The rain tapped its melody on the roof, Tifa's steady breaths intertwined with each consecutive drop. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, adding to the countless minutes that had passed since she'd fallen asleep. These were the sounds accompanying his insomnia. Each sound seemed magnified, but none came as loud as his own thoughts. There were many questions roaming the folds of his mind that evening and an agonizing number of them centered on the woman lying beside him, her fingers laced with his.
Tifa stirred softly in the covers, a rich sigh breaking into the chorus of the night as she nuzzled unconsciously into his bicep. He lay on his back, watching the ceiling with little interest. If only he could just fall asleep. The entire evening hadn't necessarily caught him off guard, but the thoughts that he'd entertained since she'd arrived had. It was much easier to put feelings aside and ignore the intricate aspects of his relationship with Tifa when Cloud was around. But when dreams broke down between her and Cloud, things never ceased to awaken inside him. A set of 'what-ifs' would always sneak into his head whenever such a situation arose. He began to wonder if that didn't boil down to the concept of rescuing her from this self destruction, as he'd failed to do with Lucrecia. The guilt of standing by still bothered him at times, though in the past years he'd began to manage it more successfully, perhaps even learned to put it behind in some ways.
In the years after the Planet's intervention, Vincent had watched Tifa begin to shift. At times, she was able to put on that happy smile and convince a few people that she was still the optimistic girl that had accompanied them to the ends of the planet to fight evil. Even back then, he'd seen the vulnerability in her. There was a frailty beneath the smile, and an indecisive nature hiding beneath the beauty of her eyes. At the time, he'd not put a name to the cause, but he quickly discovered that the causes were several, beginning with her history and leading right up to Cloud. In the past months, no one was convinced of her plastic smile aside from Tifa herself. Cloud may have even realized just how artificial her outward personality had become. She was but a fragment of the person she once was. To watch such a thing happen to someone so undeserving was frustrating.
Certain points on his back began to bother him; he never was one to lie in one position for too long, so he rolled cautiously onto his side. When he'd finished the maneuver, Tifa fidgeted yet again, pushing her forehead against his chest so that the crown of her head came beneath his chin. The scent of rose and amber flooded his senses, a mixture quite contradictory. Sensual and intense. Delicate and strong. Feminine and masculine. He wondered if she'd chosen it for a reason, or merely because it was an enchanting fragrance. Though, he doubted she'd analyze this as he just had.
Whether by the sweet fragrance or the song of the rain, he finally relaxed into a comfortable sleep.
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Not much passed through the realm of his dreams, or at least not anything he could recall when the white rays of light trickled through the bare window. At once, he tightened his eyelids, hoping to cling to that last thread of slumber. The fact that he'd forgotten to pull down the shade before going to sleep swam through his mind, an annoying awakening.
Allowing one eye to drift open, he surveyed the scene. Tifa was surprisingly in almost the exact position in which she'd been when he'd fallen asleep. His fingers felt oddly cramped from being bound to hers throughout the night. Hesitantly, he began to separate each digit, flexing them once breaking free of her grip. Stiff as a board. The air outside was calmer; the ashen clouds a much lighter shade than they had been the previous day. The rain had taken a break, for now.
In the growing light, he noticed that Tifa had wedged her face further between his chest and the mattress and he couldn't help but run his fingers across the silken layers resting against the back of her head. She obviously needed the rest, judging by the comment she'd made about not being able to see straight. The light would never permit her to sleep in, so he slowly inched distance between their bodies and lifted onto his elbow. This would be tricky. He pressed against the mattress, counter balancing his weight as he stretched gently across her. Luckily, the long draw string attached to the shade was in reach, and he pulled it quietly down until the room darkened considerably. Just as he began to move back toward his side of the bed, she readjusted onto her back, placing him in an odd position, hovering over her. To say he appreciated the way she looked in that moment would be an understatement.
The slight curve of her brows arched across serene features struck him as a stark contradiction to the previous evening's expression. Perched on her lips was a faint smile, not the sort she gave in consciousness. She slept so peacefully in that moment. Rather than wake her with quick movements, he cautiously shifted back toward the opposite side of the bed, managing to slip off the mattress seemingly unnoticed.
With a stifled yawn, he began to make his way toward the counter where he'd left a book sleeping lazily atop the surface. There were still several chapters to be read and time had not progressed past seven in the morning. Slipping back to his place in the bed as cautiously as he'd exited, he leaned back and settled into a comfortable position while opening the novel to a marked page a quarter of the way through.
