A/N: Me, lying to myself as usual: this chapter will only be 5000 words.
Welp. It's not.
Hope you guys enjoy!
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Sonata Op.13 "Pathétique": III. Rondo - Beethoven
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A Sea of Silence
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5: Sonata no.8 in C minor, Op.13 "Pathétique": III. Rondo
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The box full of partitions seems to take up all the space on the coffee table.
Tifa hadn't planned on taking it out of the closet. As she'd dressed this morning, the box had caught her eye, and the impulse to grab it had won. Now, as she sits on her couch and stares at it, she can't find the courage to open it.
So she leaves it there for the day. She has two exams coming up this week and can't waste any more time. But she discovers it's not easy for her to dismiss the box; she moved it near the piano so she can use the table to study, but she still glances at it. As the sun sets and Tifa realizes she hasn't retained a word of what she read, she decides enough is enough. She refuses to have wasted her whole Sunday on hesitancy and fear. The box is going back into the closet, and then she'll be able to concentrate, knowing it's hidden as it should. She stands and picks it up; it's heavy considering the number of partitions inside, and the weight ends up being a reminder she could do without.
Tifa doesn't see the shoes lying around in her room, and when she heads for the closet, she trips over them. Though she manages to keep her balance, the box isn't as lucky, and it goes flying on the ground, the partitions scattering all over the floor. A sentiment akin to panic flares up for a moment as Tifa sees the mess she's made—they're not damaged, are they? Even if she doesn't want to see them, they are one of the last links she has with her mother; to think of those partitions, some with handwritten notes inside—handwriting she won't see anywhere else ever again—with torn pages or bent corners… Tifa kneels to pick them up, running a gentle hand over the covers and making sure everything is in a good state.
The only partition that suffered a little from the fall is her Hanon book of exercises, and nausea rises in her throat. This version of The Virtuoso Pianist belonged to her mother; it was already old when she inherited it as a kid, and the pages have only yellowed and become brittle with age. Luckily, only a few have loosened when she dropped the box. As Tifa puts back everything where it belongs, the Hanon book stays on the side. She goes to add it with the others, but her hand stills over it. After a few seconds, Tifa takes a deep breath, puts the lid back on the box, shoves it in the closet, and brings the Hanon book with her in the living room. The moment she places the partition on the piano, anxiety grips her fingers; it makes pulling the bench and opening the book harder than it should be.
Despite not having played for four years, her body hasn't forgotten how to sit. It is both familiar and unfamiliar to Tifa—she played so much growing up that being at the piano is second nature, but the last four years have made the instrument alien to her. Her hands raise of their own accord, positioning themselves over the keys, and yet all they can do is hover. Before her, the first Hanon exercise stares back at her, begging to be started; Tifa's eyes don't stray from it as her nervousness expands until it is all she has become—if she doesn't do something to release this energy, she'll burst apart. Without thinking too hard about it, Tifa drops her hands on the piano. She used too much force, pushing them down instead of letting them fall without tension, and the aggressive sound of too many keys hit at once is jarring in the apartment. Her instinct is to pull her hands back, but she quells it; instead, she compels them to place themselves properly—loose and a little rounded, free of tension. It's a start, she thinks, and she can't push herself too hard the first time. Tifa decides on twenty minutes—if she can play the exercises for twenty minutes, it'll be enough for now. A glance at the decorative clock on her wall tells her it's 18:14.
The moment she begins her C scale, slow and articulated, a strange mixture of fear and happiness takes hold of her. Tifa inhales and exhales deeply to keep it at bay, not wanting to feel overwhelmed. She goes through the scale again—and again, faster this time. On and on until the stiffness in her fingers has ebbed, and then she moves on to arpeggios, chords, chromatics. It's all very natural and mechanical to her, exercises she's done so many times for years—it doesn't feel like playing, not exactly, and she thinks this is what makes it feasible. She moves to the first Hanon exercise in C. As the minutes pass, Tifa can sense the anxiety diminish—it doesn't leave completely, though, because in the back of her mind, she's aware exercises are a warm-up. The thought of crossing that invisible lining into playing paralyzes her suddenly, and Tifa snatches her hand away from the keys mid-exercise. Her breathing gets heavier and her hands curl into fists in her lap. She works on regulating her breathing, but the sight and proximity of the piano have the opposite effect, so she stands and walks away, leaving the bench out. Pacing helps a little, she finds out, if only because the constant movement distracts her. As her breaths become even, she hears the knock on her door.
With a mumbled curse, Tifa heads for the door, putting on her discarded hoodie on the way. She hadn't thought of locking the practice pedal, and the noise must have annoyed one of her neighbors. She opens her door without looking through the peephole, an apology ready on her lips. It dies out as she sees Cloud on the other side, hands shoved into his jeans' pockets. His posture makes her think he's a little uncomfortable, and it builds her own discomfort in turn. When she'd woken up on yesterday morning, Cloud was dressing in a hurry; he'd told her he had to go to work and left with little else. Tifa had gotten up to lock the door and then gone back to sleep. Even if things seemed clear between them at the time, now that he stands across her, she is unsure what to think.
