A/N: Hi! Welcome to Feelsville! I hope you enjoy your stay!

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Sonata Op.31, No.2 "The Tempest": III. Allegretto - Beethoven

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A Sea of Silence

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10: Sonata no.17 in D minor, Op.31, No.2 "The Tempest": III. Allegretto

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Loud laughter reverberating through the house is what wakes Tifa first—the whisper of kisses along the back of her neck is what makes her open her eyes. The silken slide of her hair as it is pushed out of the way tickles, and she smiles into the pillow.

"What time is it?" she asks, her voice muffled.

Cloud hears her fine, being so close. "Who cares," he mumbles against her skin.

She hums then laughs as he slips his arm around her and turns her so she lies on her back. He grabs both her hands and pins them above her head; Tifa's breath hitches. "Cloud—"

His voice is soft as he says, "You liked that last night." He stares down at her, and for a moment, Tifa hates the way his eyes drink her in.

"Yes," she breathes out.

Cloud smiles, lazy and satisfied, as his free hand glides down to caress her breasts. His mouth follows suit, and he drops slow kisses over her chest. A sigh leaves her when his hand continues its path down her body and his fingers stroke her in light touches. He applies slight pressure on one leg so she spreads them. "That's it," he says. She feels the way his lips move as he speaks.

He keeps his caresses faint and his kisses gentle until her breathing picks up. When he slips his fingers into her, he raises his head to meet her gaze; her eyelids flutter closed, but she forces them open. There's something she glimpses in Cloud's expression that captivates her—maybe the way his eyes don't leave her face, or how the slight tilt of his lips that makes her think he enjoys watching her fall apart at his mercy. Her back arches a little at a sharp sting of pleasure, and she struggles against his hold for a second.

"Cloud—" His hold on her hands tightens as she moans his name.

His leisurely pace holds; there is a shadow of frustration at not getting enough, but it's really the slow build of tension that overwhelms Tifa. It becomes difficult for her to hold his stare; it feels like she'll find the truth of who she is in it, and she's afraid to be imagining what she'll unearth—afraid to lie to herself. Still, she doesn't look away.

The rise of voices in the hallway rings in her ears, indistinct and yet loud. Cloud's eyes drift away for a second but return to hers soon enough; he smirks as he whispers, "Keep it down for real this time."

His demand makes her heart surge as she remembers her pleading and her muffled shout as she came last night. She gasps as his hand gets rough all of a sudden. Part of her knows he must be doing it on purpose since he's aware of the people in the hallway, but she finds she doesn't care if it's the case. Against the voices outside the room, the wet sounds of his hand thrusting into her mixing with the muted noises she can't hold back seem loud and indecent. She bites her lip as he curls his fingers inside her, but a whimper escapes her anyway. Cloud doesn't let up, and it soon becomes too much—harsh gasps and low whines spill out as her release threatens to break her. Above her, Cloud's face becomes unreadable through her haze, but still she tries to keep her eyes on him.

"Cloud, I can't—" Her whisper swells in a plea. "I can't, I can't—"

Her legs tense almost painfully, and she feels herself about to come—her eyes focus on his for a second before she closes them as she does break, then. Cloud kisses her before her voice can grow loud enough to fill the room; she pants and cries into his mouth as it goes on and on, his hand not slowing down until her legs shake and she folds them together to run away from his touch. He pulls his hand away, and Tifa opens her eyes when she senses it run a trail up her body, stopping over her heaving chest for a second and then carrying on. Cloud holds her jaw, tilting her head back—the harshness of his kiss is a stark contrast to the gentleness of his grasp.

"That felt good?" he asks in a murmur.

She can discern the note of amusement in his voice but can't be bothered to come up with a witty reply. Instead, she gives him a slight nod. He lets go of her hands, but she leaves them where they are for a moment, only moving when it looks like he's about to break away; Tifa wraps her arms around his neck, sliding her hands up to grip his hair. Cloud makes a pleased sound when she pulls him back down. She thinks she hears him mumble her name against her lips, but it gets lost in between lazy kisses.

Cloud slides out of her arms after a while; he stares at her, and her heart jumps at the plain affection she spies in his face. Tifa refuses to let herself hope, but there's no denying the spark that was just kindled. It gives her a modicum of courage, and she goes to speak but changes her mind when Cloud gets off the bed. Instead, she watches him get dressed without a word.

