"There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and not starting."
-- Buddhist Philosophy
-. Wait For It .-
Chapter VII: Good on Paper
It was just another day at 7th Heaven.
Tifa's alarm buzzed into life promptly at 4:30 am, as it had on every Wednesday for nearly two years now. Annoyed as always at the interruption to her precious sleep, she groped for the off button and staggered into her routine. Shower, clothing, and making sure the coffee was prepped to brew all before heading off on her weekly pilgrimage to the station for first pick of the fresh produce deliveries. The same squeaky wheeled cart dragged behind her. The same long, black shawl that she always wore on chilly mornings, draped over her shoulders. Her greeting to the various farmers and fishermen unloading their crates was, as always, a friendly smile and compliments on quality, hoping to score a good deal through equal parts promptness, loyalty and charm.
It was the same as every other market day. For nothing, really, had changed.
Well...it was, perhaps, a little strange how all the vendors she had grown friendly with over the years kept commenting on how bright she looked that specific day. Even though none of them could exactly explain what they meant by such a word.
Maybe, it was a tad odd that she nearly tripled her usual quantity of plums, with the excuse that the batch seemed particularly plump and perfect for pickling. Even though both she and that specific merchant knew very well that there was only one member of the household with a fondness for said fruit.
Despite how easy it was to brush off those variations to her usually strict demeanor as coincidental, there was absolutely no other excuse for her reaction the moment 7th Heaven's door came back into her line of sight. Alone in the street, at sunrise, with her overloaded cart struggling to remain upright on its uneven wheels, Tifa froze.
Last night...
I said no...Everyone heard...
She slapped a hand to her forehead, wincing at the onslaught of memories. Memories she had successfully forced to the back of her mind up until now, if only in order to function properly. For today was Wednesday. Further proof that Cloud did indeed have the worst sense of timing.
It was on this day of the week, since his return, that the family had always make a point of getting up early to help her unload and set up for an extended breakfast. On this day, if there were no pressing deliveries to be made, he would be waiting at the bar with two steaming cups of coffee poured for immediate consumption. On Wednesdays especially, as she spent the morning arranging the week's menu, there was absolutely no way to avoid people.
Damn it.
"Watch it lady!" Tifa jumped back, narrowly avoiding being run down by a young paper boy on his rounds. The movement, sudden and jerky as it was, caused her precarious cart to finally give in to gravity and sent her plums scattering over the dusty cement.
As would have been the case with most adults, Tifa's original reaction was to shout at the biker's retreating form, warning him to be careful. But she was too flustered, too embarrassed, too terrified to do little more than bend down and attempt to salvage those items that managed to escape. Around her, beyond her notice at the time, Edge had begun waking up. The sky had become more grey than pink, curtains were pulled back from windows and the ground itself began to vibrate as traffic rolled along the streets.
Never had she taken this long to return after a market expedition. Never had she seen and therefore had to look out for the paper boy as she walked down the middle of the usually dead street. Worse than her anxiety of the children's inevitable questions, she feared them worrying about her. And so the furthest and most soiled of the plums were left to some lucky pigeons (she had really bought way too many anyways) and she resigned herself to facing the young jury's interrogation.
Hopefully things would be settled with the same arguments presented last night to the primary plaintiff. Or, if that didn't work, there was always the trusted "you're too young to understand" approach. An excuse she hated using, but was always a comforting emergency fallback. Especially in this case. For explaining to a six-year old that she didn't want to get married because she hadn't, as a certain ninja would say, "tested the merchandise", was definitely not an option.
Speaking of which, dealing with the children's disappointment was sure to be a cakewalk in comparison to her friends'. She could already, practically, hear the phone ringing off its hook as she approached the varnished bar door. Yuffie's teasing, Barret's begging and Cid, the most down-to-earth of the crew, blatantly calling her a $(&#%# idiot.
As if Wednesday's weren't painful enough.
