A/N: I originally got the idea for this from a prompt generator. While I quite like it, I feel I could have gotten more out of it and might revisit it. Though, my entry for tomorrow will be something of a continuation of this, from Tifa's POV, so I could expand upon it more.

I also couldn't think of a good title, so I ended up going with the name of a song by Mae which I think is quite fitting lyrically. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Suspension

There had been a time, not so long ago, when Tifa had assured him that words weren't the only way.

In the moment, it had held true. With their clash against Sephiroth imminent and their future uncertain, they weren't afforded the time to carefully gather the words that could explain how they felt. They couldn't make sense of the turmoil the planet was facing and ultimately, nothing they could say would change it.

Any words they could muster would feel forced and alien.

In the end, all they could rely on was the easy, familiar comfort they found in one another.

The physical affection they shared, manifestations of their feelings and urges, guided by the adrenaline that fueled them. The desperate need to hold onto one another and reassure themselves that their remaining last traces of home were safe.

It seemed apt that only through could they best convey those feelings. It was where they had both always excelled, after all, as fighters.

Two years on, Cloud wasn't so sure if that alone was enough.

He couldn't understate the importance of his actions. They gave strength to his words, forging them into something meaningful. For one, his childhood promise to Tifa would never have held the same weight if he hadn't been able to save her.

Yet, in that respect, there had also been times when had fallen short, arriving just a few seconds too late to help. It left with a flash of doubt, wondering if his words were good enough. If Tifa could truly have faith in them, alone.

Still, for as much as he felt through their fleeting brushes of affection, it seemed as though there was so much being left unsaid. Throughout the day, Tifa had taken to resting her hand against his bicep, rubbing tenderly at the skin; tracing the point where the blemishes and seeping wounds from his Stigma had once lingered.

As her eyes sought his, clouded fleetingly by an almost imperceptible flash of doubt, he would offer a simple no; a reassurance that he was alright, the affliction that tore him away from their home was no longer. It seemed to quell her fear, even if only momentarily. Though it became a habit she would fall back to.

Cloud wanted things to be perfectly clear, so that those doubts could be forever cast aside and felt that perhaps giving words to his actions could better shape the meaning behind them, his hopes and wishes for their future together.

It was something Cloud wanted, and felt that Tifa deserved.

Though, he wasn't sure where to even start.

There was so much history, so many hopes and feelings he'd have to condense down into a few, simple words. The thought of trying to narrow it down, of where to even start was… overwhelming.

This might have been easier for someone like Zack or Aerith, who were both so open and sure of themselves. Their presence would be useful to right now, even if only for one last piece of advice.

But Cloud knew that he needed to let them go. He couldn't keep holding onto the past.

The bar was completely still as finally Cloud entered, greeted by the sight of chairs stacked atop tables, the low hum from the fridge, a tap dripping behind the counter. Just as he had suspected, it was well past closing time.

A lone light shone from beneath the stairwell, just behind the bar, guiding a clear way through. Even knowing his Soldier-enhanced senses, they had been kind enough not to leave him in the darkness. The small gesture enough made him feel to welcome, a sign that they expected his return. Though sadly, not enough to ease his disappointment at his late return.

Cloud had been hoping to see the kids off tonight. The time they were able to spend together; talking to them about his deliveries, or the sights he saw on the road; was precious to him. With his stigma gone, Denzel seemed much brighter and happier, something which brought Cloud immense relief; a sense that their efforts to help and look after him were not in vain.

Sadly, an abrupt shift in the weather had slowed his return journey, leaving him unable to make it home until well after dark. Though, he had fought to make it back as quickly as possible.

Locking the door behind him with a sigh, Cloud stripped away the buckles securing his pauldron and dirt skirt at the entrance, not wanting to leave a trail across the floor, before kicking of his boots. He padded slowly through the bar, wincing at the distinct squelch of his sodden pants, caked with rain and mud, as they brushed against his legs.

As he began his ascent up the stairs, his eyes caught a distinct figure sprawled over the living room couch, one that might have been lost among the shadows to anyone else. But, Cloud's was drawn to the dark locks splayed out in stark contrast the lightly coloured cushions and throws, the flash of pink still fixed over her bicep.

Cloud tip-toed carefully across the living room floor, taking in her serene expression, the soft wisps of her breath caressing stray locks of hair from her face as he approached.

He was surprised to find Tifa sleeping there. He had taken the time to call Seventh Heaven before the storm broke, telling her that it would likely set his arrival home back and not to wait up for him.

Though, as if needing the assurance; still holding that last modicum of doubt that never quite seemed to dissipate; she had stayed up, waiting to hear his return.

Cloud couldn't help the pang of guilt he felt.

This time, he honestly planned to make it home before night fell. Before the kids left for bed or Tifa announced last call. Perhaps, most importantly, because there had been so much he finally wanted to say to her. But everything, it seemed, had been working against him.

