I want to dedicate this one to the Cloti artist stargazer uweables (I believe that's their twitter handle – tell me if I'm wrong). Because the opening scene feels to me exactly like something they'd like to draw. Check out their art, it's as kawaii as their name suggests!
Chapter 78. εуλ0011 (continued)
Laundry, clean bedroom, start dinner…Tifa was mentally running down another day's list of chores when, passing the children's room, she heard something that she'd never expected to hear in the voice of Cloud Strife.
"Denzel, will you pass me the green crayon…"
Intrigued, she poked her head in – and there indeed, sprawled forward on the floor was he, the savior of the world, three-time defeater of Sephiroth, HER man… holding a green crayon.
He was leaning over a piece of paper with a dedicated, studious intensity, seriousness fixed on his face. Looking down with all the intensity of a little boy, no less absorbed than the children around him.
In fact, her entire little family was involved in some kind of project, and clearly had been for some time. Paper and crayons were scattered across the floor, and Marlene and Denzel were chattering, poking each other with all the joviality of brother and sister. And there Cloud was, with a peaceful, meditative intensity that he'd so often lacked these past few years.
It was wonderful to see.
Marlene was the first to look up and see her. "Hi, Tifa!" she greeted her, prompting Cloud and Denzel to look up. She met Cloud's eyes, and he gave her a warm, bright smile that sent her to pieces.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"We're having a drawing contest!" Marlene, ever the leader, announced.
"Oh?" Tifa asked, chores pushed out of her head for now. They could wait; this was too cute to pass up. "Can I play, too?"
"Sure! Come on!" Marlene had a piece of paper next to Cloud, pushing a handful of rainbow colors in that direction. Tifa lay down by Cloud, brushing his shoulder flirtatiously.
Cloud leaned over his paper, eyes twinkling, flirting right back. "No peeking," he said.
"Not until we're all done," Marlene added. "That's the rules."
"Oh? Whose rules?" Tifa teased. Delight filled her. After so much, the levity of a day like today was not to be wasted.
"Mine, of course," Marlene replied primly. Denzel looked up only briefly before returning to his own work, mirroring the single-minded focus of the man beside him. Tifa shrugged, and picked up a crayon.
For an hour or two, the family worked in relative silence. Tifa occasionally looked up to see the joy of her family, giving her untold pleasure. This is what we worked for, she told herself. This is what I wanted all along.
The warmth of Cloud's body radiated outward; his nearness gave her comfort even when they didn't touch. So pleasurable – not the same sort of pleasure he gave her behind the doors of their bedroom, the kind that made her cry out his name and dig her nails into his skin, but a simple kind of pleasure one could only find free of worries ahead. Moments to be cherished because they were so fleeting, and if they didn't grasp them as they streaked past, they were lost in time flying by faster than she could account for.
Speaking of… "Oh! Time's up!" Marlene announced.
"Who's first?" asked Cloud.
"I'll go," Denzel said shyly. He removed his arm from the drawing, revealing a passing sketch of Edge, the gray broken up by splashes of green – trees the WRO had only recently started planting, hardy desert species that could tolerate the still-drained ground, planned to put nutrients and richness back into the depleted soil. Flowers were still year away, but it was a start.
"That's beautiful, Denzel," Tifa said. "What made you draw that?"
Denzel looked bashful. "We started out planning to draw someplace important to us," he explained. "I didn't want to draw the plate… because…" He didn't finish, but Tifa could fill in the rest. Because it's gone. The familiar twinge of guilt hit her once again, but it didn't dig at her as hard as it once had.
"And I did Kalm," Marlene interjected, lifting up her own drawing. It clearly positioned Elmyra's house at the center; her bushels of flowers, riots of pink, yellow, purple spilling out of their planters. The other houses on the street were less effusive, but no less cheerful, colored shutters and trimmings a sharp contrast to the salvaged city that was Edge.
Tifa didn't precisely regret their decision to settle in the shadow of Midgar; all the same she was grateful that Elmyra's house existed as a refuge, an oasis that hadn't seen the same destruction Midgar had. Even though the town had been rebuilt by Shinra from the ground up, several years before Meteorfall – another legacy of Shinra and its stranglehold – it still existed in a place untainted by mako pollution, warm, lush, and green.
"Your turn, Tifa," urged Marlen, and Tifa slid back to reveal her own work. When he saw what she had drawn, Cloud's mouth quirked in amusement.
"You drew… fruit?" he asked.