"What's up?" she says before he can speak.
Cloud looks to the side for a second, then says, "I heard you playing piano."
Her grip on the doorknob tightens. "Sorry for the noise, I didn't think it'd be this loud."
"Oh, no, that's not…" He trails off, running his hand through his hair. "I don't mind."
"Okay…" Tifa holds in her confusion as best as she can, but she hears some of it seep through.
"I just—" Cloud sighs as if deciding on something. "Are you alright?"
The words slam into her, stealing away her breath, and Tifa can't bring herself to say anything. It's probably unfair of her not to have anticipated this from Cloud—after all, he's been considerate and attentive with her when it comes to piano. And considering what he knows, that he'd ask if she was okay almost seems like a given. Still, Tifa hadn't expected it. Maybe because after Friday night, she had thought a certain distance, a kind of invisible wall would form between them. But him showing up at her door to make sure she's fine—it hits Tifa harder than she'd like, and part of her wishes he hadn't done it.
"It's fine," is all she says. She doesn't want to lie and say she is fine when it's not really the case.
Cloud catches on the distinction—she sees it in the subtle shift of his expression, the slight frown that disappears as quickly as it came. Thankfully, he doesn't push.
"Alright." He shuffles his feet. "Just wanted to make sure."
Tifa hesitates when he stays there; she doesn't want to be rude after him coming to check on her, but the truth is that she'd rather be alone right now. Cloud seems to pick up on it, though, because after a few seconds, he clears his throat and steps back from the door.
"I'll leave you to it, then." There's a definite awkwardness to the way he says it that tugs at Tifa's heartstrings.
"Thank you," she says as he is about to go inside his apartment. Cloud turns her way, and she hates that she can't decipher his expression anymore. "I just need to be alone," she adds in the hope it will help him understand her attitude.
Cloud nods and gives her a slight smile and then goes inside; the door shuts softly behind him. Tifa stares at his door for a moment before turning back inside. As she pads back into the living room, she avoids looking at the piano and continues studying for her exams.
She doesn't touch the instrument for the rest of the week. She has other things to focus on and, and they keep her busy enough. Once she finishes her last exam on Friday, she allows herself to relax; as far as she can tell, everything went well. That is until she remembers about Cloud's exam today. So far, everything went back to how it was before they slept together. And yet, Tifa can't help but think about his I better do well on my exam comment from Friday. She's not sure what bugs her about it—perhaps it's Cloud's silence on the matter, even if she knows it shouldn't as they both said it meant nothing beyond that night. But without meaning to, she took his comment to heart, and now whenever the thought crosses her mind, she feels both unease and eagerness.
When she sees she has a new message after exiting her last exam, excitement rises only to crash a second later, and she becomes annoyed with herself for having wanted it to be Cloud. Instead, it's Aerith, asking for Tifa to meet her outside at their usual spot. They haven't seen each other since last week, too occupied with school, and Tifa's spirits lift at the idea of seeing her friend. As she nears their favorite table out front, Tifa hears Yuffie before she notices Aerith—the latter laughs at Yuffie's loud antics.
"What's so funny?" Tifa asks as she drops her bag and sits.
"I got a boyfriend," Aerith says, cutting off whatever Yuffie was about to say.
"So your second date with Zack went well?"
"Yeah, Zack." Yuffie rolls her eyes, making Aerith laugh again. "Reno's current sworn enemy."
"And…it's a problem?" Tifa frowns, making Yuffie huff.
"For Reno. He's being a whiny little shit about my friend dating Zack. I don't care about their dick-measuring contest."
Aerith's laughter escalates. "That's really what it is."
"I'm just gonna hand them the ruler if this goes on," Yuffie says with clear annoyance at the situation. "I'm telling you, Short Stuff, don't get involved."
"Alright," Aerith replies with a wide smile, ignoring the nickname for once. "Let's promise to stay neutral."
Both girls turn to Tifa as if expecting her to say the same. She brings the sleeves of her jacket over her knuckles, one of her telltale signs of nervousness.
"Uh…" Tifa clears her throat. "A little late for that."
"Seriously?" Yuffie says with obvious confusion. "Where did that come from?"
At Tifa's silence, Aerith laughs again. "Is it because of Cloud?"
"Cloud? Who the fuck is Cloud?"
Tifa glares at Aerith; though her involvement with the pranks started because of Cloud, she decided on helping Zack because it seemed fun. "Zack's friend," she says to Yuffie. "My neighbor."
Yuffie says nothing for a moment, then sighs and rubs her forehead. "This is getting stupid." As she says this, her phone chirps with a message. She reads it and groans. "They're so dumb. Anyway," she adds before someone can jump in, "did you get the piano tuned?"