"All in a day's work," she muttered to herself, struggling to keep her hand from shaking as it inserted the key into the lock. Once having passed the threshold, with perhaps a little more hesitance than deemed normal, she noted that her welcome was by far the most unexpected of all scenarios considered.
No anxious children, eager for answers.
No group intervention, each with letters stating how her decision hurt them.
Not even her usual cup of coffee.
There was nothing.
Tifa was still on the fence of whether to feel relieved or more disturbed than all the other options combined, when the unmistakable echo of giggling reached her ears.
Marlene and Denzel. In the kitchen, as they always were on Wednesdays, waiting to be put to work. Apparently none the worse for wear. Cloud's boots were also missing from their usual spot in front of the garage door. A convenient, ridiculously early morning delivery of course. She silently praised his cowardice. It made things simpler.
"Morning Tifa!" both children belted out simultaneously when she entered the room, Denzel shooting out of his seat to help her with the cart as Marlene hastily began to clear the table of various markers and paper. She could have sworn that the girl was doing her best to hide the document surface from her, but decided not to dwell on it. There were fish filets that needed to get into the freezer ASAP. And she figured she may as well take advantage of the mere minutes before their curiosity erupted and they'd inquire about the proposal.
"Good morning you two. Wow, I can't believe you're dressed already!"
"I did my hair by myself too!" Marlene gushed, turning her head to show off a loose, lopsided braid. Tifa couldn't help but smile at the effort.
"That's beautiful sweetie."
"Well, it's not as good as when you do it. But I gotta learn to take care of myself someday, right?"
In the midst of lifting a sac of potatoes from the cart, Tifa halted. During the chaos of last night, she and Cloud hadn't had a chance to discuss let alone complete the new adoption application. He had been stalling her all day, insisting that they wait for the gang to get together for "moral/physical support". Little did she know at the time that the promised support was more for his sake than hers, and that the paperwork was meant to include very different details by the end of the night.
Mr. and Mrs. Strife, childhood sweethearts and world saviors regrettably found barren, wanting to expand their love into the lives of two children, a boy and a girl, that fell into their care during the Jenova crisis.
It was such a sickeningly post-card perfect summary. Too bad it would have been, in majority, a total tabloid-worthy skewing of facts...
"I wouldn't worry about that Marlene." Putting the potatoes on the counter, she reached to tenderly flatten the girl's messy bangs. "As long as you want me to, I'll always be here for your hair. Okay?"
Marlene nodded, eyes a little brighter than usual but her smile genuine. Proving that she had very little doubt in the adult's ability to sort things out in the end. The self-styling thing was just a worst case scenario. "I know. Even when I'm old, right? Really old. Like...when I'm thirty?"
Tifa laughed, honestly hoping she would be able to see that day. "I promise. Even when you're thirty."
"Which would make you..." Denzel piped in while diligently piling plums into the fruit bowl "sixty-six?"
Hands compulsively moved to smooth down her brow, triple-confirming that it was still devoid of wrinkles. "...Close. I guess."
She made a mental note to make today's lessons more math intensive.
"Hey."
A warm, leather covered hand that seemed to come out of nowhere, was suddenly on Tifa's shoulder, causing her to jump nearly ten feet in the air. She whipped around with her fist pulled back, poised for a brutal strike that was a mere millisecond from release, but stopped herself just in time.
Cloud remained completely unmoved.
He stood there perfectly coiffed and dressed in his standard navy zip sweater and denim cargo pants, holding the Wednesday usual of two steaming mugs filled with freshly brewed coffee. Tifa lowered her hands little by little, irritated that her heartbeat was refusing to slow down despite having revealed the intruder's "harmless" identity.
But today, after last night, Cloud Strife had become that much more dangerous on so many other levels.
"Good morning," he muttered casually while offering the larger Keep on Rockin' in Midgar mug that he knew she favored. His tone was light and friendly as usual, laced with the expected tiredness considering the early hour, but with a hint of something else...something she couldn't quite put her finger on.
"You're late!" exclaimed a tiny voice from below, redirection both of their attention.
