My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys
The wind howls, an icy breath that tears at Tifa's skin as she struggles through the knee-deep snow. Each step is a battle, her thighs and calves burning with the effort. Cloud forges ahead, his pace relentless, his soft blond hair whipping in the gale. He doesn't slow and he doesn't look back.
The snow clings to her boots and she bites back the urge to scream into winds that howl like a wounded animal. The longer that she stares at his back, the more the dull pain throbs inside of her, an achy reminder of how broken and damaged they are after everything that's transpired the last few days and especially the last few hours.
She can't put the Forgotten City out of her mind. A friend torn from her grasp before she truly got to know her, a lifeless body lowered into cold blue darkness and green threads. Cloud's eyes staring ahead into the tranquility of the lake, empty and hollow. Blood staining her hands and tears freezing her cheeks. Wildflowers shifting gently under a sky that is too bright and too blue, a sun that is too gleeful and merry.
Now they are moving onwards to the North. The Tiny Bronco could only take them as far as the outskirts of Icicle Inn, and after a brief stop there for supplies and warmer layers, Cloud pushed them through the frigid maze of the Great Glacier. It's taken them most of the day to reach the base of Gaea's Cliff, the sun finally setting as they approach, and Tifa can feel the chills down to the marrow of her bones.
"Damn, it's freezing," Barret grumbles, shielding his face with his good arm. "Feels like my nose gonna fall off."
"What I wouldn't give for a hot toddy right now," Cid mutters through chattering teeth. "Too cold to even smoke."
Yuffie shivers violently, her slight frame nearly swallowed by her heavy parka. "G-g-guys, I c-can't feel my t-toes anymore."
Nanaki is at Tifa's side, his bright red fur thick with his body's warmth as he huddles close to her legs, a welcome comfort. Cait Sith bounces aimlessly through the snow, unaffected by the chills. Vincent nods as he stares ahead, his cowl covering more of his face than usual.
But Cloud says nothing, marching onward, eyes fixed on the distant horizon where the steel-gray sky meets endless white.
Tifa's heart clenches as she watches him, her body wracked with pain that has nothing to do with the biting cold. He's been withdrawn and detached like this since they left the Forgotten City, though she knows he's been slipping away from her long before that.
Blinded by the cold white, she remembers a different time, a time when his smile was warm and his mako-blue eyes sparkled with desire. She remembers how he took her hand on the gondola, anchoring her to him in a moment that seems like a lifetime ago. She remembers the brush of his lips against hers, achingly sweet and full of promise and fire and longing. But that Cloud is gone, buried beneath layers of grief and guilt, beneath a shattering instability that is singularly focused on reaching Sephiroth.
Tifa blinks back another hot sting of tears, her lashes quickly burning as they crust with ice. She feels like she is losing him with every step that they take, that he is drifting farther and farther into a place inside of him that she'll never be able to enter nor follow.
Your words can't reach him now.
Those words echo in the back of her thoughts with her every step, Sephiroth's voice as icy as the Northern winds as it wraps around her heart. She thinks of the warmth of the Lifestream and how now, she is left with nothing but cold emptiness, how the gulf between them only grows wider the farther they go.
She wants to reach for him, to feel the solid strength of him and know that he's still here, that he's still hers, that the boy who kissed her beneath golden sparks and endless stars still exists. But now she wonders if the kiss was even real, if his feelings that he professed so confidently and cooly in those three little words - not one bit - if they meant anything or if they were just a tortured prelude to the madness she would be forced to endure.
Because even as distant as he is, Tifa notices that he never stays away from her for too long. When his steps stray too far from her side, when he loses sight of her among the billows of snow and the darkness of night, he always turns back, seeking her as if her presence is a reassurance.
But then as quickly as his eyes meet hers and he knows she's there, he turns away, abandoning her again and leaving her to face the cold alone.
Ahead, Cloud stumbles, his hand flying to his head. "Black… Materia," he mumbles, his voice barely audible over the wind. "Sephiroth...I have to..."