"Meet me downstairs when you're ready," he says as he walks for the door. "We can head back whenever you want."

Tifa sits up and nods; the door shuts behind him, and she suddenly feels the cold of the room. With a sigh, she forces herself to slip out from under the covers. While there's no hurry, the thought of lingering here alone doesn't sit well with her. She picks up the discarded pieces of her outfit from last night, grimacing at the ripped fishnets; there's no point in putting them on anymore. Once she feels presentable and she's found a bathroom, Tifa walks down the stairs.

The house is eerily quiet compared to last night or even when she woke up, and she wonders if Zack's roommates have left. It's as she passes by the room Cloud had been meant to clean up that she hears voices she recognizes—but it's her name that has her freeze in her tracks.

"—you have with Tifa, it's not like usual. You weren't like this with Jessie. That was just you having fun."

The door is ajar enough for her to see Zack and Cloud sitting on a couch, their backs to her. Tifa is aware the best thing to do would be leaving, but the words claw at her, preventing her from running away.

Zack goes on at Cloud's silence, "Dude, you kissed her in front of everyone at midnight."

"I was drunk," Cloud says after a pause.

"That's never been an excuse for you, so don't start now."

"What do you want me to say, Zack?" She hears the tension in Cloud's voice. "Tifa is my—"

"For fuck's sakes, Cloud, if you say she's your friend again—"

"But she is!" Cloud's sudden exclamation might surprise Zack, but not Tifa—still, she feels the cracks in her heart expand. "You don't understand what that means to—"

"I don't understand?" Zack cuts him off, and she startles at the anger he exudes. "If anyone knows what your friendship is like, it's me. If you care about her, you'll stop being unfair to her because you can't get your head out of your ass."

Both guys fall silent, but Tifa still hears the echo of their words. Her heart beats fast enough that she almost misses the sound of someone walking towards the door; she retreats in time to disappear around the corner. Everything seems upside-down as she searches for Aerith; the house she got to know last night suddenly seems foreign and uninviting. Once it becomes obvious Aerith is nowhere to be seen, Tifa goes back upstairs—right on time to see her friend come out of a bedroom Tifa assumes is Zack's. Before Aerith can say anything, Tifa drags her inside and closes the door. Aerith knows better than to protest; she stays quiet, waiting for Tifa to speak. Tears threaten to fall, but Tifa wills them not to—she refuses to cry for this, not when she knew what to expect.

"Can we leave?"

If the question surprises Aerith, she doesn't let it show. "Yes, of course. What happened? Is it Cloud?" she adds softly.

Tifa gives a sharp nod; she feels both flooded by emotions and numb to what is around her. The explanation spills out of her with no more prompting. "It was supposed to be one time. I don't know when it happened, I just—" She gulps. "I played piano for him, that's how I started again." Tifa stops to breathe, not having realized how fast she'd been talking; when she speaks next, the words come out louder than she'd like. "I don't get it! I don't get how he can look at me like that and still say all I am is a friend." The way he'd stared her down this morning is all she sees. "I don't understand, Aerith," she finishes, hating how meek her voice has become. "Nothing makes sense anymore."

"Tifa…" Aerith shakes her head, then turns around to pick up her jacket. "Come on, let's go."

Though Tifa is the one who asked, guilt at forcing her friend to leave nags at her. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little—" Her throat closes up.

"It's fine," Aerith says immediately. "I won't make you stay here if you don't want to. Do you have all of your things?"

Relief spears through Tifa. "Yes."

"Let's go."

Aerith doesn't give her time to change her mind; she grabs her hand and leads her out of the room and down the stairs. When they pass by the kitchen where Cloud and Zack are, Aerith barely stops.

"We're leaving," she says. The coldness dripping from her voice leaves no room for argument.

When Zack nods and glances at Tifa with eyes full of apologies, she realizes he must have caught her eavesdropping; it only makes her want to run away faster. Cloud frowns and stands up.

"Tifa?"

She grips Aerith's hand harder, an unconscious gesture betraying her anxiety. "Something came up. I'll see you later, okay?" she says, hoping it'll be enough to deter him.