The question makes Tifa freeze. She got the piano tuned not long after buying it; she had figured it might help her get started. But once it had been tuned, she hadn't touched it. Not before the previous Sunday. Yuffie doesn't seem to catch on Tifa's sudden stiffness; her question isn't malicious or prying—she doesn't know enough about Tifa's history with piano to think this way. But it still makes Tifa wary, as most things regarding piano do these days.
"Yes," she says, keeping her tone even.
A short silence follows her curt answer; Tifa is saved by her phone signaling a new message. She immediately grabs it without seeing who it is, needing the escape from potential questions about piano. Aerith doesn't waste time engaging Yuffie in conversation about her exams; Tifa is grateful for her friend's intervention, and she lets out a long sigh before opening the message.
Mastermind: who is ready to party now that hell is over
Tifa can't help her brief smile—she wouldn't expect anything different from Zack.
Neighbor: i might be
Mastermind: i knew i could count on you. tonight, i'll send you the details in a few. and tell my GIRLFRIEND she's coming too
Mastermind: please
Tifa chuckles at his delayed 'please'. "Apparently we're going out tonight," she tells Aerith once there's a lull in her conversation with Yuffie. She turns the phone around so Aerith can read the message.
"Oh, we are, aren't we? You wanna come, Yuffie?"
"And bring Reno with me?"
"Why not?" Aerith smirks. "Don't forget your ruler."
Yuffie snaps her fingers. "It's a deal."
Tifa lets out a snort, knowing this won't end well. She shoots Zack a quick reply, confirming they'll be there and asking if she can bring friends.
Mastermind: the more, the better
Her friends carry on their previous conversation, and Tifa jumps in once in a while, but she keeps her attention on her phone. Once it becomes clear she's waiting for a text that might never come and that staying here is making her angsty, she stands, startling her friends.
"You okay?"
Tifa smiles at Yuffie, doing what she can to mask her lie. "Yeah, I just forgot I had to ask a teacher something. I'll let you know where to meet up as soon as Zack tells me."
"Sure. Later, then."
Aerith only waves her goodbye, but Tifa can't hide from the knowing glint her friend's eyes—she wasn't fooled. Not that Tifa had expected her to be. Even Yuffie hadn't seemed convinced. As she goes back into the school, Tifa lets her feet take her to the Music pavilion. She knows where she's headed and yet doesn't stop until she's reached the piano practice rooms. Most of them are empty because of the end of the exam period, and she doesn't try to open them, knowing they would be locked—it's not her reason for coming here, anyway. Really, she's not even sure what her reason is. Probably that she needed a distraction from her anxious thoughts and from staring down her phone. Tifa stops before a room where someone plays; the melody is recognizable to her—the third movement of Beethoven's Sonata "Pathétique". She played it years ago. Without overthinking, Tifa slides down against the wall across from the room and sits cross-legged, allowing herself to absorb the music.
The piece advances, and she feels her fingers twitch as if they still remember how to glide and jump across the keys, nimble and swift—like they still know how to make the notes clear and vivid, the chords spirited and articulated. And maybe they do a little, and that is the problem—her body is haunted by the past and there is no true way to exorcise these ghosts. Tifa leans her head back against the wall and closes her eyes. Despite her reluctance to play or even to listen to classical for the last four years, now that she hears it often from Cloud and dared to sit down at the piano, she finds the music soothing again. Not in the same all-encompassing manner as when she was young, where she could get lost and lost for hours, the music so intensely tempting and welcoming that it felt like she would never find her way back home. No, it will never be like that again, and Tifa has accepted that. But at least, if it can bring her some semblance of calm and take her mind off trivialities, she won't reject it anymore.
The person plays through the piece twice; there's an ease to their playing that betrays years of practice. Tifa opens her eyes, staying where she is even as the music stops and she hears shuffling coming from the room. The lights turn off and the door opens, revealing a tall guy a few years older than her. He doesn't notice her at first, too busy locking the door behind him; when he turns around and spots her, he freezes. His long black hair is tied up but some tendrils have escaped, and he pushes them back impatiently as he stares at her.
"How long have you been playing?" Tifa asks after an awkward silence. Sure, it's not the best introduction, but the question nags her.
The guy frowns a little as if puzzled, and Tifa realizes it might seem like a stupid question to ask a Music student. Still, he replies, "Fifteen years."
Her heart stings—if she hadn't stopped, she would have been playing for fifteen years, too. "Sorry for being weird," she says as she gets to her feet.
"Do you play?" The guy's frown has vanished, and instead understanding has taken over.
Tifa stares past his shoulder as she says, "I used to." She's grateful when he doesn't ask her to elaborate.
He tilts his head to the side. "Looking to start again?"
"No," she rushes out. It's obvious she's not telling the truth, but he doesn't call her out on it. "I was just passing through and heard you. I used to play that, so I guess I got nostalgic. Anyway, I didn't mean to bother you."