"It's a very nice bowl of fruit," Tifa protested. "Anyway, fruit is important to me. So there." Cloud stuck out his tongue at her. "Let's see what YOU did, mister.:
Cloud pushed his paper forward, not less awkwardly than Denzel, and Tifa's first thought was, I see why he needed the green crayon. Then she realized… "Cloud, what have you done?" she gasped in surprise.
"Mountains." He looked perplexed. "Nothing special, just mountains."
"No. It's NOT just nothing," insisted Tifa. "Look…" she traced her finger along a too-familiar earthen spine. "You've drawn… Nibelheim."
Cloud stared at his creation in confusion. She leaned in closer. "See here, that's the path up towards the reactor," she began. As she touched the waxy brown residue, a splinter of hurt pricked her. She ignored it. "And here, in the low part. I remember playing here as a kid," she continued. "It was one of the places we were allowed to go. See, you've even put in the river."
Cloud didn't tear his eyes away from the sketch. "I see… I wasn't planning it that way," he mumbled. "I guess… maybe.. I wanted to think about home. When it WAS home. OUR home, Tifa."
She reached out a hand to caress his cheek. No need to ask if he wanted to go back. Part of all would always wish for that, but that was all it was, a buried wish of regrets past, covered up with greater, more real hopes for the future. Cloud was coming to appreciate that – but every so often, he needed a reminder.
"Home is wherever we are together, Cloud," she told him. "My home is right here with you."
His response was immediate; overwhelming to her, though near-invisible to anyone else. She, he knew that Cloud's truest expressions were never in words, but his body, his eyes. And those eyes suddenly filled with a surge of love, an all-encompassing love for her, for the family, for the precious moments they spent together – and for THIS moment, when they were so transcendentally connected with that love of each other and of life.
Cloud leaned in, and Tifa's lips parted in anticipation, licking them to restore moisture on skin that had suddenly gone dry.
"Great, now they're going to do that kissy stuff!" Marlene squealed.
Heads of both parents turned. "You'd better Hope we do that kissy stuff," Cloud teased, "otherwise I'm going to come over and – TICKLE you both!" Abruptly Cloud flipped onto his back, yanking Tifa by the waist; she yelped as he pulled her over him, tugging her face to his, and she gave in, letting him kiss her quite thoroughly.
"Not if I tickle you first!" Cloud gasped as Marlene's little fingers dipped between them, brushing Tifa's bare skin.
"You little troublemaker!' he replied, but his tone was light, breezy. Tifa slid off him to cooperate with Marlene, attacking Cloud from his other side.
"Help me, Denzel!" Cloud gasped between laughs. "Look at what these girls are doing to me!" The boy joined in, and soon enough they had all collapsed into a pile of giggles, Cloud not realizing where one family member ended and another began.
Soon enough, the kids tired out, as kids tend to do. Marlene was the first to weaken, her eyes heavy, and Cloud scooped her into the crook of his left arm. Denzel, not to be outdone, shrunk into the space between, head resting on Cloud's stomach as he drifted off as well.
His remaining arm wrapped around Tifa's shoulders, and she curled into the embrace of her love, here and now a bright-eyed boy all over again. It soothed her soul; soon enough she allowed herself to doze off as well.
Cloud's fingertips brushed the top of Tifa's head softly, as he looked down at his family with love and pride. She fell asleep so easily when he held her; it filled him with peace to see her lying against him, so wonderfully loving and trusting. His left arm was starting to fall asleep, and he had a vague urge to go to the bathroom, but didn't want to disrupt the snug pile his family had become. Leaning back, he stared at the ceiling until the warmth of their collective bodies took him into quiet slumber as well.
Though the kids could be left alone for longer periods of time, they still couldn't guarantee their privacy would be honored, that one or the other of the children would come excitedly rushing in and see… something. Or something else.
So locking the bedroom door had become their symbol, their communication of desire; a simple acknowledgement that one was ready for intimacy, an inquiry if the other was as well.
It was one hot afternoon when Cloud arrived home, early but dusty and dirty, saying a brief hug to the kids downstairs before he dragged himself up to the bedroom, startling Tifa. She looked up from where she'd been calmly sorting and folding their laundry. "Cloud! You're home early!" she gasped.
His only response was to reach behind him, and slowly, deliberately, let it slide into the latch; his eyes were intense, feral. And as the lock clicked shut, Tifa could feel heat spreading through her body, pooling with anticipation.