Tifa's heart leaps into her throat. She stops, watching where Cloud has keeled over momentarily, snow whipping up and around his boots. She can see the pain etched across his face, and despite her better inclinations, she runs up beside him, crouching at his side and gently placing her hand on his frigid shoulder.
"Cloud?" she queries gently. She's so careful with him now, knowing he'll easily shatter like glass. Cloud winces at her soft call of his name, shaking his head as he mumbles quietly and pulls away.
"I'm fine," he declares, righting himself and shrugging his shoulder from her grip. He pulls away so harshly that it stings. Tifa blinks tears back again, watching as he pushes forward.
"That cabin up ahead," he announces as if the moment never even occurred. "We'll stop there to regroup for the night."
Tifa tries to push down the hurt that bubbles up, feeling discarded like a broken toy he no longer fancies.
She steels herself to follow, watching as a weathered but sturdy cabin takes shape ahead in the swirling snow. It's nestled against the crags of the deadly, imposing mountainside of Gaea's Cliffs, circled by snowdrifts that tuck it away safely off the dangerous trail north.
Cloud doesn't wait for the team as he bounds up the front porch, snow unfurling in every direction as his boots thud against the wood. She hears the rough, muttered complaints of her friends as they close in behind her, watching as Cloud bangs his fist against the door, and she is grateful for their nearness, their proximity dulling the soreness Cloud's isolation has worn into her already open wounds.
The door creaks open, revealing an old man with a face like carved granite, his pale blue eyes glinting beneath bushy, grayed brows. He is at least sixty years old, Tifa thinks, but time and the conditions of the climate here have only worn their way deeper into his skin, making him appear older.
"Travelers, eh?" he greets, his voice rough as gravel as he eyes each of them, his gaze lingering on Cloud's steely stare and aggressive, imposing gait. "Can't remember the last time I had anyone venture up this far, let alone such a large group."
Cloud simply stares, and Tifa watches his fingers clench dangerously at his sides.
"Well, come on in already, before the cold claims ya."
Relief floods through Tifa as they stumble inside, the sudden warmth enveloping her like a warm blanket. Cloud leads the group, his eyes darting back and forth as he surveys the space - a small cabin with a kitchen and few extra rooms on the floor above. It's modest, but it seems that it will do well enough to keep them warm for the night.
But even as the feeling returns to her numb fingers, she can't shake the chill that has nothing to do with the temperature.
The group filters in and Cloud stands apart from the others, his gaze distant and haunted, a slow anger brimming beneath. Her skin curdles as she watches him, and she wonders if the cold that grips him is the kind that perhaps no fire can thaw.
"We just need to stay the night. Heading north as soon as dawn breaks."
The man starts to say something, then sighs.
"Right. I'm Holzoff." He gestures for them to gather around the crackling hearth. "I'll get you some tea and stew, ought to warm you all right up."
He disappears into the small kitchen, and the group seems to breathe.
"Now that sounds about goddamn right," Cid mutters gratefully, plopping himself in a chair by a small table near the fire. The rest of the group follows suit, shedding their snow-laden layers while Holzoff returns with steaming mugs of tea. Tifa, feeling the need to do something with her hands and also repay the old man's hospitality, hops up to her feet to offer her assistance handing the food and drinks out. The busyness calms her nerves.
Sitting on the couch beside Yuffie, Tifa cradles her mug, letting the heat seep into her palms as she studies Holzoff's weathered face as he eyes their ragtag group. The group falls quiet as they find seats, diving into the hot meal, one that is welcome on their cold and empty bellies. Cloud stands in one corner, declining both food and drink, leaning against the wall, his jaw set as he stares into the fire with a distant, distracted look in his eyes.
"You're headed for Gaea's Cliff," Holzoff suddenly says. It's not a question.
Cloud nods, his gaze fixed on the flames. "I have to…we have to..."
He pauses there, his words broken. Barret grunts dramatically, and Tifa hopes that an argument doesn't erupt. Thanks to Cloud's urgency and indifference, they've avoided much discussion about their next moves as a group, but Tifa knows it's a matter of time before things explode.