"You're not bothering me," he says. She can hear the interest in his voice, and it roots her on the spot. "I'm Vincent, by the way."
She crosses her arms, burying her hands under the sleeves of her jacket. "Tifa."
"You're welcome to come listen to me play whenever you want. I'm here every Friday at the same time." The smile he gives her is genuine. "If you don't mind hearing me fucking up a lot."
She laughs. "I promise I've heard worse. Are you practicing for something in particular?"
Vincent points in direction of the main exit to the pavilion. "Were you heading outside?" When she nods, he motions at her to follow him. "I'm playing for an event in March, but that piece isn't for that. I've just always loved playing it."
"What are you going to play then?"
"Some Chopin and Brahms for now. Probably more Beethoven. I'll pull whatever else from my current repertoire."
As they walk outside, they continue chatting. Tifa feels herself relaxing as the conversation goes on; talking about piano with someone who gets it lets her focus on the good aspects instead of all the bad memories it brought in the end. Once they've reached the parking lot and are about to go their separate ways, disappointment burns in her chest—she hasn't had this kind of discussion in such a long time.
"If you really don't mind, I might come listen when I can," she says she stops before her car.
"Yeah, whenever you want." Vincent takes out his phone. "What's your number? I'll text you if I can't make it so you don't show up for nothing." He programs the number she gives him and sends her a quick text so she has his in return. "Also, don't feel pressured, but as a Masters student, I give classes for the school. If you're ever interested in playing again."
"Oh." Her hand tightens are her phone, and she hides it in her pocket. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Alright. Nice meeting you, Tifa," Vincent says with a smile.
She waves at him as he retreats, then climbs into her car. It's when she gets home and sees her piano that the realization hits—for the first time in years, it didn't feel like she was being chased by the music. Instead, she's the one who sought it out.
—
The bar Zack chose is loud and crowded, not that Tifa had thought it would be anything else. She checks the text Zack sent her indicating where they are inside, and after pushing through the crowd, finds them in a booth towards the back.
"Here you are!" Zack raises his glass in greeting.
Tifa removes her jacket. "Did you have to choose somewhere so far?" She smiles to let him know she's teasing.
Zack grins. "Damn, neighbor. Looking good."
"Tifa always looks good," Aerith adds before taking a sip of her drink.
Thankful for the dimness hiding her blush, Tifa slides into the booth next to Cloud. "Is Yuffie still coming?" she asks Aerith to stir the topic away from herself.
"She should be here soon."
The booth is large, and Cloud sits at the back against the wall. Still, she swears he could be closer from the way his presence seems to crowd her. Tifa twists her head to look at him; her greeting dies on her lips when she catches him staring at her legs before his eyes snap up to hers.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey? Is that all you're gonna say?" Zack shakes his head and lets out a scolding noise that almost gets lost in the bar's cacophony. "It's your turn to tell her she looks amazing."
Tifa doesn't miss the sparkle of mischief in Zack's gaze, and she kicks his shin under the table. To his credit, he holds in his wince.
"That was a lame greeting," Aerith jumps in. "I'm sure he can do better."
Cloud glares at the couple but doesn't play their game; instead, he takes a big gulp of his beer. There's an edge to Cloud tonight—Tifa has come to know him enough to tell. She wonders if it is his brother again, or if maybe he just doesn't like bars and clubs—most likely a mixture of both. Zack laughs at Cloud's silence before getting out of the booth.
"What do you want, Tifa? I'm going to the bar."
A glance at a broody Cloud and a smirking Aerith as her say, "I'll come with you."
She stays close behind him so they don't get separated in the crowd; once at the bar, Zack gives their orders and then turns to her with his trademark wicked grin.
"You made him speechless."
The blush that had vanished reappears. "I think your pestering just annoyed him."
Zack lets out a snort. "I don't know if you wanted to impress anyone, but if you did, I'm telling you it worked."
"Maybe I just wanted to look cute," Tifa says, keeping her eyes on the bartender.
"You look more than cute." Zack elbows her. "Mission accomplished either way."
Tifa doesn't respond to that. She didn't lie to Zack—she did dress up because she wanted to. It spawned from leftover irritation at herself for having expected Cloud to text her, and she had wanted to make herself feel better. Cute clothes always did the trick in that case. But in a way, it did have to do with Cloud, as much as she didn't want to admit it. She'd selected her clothes with all this in mind, going for a black pleated skirt and a close-fitting velvet top she knew accentuated her figure. As she'd gone to slip on her tights, she had spied the black thigh highs peeking from her drawer; she'd grabbed them without thinking twice about it. The black heeled booties had completed the outfit, and Tifa had left the apartment before she could change her mind.
The bartender hands them their drinks, preventing Zack from pursuing this specific conversation. As they make their way back to the booth, Tifa spots Yuffie and Reno. She holds in a laugh when Reno and Zack spot each other at the same. Reno grimaces and turns to say something to Yuffie.
