A/N: An entry I wrote for the Cloti Fall Festival 2019 hosted by clotiweek on tumblr. Day 5 Prompt: Gratitude/"Some of us think holding on makes us strong, but sometimes it is letting go."

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy :) Comments and reviews are very much appreciated, thanks!

The sun had barely risen above the horizon when Cloud was making his way down the path toward the cemetery. They had stayed in Nibelheim for over a week now. Last night, they had decided to return to Midgar that morning. They still had life and work over in the other city, but someday, Cloud wanted to try asking Tifa what she thought of building life in their hometown. Yes, Nibelheim was a source to a lot of their scars, but it was also home to a lot of their joys and memories. And…he would be closer to his mother then.

Besides, lately Cloud felt like he was getting tired of city life.

The cemetery was built a little ways away from the town center. Faraway from the hustle and bustle while being surrounded by a wooden fence and copses of trees, there was a sense of tranquility whenever Cloud stepped foot there. Wildflowers had grown all around the cemetery, along with some bushes and shrubs. Sometimes, Cloud would even spot squirrels skittering over the undergrowth and up a tree branch.

Among the flowers growing in the cemetery was a patch of small white ones. He recognized them when he first saw it—Camellia. It had been his mother's favorite flower. He had been gathering a few of them each day and scattering them over his mother's gravestone. He hoped his mother, wherever she was, would be happy.

Was it just his imagination that the bushes and shrubs had more flowers than they did yesterday? More of the white ones, as well as the pink and red ones.

Cloud went over to his usual patch of white camellias and began gathering an armful of them. It would be his last day in Nibelheim. If he could, he wanted to give his mother all the flowers the cemetery had to over.

~ O ~

When Tifa woke up, the bed to her right was already empty and made. Sunlight had filtered in through the gap in the curtains. Did she sleep in? They were supposed to catch a ride with one of the townspeople going to deliver something to the port that morning. She hoped she hadn't made them miss their ride.

Tifa reached for her phone on the bedside table and frowned at the time displayed there. It was still around the time she usually woke up. She slumped face-down onto her bed again, cursing Cloud internally.

What the hell, Cloud? I thought I woke up late.

Tifa opened an eye and stared at the empty bed across from her. It was their last day there. Cloud was probably at the cemetery again. In the past week or so that they had been there, Cloud never once failed to visit his mother in the mornings. He'd gather the flowers he found around, then scatter them around his mother's gravestone. The look he had had yesterday—calm and serene—was vastly different from how he had been the first time she proposed the idea to visit the town. He had tried to conceal it, but Tifa could see through the cracks in his façade.

Cloud had dreaded going to Nibelheim. She had thought that had something to do with the Shinra Manor. Cloud had been imprisoned under it for years, underwent some experiment that had left him in a delirious state. Tifa wouldn't blame him if the place contained some inexplicable trauma for him. However, it wasn't until she witnessed him crying in front of his mother's grave that she understood the real reason behind his dread.

Now she knew why Cloud never talked much about his mother. She had also been like that when Zangan first brought her out to Midgar. It was probably not until she met Avalanche that she started feeling something akin to normalcy returning to her life.

Tifa sat up on her bed and scanned the room. Most of their belongings had been packed away. What was left was to take a quick bath, then a last visit to see her father before they had to leave.

A distant hum of conversation drew her to the windows, where she drew the curtains aside. The sunlight blinded her for a moment, but once her eyes adjusted to it, she could see that down at the town square, people were already up and about.

Tifa had come to love the town again in the past week that she had lived alongside them. In fact, she hadn't realized how much she had missed it—so much that she was beginning to contemplate about moving back here. Seven years was a long time. What would Cloud say if she told him that? Would he come with her? The town might not be the same as it had been, but neither were they nor the townspeople. They could make it work somehow.

~ O ~

"Hi, Mom," Cloud said, crouching before his mother's gravestone. Sometimes, he would still feel his throat constrict, but it was better than the first time he had stood there—he had been a crying wreck; he couldn't even form a proper, coherent sentence except I'm sorry. Now, the suffocating crushing feeling had subsided somewhat, and the muscles along his jaws and fingers would only twitch occasionally, but it was nothing that he couldn't handle.

Cloud cleared his throat. "I brought something for you," he went on. He had gathered all the flowers in the cemetery that his arms could carry—mostly the white ones, because those were his mother's favorite—then slowly scattered them around the gravestone. A few petals were picked up by the wind, and he watched as it danced away. It was all right; his mother hadn't been the nitpicking type. She probably would have wanted him to scatter flowers over every gravestone there, but that time would come later. This time, he would give his undivided attention to his mother.

"Flowers, again," Cloud said, with a small laugh. "Sorry, they're the only thing I can get my hands on around here, and…I don't really know what else to give you.

"You liked these, didn't you? Camellias. I remember you having planted some of them at the front of the house, and you'd tend to them so carefully that that one November, they bloomed so magnificently the neighbors started talking what a good gardener you were. I wanted to pick one, but you snapped my hand away. It really hurt, you know."

Cloud chuckled under his breath, then looked around, spotting more of the red and pink flowers on some of the bushes. "Is it because it's November that there are so many in bloom right now?" he mused to no one in particular. "Well, whatever the reason is, this place will be covered with the flowers, give or take a few weeks. I hope it'll make you happy."

Cloud noticed that the sun had risen higher then, just a little above the canopy of red and gold leaves. It was around the time Tifa would wake up. She would probably visit her father before they had to leave. Maybe Cloud should just wait for her here.