In the pages of a novel, one could most certainly be lost. It would be hard not to be enveloped in the lives of fictitious characters when the story in which they dwell contains excitement and emotion almost unknown to the real world. A good book was always something he could enjoy. He had an appreciation for most well written works, regardless of the genre in which they fell. Recently, he'd been sucked into a series of mystery novels set in a universe unknown to any but the author. Yet, somehow, events in the story seemed to align with certain characteristics of his life. This had piqued his curiosity, originally, but now he read the final book more in habit whenever he had nothing else to do. And so the minutes would pass in silence as he read on through the events of a foreign world.
As he turned the pages toward the end of the novel, he heard Tifa adjust her position and laugh gingerly into the silence. Moving his eyes from the text, he found her watching attentively. He hadn't heard her wake, if she'd done so before the laugh. A smile brightened her features as she propped her chin on curled fingers.
"You were so focused," she announced, turning her eyes and lips to mock his so called focus.
"And that face is ridiculous," he teased. She laughed again, losing the stern expression.
She reached to tip the novel forward, peeking at the title through narrowed eyes. "White? That's an odd title," she observed.
"It's an odd book," he replied while closing the cover and setting aside his distraction.
"Ah… I should have known." She nodded, and trapped her bottom lip between her teeth. By the way she'd averted her eyes; he ventured a guess that she wasn't feeling much of an improvement over the previous evening.
"Did you sleep well?" To this, she inadvertently frowned, creating a serious face as if she were carefully formulating her response.
"I did," she replied with a nod, though he couldn't help but feel that there would be a 'but' involved. "But I could really go for breakfast right about now." She was disentangling herself from the sheets and moving over his legs as quickly as the words had left her mouth. She was in the kitchen in seconds, throwing the refrigerator open to peer inside.
"There's not much in there," he reminded her. She rose from the hunched position she'd assumed when trying to get a better look, directing a good natured glare toward him.
"I can see that," she said, looking a little disappointed with the left corner of her mouth tugged up gently.
"There's a coffee house down the street," he offered, hoping she'd leave the barren fridge. It wasn't that he didn't eat; he actually preferred to order in or eat out. Cooking, beyond simple meals of repetitive flavor, was not a skill he possessed; he had no need for it. She still didn't look very impressed. "They serve fresh muffins and scones, among other things."
Finally, she nodded agreeably. "That works." The fridge closed with a tap and she roamed through the apartment into the bathroom. When she'd passed by, he noticed the same delicacy around her eyes. Perhaps she was coming to the realization that Cloud was sure to be waking at this time, if not already, to an empty bed. The waltz of deception and indecision had drawn to a close, for now. Would that be disappointing for Cloud? For that matter, would Tifa be able to successfully pull away before being trapped into the routine once more? Usually, he soothed her with false words that Cloud would come around. He hated to put on that charade, but telling her that Cloud was an immature boy incapable of fixing his life enough to care for her the way she deserved didn't seem to be the best of ideas. He idly wondered how much would be 'enough' for her to make this decision to leave permanent. He wanted to see her well again, to see her happy.
His thoughts were interrupted when she reappeared with quite a frown, the leather she usually wore crumpled and stale around her thin frame. Leather never did react well to being thoroughly soaked and left in a heap on the floor throughout the night. The vest must have been useless, for the thin white tank usually beneath was wrapped nicely around her upper torso.
"I did the best I could to hang this up, but it must have fallen," she said while gesturing to the bottom half of her ensemble.
He smirked, observing the strange angle at which one of the short legs pulled away from her knee. "Well, I guess you can't go around like that."
"It's that bad?" she inquired, obviously thinking she could salvage at least the shorts.
"It'll need to be straightened out before you wear it again." With that, he moved from the bed to the drawer of the dresser. Again, he searched for something half decent and he settled for a pair of black cotton pants much like the ones he wore. She could roll the bottom and tie the drawstring until the waist bunched. Not that his waist was anything formidable. He held the pants out to her and she thanked him before disappearing into the bathroom again, the tail of her outfit swishing far less gracefully than it had last night.
He gathered a pair of black slacks and a dress shirt dyed a deep shade of crimson, along with appropriate undergarments and socks. If her attire was in such dire shape, his would likely be the same until he took some time to coax it back into decency. Besides, he didn't much need to be dressed that way to accompany her to the coffee house, or one of the shops he assumed she'd probably want to visit. She'd likely avoid going back to Seventh Heaven clothed in his pants and shirt.