But Cloud must understand something is off because he goes around the table to come closer. Thankfully, Aerith pulls on Tifa's hand, compelling her to leave. Tifa can hear Cloud's puzzlement when he says her name again; Zack's annoyed sit your ass down follows. The moment they step outside of the house, Tifa feels her head clear a little; she can't say if it's the chill of the air or the simple fact of being away from Cloud.

"Are you okay to drive?"

"Yeah." Tifa exhales, needing to expel the emotions that built within her. "I just needed to get away."

They've only pulled out of the driveway when Aerith asks, "Do you want me to stay with you?"

Tifa shakes her head, keeping her eyes on the road. "I would prefer to be alone."

"Okay, but you'll let me know the second you don't feel well." It's an order, and it makes Tifa crack a smile. "I'm not kidding."

"Yeah, I know," Tifa replies softly. "Thank you. And I know I said we'd talk about this today, but..."

"Don't worry, I get it. Now's not the time."

Tifa stares ahead, her hands tight around the steering wheel. "No, it's not."

For the rest of the drive to her apartment, Aerith chatters about random topics in an obvious attempt to distract Tifa. Though it fails, Tifa keeps that fact to herself, playing along and responding to all cues. Aerith sends her worried side-glances, but Tifa ignores them. When they part, Aerith hesitates before getting out of the car—it strikes Tifa as selfish of her to have dragged her friend away only to drive her home, but she can't find the will to care at the moment.

Once she's alone at her place, Tifa plugs in her dead phone out of habit and changes into comfortable clothes. The phone beckons her as it lights up, showing new messages—she knows she'll find some from Cloud. Looking at them isn't appealing right now, but it's better than the thought of him knocking at her door later.

Cloud: what happened

Cloud: are you ok?

She stares at the screen for a minute, unsure what to reply. Part of her wants to say no I'm not ok, but she's not ready for what that entails. Especially not after the way the last 24 hours have twisted her emotions around—the kiss at midnight and his affection this morning have messed with her head.

Tifa: i'm fine. i just need some time for myself so i'll see you when school starts.

Her thumb hangs above the 'send' icon as she hesitates—asking for time away feels like a dead giveaway that something is wrong, and yet she can't pretend she doesn't need it. She sends the message before she can continue overthinking. She doesn't even have the time to put the phone down before Cloud is already replying; her heart crawls up her throat as she observes the little dots jump, then stop, then start again—it takes him a few minutes to finally send her something.

Cloud: ok, let me know if you need anything.

Tifa sprawls on her bed, phone in hand, and stares at the ceiling. The irony of Cloud asking her what she needs when she is upset because of him makes her laugh, but it trails off quickly enough. It's only now that she allows a few tears to escape.

—

The next time Tifa sees Cloud is at school. The new semester started over two weeks ago, and they both kept their distances. She knows he did it out of respect for the boundary she put into place, and she appreciates it, but she's also aware this can't go on forever. Though she needed the time to sort her thoughts, she also needs to talk to him so she can have an idea of where to go from here. So when she spots Cloud as she walks into her usual cafeteria intending to study on Thursday afternoon, Tifa understands now is the time to reach out.

Cloud raises his head when she sits next to him; he looks ready to tell whoever it is to go sit somewhere else, but his expression shifts when he notices it's her. Tifa puts her bag down on the table and gives him a slight smile.

"Hey," she says. "Am I bothering you?"

He blinks as if startled but then shakes his head; the tension radiating from him causes worry to gnaw at Tifa.

"How are you?" he asks. The hesitancy in his voice is hard to miss.

"Good, thanks." An awkward pause stretches, their silence only filled by the background noise. "I just needed some time," she blurts out.

Cloud frowns and twists around in his chair so he can face her. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah, kind of." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, telling herself not to avoid his gaze. "I'm sorry for shutting you out."

"No worries," he says with forced casualness. Cloud runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the strands. "I wanted to write, but you said to give you time, so…"

"I did." He nods, but the way his eyes flee hers makes her think something is on his mind. She leans forward, getting into his space a little; Cloud doesn't move away. "What is it?"

"I just…" He bites his lip. "I feel like I did something wrong, like I hurt you. But I'd like to think you'd tell me if it was the case."

Tifa takes a deep breath to steel herself. She doesn't want to have this conversation here, but there's no avoiding breaching the subject.

"Because we're friends?" She tries to keep her tone neutral.