"I know that look," Holzoff says, his voice softening. "I had it myself, once. It's what drove me and my best friend, Yamski, to tackle the cliff."
Tifa shivers at the word friend. So many friends she's lost, still losing.
Barret leans forward, setting his already empty bowl on the table in front of him. "And what happened?" he demands, clearly unnerved by the prospect of climbing the mountain.
Cloud sighs audibly, an indication he doesn't want to hear any tales.
Holzoff sighs in turn, the sound like the wind through barren branches. "We were young, foolish. Thought we could conquer anything. Even left my wife behind in the village for it. But the mountain… it has a way of breaking even the strongest of wills."
Even though the fire is warm, Tifa feels a chill pass through her, as if his words are a warning meant especially for her.
Holzoff stares into the fire, his eyes distant, seeing images of the past. "Yamski...he couldn't take the cold. It seeped into his bones, his mind. He started seeing things, hearing voices. And then..."
Holzoff's voice cracks, his eyes closing as he shakes his head. "He cut his rope. Didn't say a word. One moment he was there, and then the next…"
Silence settles over the room, broken only by the pop and hiss of the flames.
"And I...I couldn't save him."
Tifa's gaze drifts to Cloud, and she sees the same haunted look in his eyes that she heard in Holzoff's voice.
Resignation and despair.
Is this their fate, too? To be broken by the very thing they're trying to conquer? To lose each other to the cold, the madness, the weight of their own demons and pasts?
Her friends shift their weight and whisper softly amongst themselves as they finish their meals. Holzoff seems to recognize how he's dampened the mood with his tale, and he smiles, turning back to the group with a wave of his hand.
"Forgive me. Enough about an old man's folly. What brings you all this far up north?"
Cloud, of course, doesn't answer, his gloved fingers tightening around his elbow, the deep-seated restless apparent in his body's tension even though he stands completely still. Barret takes the opportunity to respond, explaining roughly that they are heading up North for business without giving away too many details. Yuffie jumps in with questions about materia in the North, while Nanaki dozes and Vincent sits in broody silence. Holzoff seems happy to entertain them with conversation, answering their questions and not pushing with too many of his own, providing them with insight on how to best brave the mountain should they insist on climbing it.
Tifa's fingers tighten around her mug, the ceramic burning her skin with its warmth. She barely notices, her eyes transfixed on Cloud as she silently sits among the flurries of conversation around her. He stares blankly into the flames, seeking and demanding even though he says nothing, and Tifa knows that he is filled with nothing but delirious determination and disquieted anguish.
If only she can find the right words to bring him back from wherever he has drifted off.
After some time, Holzoff announces his departure for bed, pointing at the loft above.
"Feel free to use the two guest rooms up there," he says. "Might be a tight fit for all of you, but should do the trick, and you'll be warm."
They watch as he disappears into a back room, the door clicking with a subtle lock. A quiet falls on the group, and Tifa withdraws into herself, her eyes falling back to Cloud as he stares into the fire and doesn't even acknowledge Holzoff's departure.
In the corner of the room, Barret and Cid sit hunched over the small table, their voices suddenly low and urgent. Tifa strains to hear their conversation, catching snippets of worry and frustration.
"He's not right," Barret mutters, his brow furrowed. "Hasn't been since... well, you know."
"Been longer than that," Cid agrees. "Kid ain't been right since I met him. But you known him longer than me. What the hell are we supposed to do about it?"
"We gotta keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
"Tifa's the only one who can do that," Cid grunts. "And right now he ain't even paying her any mind. Look at him, damn stupid idiot."
Tifa's heart clenches at their words, at the confirmation of her very own fears. She glances at Cloud, who now stands motionless by the window, his gaze fixed on some distant point.
Yuffie yawns, and thankfully, the sound pulls Tifa out of her miserable thoughts. The ninja gets to her feet, stretching her arms above her head.
"The young need their beauty rest," she announces. "You old folks can stay up all night, but I'm claiming the first bed!"