She emerged the second time with the waist of his pants tied tightly with bunched elastic. The hems were rolled up and rested lazily over her sneakers, which must have been dry enough to manage. With the white tank, she wore a strange combination of disheveled attractiveness that he didn't much mind.
"Better?" she asked with a grin.
"Much," he replied as he brushed past her to steal the bathroom. He felt like a shower, having not taken one since the prior evening, but Tifa was hungry. After redressing, he slid on a pair of shoes just outside the door and was met with burgundy irises as he rolled the cuffs of his sleeves half way up each forearm.
"I'm getting attached to seeing you like this, Vince."
The sweet compliment came as a bit of a surprise, and his eyes widened ever so slightly as he finished the last cuff. "Is that so?"
"Mhm. I like your usual look, but this… this is just sophisticated and handsome."
He supposed that was true, to a point. The styles were infinitely different. Actually, he just liked the fact that she had been so generous with her compliments. He opened the door opposite the bathroom door and removed one of the coats that happened to be residing inside. Leather, again, but this time it would do just fine. "Here," he said as he slipped behind her. She obliged and he inched the coat over her arms and wrapped it around her shoulders, narrowly escaping the impulse to wrap her in his arms.
"Thanks," she said quietly. "What about you?"
"I'll be fine," he replied, propping the front door open for her. She passed him, carrying with her that intoxicating scent which he could not push from his mind. Once she waited in the hall, he closed the door and joined her as they exited the building.
The coffee house was literally a few doors down and without the rain, the walk was pleasant. She hugged her torso as they walked, but he assumed this was not from the weather. The air was chilled, but not to the point it had been the previous evening.
When they entered through a small wooden door, he noticed that Tifa took a moment to glance around the interior of the quaint room. He'd always liked to come here and read accompanied by the rich aroma of coffee beans and the sweet tune of unique jazz played quietly from speakers perched around the ceiling. The dim lighting was not the best for reading, but the chairs were plush and inviting, so he let his eyes strain. The heater was working to keep the room at a nice temperature, and Tifa quickly shrugged off the coat and hung it on the coat rack as they approached the counter.
She posted her hands on her knees as she gazed through the glass display, eyes traveling over the various items offered, from breakfast to dessert. Without intention to unnerve her, he came beside her to observe the treats. Though he was close to her ear, he hadn't expected his voice to send her lashes fluttering and bring a tint of pink to her pale cheeks when he asked her if she saw anything she liked. She simply looked to him with a timid smile and said, "I think so."
The skeleton of a smirk played his lips before he turned his attention to the blonde behind the cash register. "I'll have the dark roast, along with a black forest scone."
"Vincent! That's practically dessert…" Tifa seemed to find his taste humorous, a light laugh carrying across the soft tones of the music.
"I like to indulge," he replied, allowing the smirk to form at full strength for a split second.
"Anything else?" the blonde asked.
"Just the breakfast blend and one of those fruit…platters," Tifa answered, glancing down at a plate with several fresh slices of fruit.
"All right, that'll be fifteen gil," followed several little beeps.
Vincent removed the required amount from a small zip wallet kept in his pocket and handed the gil to the woman before Tifa had a moment to protest. The blonde exchanged the gil for two cups of hot coffee, and he could tell which was his simply by the hue of the contents.
"You didn't have to do that," Tifa commented as she lifted the two small plates holding their 'breakfast' from the counter with expertise, walking gracefully behind him while he sought a decent table. Years of working as a waitress seemed to pay off at times.
"I know." The table he chose sat enticingly in a dim corner beneath a paper lamp that cast a warm glow over the rich, dark wood of the table. Several times he thought about inquiring as to where the owner of the café had gotten the chairs, but fitting the oversized arm chairs into his apartment would have proved difficult. He took a seat and set the tall mug with chestnut coloration on the opposite side of the table. Tifa carefully placed the chocolate scone before him and sat, watching him curiously.
"Aren't you the gentleman," she remarked as she took up two packets of sugar and a small individual serving of vanilla creamer.