Her words cut off whatever he was about to say next; Cloud meets her eyes as if he's taken aback. Tifa can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

"I mean…" He hesitates, then carries on, "That's part of it, yeah."

"What's the other part, then?"

Cloud plays with his watch, and she recognizes the gesture as one of his anxious tells. "You said you trust me, so I thought…" He lets out of sigh of frustration. "Tifa, just tell me. Please."

Despite how earnest he sounds, she can't bring herself to speak of what bothers her—not right now, and certainly not here. No matter how the conversation turns, the public setting isn't favorable.

"Okay, I'll tell you. But once we head back, alright?" She waits for his nod. "Do you have any more classes for the day?"

"I'm done. I was just killing time waiting for the bus."

Her pulse accelerates at the idea of this discussion happening earlier than anticipated. As she goes to stand, someone stops next to her chair. Tifa looks up; her frown morphs into a smile when she recognizes Vincent.

"Hey! Long time no see."

"Hey." Vincent nods in Cloud's direction in a wordless greeting. "I won't bother you for long, but I was going to call you tonight, so I figured I'd tell you now."

Tifa tilts her head to the side. "Tell me what?"

"For the event," he says. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at his obvious distaste. "It starts at six. I'm gonna need your address to come pick you up."

She catches Cloud's frown form the corner of her eyes but dismisses it. "Yeah, sure. I'll text it to you."

"You okay for the dress code?"

"Yeah, I have a dress that should do the job."

"Perfect." Vincent hitches the strap of his messenger bag higher on his shoulder. "Did you get far with your new piece? It was a Nocturne, right?"

The day she'd fled Zack's house, Tifa had stayed at the piano most of the evening—she had tried her hand at playing whatever she could find and ended up stumbling on her edition of Chopin's Nocturnes. It had taken her a minute to gather the courage to open the booklet—the spine was already broken from years of use, and she had taken care to avoid looking at the Nocturne in C Minor. Instead, she had gone through the ones that came after. As she had reached the nineteenth Nocturne, her hands had stilled. She had been thrown back into the past, to that time she had learned her first Nocturne and how proud she had felt. Something about the melody had always stricken her as haunting, sad, but also peaceful, and as she had begun sight-reading it, the impression had remained. While the thought of playing a Nocturne hurt, Tifa had taken the plunge, telling herself she could always back out and choose something else if it became too much.

"Yeah, it's the one in E-Minor," she says with a nod. "Figured I'd start with one of the easier ones. And I also played it before."

It's difficult not to notice how tense Cloud is being next to her. Though he says nothing, Tifa can sense something is off; when she glances at him and sees him texting, she figures it must be his brother. A wave of guilt hits her as she realizes that by avoiding him, she left Cloud to deal with this issue alone while knowing how hard it's been for him.

Vincent's smile speaks of his genuine relief. "That's great. I was worried you wouldn't pursue, so yeah…that's good. Just make sure to play something you like so it stays fun, especially since you've only started."

"Yes, teacher." Her dry tone is balanced by the mocking look she sends him. "Don't worry about that."

"Alright. Well, I'll see you around. Don't forget to send me your address."

Vincent waves as he departs, and Tifa watches him go for a moment before turning back to Cloud. To her surprise, he seems angry—the signs are subtle, like he's trying to hide it, but Tifa catches on.

"Did something happen with Seph?" she asks with a glance at the phone he still holds.

His frown deepens, and he shoves his phone in his jacket's pocket. "A lot happened with Seph. Are we heading back?"

The curtness of his words gives rise to anxiety, and Tifa's heart twists in her chest. "Yeah, let's go."

They don't speak for the drive back. Tifa grips the steering wheel tightly, a bad presentiment coiling all around her mind. Cloud's sudden shift in attitude worries her—on one hand, she gets the impression he's mad at her; on the other, it's like her mentioning Seph is what set him off. His silence wouldn't be so telling if she couldn't sense the discontentment seeping from him. It's only once they've stepped on their floor's landing that Tifa breaks from the unsaid pressure. Her hand shakes as she unlocks the door to her apartment.

"What is up with you?"

The uncertainty causes her words to come out curt, and it's clear it irritates Cloud; his frown deepens, and there's no missing the sudden brusqueness of his movements as he follows her inside.