She bounds up the stairs without waiting for a response. The others watch her, and Barret laughs lightly, sighing in agreement.
"Guess we best settle on accommodations for the night," Vincent remarks, speaking for the first time that evening.
"Tifa and Yuffie can have one room," Barret reasons. "The rest of us can bunk in the other. Cloud, you take the couch."
The others nod in agreement with that plan, beginning to rise. Nanaki heads for the stairs, following after Yuffie, as does Cait Sith, who remarks he can sleep anywhere. Vincent is behind them, whipping his cape around him, and Cid stretches, pulling a cigarette from his pack.
Cloud, suddenly, has taken an interest in the conversation. He turns as the group begins to disperse, his aquamarine eyes blazing as if with a hidden fire.
"Tifa stays here. With me."
His command slices through the hush, an unexpected blade that draws all eyes toward him. Tifa feels her heart stutter like a bird caught in a snare, Cloud's eyes landing squarely on her as if daring her to refuse. She shivers, but she can't turn away.
Barret shifts uncomfortably before getting to his feet, his brow furrowed. "Maybe that ain't such a good idea right now."
"Wasn't a suggestion," Cloud replies. His gaze never wavers from Tifa, his eyes burning with an intensity that sends shivers down her spine. "I need her with me."
Tifa's mind races, trying to decipher the meaning behind Cloud's demand. Is it a cry for help, a desperate attempt to cling to something familiar in the midst of all this turmoil? Or is it a sign of something darker, a manifestation of the madness that threatens to consume him?
She hates the way that her body reacts, the way her heart flutters at being wanted and needed, warring with her mind screaming at her that all of this is wrong. She knows she should say something, to reassure her friends, to speak sense into Cloud's mind. But the words stick in her throat, frozen by the intensity of Cloud's gaze and frozen by her own desire to fix everything in any way that she can.
In the end, it's Cid who breaks the impasse, his gruff voice cutting through the tension. "Alright, if that's what you want. But if anything happens, you know where to find us."
Barret growls in agreement, and Tifa nods, a silent acknowledgment of their support. She watches as her friends reluctantly make their way upstairs to the sleeping quarters, their footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night.
And then, it's just her and Cloud, alone in the flickering light of the fire. The air is fraught with tension, clouded by words unsaid and emotions unchecked. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what may come in the next few moments, for what the night holds in its icy and precarious grip.
Tifa settles deeper into her seat on the far end of the couch, pulling a blanket over her legs, her eyes fixed on the flickering flames dancing in the fireplace. The warmth from the crackling logs barely penetrates the chill that has seeped into her bones. After a long, despairing moment, Cloud finally turns away from the window and takes a seat at the opposite end, his posture rigid, his gaze distant and unfocused.
Tifa can't even bring herself to look at him, too fearful of what she might find.
Silence stretches between them, heavy and oppressive. Tifa's fingers curl into the worn fabric of the heavy blanket as she unfolds it around herself, feeling it scratch lightly at the exposed skin of her thighs and arms. She can't help but wonder, as they sit there in repressive silence, why he insists on her staying with him when it is clear he doesn't even want to be near her. He has hardly looked her way since they left the Temple of the Ancients except to ensure she is close by and at the very least, not dead.
Is it a glimmer of the old Cloud, the one who sought her comfort and relied on her strength? Is it the boy who pulled her close in gardens and gondolas, the boy who whispered promises to her above water towers and whose lips were cool and sweet, like a dewy morning after a summer rainfall?
Or is it another embodiment of the madness that seems to be consuming him, piece by piece, a relentless tide eroding the shoreline of his sanity?
Tifa's throat tightens, her questions lodged unspoken in her chest, yearning to be voiced but locked away by the gripping fear of what the answers might be. She steals a glance at Cloud, his profile illuminated by the golden glow of the fire, the shadows playing across the planes of his face, accentuating the hard lines and the hollows of his cheeks.
