready to bolt through the streets to erase the swirls in her stomach as soon as Ms. Strife closed the door.

"So all of you guys are heading to Midgar next spring?" Tifa asked the group of boys. They were all sitting with her in the neighbourhood plaza. An easy breeze drifted onto them, their previous jokes and laughter dissipated into plans for the future.

"Yeah, we're gonna look for work!"

"My father says that they're looking for anything and everything there," Lyle piped in.

"We'll probably make 1000 gil a day!"

"Oh." She folded her hands together. Tifa was going to be left behind.

Sergeal tilted his head up, leaning towards her. "Are you gonna stay put?"

"I guess."

"Good, because if I don't find a wife in Midgar, I'm going to marry you." His cheeky grin spouted a rolling of eyes from their peers.

"No thanks." Tifa forced a tiny smile.

Zion popped a pink bubblegum in his mouth. "What are you planning to do in yee ol' Nibelheim?"

"I don't know."

Tifa held her knees close. She wanted to kill her own sour mood. First Cloud, now this. She pulled at the loose thread on her heel straps. Then, an idea popped in her head. A playful smirk grew on her lips. Standing up, pointing to the sky she exclaimed, "I'm going to follow you guys to Midgar and become the greatest SOLDIER there is!"

Tifa balled her hands into fists, punching the air. "SOLDIER 1st class. Ready to save all your asses."

Lyle frowned. Zion's eyebrow twitched. The rest of the guys appeared uneasy.

Was it because she swore? Was she that unladylike?

Sergeal burst out into laughter, holding his stomach as he slapped his knee. "You? Tifa? A SOLDIER? We all know girls can't become a SOLDIER."

All around her the guys began laughing too. Their laughter, echoes of mockery. Her ears became red, her fingernails dug into her palms. She couldn't tell if the burning in her chest was from anger or embarrassment. She wanted to say I wasn't being serious anyways. But that wasn't true. A part of her wanted to kick ass even if she knew that was unrealistic.

"Why can't I be part of SOLDIER? I bet you I'm stronger than all of you combined!"

"Because you're a girl duh!" Zion stated.

"You're supposed to have one of us save you when you get in danger, Tifa," added Lyle.

"Yeah, and to stop yourself from getting into danger, you should just stay put in Nibelheim. If you learn how to cook, clean, and take care of babies you would make a great wife!" said Sergeal.

She glowered. "But what if I don't want that."

"Doesn't matter because even when you're mad, you're still cute, Tifa," Sergeal beamed at her. The boys nodded in unison. Tifa did not blush at his words, nor will she ever. The surge of red-hot rage tickled her temples.

"All you really got to do is look pretty, and we'll be the ones to protect you and provide for you." He put a fist to his heart. But his words heightened the flames in her eyes.

Tifa was not stupid. The prickle in her skin reminded her of how things have changed. Simple playmates evolved into boys who doted on her, and their glances at her didn't look the same. Their comments sunk into her body, making her feel less like a friend and more like a prize to be claimed. She didn't know how it happened or how their respect for her crossed into the threshold of uncomfortable pining.

"I don't need protection. I can protect myself," she muttered. "Even if I did need protection, I wouldn't want it from any of you guys."

"Oh, c'mon Tifa! Don't be like that, you know what we're saying is true."

Tifa turned her heel, stalking off from them as they called out to her. The familiar sting in her nose came back, this time she didn't know what caused it. Perhaps it was Cloud's absence, her guilt, Cloud's mother calling her sweetheart…or hearing the neighbourhood boys scoff at her dreams, sealing the deal to her distraught feelings.

The boys' words had boxed her in, kicking off an array of emotions she deemed unworthy to ever show. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she scolded herself mentally, knowing that sooner or later, the tears were going to fall.

Tifa swung her legs from the bench, kicking the tiny rocks out of her way. Her bangs shielded her blurry eyes from being seen. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks in endless streams as she hiccupped and sobbed, her throat captured by the ball of hurt. She had given up on wiping the tears away. It wasn't like her hand was going to stop them from coming. An aching throb knocked her temples, as her mind circled and circled.

Stupid body. It cursed her with blood every month, made her friends change into big jerks who didn't believe in her but only looked at her. Stupid boys. They didn't deserve to hear Tifa's thoughts or opinions, their brains empty like the squirrels that got stepped on by chocobos.

But most of all: stupid self. For never really putting a halt on missing her mother and for hurting the only boy who deserved more than the world. She wondered what it'd be like if her mother was here. What would she say? How would she help her with all these changes and the pain she's afflicted on an innocent person.

Harder she sobbed, snot threatening to dislodge itself from her nose. Her cries sounded so terrible in her ears. So weak. What if the boys were right? If she cried over so many things, maybe she wouldn't be able to save anyone's ass. Boys never cried, but girls always did.