"I don't know, Tifa. Why don't you tell me?" Cloud drops his backpack on the floor, uncaring of the neighbors below. "I'm the one who has no fucking clue what's going on."

It hits her, then, that her avoidance affected him more than she had expected it would. That maybe she had taken what she had overheard at Zack's the wrong way—taken his insistence that they are friends as being dismissive instead of something to be valued. And still she can't ignore how she felt that day; the hurt and the confusion might have lessened with the weeks, but they've dug their claws in her heart for long enough that she can't shake them off.

"Well, you're not the only one," she says, doing what she can to sound calm.

"So something did happen?" He laughs at her silent admission, and there's a cruel edge to the sound, something she's never heard from him before. "And instead of talking to me, you just ran off?"

"That's rich coming from you." The words tumble out unheeded, and she regrets them immediately.

Cloud flinches, but his anger doesn't fade; if anything, her comment only fuels it. "I don't even know what the fuck happened!"

Tifa walks past him and deeper into the apartment. She wants to shout the truth at him, or hide away so she doesn't have to see him. Maybe it's both at once, and that's why it all overwhelms her—thoughts spiral through her mind and her emotions jumble. Everything feels too intense, too scary—it's just so much worse than how it was before she talked to Cloud earlier today, and for a second she regrets having gone to see him.

The admission is on the tip of her tongue when she hears Cloud follow her. Her annoyance flares up, and she whirls around to face him. "Why are you being like this suddenly! I was ready to talk to you, but then you just had to—to—" She cuts off to will herself to calm down. If she gets angry as well, this won't go anywhere. "Is this because of your brother?"

The question wasn't the right one, apparently; Cloud scoffs the second she finishes talking. "Not everything in my life has to be about Seph."

Despite his effort to dismiss the question, Tifa can read between the lines. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about Seph!" Cloud's shout almost takes her by surprise, but his agitation had been building too quickly, too intensely for any other outcome. "I want to know why you avoided me! I want to know why you're suddenly going on a fucking date and you didn't tell me!"

Confusion takes hold of Tifa. "Who said I was going on a—" The realization that he must have interpreted her conversation with Vincent as them going on a date slams into her, and she can't hide her shock in time.

"Yeah, that date," he says when she stays silent. "I thought we had an agreement."

"I'm not—it's—it's not a date!"

Cloud rakes his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands before letting go. "Then what the fuck is it, Tifa? What do you expect me to think! You disappear on me without explanation for weeks, and when you reappear you want to talk and you're going on a date? I thought we could be honest with each other! I thought we were friends!"

Her eyes close at the last word—part of her is so sick of hearing it coming from him, and yet she understands now how much friendship is something Cloud values. And she gets the feeling her justifications will only appear insincere at the moment. She takes a deep breath.

"We are friends," she says. Her voice breaks, but she carries on before he can notice. "But that's not—" It hits her what the reason for his shift in attitude might be; she chooses her next words carefully. "You say we can be honest with each other."

He gives her a curt nod; the curiosity in his eyes doesn't obscure the hard glint of frustration, but it gives Tifa enough hope to continue.

"Then, this is me being honest—I'm not going on a date with Vincent."

Cloud stares at her in silence for a moment; her heart swells under his gaze, and she thinks it will burst and its shrapnel will be forever embedded inside her.

"He knows, doesn't he?" There's a hint of desperation to his question, like he is begging her to deny it.

"Know it's not a date? Yes, he's the—"

"About your history with piano." Cloud lost some of his hesitancy, and instead the harshness has returned; it sharpens his words enough that they cut through her skin. "He knows, right?"

Her pause is too long to be anything other than a confession. Still, Cloud waits for her to speak, for her to confirm what he already knows.

"He does," she says, keeping her tone even. "He's the reason I started playing again."

As the statement leaves her, Tifa doesn't need Cloud's sudden blank expression or the wince he tries to hold back to make her aware she should have worded this differently. Just like she doesn't need Cloud to admit to what he's feeling for her to understand. Though it doesn't seem obvious to him, Tifa can't figure out any other explanation for his reactions.

He's jealous.

And it both infuriates and thrills her. He has no right to act like this with the way they stand; yet she can't deny the possibilities budding in her heart at the thought.