"What is he doing here?" Zack groans. Being next to him, Tifa is the only one who hears. "I thought you said you were bringing friends."
Tifa takes a sip of her drink, her wide eyes conveying her innocence. "I invited Yuffie. She brought her…friend."
The look he sends her is full of disbelief. "Her friend? You really want me to believe that?"
She shrugs one shoulder, hiding her smirk behind her glass. They get to the booth, and Yuffie hugs Tifa.
"Forgot the ruler," she whispers in Tifa's ear.
Tifa almost chokes on her drink, making Yuffie laugh. Zack climbs into the booth next to Aerith, pointedly ignoring Reno, who glares at Yuffie.
"You said we were meeting Tifa and Aerith," he says, his irritation obvious.
"We are," Yuffie replies with a saccharine smile. "They're right here."
"Unbelievable." Reno rolls his eyes but still takes off his jacket.
Tifa goes back to her seat next to Cloud, sliding closer this time to allow Reno to sit. There is no way she can be oblivious to Cloud's presence now; her thigh almost presses against his and their arms brush whenever he goes to grab his drink.
"You two better behave," Yuffie says as a greeting to Zack. "Both of you." This time, the comment is addressed to Reno; he lets out a dramatic sigh.
"Sure, let's call a truce." Reno raises an eyebrow in a silent dare to Zack.
"One night won't change anything." Zack smirks. He goes to add something but shuts up when Aerith elbows him in the ribs; he lets out a wheeze. "Alright, truce."
And to Tifa's surprise, said truce holds throughout the night—everyone seems to have fun as they talk and drink. Eventually, Yuffie drags Reno away to dance, and Aerith and Zack follow. Once alone with Cloud, Tifa isn't sure what to say. While Cloud talked and laughed with the others, now he stays in his corner at the end of the booth. A trickle of anxiety runs through Tifa, making her warm; she ties up her hair in a ponytail so the heavy locks don't fall over her neck. Taking a sip of her drink for courage, she twists around to face Cloud. His eyes are already on her, and she falters for a second before regaining her footing.
"Are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah, why?" The casual tone of his answer makes her think he's telling the truth, but she can't ignore the stiffness of his shoulders.
"Well, there are a lot of strangers in here," she says. "Don't strangers make you uncomfortable?"
The smile Cloud gives her is a little pleased, a little embarrassed. "Why do you think I haven't moved from my seat?" He rests his head against the wall. "I'm enjoying myself fine, but you won't see me in there." He points at the dancing crowd.
"Makes sense." She's not surprised by this, but maybe she's a little disappointed. Her expression must show it because Cloud frowns. Though she hadn't wanted to let him know, now that he does, she adds, "You don't like dancing?"
"Depends." Cloud takes a gulp of his second beer. "Are you asking me to dance with you?"
Tifa bites her lips, then releases it. "No." At his inquiring glance, she says, "I wouldn't ask knowing it makes you uncomfortable." It occurs to her then that she could have scooted away now that Reno has left, but she stayed next to him—and still she doesn't move.
Cloud lets out a chuckle. "I appreciate that."
They fall quiet for a moment, and right as she is about to ask about his exam, Zack appears at the end of the booth. His wide smile and sparkling eyes catch Tifa's attention; before she can ask what he wants, Zack grabs her hand and pulls her out of her seat. She almost stumbles but stays upright.
"Zack!"
"Come dance, neighbor!"
Tifa rolls her eyes but can't suppress her smile. "You could have just asked." She has to yell now that they are near the speakers.
He turns to face her, and she thinks his grin got bigger if that's even possible. "Not taking the chance of you saying no. C'mon!"
Aerith comes up on her left, saying something Tifa can't hear over the music, but still she laughs, all of her previous anxiety melting away as she dances with her friend. The songs go on and on, the music never stopping for a second, and Tifa can't tell how long she, Aerith, and Zack dance before she gets too warm. She signals at them that she's heading back and skirts the crowd to find their booth, finding they weren't far at all even it had seemed like she was a world away.
"Not too bored?" she asks Cloud as she slips in next to him. Her breathing comes out a little heavy, and she attempts to even it out before facing Cloud.
The delight she feels at the longing in his eyes hits her hard, and it makes her breath hitch. Thankfully, the sound is drowned in the noise of the bar. She's close to him again, closer than necessary, but she sees no need to move—not when he leans forward, just enough that she has to tilt her head back a little.
"No, I was watching you."
She blinks in surprise, not having realized he could see them from the booth, and then smiles. "Glad to have entertained you."