Cloud shifted his gaze back to his mother's name hidden beneath the white flower petals he had scattered all around. When he brushed his fingers against the engravings, his mind took him back to the image of a warm kitchen. His mother, wearing an apron with her blonde hair much like his tied to the back, stirring something in a huge pot that smelled like stew. He had just entered the house, all dirty from playing outside. When she noticed him, there was that bright, vibrant smile on her face as she said, "Welcome home."

The tears started falling without his consent. He tried to wipe them away, but that only spurred them on. "I'm sorry," he whispered—a breath of a sound in the quiet stillness. He fell to his knees and fisted his hands as a sob shook his body. "I'm sorry."

It was probably his most-used phrase throughout his stay in Nibelheim. Not a day went by when he didn't crouch down and apologize to his mother about anything and everything. Tifa had said that the fact that he had come to his mother's rescue was all that mattered. That his mother wouldn't have it against him for failing to save her. And maybe she was right. He had done his best. None of it was his fault. But it still didn't erase his sense of guilt for doing something a child shouldn't have done to his parent.

He had run away. He had forgotten about her.

There was a reason why Cloud never fully recounted how his mother died—never really told anyone about his mother. It was a subconscious thing, one he only realized the day he stood before his mother's grave, when all the memories he had kept locked up in the deepest, darkest corner of his mind came rushing out. His mother had died, burning in that fire, and he was too helpless, too powerless to do anything about it.

So, Cloud ran away from it, because the memory of his mother smiling and laughing and saying, "Welcome home, Cloud," was too much for him to bear.

He looked up through tearful eyes. "I'm not the greatest son, am I?" he murmured with a self-deprecating smile.

~ O ~

Tifa checked her watch. She still had time. Cloud wasn't back yet, so she hadn't checked their room out—he still had his things there.

There were already more people in the streets. The man who were supposed to give them a ride was already loading his trucks with things he would be delivering to the port. When he spotted her, he lifted his arm in a wave.

"I'll look for Cloud for a bit!" Tifa said out loud, returning his wave with her own.

The cemetery wasn't far. Just straight ahead around the corner near the inn and you'd find some wooden fence with white cloth curled around the gate. One of the townspeople had said it was a symbol of purity, with which they prayed for those who had gone to the afterlife to have their sins cleansed and return to the Maker. The path was just inside the forest at the foot of the mountain, and the canopy of red and brown leaves in the early morning made everything seem more tranquil and serene.

When Tifa reached the cemetery, she found Cloud on his knees among a myriad of small white flowers before his mother's gravestone. His head hung between his shoulders, hands clasped together, his mouth moving in a silent prayer. She approached him quietly and waited until he opened his eyes and noticed her standing beside him.

He looked up, and she could see the red rims around his eyes and tear streaks on his face. But there was a smile on his face so different from the strained one he wore on their first day there. No more of the depression and anguish she had seen before—a halfway between resignation and acceptance.

To be honest, Tifa had wondered if it had been a bad idea asking Cloud to come to Nibelheim with her. He had been such a solid, unflappable presence in their group that Tifa had forgotten his scars regarding their town and his mother might not have healed. Tifa had seven years to contemplate about her father; but Cloud didn't have that much time, did he, with Sephiroth and the Geostigma crisis happening back-to-back, not to mention being kept underground for four years?

So, to see Cloud smiling so peacefully like that brought a smile to Tifa's face. It would probably still be a while before the scars completely heal, but there was nothing more anyone could ask of him.

~ O ~

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Cloud looked back at his mother's gravestone, then glanced at his watch. They still had time, though he probably had finish up soon. He still needed to pay his respects to Tifa's father.

"Give me a moment," he said, and Tifa nodded before stepping back.

A gentle wind brushed past him, lifting some of the flowers before letting them drop on his lap. He never knew what these flowers meant. He had asked his mother once, and his mother had only answered, "They're for your father." It hadn't been much of an answer.

Cloud touched the flower petals on his lap gently. "I'll be leaving soon," he said to his mother. When he looked down at her name, he smiled. A small genuine smile. He placed the flowers on the stone slab. "I'll be back, Mom. I promise."

He stood up, brushed the dirt and debris from his clothes, then bowed. Beside him, Tifa followed suit, giving his mother a quick, silent prayer.

They gathered some of the scattered flowers and walked over to Tifa's father's grave. Scattering the flowers around the stone, they hung their heads and clasped their hands in prayer. Then they bowed their heads and, hand-in-hand, headed back to the town.

"By the way," Tifa said. "Is it just me or were there a lot more flowers blooming in the bushes?"

"Well, it's November and all.," Cloud replied with a shrug. "It's probably the time when the flowers would bloom."

"I guess, but wouldn't you like it if your mother had sent them?"

"What?" Cloud stared at her, nonplussed.

"I mean, if you want to be superstitious and all."

Cloud was still not following.

Tifa sighed. "Sometimes, camellias are used in funerals because they symbolize mourning," she went on. "But the white ones are also known for symbolizing the love between a mother and her child. They're your mother's favorite, so…they're a gift from your mother."

Cloud was still staring at her, a mixture of astonishment and bewilderment. He stared at her so hard that Tifa was starting to feel self-conscious and wondered if she shouldn't have said what she had.

"What?" she said warily.

"Just wondering when you started becoming a flower expert," he said. "Wait, no, scratch that. When did you start becoming a romantic?"

"Oh, shut up," Tifa said, playfully shoving his arm. Cloud laughed under his breath.

"But…a gift from my mother, huh?" he mused. No matter how unlikely it was, if Cloud was being honest, he did think the idea seemed nice. Cloud gave her hand a squeeze. "Thanks," he murmured.

He met her eyes and smiled. They didn't need any elaborate words to convey their feelings to each other. Tifa could already tell what he wanted to say just by looking him in the eyes.

Thank you for always being there for me.

There was a moment's pause before Tifa returned his smile with her own.

~ END ~