There was rustling in the wind, and a hard crunching of rocks which softened, with contact of the sand at the playground. At the sound, Tifa looked up. From the blur of tears she saw a pointy mop of blonde hair, peering at her from behind the slide. When their eyes locked, he turned his head to an imaginary figure, miles away.

Great.

She let her hair fall over her eyes as she glared at her twiddling thumbs. Her hair didn't spare him from hearing her grief however. Tifa's sobbing gradually waded into silent crying, breath still uneven. Footsteps sunk into the sand, nearing her.

Tifa should've got up and left. She didn't have the heart to ask for any kind of forgiveness. Not today.

Also, she didn't want him seeing her like this…again.

From the corner of her eyes, Cloud's scuffed boots came into view. They stopped in front of her. The laces on his right shoe were unknotted, practically undone as if he were in a rush. Tifa sniffled, brushing the back of her hand on her eyes. His boots disappeared from her line of sight.

The bench creaked under the weight of two persons.

A square piece of blue cloth then fell onto her lap.

A handkerchief?

Picking it up, she ran the softness over her fingers.

"Here, Tifa."

Cloud's voice caressed her into glancing up at him. His profile, framed by his hair, hid any expression she wanted to see. But his right arm was raised toward her, hand clasping onto a water canteen, ready for her to take as well.

"Why?" she whispered, holding the handkerchief to her heart.

A pause. His mouth opened. Then closed.

"You're dehydrated."

"Huh?" Then she realized: spilling tears meant fewer fluids in the body. "Oh." She took the canteen and sipped a small amount. The water was cold, and gone went the starchiness on her tongue and in her throat.

Silence lingered between them. Amidst the empty playground, birds fluttered atop the seesaw. In the sand, there were carved markings of hearts and stars.

Tifa couldn't understand, so she asked her question again, determination in her tone, "But why?"

Cloud's dark azure eyes stared directly at her, the corners creasing as he saw the stinging redness of hers. "Because you're cry – "

"No, I mean, why are you being so kind to me, when I was…" Her gaze faltered, tightening her hold on the handkerchief. She loosened her grip, afraid to rip such a precious gift. "…when I was so mean to you the other day."

He let out a short breath, hands pulling at his fingers again, all while Tifa waited, taking in the smoothness of the fabric in her palms.

"Because I already forgave you."

Tucking in a loose strand of hair, she thought she would be prepared to protest against his easy forgiveness. Instead, her swollen eyes blinked and brightened, mouth curving upwards into a wide smile: one of relief. Another tear shed from her eye. This time, she used the handkerchief to catch the droplet.

"Thank you."

With that, Cloud shifted his gaze away, hesitating just slightly before he said, "I heard you stopped by. I wanted to see you – when I did, I wanted to help you."

The splotchy redness on Tifa's face transformed into a tender pinkness, a blush enveloping from the tips of her shoulders to her cheeks that had remnants of her dried up tears.

She nodded, feeling the heat from the sun settle into dusk's coolness. It spilled its orange yolk over Nibelheim, curving shadows into friendlier figures, casting a glow to her teal dress and the dirty boots Cloud wore.

As she looked at him with reverie and longing, she saw a vision that erased the boy in front of her. In it, he became a man, matured and strong, with sinewy muscles and a large sword, meant to protect only her.

It was then she realized, that if she were to let anyone save her – be it from the dangers of the world or her heart – she'd only allow one man to do it.

And that was:

"Cloud Strife."

A pinkish hue developed on his face, Tifa couldn't tell if it was from sunsets beauty or her utterance of his name. Either way, she let warmness in her chest and his presence mend all her previous sorrows.

"I-I gotta go." He quickly stood up, muttering about dinner, and how it was getting late. Scratching the back of his head, he turned back around to her. With a pouty face, not short from his usual shyness, he said, "I want to see you tonight. At the, uh, water tower. Meet me after dark. There's something I want to talk to you about."

Tifa, surprised, felt her stomach buzz, the knots of anxiety taking the reigns. When it went away as quickly as it came, she saluted him with a wink and a cheerful grin. "Sure thing!"

Cloud nodded, a sliver of a smile on his lips. "There'll be some stars tonight."

"Then, I can't wait to see them with you."

Smiling as she watched him go, she felt a wave of reassurance. This wave reminded her of something concrete and tangible about herself. It was that she didn't really need any saving. However, if the misfortune were to ever come, she was confident that Cloud would be the first to be by her side.

A/N: I always imagined that before Tifa became the reserved and refined woman she is, she was just a kid who wanted to better understand and accept herself. I hope you enjoyed. Feedback/reviews are appreciated. Thank you!