Cloud affectionately mussed up bangs that Tifa had just finished arranging. "Sorry. Got a little lost. Here." He leaned down to gather a paper bag resting at his feet and placed it into the girl's waiting hands. As it passed between them, Tifa recognized the logo from one of the vendors down at the station.
"If you guys needed something, you could have called."
"Well we were trying," Marlene put emphasis on the word while giving Cloud the evil eye "to have pancakes ready by the time you got back, but we had no eggs. Cloud took Fenrir so that he could beat you home."
"Turns out I am unequipped to handle the circus that is market day. May have accidentally ordered a goat or two from some Wutains when asking for directions."
"Really?!" Breakfast spoilage forgiven, Marlene excitedly clapped her hands together at the prospect of a new pet. "They're SOOOO cute!"
"Umm...no. Not really. I was..." he sighed, reminded yet again that his natural tone was ill-suited for comedy attempts. "It just...took me a while. It's a confusing place. Here." He held up the mug again, closer to Tifa's face this time so that the delicious aroma could not escape her attention. "Before it gets cold."
"Oh. Thanks." As she brought the cup to her lips, she kept her eyes glued to his, still searching for a definition to that new gleam, that unexpected lightness in his voice. But as she took that first sip, relishing the warmth of the ceramic, all concentration dispersed when something startling hit her tongue. Something she hadn't tasted in what felt like forever.
Lowering her gaze, she stared into the usually black abyss, but was instead rewarded with a milky, caramel-colored pool. "Is that..." she licked her lips of the remnants one last time to be sure and felt her taste buds practically pulsing with pleasure "...coconut cream?"
"...Yeah." Carefully avoiding her awed stare, Cloud moved to help Denzel and Marlene retrieve the oil container from one of the higher shelves. "I...have this memory of you liking it in your coffee when we were in Costa del Sol. Sorry. There's more black if you want. Careful guys. Try not to make a mess."
"You remember me being obsessed with it, you mean?" Her giggle held a tinge of frenzy as her fingers curled possessively around the mug. The combination tasted even better than in her memories, but she couldn't help but feel a little guilty as she watched Cloud and the children sort their prepared pancake ingredients. She knew the specific vendor well and had always been tempted to purchase one of his delicate, little bottles with golden caps. But at 120 gil (due to a combination import tax , shipping cost and profit mongering), there had never been an occasion worthy. Dairy didn't agree with Denzel and neither Cloud nor Marlene were fans of the flavor. If she were to put money into a luxurious dessert from the market, it would be on something they could share. Like that subtly spiced chocolate powder from the Wutai region. Or candied ginger crystals from North Corel.
This cream, a substance that was almost worth its weight in gold around here..."It's too much," she muttered aloud, even as her tongue darted out to claim a drop that dared to escape over the rim and her thumb stroked upwards to capture its wake.
After having happily and slowly licked the digit clean of its sweet accumulation, she began to notice that Cloud was watching her. Not just watching, staring. Or maybe some would describe it as gawking. He was completely and utterly frozen, whisk in hand, forehead furrowed with a look in his eyes that seemed, she guessed, to be a mixture of curious and...eager?
With the tip of her thumb still stuck between her lips, her eyebrows shot upwards; silently asking what in Gaia's name he found so interesting? His responding slight yet sly grin was an excessively detailed answer.
She almost bit through skin, her jaw clenching at the insinuation.
But no. Cloud didn't think like that. Cloud wasn't one of those guys; the 98% of males who would be enticed by something so silly and wholly innocent.
Or maybe...up until now...he had just been really good at hiding it?
"Cloud," Marlene prodded the smirking statue with a flour covered finger. "You're dripping."
"Hm?"
"The batter. It's dripping."
With what seemed like great difficulty, he tore his eyes away from Tifa and back to the whisk which was indeed dripping batter all over the counter. "Oh! Geez..."
"And you told US not to make a mess," giggled Denzel.
"Sorry." He shook his head to clear it, a bashful expression quickly replacing the salacious one. "Distracted."