"I didn't mean it like that," she rushes out before he can speak. "I meant that he pushed me enough so I could eventually play again. And we talked about it since it was part of the problem." It strikes her as strange how she feels as if she must defend herself; the impression causes her irritation to reappear. In the back of her mind, she's aware what she'll say next won't help the situation, but it's the truth—and something she has no reason to hide. "Vincent helped me in a way no one else could have."

Cloud says nothing, not a first; a tense silence settles between them, and Tifa can sense how thin it stretches and how easily it will shatter. When he speaks next, Tifa holds her breath.

"I thought I was helping you." The quietude of his voice is a stark contrast to its previous loudness.

"You were. You are," she says. It's almost a plea to make him understand. "It's not—It doesn't have to be the same."

There's no ignoring the disquiet that controls him—and Tifa knows his reaction isn't solely due to his jealousy. But she also knows better than to bring up Seph right now. Instead, she focuses on trying to navigate the maze they got lost in—she just has to find an exit, she thinks, and she can drag them out and away from this.

"It's not the same? What does that even mean?"

Tifa's pulse drums so loud he has to hear it. She can't say the truth, not right now—can she? "Vincent is my friend."

"What am I, then?" His voice rises again; not so much a shout as frustration begging to be set free. "I just want to know what the fuck is happening, Tifa! I thought we were—I thought—" He bites his lip as if to prevent the words from being said. "I don't understand what I did. I've been trying to figure it out, and I can't. I fucking can't, Tifa. So what am I supposed to think?" She goes to speak, but he carries on over her. "We said we'd tell each other if we wanted to end this, so I didn't expect fucking radio silence!"

His assumption nurtures the vexation she had been trying to curb, and it becomes too much to contain it. "I never said that's what I wanted!"

"No, but you cut me off without explanation and suddenly are going on a date with someone?"

It's his insistence that she's going on a date with Vincent that angers her the most; in the back of her mind, she thinks it must be because of how small of a thing it is to her. "Again, it's not a date!"

Cloud runs a hand over his face, then through his hair once more. "Fine, it's not a fucking date. You still..." He trails off as if realizing something; Tifa gets the impression she won't like what comes next when his frown deepens and his eyes close for a second too long. "How long has he known?"

His words make her heart constrict; pain and bitterness seep through the cracks, poisoning whatever logic and self-control she had. As she goes to speak, the thought that she'll only worsen things flash in her mind—but she shoves it aside.

"I told him because he did whatever he could to make me feel better about piano." It's not an answer to his question, not exactly, but Cloud sees where she is going with this; she can tell from the flare of apprehension that transforms his features. "Because he just wanted to help and nothing else. Vincent did something no one else could have, so of course I told him!" Cloud's gaze strays away from her, and it infuriates her even more. "So, yes, Cloud, he knew before you did! And I don't get why it's such a big fucking deal!" This time, she's the one who shouts. There's something liberating about it, and yet she hates that she raised her voice. It's too late, though, and the damn that had contained her emotions ruptures. "You're not entitled to my secrets because we've slept together! And you have no right to act like this!"

Thunder obscures his face—and she knows they've lost their footing. All that's left to do is fall down the never-ending hill until they hit the lowest point.

"This is has nothing to do with us sleeping together!" He's raised his voice as well, and in a way, Tifa is glad for it.

"So it has to do with us being friends, is that it?"

"Yes! You said—"

But Tifa doesn't want to hear what she might have said before—she just wants this illusion to end. "Stop saying we're friends!"

The following silence is abrupt, only broken by her heavy breathing. The way she spoke doesn't even register with her; all she can concentrate on is the way she's feels so astray that nothing makes sense anymore.

"I'm tired of hearing that!" The confession tumbles from her lips without her wanting it to—without her thinking it through. Her nails dig into her palms, the sensation anchoring her to the modicum of reason she has left. "I'm sick of hearing that's all I am! I don't want to do this anymore!"

The way Cloud at once becomes unreadable would have made her anxious any other day; now it only fans her anger. He inhales, then exhales loudly. "At least you're honest now," he says, cold and detached.

She gets the impression he's trying to dissociate from their reality, and though she's not sure why, his reaction is the breaking point. "I didn't lie to you when I said I needed time and I didn't lie about Vincent either! You're just being childish!"