Two quick strides, and even covered in road goop as he was, she let him scoop her in his arms, responding eagerly as he slathered her with kisses, two sets of hands tugging off clothing and throwing it to the floor, a furtive coupling made necessary by the vaguely heard noises of children below. She arched against him, satisfying him quick and hard, surprising even herself as they both quickly climaxed, rolling back onto their shared bed.
A few minutes like that was all they could allow. With the distractions of young children, moments like these were stolen quickly, treasured forever.
"It's time to start dinner," Tifa said sadly. Cloud nodded, and as she pulled back on her garments, he headed to the shower to be presentable to his family. To not advertise what he and Tifa had just been doing. Puzzling how easily he and Tifa could just go about their day when only minutes before, they'd been clawing each other in passion.
It didn't quite work as expected. He came downstairs, began helping with whatever Tifa would allow him to do in the kitchen, mostly carrying things back and forth. He was softly reminiscing, a spark of desire rekindled every time he looked at her, when Denzel suddenly piped up, "Cloud, why are you smiling like that?"
"Huh?" Cloud asked, confused. He hadn't even been aware that he'd been smiling.
"Yeah, you never smile like that. Did Tifa do something nice for you, or what?"
"Uh…" Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Tifa at the stove, trying to suppress a giggle. "Tifa always does nice things for me."
"That's what's awesome about her!" Denzel shouted. Tifa reached forward to ruffle Denzel's hair affectionately.
Cloud walked behind her, wrapping his arms around her. Only his nervous grip on her arms told Tifa anything was different.
They'd be keeping the door locked for some time yet.
"Doing your books is REALLY that stressful?"
Cloud looked up from the receipts in front of him at the sound of Tifa's teasing. His left had remained wrapped around the nearby tumbler of whisky.
No, books were not that stressful. But there were definitely things he'd rather be doing, and better company he'd rather be keeping.
Tifa was usually the one to press him to be more responsible, but tonight, apparently, she was in a flirtatious mood. He was hardly going to turn her away. "I don't want to drink alone," he teased her right back.
"Let's go downstairs," she told him, a twinkle in her eye. "Let's have a drink."
Cloud hoped she was possibly suggesting MORE than a drink. The kids were long asleep; they had the bar to themselves. He flashed back to those first few months of sneaking downstairs together, the times rare and stolen. The booths. The floor (just cleaned, of course). The bar top… Two new lovers, frustrated by the arrival of a child in their midst, ready to be with each other any way that they could.
Some memories were worth revisiting.
They were working on a new living room, a family area behind the kitchen and the bar; it was nearly complete. But the bar itself had its own significance; he enjoyed these moments when Tifa would step around to join him on the other side, taking her turn to relax as she helped her customers do everyday.
She started out on the business side, however, reaching for an unfamiliar green bottle. "I've got a few new products," she told him. With transportation becoming easier, vendors could come to her, court her business, instead of Cloud having to hunt for her supplies all the time. With every novelty that arrived, Tifa was able to brightly present some new creations, increasing the reputation of both Seventh Heaven and its proprietor.
Cloud thought it was some strange new whiskey at first, but Tifa shook her head. "It's tequila," she told him. "It was popular in the slums for a while. Haven't seen it in years, though."
"What do you do with it?" puzzled Cloud.
"Just drink it up!" laughed Tifa. She poured them each a good two fingers, then threw it back like a pro. Cloud followed suit, nearly choking on the unfamiliar taste at first, but as it settled into a pleasant burn and warmth traveled out through his body, he readily accepted as Tifa poured him another drink, this time mixing it into some kind of pleasant lemony concoction with the skill only she possessed.
An hour later, and they were both laughing, giggling, largely free of worries in this period of relative stability. Cloud was just looking at her, thinking how much he loved her, thinking how he should probably tell her that more often. He opened his mouth to say it, motioning with a sweep of one hand –
- and nearly fell off the stool. Tifa burst out laughing. She was giddy herself, showing blatant sigs of drunkenness, and Cloud could only think what a good time they were having together when she suddenly blurted out, "But seriously, Cloud, why don't you blame me?"
He was totally bewildered by this abrupt change in conversation – one minute they were simply having fun together, and now… "Huh?" seemed the only appropriate response.
That only seemed to incite her further. "But… I could have told you… and maybe things would have changed," she said, tears partly filling her eyes. "How is it you can still love me after – " and Cloud found himself in the awkward position of hastily agreeing with her that he loved her, while she insisted that he really SHOULDN'T, only getting angrier.
"You're drunk, Tifa," he finally told her wearily. "This is going nowhere."