"Well stop looking at Tifa and help us make her some food! She's no good to anybody if she's hungry!"
"That's true." He laughed then, his quiet, carefree laugh, before bowing his head to concentrate on his mixing duty. As the whisk resumed its steady pace, stirring clumps free as the two chefs sifted in ingredients from either side, he eventually snuck a glance up at Tifa across the kitchen floor.
She hadn't moved a muscle since catching his stare, too shocked by the very idea of Cloud being able to produce such a look. As long as she had known him, for most of his life now, he had always been the most cool and collected of men. One that had always been able to mask the involuntarily reactions that most people couldn't control. Face to face with monsters straight out of nightmares, and he wouldn't flinch. Even when dressed in drag and have a drooling Don Corneo fawning over him, he hadn't made a peep despite the disgust that forced everyone else to shudder or retch. The very idea of him being "distracted", by anything, was positively ludicrous.
But watching the three of them together, sharing knowing glances and quiet whispers, Tifa was suddenly aware that she must have had missed something when she went out that morning. The two usually curious children hadn't bothered her about the rejected proposal. Her phone had yet to ring with their friends' opinions on the subject either. And Yuffie, a girl who was known to need minimal sleep and was surely still in town, had yet to attempt breaking down the door.
It all begged the question:
"What did Cloud tell you guys about last night?"
Both children's heads whipped up to central, taller being, eyes wide as if being caught it the midst of an illegal act and looking for counsel. One by one, with his usual appearance of severity back in place, Cloud gave them each a nod of approval. They then turned to fix her as a new and intense focal point.
"Cloud told us why you said no," explained Marlene in a matter-of-fact voice. "We understand and are gonna respect your con...con-" she looked to Denzel for help. He leaned over to whisper something in her ear before returning his gaze to Tifa. "Oh! Right...conFIdenTEEality."
Nodding, as if that were the end of it, they resumed to their cooking. But she was far from persuaded.
"Wait, wait, wait...what did he tell you exactly?"
"You do know I'm standing right here?" interjected Cloud, but Tifa dismissed him with a wave.
"Umm..." in the midst of measuring out milk, Denzel seemed to rather unconcerned by anything not pertaining to breakfast. "Something about...dinner first?"
"Six dinner dates!" corrected Marlene.
"At least six," finished their counselor, his expression half proud half embarrassed, eyes always on the whisk. "It was a random number...nothing official. Just for personal, future reference."
"Six dinners, huh?" her concern at Cloud having given a lecture on boy-girl relations was gradually morphing from uncomfortable to amusing. For he was probably one of the few people of his age in the world with less familiarity with the process than the average suburban tween. Still, it was the thought that counted, and he had obviously been trying to spare her the awkwardness of having to explain herself while also taming their concern for his welfare. She wondered what other facts he had passed on, knowing that the kids had surely not been satisfied by the 'dinner' excuse alone. Curiosity piqued, she crossed her arms over her chest as a signal that they were far from finished. "What else?"
"Hmm, something about," Marlene pressed her lips together, brow furrowed in concentration as she struggled to remember the wording. "Oh yeah! You have to test the merchandise before you buy it. Right Cloud?"
"That's right."
"Test...the..." Tifa felt her eye begin to twitch and slapped a hand to her face to hide it.
What had he been thinking?
"Cloud?..." she muttered through impossibly tight lips. "Can I see you outside for a moment?"
"Hmm?" His head finally rose to regard her, expression placid as if the kids had said nothing beyond a comment on the weather. "But we're making pancakes."
"They can wait. Just for a minute." Or twenty.
"Tiffaaaaa!" groaned both youngsters as they vigorously added the finishing touches of eggs and salt. "But they're ready!"
"Maybe if you let them use the stove?" he suggested, knowing very well how much she feared the combination open flame and wandering fingers.
With a sigh of defeat and gradually narrowing eyes, she saw no other choice but to succumb. "Fine. Marlene? Denzel? Can you set the table? Cloud and I will make the pancakes."