He mumbles something she can't hear and slants back. Dismay at the sudden distance flares up, but she understands why seconds later when the others slide back into their seats, bearing another round of drinks. The conversation picks up immediately, and for a while, everything is fine. When Tifa feels the brush of a hand on her left thigh, she dismisses it as an accident—until it happens again. She peeks at Cloud from the corner of her eyes, but he looks as calm as ever, chatting with Aerith. Tifa takes a big swallow of her drink as he traces the edge of her thigh high, then drops his hand over her thigh above the fabric. A quick look at Reno to her right tells her he's too absorbed in his drunk bickering with Zack and Yuffie to notice—or at least she hopes so. For a second, she thinks she should push Cloud's hand away—especially as it slides up her leg, stopping high on her thigh and under her skirt; Cloud's slight smirk betrays his satisfaction when she doesn't. If the others note her sudden quietness, they don't comment on it. Tifa doubts they do, anyway, too far on their way to being drunk and too absorbed by their discussions. Cloud's hand stays put, not drifting further, a warm reminder of what happened last week and of what might happen tonight.
After a while, she senses him shift as he dips his head to speak in her ear. "I did well on my exam." His grip on her thigh draws taunt for a moment before it slackens.
Tifa says nothing for a minute; she finishes her drink in one swig. Though she didn't drink a lot, it was enough to make her bolder. That's how she justifies her hand coming down to cover Cloud's as he goes to pull it away, anchoring it to her leg.
"How do you know?"
He laughs, the sound almost too quiet to catch. "Honestly, your tutoring helped."
"Uh-uh."
Cloud leans back, the illusion of privacy dissipating. "Did you come here by cab?"
His question seizes Zack's attention across the table. "Yeah, I did."
"I wasn't asking you," Cloud says, wry. "Tifa and I are gonna head back."
As he says it, he removes his hand, and Tifa can't help but be a little disappointed. Cloud gesture at Reno to move so they can get out of the booth. Reno complies, gripping the table as he stands.
"You guys dating?" he asks with a puzzled frown.
Tifa can barely register his garbled words, and when she does, she shakes her head. "We're neighbors," she says while putting on her jacket.
"Uh. Okay." Reno turns to Yuffie. "You wanna leave?"
"Nooooo."
Cloud puts a hand on Tifa's back, nudging her towards the exit once they've said goodbye to everyone. The mid-November air is refreshing, a welcome change from the stuffiness of the bar.
"So you wanna take a cab back?" Cloud asks as he checks his phone.
Tifa waits for him to frown as he often does when looking at his messages, but it doesn't come. "Everything okay with your brother?"
He raises his head, surprise etches in his features. "Yeah, I think so. Called him back, and it went well."
At the mention of him calling his brother back, Tifa looks away; the memory of Seph's initial call slams into her, and she knows her cheeks have reddened.
"We can take the metro," she says to draw the attention away from his brother and phone calls. "If that's alright with you."
"Yeah, that's fine."
The nearest station is a five minutes walk away; Tifa leads them there, knowing relying on Cloud will only get them lost downtown. The station is somewhat busy, full of people going home after a night out. Tifa heads for the tail end of the platform, knowing there'll be fewer people there; though Cloud tries to hide it, she notes the stiffness of his body as he weaves through the people waiting. They get at the end right as the train arrives. Once inside the wagon, a quick check shows there are no free seats, so Tifa rests against the opposite door; Cloud comes to stand in front of her, grabbing unto the nearest pole to keep his balance as the train departs.
He's close again, and Tifa feels her pulse beat faster at the proximity. She's uncertain what she had expected to happen between them before getting to the bar, but she finds it doesn't matter anymore—all that does is the yearning in his eyes and the smirk lifting the corner of his lips, like he knows what she's thinking. He reaches out and brings her ponytail over her shoulder. Her hair goes up to her waist, and most of the time, she finds it more cumbersome than anything else. But not right now as Cloud runs his fingers through the strands; on impulse, Tifa removes the elastic, letting the locks fall.
"I didn't say it earlier," Cloud says, so quiet that only she can hear him, "but you do look amazing."
"Better late than never." With her heeled booties, they stand around the same height, and she can't escape his gaze.
"You know…" He trails off as if unsure what to say next.
"I know…?"
His hand drifts to the edge of her skirt, skimming the outside of her leg before brushing the fabric of her thigh highs. It's a subtle touch that is gone as fast as it came, and she almost thinks she imagined it. "Those have been tormenting me all night," he murmurs.
Tifa can't help it—she lets out a chuckle at his admission, making him look up in question. "So you have a thigh high fixation, is that it?"
His tongue peeks out between his teeth as he stares at her, and she reins in the urge to kiss him. When he speaks next, roughness colors his voice. "On you I do." He notices the way she inhales sharply, the way her mouth drops open just a little. "Fuck," he mumbles, making her smile, "how far are we?"
She glances at the map behind his shoulder. "Six more stops. Our building is close to the station."