Part of Cloud was overcome by the urge to take her in his arms and carry her to her room, worried that her sleep wouldn't be the most comfortable on the couch. Yet, more selfishly, he grew conscious of his own fatigue, his cold, damp shirt that still clung to him like a second skin.

Cloud felt drawn by the shape of her, the scent of her hair. He was tempted to ease himself of the strain and burden of the day's deliveries and bury himself amongst the warm cocoon of linen she had collected for herself; resolving that what he had to say could always wait until tomorrow.

But he knew it couldn't.

They had waited far too long already.

Cloud had become so focused, devoted so much mental energy towards bracing himself for this moment, he couldn't bear to hesitate now. All that mental preparation would have been harnessed for nothing.

Cloud's hand reached out, tentatively, settling against her shoulder in a feather-light touch.

"Tifa." He uttered softly.

Tifa sighed, sinking deeper into the caress of his fingers, basking in their soft touch. He lingered, tracing the smooth expanse of her skin before Tifa stirred, bleary eyes dragging toward him.

"Mm. Cloud?" She asked, voice thick.

"Nn. Tadaima."

"O-okaeri."

Cloud swallowed, feeling a tingle in his gut, struck by how endearing the entire scene was. Her dishevelled, unkempt hair, the quiet murmur of her voice. Tifa's head cocked, even in her drowsy state, noticing his reaction. Her carmine eyes, still misty with sleep closing in on him.

"Is something the matter?"

Cloud's gaze ripped away, powerless before those eyes, terrified they would compel him to spill every word on his tongue in a flurry.

That wouldn't do. This conversation was too important. He needed to take his time, get everything right.

Looking back, his lips curled into the subtle ghost of a smile, hoping to reassure her.

"No, it's fine."

"Well, if you're sure- Oh, Cloud! You're soaked!"

Before he could protest, Tifa's hands had braced themselves against his chest, burying into the damp fabric of his vest.

"Are you feeling alright? Here, sit down. Let me heat you up something while you take off those wet clothes."

Cloud's heart swelled, overwhelmed by the love he felt for her. Despite the fatigue she obviously carried, Tifa remained selfless and attentive to his needs.

"Tifa, I'm fine." Cloud insisted, hands resting at her shoulders to hold her steady. He sought her eyes in the darkness, linking them with his own, soft and reassuring. "Really."

Captured by his earnest expression, Tifa kept watch for a moment longer than necessary before her lips settled into a gentle smile. Hands stretching above her head, a yawn rose from the depths of her chest and Cloud could feel a flash of panic overtake him as she slipped from his grasp, turning to make her way out of the living room.

"Well, I'm glad that you made it back safely, Cloud. It's pretty late, huh? We should probably get to bed. You'll need to shower too. Can't have you catching a cold-"

"T- Tifa!" His hand caught her wrist, urgently, keeping her in place.

"Hm? What is it?"

Cloud swallowed as her gaze weighed upon him expectantly. For as desperate as he had been to keep her there, he found himself unsure of what to say.

"Thank you, Tifa. For everything."

For a moment, Tifa stared blankly through him, taken aback by this sudden expression of gratitude.

"It's nothing, Cloud."

As Cloud strode forward with purpose, his hands catching her cheek. His head dipped as his eyes poured deeply into hers, the sincerity of his words radiating through.

"Tifa, I want to stay with you."

Even with the softness of Cloud's voice, it coursed through Tifa like an electric current, her eyes bulging as they focused on him in disbelief. There wasn't a trace of ambiguity to his words, waking a burst of hope within her.

Despite the myriad thoughts surging through her, Tifa couldn't bring herself to speak, fearing that she might halt his train of thought altogether. That she would never learn where this conversation lead. Cloud's quiet tone urged Tifa closer, her breath catching and heart hammering through the shell of her ear as hung silently onto his words.

"I want to be with you, and I don't just mean at home, as a family. I want to be by your side, always."

The words punctuated as he sought out her lips.

It had been years, but the taste and soft caress of her had been ingrained into his memory, a sensation he would forever savour. It was a warmth and weightlessness that flowed through his being, invigorating him, alleviating him of the reticence he had held before.

Expressing affection might not have always been a strong suit of his, but if there was anything Cloud was in confident in knowing, it was Tifa. He felt comfortable in allowing his instinct to guide him, arms surrounding her waist, pulling her closer and in the familiar shape of her body.

For as uncertain Cloud had been about aspects of his life in the past; his identity, the validity of his memories, their chances of survival; his feelings for Tifa had been a facet he could trust in without a doubt, a part of himself he had never truly lose connection to.

They never faltered. They kept him strong, much like the belief she placed in him. It was for that reason that the words carried from his lips as naturally as air.

"I love you, Tifa." Cloud whispered as he broke away. A soft murmur, especially for her.