In a flash of scurrying feet, the adults were left alone at the counter as the kids disappeared into the pantry for condiments. Tifa wasted no time making her way around the island to his side as he brought up two pans from the drawer below the stove.
"Test the merchandise?" she repeated in a terse whisper while scraping a match along her apron to light the burner. "Do you even know what that means?"
"I think I do." Cloud waited for the flame to ignite before settling the pans down, eyebrows knitted with uncertainty. "I thought I did anyway."
"Well please do a little more research before repeating things said by Yuffie to our children. The source alone should tell you that it's inappropriate."
"Relax," he cooed, a sudden buoyancy added to his tone. "Our children will be fine."
Only then did she realize what she had said. A simple change of adjectives that symbolized a total refurbishing of her complex belief system.
Speaking of being careful of what you say and to whom you say it...
She opened her mouth to retort, to warn him not to read that much into it. But before she could get a word out he had moved behind her, one hand inadvertently bracing itself on her hip as he reached around for the butter. It was a seemingly innocent touch, ignorable by all witnesses, a mere necessary coincidence considering that she happen to be standing in front of the sought after item. But something about the way he lingered, not to mention the fact that it would have been just as easy to take a step further to the right and avoid having to press against her at all, hinted at his surely wicked intentions.
After what felt like an eternity, he withdrew, fingertips dragging along her skin as he did so. Another coincidence, of course. She could do nothing more than blink at him stupidly as he added a two globs to each of the pans, titling the handles to coat the irons surfaces as the grease began to sizzle.
"Batter please?"
Taking a moment to snap out of it, she eventually complied to his request, shakily passing the bowl over. Behind them, they could hear the tinkering of plates and forks being set on the table as well as the usual bickering of the siblings arguing over who should get which pattern of the mismatched china.
It was the same Wednesday morning as every other Wednesday over the past six months.
But today was the first time ever, after pouring two hearty pools into each of the pans, that Cloud apparently felt the need to lick the whisk clean.
By Thursday afternoon, she couldn't take it anymore.
Only two days after showing his first inkling of interest in twenty years, and Cloud had already pulled (thankfully subdued) versions of almost every tasteless courting technique in the book. The "enticed" looks, the "natural" flattery, the "accidental" touching, the "forgetting" of his shirt when he took his shower that morning and "unintentionally" bumping into her, still dripping wet, as she exited her bedroom.
Tifa felt her eye begin to twitch for probably the hundredth time that hour, the bread she was in the midst of slicing beginning to crumble beneath tense fingers.
That last instance had been especially evil.
Though it was nothing she hadn't seen before at the beach or on laundry day, never had it been from that close. Never had she had to simultaneously deal with the sensory-overloading sight of his lean, muscular frame and his fresh menthol-soap scent and his warm, bare hands on her shoulders as he gently pushed away, muttering an apology, before continuing on down the hallway. As if it was normal. As if he didn't know very well what it did to her.
Her gaze shifted to the ceiling with a frown, knowing that he was up there doing his tax paperwork and probably setting up the next attack on her nervous system. It was the first time since this began that he wasn't hovering, snatching up every opportunity to slide against her. And something about his absence made her more restless than when in his company, wondering with some sort of excited terror what he would do to make up the lost potentials.
That idiot. That infuriatingly beautiful idiot...
She swore he was mere minutes away from purposefully dropping pens to floor and bending over to retrieve them. It was damn tacky, annoyingly distracting (as he obviously intended) but, more than anything, it was bizarre. It made her feel...uncomfortable. It was simply too much, too fast and was much too forward for her tastes. He had to know that. And, if he didn't, then it was only proper that she tell him. As soon as possible. Before he got any worse. Before he came down those stairs and, somehow, gave her a heart attack.
Making sure that the kids were engrossed in their lessons in the corner booth, she quietly slunk toward the kitchen as she always did, needing to prepare the baked goods for the dinner rush. But instead of heading straight to the back, her feet automatically forced her left and up the stairs. Needing to nip this in the bud before all else.