At that moment, he looks like a stranger, a shell of the man she once knew, and the realization sends a sharp pang through her heart. Her eyes sting with unshed tears, the weight of their shared history, the memories of laughter and kisses, of stolen glances and unspoken promises, pressing down on her like a heavy sheet of snow, suffocating and inescapable.
She desperately wants to reach out, to bridge the distance between them, to offer the comfort and support that has always been the foundation of their relationship. But something holds her back, a palpable barrier that has grown with each passing day, each step of their journey deeper into this heart of darkness.
It's the realization that maybe she was wrong about them all this time. That the comfort and support, that the affection and the care, that the very longing she thought she read between them all this time was wrong.
Tifa pulls her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them beneath the blanket in a futile attempt to ward off the chill that has settled deep within her bones. She stares into the flickering flames, her mind a whirlwind of doubts and fears, of abandoned desires and bitter, angry regrets.
Behind her, she hears Cloud suddenly moving, the rustle of fabric and the creak of the floorboards beneath his restless feet as he shifts on the opposite end of the couch. He sighs lightly, and the sound is boyish and familiar, causing Tifa's heart to clench in yearning. She closes her eyes, not wanting to think of him, only to be flooded by images of gilded skies and his hand outstretched, offering to steady her before he seals their promises with a kiss.
She's fighting off these bittersweet daydreams when the couch dips beneath his weight, Cloud suddenly settling beside her. He is close, his chest to her back, his left arm hovering over her waist. Tifa's breath catches in her throat, her pulse racing as she feels the heat of his body, the whisper of his breath against her skin.
She nearly sobs at his sudden closeness, a war of fear and desire invading her bones.
She wants nothing more than to turn to him, to bury herself in his arms and forget the world outside, to lose herself and weep in the comforting familiarity of his embrace. Her grief is still caged deep inside and her body, her heart, is desperate to free it. But the distance between them seems insurmountable, and she freezes, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she trembles.
What happens next steals the breath from her lungs. She feels Cloud's arms encircle her waist, his body molding against her back as he pulls her into his embrace, sliding himself beneath the blanket to join her. He tucks his legs under hers, effectively spooning her where they are curled together on the worn and tattered couch. The warmth of his chest seeps through her clothing, a stark contrast to the chill that has settled deep within her bones. Her breath hitches, but she doesn't resist, her body instinctively melting into his, craving the comfort and solace only he can provide.
As the hearth flickers with the soothing light of the fire, Tifa feels the rise and fall of Cloud's chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against her back. It's a rhythm she knows well, a familiar cadence that has reassured her and brought her solace ever since they reunited in front of that train station in the rain. And yet, there's something different now, a dissonance that sets her nerves on edge, a sense of frightening wrongness that she can't quite shake.
Cloud's breath is hot against her neck, his lips grazing the sensitive skin behind her ear, and Tifa shivers, a delicious tremor running the length of her spine. But even as her body responds to his touch, her mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, of fear and desire and confusion, a tempest of doubt and longing that threatens to tear her apart. She pinches her eyes closed and tries to rein her heart in, begging herself not to fall into the trap of affection and need for Cloud that has doomed her from the start.
And then she hears it, a sound so soft, so broken, that it shatters her heart into a million jagged pieces. Cloud is crying, his tears staining the fabric of her shirt, his body gently shaking with the force of his sorrow. It's a sound she's never heard before, a vulnerability he's never allowed himself to show, and it breaks her.
Tifa's own eyes sting with unshed tears, her throat tight with the weight of her own grief. She wants to turn in his arms, to cradle his face in her hands and kiss away the pain, to whisper words of comfort and love until the darkness recedes. But she remains still, a silent anchor in the storm of his emotions, her own heart bleeding with the knowledge that she can't fix this, can't heal the wounds that run so deep.
Instead, she cries with him. They are broken, Cloud clinging to her body, his gloved hands wrapping fully around her waist and squeezing until she can scarcely breathe.
Let him use me, she thinks miserably as she sobs. Let him take whatever he needs from me, if only it will heal his hurts.