Was that such a bad thing? He supposed that it just might be, given their situation. He always carried a sense of morality, not to be mistaken for anything else. However, he found that his habits improved when Tifa was around. Perhaps she'd taken precedence over the recent months as they'd grown closer. Somewhere in his attempts to be a consoling friend, he'd come to care for her beyond anything he could have expected. But he'd written this off, content to help her when she needed it and let her go whenever Cloud decided to reappear. There are some who would find that disturbing, yet it did not bother him. Some would say he ought to save her from the dysfunctional relationship, but he hadn't the desire to repeat history. Perhaps she'd come around on her own, which would be far better than persuasion. Then she would feel that she'd made her own choices, and she wouldn't have to look back with question and maybe even regret.
Tifa broke the seal on the creamer and watched it pour into the coffee, followed by the sugar. Once again nibbling on her bottom lip, she stirred the liquid until it turned a milky shade of lighter brown. The usual glint in her eye was simply absent, as it had been when he found her in the rain. Taking a sip of the bold roast, he geared up for the conversation that would likely take place whenever she decided to bring the subject back up. It would only be a matter of time. Tifa never could remove her mind from what happened whenever Cloud left, and Vincent assumed it would be no different in this case.
"So, how long can I keep you?" Tifa asked, pushing a smile.
"As long as you need, I suppose." Vincent cut off a piece of the scone with the fork provided and snaked the delicious pastry into his mouth. Having Tifa's company a little longer would certainly not be a burden.
"I was thinking of heading over to the boutique near the center of town, just to pick up something decent to wear…" she thought aloud, finally biting into a slice of pink fruit. She chewed softly, watching him for some sort of reaction. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Not at all." He sipped a bit more of the coffee, washing down the remnants of chocolate.
She nodded gingerly, biting into another slice of pink flesh. The juice slipped down her chin, causing her to trail the tip of her finger over her skin, gathering the transparent liquid. The sun finally crept from behind the layers of clouds, spilling light down onto the street outside and she held a smile as she finished the last of that slice of fruit. "I guess the sun will shine, after all."
The comment struck him as odd, though he did not inquire as to what she meant, precisely. Having the habit of reading into the words spoken was never the best habit, anyhow. It would be easier if things were so black and white, but there were always grey areas. That mind of his particularly enjoyed playing with those grey areas.
"I have no idea what I'd do without you…" she added, almost dreamily. She leaned lazily against the edge of the table, her imperceptibly disheveled hair brushing over her bare collarbone on its way to the surface of the table. The view her vest would not have provided distracted him for a moment, but he averted his eyes to meet her gaze. "I really hope I'm not driving you crazy."
Not in the way you're suggesting… but crazy nonetheless. "It's no trouble at all, Tifa."
She accepted the answer and went back to savoring the remainder of the fruit, while he enjoyed the last of the scone. Those things would be the death of him. The small portion of coffee that remained in his mug quickly grew cold, and she'd finished hers just after trying a tidbit of his scone that he'd managed to part with.
"Ready?" she asked, likely aware all of the same things he'd noticed.
"Sure," he replied as he rose from the chair.
He led the way toward the coat rack, where he once again did the honors of slipping the item over her arms and shoulders. She smiled shyly and began for the door, but was stopped in her tracks by a most disappointing sight. In the short time since she'd noticed the sun's appearance, the clouds had overcome the warmth and started to drizzle cold water down onto the street.
She looked questioningly toward him, a pronounced frown in place. "What now?"
"We'll have to drive to the boutique," he shrugged nonchalantly. The notion was hardly crazy, but she still looked to him with guilt. When would she ever understand that she was not burdening him with anything?
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Well, I simply could not resist continuing. I have so many ideas flowing on this one and I wanted to share this chapter before my birthday tomorrow. All of the reviews given were especially appreciated and I am so glad to see them. I can only hope that chapter two will be as welcomed as the first. The coziness from the first chapter has carried over, because there's nothing quite as lovely as a warm café on a rainy day. I do hope that this version of Vincent I am creating is not displeasing. So, do tell me what you think of this chapter ;) Chapter three should be out relatively soon, and things will certainly gain momentum. The first two chapters were quite purposefully slow as I wanted to focus on his thoughts and feelings toward Tifa. I don't think that this pairing is one to be rushed.
I have found it interestingly easy to write emotions with my husband being in Iraq. It's almost an outlet for those excess amounts of emotion I keep stored away. Please let me know if anything seems… too much, as I might be prone to dramatic things. I'd love to hear any thoughts or suggestions on this chapter and I look forward to sharing chapter three. Thanks for reading!