"I am NOT drunk!" she half-shouted, her words beginning to slur. "Why do you have to make me into such a saint?"
"Tifa…" he began, at a loss. This was something in her he'd never seen before, and he had no precedent for how to deal with it.
She stood up, throwing her hands in the air. "Perfect Tifa!" she continued, enraged. He revised his assessment; HE was drunk. SHE was wasted. "Who puts up with Cloud all the time. Look at her, she's never done anything to him! When I think of all the shit I've put you through…" She made a sweeping motion with her hand for emphasis, knocking the now-empty bottle to the floor and shattering it into nothing more than shards. She didn't even notice.
"Sit down," Cloud growled, pulling her back down to the barstool. It seemed like she wanted him to be angry. He didn't know why, but he was definitely starting to get there.
His long-trained impulse was to draw her into his arms, comfort her, tell her how wonderful she was – but that approach wasn't exactly getting him far. He stood himself, reaching over his shoulder, an unconscious imitation of preparing to draw his sword.
Tifa sat, dropping her head to the bar top; he shoulders shook, on the brink of sobbing in earnest. Cloud reached for a glass of water, handing it to her wordlessly as he'd seen her do to many a drunk, knowing she would gulp it down unthinking. What came next? Should he make some coffee? At least neither of them was driving anywhere tonight…
"Why won't you forgive me, Cloud," she asked, quieter now.
"For what?" he asked.
He wasn't sure she had heard as she mumbled, half to him, half to the air around her. "I lied to you. I didn't tell you something was wrong with you…" Cloud stepped back warily. "The train station. Even after. There was time. I could have told you. I should have known. I should have known you were there THAT day. Behind the helmet." She raised her head, staring at the counter sadly.
"You didn't lie," he breathed carefully.
"I didn't tell the truth," she replied. "That's the same, isn't it" – she turned her head; tears were cutting rivulets down her face. "Maybe… I could have done something to help. If I hadn't been such a coward. If I had been in time. If I hadn't wasted so much time. Maybe… she wouldn't have died."
Cloud's heart sank. Was she really blaming herself for… THAT?
"Cloud, damn it! Get angry!" she began shouting again. "Give me a chance to be forgiven too!"
Cloud backed up, plopping into one of the booths leaning against the wall. His head was swimming. Dammit, Cloud, think. Had he been prepared for this, he would have stopped three drinks ago.
How could he get angry with her? There was nothing to be angry about… or was there?
He pulled out his PHS, checking the time. 2:37am. Way too late to call Barret, now that he was a working man. Even too late to call Cid. The only one he might possibly reach this time of night was Vincent.
Great. The one person who picks up his phone less than I do. Not that it mattered. Vincent would give him some sort of cryptic advice that essentially meant, figure it out yourself.
Cid… The man had screamed his head off at Shera – Cloud had wanted to punch him out for it before – practically until the day he had proposed marriage.
Why had he been such an ass before? Tifa had said it was because he was trying to hide his true feelings.
Hiding his true feelings…
Focus, Cloud, he told himself, cursing the invention of tequila, and (temporarily) the bartender who knew what to do with it. Was there some anger he wasn't fully acknowledging?
He had to think about it for a while, leaving Tifa with her misery, until finally he had an answer. Sort of. He though she was perfect. So why was she making such a big deal about telling him she wasn't? Was that the problem? Could he be loving her too much?
Or maybe she wanted to be loved in spite of not being perfect. Yeah. That was starting to make some hazy sense.
He forced himself to his feet, which felt even heavier than his eyelids were starting to become. Inching towards the bar, he took the seat beside her, the stool creaking slightly with his weight. The sound brought her head up. Her drunken eyes were closing, but she straightened to attention.
"Okay, I'll try this," he began. It felt so strange TRYING to say angry things to her, his angel. Was this a different, odd way of showing love? he wondered, saying things you don't necessarily want to… because the other person needs to hear? Even if she wants you to say things that hurt her.
What the hell.
He started slowly. "You could have found a way to tell me… shouldn't you have?"
"I should have," she agreed. "I knew that as soon as I found you in Mideel." Now, finally, she was saying something clear, and he prayed she would continue so they could figure this thing out. "You could have been lost completely, you know that, Cloud? It was so close… and I had to see you… this shell of the man I loved…" Cloud winced. "I stayed with you, but I was selfish, Cloud. Because I stayed to punish myself, too. Instead of getting it together and going with the others, I stayed so I could wallow in my own guilt." That sounded painfully familiar to Cloud. "I should have gone with them. Even before. When Sephiroth was trying to humble you, humiliate you. Maybe you would have remembered right then."