"This has to stop!" His bedroom/office door had barely closed behind her before the words tumbled out of her mouth, desperate as they had been for release for hours now.
Cloud slowly swiveled his chair around the face her, his expression amused, a half eaten plum pinched between his fingers.
She expected him to deny it. Expected him, like most teasing men, to insist that it was all in her head so that he could continue on with his little games with the intention of frustrating her into submission. As a barmaid, she knew the sport well. She saw it played out on a nightly basis not only between patrons, but with fruitless and foolhardy attempts to capture her attention as well. The pattern was common and unmistakable.
However, needless to say, Cloud wasn't just any man.
He sighed, shifting his eyes to the right and pressing the plum to his lips. "Yuffie says I need to be less subtle..." he offered as explanation.
Yuffie. Again. She should have known. He had been merely, and rather naively, using a teenage girl with an unhealthy addiction of bargain bin romance stories as a prompter. A scenario that was all at once sweet and hilarious and still faintly disturbing. But mostly sweet.
Swallowing down an insensitive burst of laughter, Tifa strode over and knelt in front of his chair, resting her forearms on his knees. He tensed a little but otherwise remained impervious to her proximity, as expected. This was the Cloud she knew and loved. The one that remained unruffled, the only hint to his feelings being in his eyes, telling her tales in a language only she could read. As difficult as this method was to translate in comparison, it made the few times she picked up hints of yearning from him that much more exhilarating. Because it was natural. Because it was honest.
"We both want this to work...don't we?" she whispered gently, watching in fascination the long, smooth column of his throat as he swallowed and shortly nodded, eyes still pointing away and yet, she knew, completely focused on her. An effect that was much more heart-stopping than any of his blatant stares. "Then let's set some ground rules. First of all; never, ever take instructions from Wutain ninjas. Deal?"
With a grunt of amusement, Cloud nodded while slowly sinking his teeth into another bite.
"Second of all," she thought back to heinously expensive coconut cream still resting in the fridge "no presents. Third of-"
"Excuse me?" he interrupted, transgression finally encouraging him to meet her gaze. With pale eyebrows raised in question, he waved the masticated plum in front of his face.
Her breath hitched in her throat, annoyed at having forgotten. The produce drawer was practically overflowing with the fruit even with the few that had escaped onto the road, and he knew very well that neither she nor Denzel nor Marlene were that fond of them. "They-they were on sale," she lied.
Cloud, thankfully, pretended to believe it. "So was the cream," he rebutted with a swaggering smirk; an expression that oddly suited him this time. "I know the vendor from my infantry training days. He waved the taxes."
Gods. Tifa found herself fighting an unexpected urge to bite her lip. Never had the ex-soldier been deemed more attractive.
And there was a point to his objection. He had bought her a dairy product, not a diamond. Just because the gift made her extraordinarily happy, didn't mean it was excessive.
"Fine. No presents with the exception of discounted edibles," she corrected. Cloud, still smiling as he nibbled the remaining pulp, nodded his assent. The action gave her half a mind to add no eating fruit in front of me to the list, but decided against it. She deserved that one secret.
"So, last but not least," having finally captured his eyes, she focused into them, summoning his devious intentions out of hiding. "No lingering."
Again, he made no attempts to deny it as would have been expected from anyone else. They both knew very well that every little thing Cloud did always had its reasons. The unnecessary assistance, the leaning, the dragging digits that always happened to land on that one inch of exposed skin between her shirt hem and apron. Though his exact intentions were still far from clear, the targets never were.
She waited for his nod with waning patience as the seconds ticked by. Finally, not an agreement, but a question slipped past his lips.
"Why?"
In his ability to tongue-tie her, he never failed to deliver.
"B-Because!" she stuttered while fretfully pushing her hair behind her ears. "It's...improper."
"No its not." The plum pit, having been cleaned of its flesh, was tossed in a perfect arc across the room and into the waste bucket. "Not yet."
