Help- I have done it again/ I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today/ and the worst part is there's no-one else to blame
Sia- Breathe me
15: A New Year
All too soon, the festivities came to a close. The few days following Christmas seemed to pass in an odd sort of blur for Tifa. Hours slipped by and she didn't know what she had been doing. She had been caught more than once staring off into space, unable to recollect what she had been thinking.
It had felt strange all of a sudden being in Vincent's company. She was overwhelmed with gratitude towards him, and yet that only served to induce further isolation. He shrank into himself as the days passed, taking part in few conversations and starting even less. She began to wonder if things could ever return to normal between them, if such had ever existed at all.
Yet there was still time to address those latent feelings, still on the surface if she acted soon enough. Yuffie seemed quite insistent that they all attend a grand party in Wutai to welcome the New Year. Tifa and Yuffie would be returning by airship anyway, so 'it made sense' they all come too.
"Whadaya say Vince?" Cid implored. Vincent became aware of all eyes on him suddenly. Tifa tried her best to look indifferent, though internally she wished with all her heart he would agree to return with them. She hadn't had a proper chance to thank him for his gift, and she still needed time to work up the courage.
"I..." He glanced up Tifa from beneath his lashes. She resolutely gazed down at her hands. "I have no other plans. I shall come with you." He saw her lips twitch from behind her hair. Yuffie danced in her seat, clearly excited by the prospect of prolonging the festivities.
"Brilliant! My Dad is throwing this huge party! Get ready for the GREATEST FIREWORKS EVER!"
Cid was glad of an excuse to get onto his beloved airplane, and asked Vincent to help with 'loadin' her up!' Vincent carried some of the luggage to the hanger, where he began to load it into the undercarriage before flight. Cid was whistling a Christmas jingle as he tinkered with the engine, his exposed legs twitching along to the tune. Vincent smirked.
"That was really somethin' Vince... What you did for Tifa." Cid's voice was muffled, a screw pinched between his lips as he worked. "What made ya think of that?"
"I'm not sure. She needs to start again, somewhere new. Make her own place, her own memories." Vincent slammed the hatch shut, and then leant back against the craft.
"Well, you're right there, sunshine." Cid scrambled out from beneath the plane, getting to his feet and cracking his spine as he stretched. "You sure know how to win the ladies, Vince." He patted his shoulder. "Just don't give her false hope. I mean it, don't break her heart, or I'll break that pretty face o' yours."
"I'll bear that in mind, Thank you." Vincent said coolly.
-0-
The eve of the grand party and the New Year found Tifa trying on dresses whilst Yuffie danced around her bedroom, a popular Wutaiin pop song blaring out of the stereo.
"Yuffie! Are you listening to me? Red or black?" She scrutinised herself in the full-length mirror. The cherry-red fabric was beautiful, yes, but it just didn't look right. Too bright against her forever-pale skin, it washed her of colour.
"Hmmmm, try on the black, again?" Yuffie suggested.
Dutifully she wriggled out of the red dress and then tugged the black one over her head. Tying the bow at the back and pulling a strange face at her reflection, she noted that this was far more elegant compared with the red dress, though neither of them struck her as being the dress she was hoping for.
"You know something, Tifa? This dress isn't doing it for me either," Tifa's shoulders slumped as the young ninja confirmed her suspicions. She really wanted to make an effort, to look her best. "Hey! Chin up! I think I know what I've got in my magical wardrobe that might just be what you need to succeed!"
"Succeed?" Tifa questioned, as Yuffie disappeared into her wardrobe, the black dress now discarded. Tifa scrutinised her reflection in the mirror once more, as Yuffie rummaged in the racks.
"Succeed at bagging Vincent, of course! It's gotta be tonight Tif!" Yuffie hollered dramatically. "Ta-da!" Tifa turned, Yuffie revealing her haul with a huge grin. A plunging, backless dove-grey dress made of the finest silk. Tifa's mouth fell open.