A charged silence settles between them until they get off the metro and all the way to the apartment building. He unlocks the main door, and Tifa follows him inside and up the stairs. The moment she steps on their floor's landing, Cloud grabs her hand and pulls her down the corridor to his door; Tifa is inside his apartment before she knows it. She removes her boots and jacket as he locks the door behind them, and then walks into the living room, taking in the surroundings—the set up is a mirror replica of hers, but everything feels different. The bookshelves are what she notices first—they are full of books and some CDs, messy and with no apparent organization. Then, the large desk against the wall in front of her, part of it covered in papers and textbooks. It's all she sees before Cloud backs her up against said desk and kisses her.
It's not the same as last time, she thinks as his hands go for the zipper of skirt—this is more urgent, more intense, and, really, she's glad for it. Right now, after the teasing at the bar and the flirting in the metro, Tifa doesn't want to waste time. Her skirt falls to the floor, and she tugs her top over her head, silently cursing it for being so tight. Cloud has already stripped to his briefs by the time she throws the top away. She goes to pull down one thigh high, but he catches her hand.
"These stay on," he whispers before biting her bottom lip.
Tifa can't find the will to disagree. His hand slips past her underwear as she unhooks her bra, and she sighs when his fingers brush against her. The second she discards her bra, Cloud leans forward to press kisses over her breasts. She moans when he pushes two fingers into her, only to pull away so he can remove her underwear; his fingers seek her again, rough and earnest.
Tifa returns the favor, pushing his briefs down his hips. He groans when she wraps her hand around him. "Fuck, you're really wet," he mumbles into her skin.
It's tempting to ignore the comment, but she finds she wants him to know. "I've been wet since you touched me at the bar."
Cloud raises his head to look at her. "Seriously?"
"Uh-uh. I was—" She yelps as Cloud turns her around so she's bent over the desk. A quick laugh escapes her at his impatience, and it trails off into another moan as he leans against her back and she has no choice but to feel all of him.
His hand slips over her stomach and down, down, down. Cloud bites her shoulder, a soft reprimand. "We would have left sooner if you'd told me."
"I didn't—fuck," she hisses when he presses down on her clit, moving his fingers in slow circles.
"Yeah? You didn't what?" He pushes her hair over one of her shoulders to expose her back so he can trail kisses over the skin there.
"I didn't want to—ah—be too obvious—" The last word leaves her on a whine as he picks up the rhythm, rubbing her in quick, short circles. "To the others," she ends up saying. Her breathing gets heavier, and she closes her eyes. "Cloud, stop teasing."
He hums near her ear, making her shiver. "You sure? I'll have to move away." As if to emphasize his point, he applies more pressure.
"Ah—why?"
She feels him laugh against her back. "I have to go get a condom. They're in my room."
"It's fine." Her pants seem too loud in the otherwise silent apartment. Tifa bites her lip, muting her groan as Cloud pulls his hand away. "I'm on birth control. I wanted to tell you earlier," she says, reaching behind her to stop him from stepping back, "but you had me on the desk pretty fast."
"Tifa, it's not a big deal, I'll just go—" He sucks in a breath when she arches her back and her ass presses against him.
"If you want, but I'm telling you it's alright." The arm around her waist tightens, and she moans when his fingers find her again. There's nothing sweet about his touch; Tifa feels her muscles tense just as he breaks away a little. "Fuck, Cloud, pleas—" Her whisper rises into a cry when his fingers are on her again and he enters her at the same time—she comes without warning, the wave of her climax short but intense, leaving her panting and unsteady on her feet. Her hazy mind is grateful for the desk holding her up.
"Fuck, you just came." Cloud's voice is hoarse, strained. He gives her a moment to adjust, running his hands along her back, her sides, then over her ass and down her legs, stopping above the thigh highs. She catches his mumbled, "You look so hot like this," before he thrusts into her.
Tifa doesn't hold back her whine; her hips dig into the edge of the desk, the slight pain adding to the sensations. As if thinking the same, Cloud slows down and slips a hand underneath her right thigh.
"Lean on your elbows." The demand doesn't register immediately, but then the words break through, and Tifa listens. "I'm gonna lift your leg, okay?" She doesn't have time to say anything before Cloud gently hoists her right leg on the desk, folding it so it can rest on the surface. He rests one hand behind her knee to keep her in place as he pushes into her again and again, harder this time. "Fuck, fuck." The curses leave him in a low hiss. His other hand comes up to palm her breast, then slides around to her shoulder down to her lower back.
Tifa lets her head hang between her arms, not having the strength to hold it up as Cloud drives into her. This time when she comes, she senses it building until it's too much at once and her entire body clenches; her stifled cry ebbs into soft moans when Cloud thrusts a few more times into her as he comes.
They stay still a moment, their pants echoing in the unlit space, until Cloud carefully places her leg down from the desk. He drags her upright against his chest, supporting her with an arm around her waist; Tifa rests her weight on him, her legs feeling a bit too weak for her taste.
"Come on," he mumbles into her hair.