Tifa had to suppress a shudder, unsure if it was spurred by fear or desire or distaste. "Please don't flirt with me like that Cloud. It's creepy coming from you."
"I'm not flirting. I don't know how to flirt. I'm stating facts. Nothing I've done can be considered improper. Yet." No mischievous glint. No teasing smirk. Just his usual deadpan expression, proof that he really did consider his words ordinary. Like he was planning nothing more personal than the upgrading of his bike.
"Why the 'yet'?" she asked after a deep breath.
Cloud shrugged. "Cause it's not Friday."
Friday. The dinner date. Their first dinner date. Actually, now that Tifa thought about it, this may very well be his first real date ever, with the exception of a near silent gondola ride two years ago. Everything, his every action recently, suddenly had a whole new, additional purpose.
"You're training?" she guessed at last, her lips curving into an incredulous smile. "You're...warming up for our date? Seriously?"
Cloud slouched further in his seat, frowning a little. Obviously offended by her mockery. "I'm learning. Is that so wrong?"
"No! Not at all! It's just," giggling was unavoidable, even though it caused his frown to deepen. "You can't practice to be a successful date. You just have to let it happen!"
"And you," he abruptly leaned forward in his chair, face inches from hers and blue eyes flashing "have to stop being so afraid of change."
As if his proximity wasn't enough to get her heart racing, the addition of his words made her feel like the organ was trying to beat its way through her rib cage. Knowing that she was too flustered to formulate a reply, he dared to push it further.
Slowly, one worn, leather glove reached out to brush some stray hairs from her cheek before settling on her neck. He made the gesture seem so casual, so easy, but at this distance the language of his eyes spoke volumes of how much effort it was taking him not to shake, not to breathe, not to lean in closer. Silently, he willed her not to fight it, reminding her of their mutual desire to succeed in this little experiment. And that trying, honestly trying, meant no longer keeping him at arm's length.
Unlike the several times he had entered her personal space recently, in this instance she felt neither disturbed nor angered. Just, as always, nervous. This time there was no one in the background pulling his strings, no practiced script dictating his movements. And because of that she had no injustices to hide behind, no distracting jokes to make at his expense. Only fear. The fear that always made her to hesitate in everything concerning him. Even though she knew very well, if they were to have even the most remote chance of working out, that she had to let it go.
Gaia, how she wished she could just let it go.
"You...hurt me," she whispered to the air between the them. It was the first time she had brought up, out loud, the true reason for her hesitance. The dating period was just a formality, an excuse for extra time to try to get over his abandonment. To test if she could get over it.
Cloud nodded his understanding, left hand reaching to trace the other side of her jaw. "I know. I'm sorry."
Tifa scoffed. She knew he was sorry. She knew he would do his best to make it up to them. She knew, especially since two nights ago, that he would gladly spend the rest of his life proving it to her. But that wasn't the point.
"I want it to work, you know that right? It would be so perfect if we worked. Everyone expects us to. But I..."
"Don't worry about what they expect," he interrupted, forcing her neck to crane upwards and keep looking him in the eye. "Don't worry about what I expect. Just...try it out. Go along with what you feel."
At this, Tifa cocked a teasing eyebrow. "Says the man who has a seduction schedule?"
With a groan, Cloud fell back into his chair, removing his hands from her neck to rub both of them down his face. "How do you keep doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Make me feel like an awkward and pathetic sixteen-year-old again?"
"I-I don't know," she stuttered, genuinely apologetic even though puzzled. "I'm sorry."
"No. Don't be...It's...It's sort of..." he laughed then, genuinely laughed as if in the midst of a particularly entertaining epiphany. "Fun. It's fun to feel this way again."
Though still infuriatingly bashful, he somehow dredged up the courage to drop his hands and face her, making a silent vow to not make the mistake of hiding like his past self had.