"Are you kidding? Yuffie I can't wear this!" Then again, it was pretty spectacular. "If I spilt anything on it I'd have to sell my new house just to pay for it!" She ran her hands over the fabric, tilting her head to one side as she tried to imagine herself in it.
"Naaa, I'll never wear it. Consider it an extra Christmas present or something." Her eyes sparkled. "Try it on!" She insisted, placing it in her hands.
Tifa obliged whilst spluttering her thanks, taking it from Yuffie's hands and slipping it over her head, the material whispering sensuously over her curves, settling weightlessly upon her form. It fell to hug her waist perfectly, draping gracefully at the back, revealing the curve of her spine. Yuffie sighed.
"It's perfect."
-0-
The city was a hive of activity. Everywhere people were dancing, singing and laughing. Vincent's senses were under constant battery as he weaved his way through the crowds.
A plethora of aromas assaulted his senses; meat sizzled in woks, noodles were tossed in oil and vegetables, beer and rice wine flowed freely. All this could only just mask the scent of methane from the burners the stall vendors used to heat their woks and pans and grills. Bottles chinked, chopsticks and cooking implements clicked, and fires popped and crackled over the general hustle bustle and chatter of the market districts.
Yuffie had said to meet in the main prayer hall of the city's pagoda, where their group had been exclusively invited.
The Pagoda itself was preceded by grand imperial gardens, the entrance flanked by towering red gate posts with carvings of golden dragons and fish etched in the ancient wood. Vast blossom trees, barren of their vegetation at this time of year, stood crooked over ornamental ponds, inhabited by a lazy spectrum of carp. Their desolate branches were threaded with strings of lanterns and banners, fluttering in the light wind.
He crossed the gardens at a leisurely pace, appreciating the surroundings before entering the pagoda. There he found Yuffie deep in animated conversation with her Father, and an extremely beautiful woman Vincent had never seen before. It was only as he approached them, only as he looked into the woman's face, that he realised the woman was Tifa. He was unable to maintain a dismissive expression, all too aware that Yuffie was sniggering to his left. Her father smiled and pulled her to one side, despite her protests.
She gazed into his shirt with flushes cheeks, all too aware, as he was, that he was gawking at her; hair elegantly twisted at the nape of her neck, a few strands escaping to softly frame her face. Her makeup was subtle, her jewellery discrete, which was all but made up for by the dress. Her curves were excellently accentuated, he struggled not to notice.
"You look..." He struggled for words. "Wonderful." Her colour deepened.
"Thank you." She murmured, daring to look up into his eyes. The silence hung between them for a few moments, blaringly apparent in a room buzzing with multiple conversations, music and laughter.
Vincent became aware that they were stood in the centre of what appeared to be the dance floor; Yuffie's family were scattered around the perimeter of the room, Cid and Shera among them, though they showed no signs of coming to his rescue. A few couples were dancing together around them, and it became increasingly uncomfortable, stood static amidst all of the activity.
As the notes of the final song faded away, a new one began; Piano, female vocals, familiar words. The gentle sound of the cello.
Tifa's song.
She looked up into his face on recognising the gentle melody. He noted the look of mild panic in her face as she tried to maintain her composure, her amber eyes shining intensely out of the dimness. Old memories from a time that felt like years ago, resurfaced; Confusion, loss, bitterness and dependence all centred around and dependant on him.
He offered her his hand. "Would you like to dance?"
After a moment, in which she gazed at him in mild surprise, she obliged. She joined her hand with his, her other coming to rest upon his shoulder.
Would it always come back to this, he wondered. Was there no way of moving forward—of getting away from the past with those old emotions, stirring everything up—moving forward from the anger and the pain to a point where there was only forgiveness?
Tifa's breath caught in her throat, and she lowered her face, studying the buttons at his shirt collar. She had been hiding away for so long, and she was tired of it. She wanted Vincent to hold her, if not just be her friend, But her foolishness prevented that. She couldn't just keep things the way they were—comfortable and static—she had to try and push it to the next level, a level which they had never been to before. They weren't strong enough, between them to reach it.