"But you could have told me!" Cloud's voice levels with hers, and she realizes the neighbors must hear them. "If you had just fucking told me what was up, or what the fuck is going on with Vincent—"

"Nothing!" It's a shriek this time, one she didn't mean to let escape. "There's nothing going on, and if there was, it wouldn't be any of your business!"

"Oh, so it wouldn't matter that we've been sleeping together?"

"It would not because you're not in a position to—"

"The fuck I'm not!"

"Not as a friend," she snaps, making sure her resentment is heard.

"So I'm back to being your friend now?" He laughs, his disbelief ringing clear. "I don't see how I'm different from Vincent, then."

"Oh my god, you're being such a child—"

"You said we weren't the same—"

"You're not!"

"—but I don't see what you mean since you can't fucking say what is going—"

"I don't love Vincent!" The admission rips out of her in a scream, but she doesn't even realize what she's said, not immediately. "And I don't understand what the fuck makes you think you two mean the same to me! Are you oblivious or do you just not care!"

As her words settle between them and the silence takes over, Tifa notices little things—the way her hands shake and how far apart Cloud stands from her; the way his eyes have gone wide and how still he seems. Mostly, she feels flooded by the urge to cry as what she said at last echoes in her ears. Tifa hides her face behind her hands, unwilling to face him now that the truth hangs between them.

She hears the shuffling of his feet—not like he came closer, but like he can't decide if he should leave or stay. "Tifa—"

The contrast of his voice softening is stark against the unexpected quiet. "Please leave," she whispers.

Her plea is muffled by her hands; maybe Cloud hears her nonetheless, or maybe he already knows what she wants because he says, "No, we should—"

"I don't want to talk!" She takes a deep breath in an attempt to quell her rising anxiety. "I want you to leave me alone."

This time, his footsteps do get closer, but she steps back, pulling her hands away to look at him. There's a certain awkwardness to Cloud now, like he can't shake out the tension from their fight while wanting to talk it out. She hates that he's trying to make it better; it's a fleeting thought, but the strength of it stays with her.

When he goes to speak, her panic expands, and it makes her say something, anything so he'll go away. "There's nothing to discuss, Cloud."

"That's not true."

She shakes her head, counting down to the moment she won't be able to hold back the tears anymore. He needs to be gone by then. "It is!" Tifa ignores the way his breath hitches. "You didn't trust me enough to come see me and ask what was going on."

His jaw clenches as if he's getting angry, but she has a hunch it's directed at himself. "I wanted to respect—"

"No, you just didn't care enough." It's a lie, and they both know it, yet it's the only thing Tifa can think to say. "You could have talked to me instead of assuming I didn't want to see you anymore. And you should have believed me about Vincent from the start." Tifa almost chokes on her words—this time, she's telling the truth, and she figures that's why it hurts so much.

"Tifa, you know that's not—"

"I don't!" The high pitch of her voice is a giveaway of her agitation, and she hates that he heard it. "Cloud, just leave."

He stands still for a long moment, staring down at her with what she thinks might be alarm and some regret, but mostly that same affection she had spied in his eyes that day at Zack's house. And it only worsens the chaos of her emotions. Like on that day, she wonders how he can look at her that way—and now she wonders if maybe she wasn't imagining it this whole time.

Cloud breaks his stillness at last; he doesn't reach for her, and for that she is grateful. He walks towards the door and picks up his bag, shouldering it in silence. For a second, she thinks he'll say something—part of her even hopes he will—but he steps out of the apartment, letting the door shut softly behind him. As soon as the telltale sound of him entering his own apartment is heard, Tifa sits down on the couch. There's a minute or two where it's all quiet, and she cherishes it.

The music starts too quickly. Tifa recognizes the piece from the opening notes, and she can't help but think how apt Cloud's choice is. Beethoven's third movement of "The Tempest" fills the space separating them, a reflection of the turmoil raging inside her. Though it's only a passing thought, she curses Zack for letting her know Cloud plays classical music when he's upset. She doesn't want to consider how he feels right now.

But there's a certain comfort in the way the music resonates, and despite herself, she thinks maybe this is why Cloud hates the silence so much—because of how protected it must make him feel as the world can't hear you.

Her tears finally fall, and Tifa lets the sounds be drowned by the storm.

—

A/N: I'm sorry for the obscene amount of ! in this chapter.