Sometimes they both forgot that he had lost the years of sixteen to twenty-one. A period that was often described, depending on who you were talking to, as either the best or worst of your life. Either way, they were sort of essential to growing up, figuring out who you were and what you wanted out of life. And as a result, in many ways, he was still stuck back there. Despite everything he had been through since. He was still the boy who failed making it into SOLDIER, the boy who rarely spoke, the boy that didn't want anything more in the world than to be worthy of her attention.
And even though that boy was considered relatively pitiable in comparison to the awe-inspiring hero that is present-day Cloud Strife, Tifa found that she rather liked him. She also considered that from such a person, perhaps the occasional linger wasn't so bad. In fact, it may even be welcome.
"Friday's tomorrow," she reminded him, the devious smirk surfacing onto her mouth this time.
In reaction, he did nothing. Except for that slight, dilating of his pupils which, to anyone else, would have presented itself as a full-body shiver.
"I know." Like he could forget.
"Remember. No ninjas."
A soft smile, then a nod. "I'll remember."
She stood up then, brushing the dust off her apron before turning to leave. But before exiting the room, there were a few other details she just had to clarify. "And...nothing embarrassing from the movies like a violinist at our table. Okay?"
Cloud pressed his lips together. "Okay."
She tried to leave again, but one new thought harangued her. "Same goes for transportation. Walking or Fenrir is fine. No...chocobo-drawn carriages."
Obviously on the precipice of full-out chuckling, he nodded again. "Of course."
"Good." One foot over the threshold, she paused one last time. "And please don't..."
"Tifa," standing up from his chair, he quickly crossed the room, forcing her to take the two steps remaining back out into the hallway. "I say this with the utmost respect. Go away."
And with that, he slammed the door shut, harshly reminding her that it was his lesson to learn and that after today's discussion, he wasn't so much of an idiot as to try anything over-the-top.
After taking a moment to unnecessarily straighten her clothes and hair, Tifa returned down to the bar. Just as she turned the corner from the staircase, she noticed Marlene and Denzel's heads whip to their assignments, obviously having been in the midst of a discussion regarding the couple. She chose to pretend not to notice, giving them a knowing grin before heading into the kitchen to get the pies prepared as originally intended.
She had just finished pressing the dough into the pans and had opened the garbage lid to dispose of the trimmings, when it caught her eye.
A white paper, covered in colorful scribbling and food blotches. One of Marlene's drawings from yesterday, probably the one she had tried to hide. Curiosity overwhelming privacy, Tifa found herself reaching in between the sludge to pull it out, brushing away the goo of last night's pasta dish with the back of her wrist.
Eventually, it was revealed to be a family portrait. A messy one as expected by a six-year old, but the characters recognizable none the less. Marlene's bright pink bow stood out on top of a head of long brown hair. Denzel, standing next to her, had solid vivid blue eyes that took up more than half of his face. And behind them stood two taller figures. One with lengthy blonde spikes of hair and the other with crimson eyes and pearl-drop earrings. Characters she had seen often in their artwork but always separated, always as individuals. And never had she been portrayed in such a puffy, white dress, nor he with a black suit and tie. Nor had they ever had their hands overlapping each other's or tiny hearts floating between them.
It took her a moment or two, but as the image's insinuation dawned on her, Tifa felt her eyes instantly begin to burn.
Despite the fact that it may soon become a biological hazard, she delicately scraped the lingering food remnants off the paper and brought it over to the counter, smoothing it flat against the tiles. It would be a while yet, if ever, that the picture would be safe to post along her others on the fridge. At the time of conception, it had been nothing more than a silly wish that the girl had obviously been embarrassed at having made corporeal. Still, Tifa figured it was well worth the effort of attempting to salvage.
Just in case.
Author's Note: I am less emo today, no more review complaining I swear. But in order to reward those awesome supporters, here's a fast update and a long chapter for ya (proof that your comments really are a good influence :P)!
Well, I'll be honest for one thing. The long chapter was an accident. I usually try to restrict my updates to 8 pages at 12 point font, but for some reason Word decided to be weird and set my new document at 10 point and I didn't notice until too late.
Oh well. Passing out now...Twilight hangover...
Thanks again. Love you all!