Cloud steps back despite her noise of protest and leads her towards the back of the apartment. His room is as messy as his living room; he turns on the bedside lamp as Tifa sits on the edge of the bed. She runs a hand through her hair, frowning at the tangled and sweaty strands; the heat of the bar paired with what they just did made her hair gross.
"Can I use your shower?" she asks Cloud while he searches through something in his wardrobe.
He turns around and hands her a large T-shirt. "Yeah, go ahead. You can put this on after."
She thanks him with a smile and goes into the bathroom, stripping off her thigh highs. The water helps her mind clear as it falls down on her. Tifa washes her hair quickly, only caring about the getting most of the sweat out for tonight. Once she's done and dried off, she stands in front of the fogged up mirror, a little hesitant to walk back into his bedroom. It's not an anxious kind of hesitation, she thinks, but rather one born from the vagueness of their relationship. It's difficult to tell where they stand for now, but she figures this can wait until tomorrow. Tifa throws on Cloud's shirt and braids her wet hair, then goes back to his room.
Cloud lies on the unmade bed in a shirt and clean underwear. He puts down his phone when she pads close to the bed; he blinks as he watches her sit next to him.
"Thanks for letting me use your bathroom," Tifa says when the silence stretches.
It seems to snap him out of it. "No problem."
Maybe it's because of the shower, but Tifa doesn't feel tired, and he doesn't seem to be either. As if reading her mind, Cloud sits up and then grabs the laptop on his bedside table.
"You up to watch a movie?"
They choose the first one that sounds interesting and get comfortable on the bed, reclining against the headboard. Thirty minutes in, Cloud goes in the kitchen to get some water, and Tifa smiles at his obvious lack of attention. He clearly let her chose the movie, and even she can't be bothered to focus on it much. Still, a certain curiosity about the plot keeps her watching; she shifts so the laptop rests at the top of the bed and she lies on her stomach. A minute later, she hears Cloud walk back into the room and put down the glasses on the desk. Tifa is about to twist her head to look at him when the bed dips behind her, telling her he climbed in. When he reaches over her to close the laptop, she huffs, a little annoyed.
"You could have just said you didn't feel like watching it anymore," she says, her tone dry. His hand sliding along her leg and up towards her back, pushing his shirt as it goes, makes her laugh in a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "Seriously?"
Cloud turns her around so she faces him. He gives her a lazy smile before continuing to push the shirt until it's bunched up above her breasts. "You look too good in my shirt." He gives her no time to reply before leaning down to kiss her.
Tifa sighs in his mouth as his hands come up to enfold her breasts. His lips go down to join them; he nips and licks at her skin, coaxing breathy noises from her, and then moves on to her stomach, her hips, her thighs. He nudges her legs wider apart, and she lets them fall open; he groans his approval. The soft scrape of his teeth against her inner thighs makes her raise her hips a bit in anticipation. Cloud lets out a quiet laugh before licking her with the flat of his tongue. Tifa clutches the sheet next to her head as he explores her sweetly and slowly. But she wants more, she thinks as he carries on with a lazy rhythm that drives her crazy.
"Cloud," she breathes out, "please."
He lifts his head, and she feels the brush of his lips against her skin when he speaks—that's how she can tell he's smiling. "What is it?"
"It's not enough." The admission escapes her on a sigh.
"No? Then what would be? This?" he asks as one of his hands leave her hip.
She senses the brush of his fingers against her right before he unhurriedly thrusts a finger into her while lowering his head again to lick her. It's better, but she knows he's still teasing her. "Not enough," she says softly. He says nothing this time; she moans when he adds a second finger and still—
Tifa reaches down to the hand holding on to her hip and clasps it, her nails digging into his skin. "I don't want you to—ah, fuck." She closes her eyes when he twists his hand in a steady rhythm as it enters her. "To be gentle," she gasps out.
In answer, Cloud intertwines their fingers; she grips his hand too tightly as he listens to her request. He thrusts harder into her; when he grazes her clit with his teeth then sucks on it, Tifa's grasp on his hand tenses to the point of pain, and she comes with a loud whimper, her hips lifting and her thighs clenching around his head. It takes her a moment to slacken her hold on his hand, and once she does, Cloud laughs, the sound muffled against her stomach where he rests his cheek.
"Shut up," she mumbles without heat.
Cloud tugs the shirt down over her. Tifa lets him, suddenly feeling exhausted. She glances up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.
"Come on," he says, "go to sleep."
She hums a half-hearted objection. "But you—"
"Hey, just sleep, okay?" Cloud moves so he can bring a lightweight sheet over her.
Tifa doesn't have it in her to protest more, so she nods. "You too?" She's not sure why it comes out as a question, but it doesn't faze him.
"Yeah, in just a minute."
Her eyes close as he tucks a strand of hair away from her face, and as she drifts off, she thinks she hears retreating footsteps before silence takes over.
—
A/N: Cloud's thigh high fixation when it comes to Tifa is canon, sorry I don't make the rules.