The mention of that hated name was enough to make bile surge in Cloud's throat, but she was rambling now, piling guilt on top of herself. "The reactor… Sector Seven… my friends… Jessie and the others…"
She bawled, loud blubbering wails. Sobs turned to hiccups, and a line of snot fell from her nose onto his shirt. Cloud ignored it.
"It was all my fault, Cloud, all of it. I knew you weren't you… well I knew you… but I wanted to know you…" She was no longer making sense, and he waited for her to get it out, all the guilt, all the same. Could she really be hurting that deep?
Unfortunately, he knew the answer. Yeah, she could.
"I mean… if you had been you… you could have don't it…"
"Done what, Tifa?" he prompted.
"Everything… Sephiroth… everyone knows you were strong enough… if I hadn't held you back… Aerith… I shouldn't have insisted that you come…"
"NO." His reply was emphatic. "Not that. That was her… Aerith's choice. Sephiroth held the blade."
Her hear whipped up. "Damn it, Cloud, YES! I was the one who could have saved you… and I didn't…"
"You DID," he reminded her, but she couldn't be stopped.
"You could have killed Sephiroth! No problem! You did it! Twice! THREE times! Fuck! Sephiroth! Aerith! It's all my fault!" She was yelling now.
Cloud was lost, stunned. The situation was out of his control now, in any way, shape, or form.
"It's all my fault! Cloud, tell me it's my fault! Tell me it's my fault… that Aerith died!"
"NO!" Cloud snapped, roaring at the top of his lungs. "NO MORE! STOP!" He waved his hands frantically in the air, desperately trying to calm her down.
Tifa stopped.
Cloud took a brief breath. Very brief.
"Listen to me," he growled. This was NOT what he had wanted out of this night, and he'd hit the limits of his patience. "You want angry, you got it." He was FURIOUS. "Sephiroth has cursed us long enough. That's my OWN burden. I won't let you have it."
"But I – " she protested, and he shushed her with two fingers to her lips.
"You will NEVER say such a thing again. You will never even THINK it. You got that?"
Tifa started to open her mouth, then closed it once again at his frown. "I'm not talking. You're dishonoring her memory that way. You know how I know? Because you're too drunk to put this together right now, but that's exactly what I did, so I know how stupid you're being right now. You want to be more of the selfish brat you just called yourself, and blame yourself for everything, you go ahead. But I'm drunk, and I'm tired, and I'm not putting up with anymore of this shit."
Tifa had borne his tirade with wobbly grace, and suddenly it struck him how… quiet… things were. And he realized he'd been yelling at her. Screaming, in fact.
You can't yell at her. You love her too much, she's perf-
That's the sort of thinking that started this.
Still, it's Tifa –
Just shut up, Cloud.
For lack of anything else to do with his mouth, he grabbed her and kissed her, roughly, deeply.
She returned the kiss with enthusiasm, but then broke off as suddenly as it had started. "I'm sorry, Cloud," she said quietly, looking at the floor. "For… I don't even know what, anymore. For whatever you tell me I should be."
"I'm not telling you anything else," he said, wearily, without releasing her from his arms. The tears had dried; Tifa's eyes had remained steady through their last words. Carefully, he reached for her, and this time she didn't pull away when he wrapped her solidly in his arms.
"Tell me you're angry," she told him.
"I'm angry with you… sometimes," he admitted.
"Tell me you blame me," she continued.
He took a deep breath. I blame you… sort of."
"Then tell me you forgive me, Cloud." Tifa sighed. "I've made mistakes too. Forgive me for them."
This was the tough part. He wanted to tell her he loved her more than any of that… but for just this once… he forced the words to come out. "I forgive you," he whispered, pulling her head into his chest and leaning towards her ear. "For all of it. Maybe even, from loving me too much the times I didn't deserve it."
He felt, rather than saw, the sadness fall away. Tension didn't so much drain as drop right out of her; she went so completely limp he thought she might have crashed to the floor if he hadn't been holding her.
"Better?" he asked with trepidation.
"Some," she mumbled into his shirt.
Cloud pondered. "Would it help if I took you upstairs and had hot, angry sex with you?" he deadpanned.
That finally, finally got her to raise her head – and more importantly, earned a laugh. "Take me to our bedroom and make me scream your name, Cloud Strife," she said with a wobbly grin. "And then I'm going to pass out."