Yuffie's loaned dress had worked, at least. He had asked her to dance, apparently spellbound, and there they were, revolving slowly together, unaware that there was no one else on the dance floor, and that Shera was smiling knowingly to herself as she watched.
The words washed over her, her mind moving slowly to form words, words which she desperately wanted Vincent to hear, to understand. He must understand.
Then soon, too soon, the song was over. She pulled away from him, movements distended and jerky, gazes held with a barely present strength. One wrong work, one misplaced gesture, and it would all fall apart. Neither of them spoke.
"Not interrupting' are we?" Cid laughed, coming to a stop beside them, a grinning Shera on his arm. Tifa smiled weakly.
"Excuse me."
Vincent's hand gripped hers tightly for a moment, reminding her only briefly as she released it that they had held on so long after the music had stopped. Still unsure of her own movements and the strength her limbs possessed, she managed to make her way towards the entrance, sounds falling against her ears like flies against a window. She couldn't focus. Stepping out into the cool night air, she sucked it in thirstily, hoping it would awaken some clarity within her.
What was happening? The evening was turning out stranger and stranger as it went on.
She rubbed at her arms and drifted towards the pond, watching carp gliding idly beneath the surface of the black water. She gazed up at the moon, a huge yellow crescent against the dark backdrop of the heavens. The black sky was dotted with crystal clear stars, their reflections rippling in the surface of the water.
"Are you alright, Tifa?" Shera arrived at her side, touching her arm delicately.
"I think so." She answered despondently.
"You seem a little… distant."
She licked her lips. She could trust Shera, if no-one else. "It's just overwhelming... trying to figure out what to say. I want so badly to be honest, and yet… I worry what he will think of me if I am."
Shera wrapped an arm around Tifa's shoulders. "My Mother always told me if it's meant to be, then it'll happen, no matter what. Just try to stay strong."
"I think I need a walk..." Tifa rubbed at her temples. Her head was beginning to throb, an amalgamation of alcohol, music, and Vincent.
"Ah! Vincent," Shera exclaimed as Vincent himself entered into the gardens, taking him by the upper arm and steering him in Tifa's direction. "Would you mind walking with Tifa, I would, but I promised Yuffie I'd dance with her."
Her pleading was almost entirely credible, Tifa acknowledged with a hidden smile. Vincent, the embodiment of discomfort, raised his eyes to meet Tifa's and inclined his head. Shera left them alone to return to the party, giving Tifa an encouraging smile from over her shoulder.
Not wanting to expose Shera's motives, she directed her steps towards the main street, taking a leisurely pace, aware of Vincent wavering before following. His strides caught up with hers, and he offered her his arm, which she took. She feared that if she didn't have something, someone, to lean on, she would surely stumble.
She needed all of the support she could get.
They spoke very little. Tifa's tongue was thick in her mouth, heavy with the words that she wanted to say, but could not. She was focussed on trying not to think about anything that would bring emotions so tightly linked with their recent past broiling to the surface, as they once had. She wanted to show him she was stronger now, and yet so far she had made a poor case for herself. Damn it, Tifa, what has Cloud reduced you to?- A whimpering mess who can't even think for herself anymore.
Unaware of where their wanderings were leading, she raised her head to view their surroundings: the house that she and Yuffie shared, on the Eastern side of the palace grounds.
"You seem tired. Perhaps you should lie down for a little while." He raised his hand before she could protest. "It is still early. I will wake you before the celebrations."
They were her bedroom door now, and she performed her actions almost automatically; sliding the screen door open, stepping inside, and slipping in shut, the wood whispering in the carefully crafted grooves in the frame. She sank heavily into the cushioned stool at her dressing table, resting her heated forehead in her cool palm. Then there was Vincent's hand on her shoulder. Her skin tingled.
"Tifa, about tonight..." He began, his fingers moving to rest on her neck. His words settled dread in her stomach, though his touch turned the weight to flitting butterflies. "I do not wish for you to be upset anymore."
"I'm not upset." She protested weakly, a shake of her head loosening a few of her carefully constructed curls. The entangled themselves with his pale fingers.