He slammed the door shut, wincing at the last second in case the children might have heard. Pausing a moment, he didn't hear any motion from downstairs – if that wasn't enough to wake them up, he hoped nothing else he was about to do to her would be, either.
"Forgive me, Cloud," she whispered again, but this time there was a joking spice to it.
"I'll make you earn your forgiveness," he mock-growled, crushing his lips to her smile. His left hand grabbed her by her hips and rear; his free hand grabbed the zipper of her vest, yanking it off and throwing it to the floor. She willingly tugged off shoes and socks as he reached for her shorts and pulled those downwards, finally letting her out of his grasp to look at her in her half-dressed state; barefoot, only her white shirt and panties remaining.
"Take the rest off," he ordered, and she did, thankful for the warm air of the bedroom on her bare skin. He stepped forward again, reaching straight for her breasts, squeezing them, biting her nipples harder than he ever did. Tifa gasped, finisding the shocking sensation unexpectedly arousing; she was far too drunk to feel his ordinary gentle touches.
He pushed her back on the bed, swinging one knee over to straddle her. "You're going to do exactly what I say. Now take off my clothes," he commanded, his voice low, his eyes bright.
"Yes," she whispered, the one word sealing the agreement that this was only play, that he'd stop in an instant if one no left her lips. She reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head; almost as soon as she had it off, he was pushing fown his pants, her hands eagerly reaching to help him.
Cloud leaned back on his heels, admiring her body, wondering what he should do to her first. He suddenly had an idea. If it was a strange sort of punishment she was craving, he had a delicious way to torture her.
He drove three fingers in side of her – only to find she was already wonderfully wet and ready for him. He smirked; he knew her body's responses well. This wouldn't take long at all. With his thumb, he massaged her clitoris the way she liked best, wiggling the rest of his fingers in and out. Freed of the need to be in control, Tifa could only gasp and writhe in response.
He waited until her breaths gave away that she was near the point of no return, then pulled his hand away. She raised her head in confusion.
He leaned forward, his hands splayed on either side of her chest. "Not until I say you can," he told her, and she nodded in understanding. With that, he took a hold of himself, and drove inside her.
Damn, this is hot, was all he could think as he relished the feeling of her, warm and wet around him, watching her wince as she struggled to follow his command. Her hands were on his lower back, then his rear – helping him, guiding him; rushing him. He was just about ready to explode himself, btu he made himself hold out that extra minute to watch her struggle to focus, to please him.
"Now," he finally told her, and seconds later her back arched sharply upwards against him. She DID scream his name then, not just once but over and over, filling his ears with her song as he felt her tight contractions around him. He let himself go as well, flopping forward onto her, drunkly awake but now satisfied, drifting towards pleasant exhaustion.
He rolled off her, turning to look her in the eyes, gently filled with the soft glow of release. She sighed deeply, an exhale that had been waiting. Thinking clearly was hard, but something in her really did feel… Different. Better.
"Better?" he asked again, as if reading her thoughts.
"A little," she admitted. Not perfect, but better. "Make that much better," she sighed dreamily.
"You know not to drink that much," he scolded, but lightly. Leaving her with a kiss, he went downstairs to clean up the broken upstairs, returning with a glass of water and a small Heal Materia she kept for customers,, for just such an occasion. To his surprise, she was still awake, alert, waiting for him.
"I… just kind of had to get that all out," she said, apologetic. "Sometimes it's the right thing to do."
"As long as you feel better…" Cloud lay down beside her.
"Making love is healing," she told him; and he knew she was right. Just like the very first time, he was grateful he could help her by this very simple act.
"Then now I'm going to tell you I love you."
"Tell me," she urged, their secret code. She cocked her head, that trusting tenderness that was so completely her, her gentle confidence in him finally returning.
"I love you for whatever you did do, didn't do, should have done, thought about doing, did badly or wrongly or rightly. Even if I have to get angry at you sometimes." He had her attention now. "Pointless to go back and forth on this. We're both too tired and fucked up tonight. But I think… I'm getting something I didn't understand before." He thanked the alcohol for his uncharacteristic talkativeness. "Because all of that makes you who you are, and I'll take you who you are just as you've always taken me. You, Tifa. Just you."
He kissed her gently. "That's all I need you to be. And I want you to promise to tell me how you need me to love you, even if it's not in the way I think."
"I promise," she said. She touched his face with the back of her right hand; he felt the sudden cold glint of her ring. He'd forgotten she still had that on, but the fact that she did, made him realize, maybe Tifa needs to make promises too.