"You are not reminded of Cloud when you hear that song?" He appeared mystified. With a heavy sigh she stood to face him, seizing a sudden burst of courage by taking his hand in hers before it could fall to his side.
"No. At first it meant nothing really, but… Vincent, now it makes me think of us. I want you to be my friend and... Sometimes I want you to be more than that. I just… I'm so scared I will hurt you, and ruin it all and then—we can't even be friends."
Vincent's face was unreadable. She bit down on her lip, the words she had lined up in her mind to follow suddenly gone. She had to say something, anything, to repair any damage. But nothing came.
"Tifa... I am your friend." He muttered thickly, eyes cast down, unfocused. Her heart was racing in her chest.
"I know that… but you know I want more than your friendship…"Her voice is almost failing, yet she chokes down her racing heart. I want you, Vincent.
"I want…"
Say it!
"I want you."
They had never reached this point together before. She had never seen him so exposed and yet so calm. It had always been one without the other. There was no anger in his eyes, no defences that she could see set up against her. It was almost too easy to just lean forward and let her lips touch tenderly against his mouth. It's a relief when he lets out a steady breath against her cheek, and she feels empowered, allows her lips to brush against his cheek, his jaw, reaching the tender flesh at his neck. After what seems like an eternity, his arms envelop her waist, and she almost sighs out loud, as he returns her kiss, first uncertainly, then with a little more daring, along her collar bone, up to her waiting open mouth. His tongue glides over hers, and she moans against him unashamedly.
Then his hands are on her shoulders, forcefully pushing the fabric of her dress away, and she gasps at the shock of cool air on her skin. Then her fingers fumble desperately with the too-many buttons of his shirt, to reveal his chest, his torso. Then her mind goes tantalisingly blank, as she becomes pressed intoxicatingly hard between the cool matting of the floor, and Vincent.
-0-
Tifa stirred from her slumber, suddenly and painfully becoming aware that she was alone. She pulled herself upright slowly, muscles failing to cooperate, her mind fuzzy. A survey of the room for evidence, proof, that tonight had been real proved inconclusive; Sure, her dress lay in the place where she had stepped out of it. But there was no trace of Vincent in the room.
Her clock told her it was 11:45pm; he'd promised to wake her before the celebrations.
Unsure of how to feel, suddenly angry with herself for being so weak, she pulled her dress back on: A second skin she would hide beneath. She stepped outside, her mind racing ahead of her footsteps as she made her solitary way back to the party. What had happened? She tried to recall the procession of events. A dress, a dance, and then she had tried to talk, hadn't finished, kissed him...
Then he had kissed her back. What did it mean? Perhaps, she thought pessimistically, that was all their struggle had been amounting to all along. But she knew better of Vincent to believe it was purely a channel for a secret infatuation. There had to be a reason why, after all the distance they had overcome to be here tonight, that he was no longer here.
Was he ashamed? Was he shy or afraid? All of these things she considered as she made her way back to the pagoda, unable to believe that he might just have forgotten to wake her- might have returned to the party himself, in order that people were not suspicious…
She couldn't make herself believe it.
The others were there, enjoying themselves, suitably drunk, and cheerful. And though she tried to smile, she could feel her expression crumble before she could even attempt to assemble a facade. She took a few deep breaths, before she approached them.
"Hey Tifa, we wondered where you'd got to." Cid winked. She swallowed.
"Have you seen Vincent?" She asked, scanning the room with worried eyes, though it remained devoid of his presence. It was as she feared, then.
Cid words only painfully confirmed it. "No, we thought he was with you..."
"He was..." She felt her composure slipping away before her. And as the fireworks erupted above the gardens, illuminating everything with a vast array of magnificent colours, Tifa's tears shone on her cheeks as she walked away from the party, unable to pretend anymore.
They didn't find Vincent, in the end.
-0-
Author's note: Part of me wanted to add more to the love scene after all these years, yet it still caused a drop in my belly as I read it. That, along with the fact that less is more, made me decide to leave it alone. Thank you so much to people who are reviewing, it really does mean a lot.