As she listens to the minutes tick by on the clock on the wall overhead, Tifa soon feels Cloud's sobs gradually subside, his breathing evening out into a shaky rhythm. Her own cries die down as she sniffles, and she shifts slightly, turning her head to catch a glimpse of his face. She feels a fist tighten around her heart at the sight of his tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. He looks so young, so boyish and vulnerable, a far cry from the stoic, stone-face warrior who sat beside her on this couch and who has driven them religiously toward the north.
"Tifa..." he whispers when their eyes meet under the flicker of the flames, his voice hoarse and raw, broken. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
The words are like a knife to her heart, unexpected and sharp. She wants to hear them and yet she fears them, wondering if the place they come from is real or if it is another figment of her imagination and her desires. She shivers, badly wanting to tell him that it's not his fault, that he has nothing to apologize for, but the words stick in her throat, choked by the weight of her own guilt and regret.
Instead, she reaches up, her fingers trembling as she brushes a stray tear from his cheek. His skin is warm and she remembers how she has always enjoyed their moments of fleeting closeness because of the innate heat of his body.
"I know," she murmurs, her voice barely more than a whisper. "It's okay, Cloud."
He leans into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed, and for a moment, she can almost pretend that they're back in Nibelheim, two innocent children with their whole lives ahead of them. But the illusion is shattered by the harsh reality of the present, the knowledge that they're both broken in ways that may never be fully mended, that too much has transpired for them to ever grasp that innocence again.
Even in the midst of their despair, Tifa feels a flicker of hope, a tiny spark that refuses to be extinguished. Peering down as he clutches her, she can see a glimmer of the real Cloud, the boy she once knew, fighting to break free from the shell that has encased him, pursued by the demons of his mind.
Her heart flutters with the intense, soul-defining desire to protect him, and Tifa's arms encircle Cloud's waist, drawing him closer. She feels him stiffen for a moment, his muscles tense beneath her touch, but then he melts into her embrace, his arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders. They cling to each other like two lost souls adrift in a sea of sorrow, their bodies molding together as if they were always meant to fit this way.
Suddenly, what terrified her only minutes ago has become her lifeline again.
Tifa buries her face in the crook of Cloud's neck, inhaling his scent, a mixture of mako and light sweat, of leather and steel, and of something uniquely Cloud, like an earthy forest rain. His heart beats a steady rhythm, and for a moment, she allows herself to be lulled by its comforting cadence, to imagine that they are the only two people in the world, cocooned in the warmth of each other's arms.
Here, there is no Sephiroth. There's no Jenova or Shinra. There are no dead friends and there are no dead parents, no burned villages and ruined youths or buried futures.
There is only the heat and the scent and the strength of Cloud, curled against the warmth and the sweetness and the softness of Tifa.
Tifa," Cloud murmurs then, his breath hot against her ear, lips grazing the sensitive flesh. "I...I need..."
He trails off, unable to find the words, but Tifa thinks she understands. Understands the aching emptiness, the desperate need for connection, the security of each other's touch. So she tightens her arms around him, pulling him impossibly closer, as if she can absorb his pain into herself, take on his burdens as her own.
Because that's all she's wanted to do since she found him again. Help him to stop hurting, even if she has to bleed his pain right out of her very own soul.
"I'm here," she whispers, unable to think of anything else to say to comfort him.
Cloud shudders in her embrace, a deep, wracking tremor that seems to emanate from the very core of his being. His hands fist in the fabric of her shirt, clinging to her like a drowning man to a life raft. "I'm scared, Tifa," he confesses, his voice a hoarse, broken whisper. "I don't know what's happening to me. It's like I'm losing myself, piece by piece, and I can't stop it."
Tifa's heart feels as if it's been run through by a blade, her thoughts drifting to that bedroom in Gongaga, to the Lifestream choking her while Sephiroth mocked her.
Your words can't reach him now.
"I know," she murmurs, her fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair in a soothing caress, gently massaging his scalp. She's desperate to tether him, to keep him from floating away from her in the darkness of his own mind and the madness that claws at him. "But I'm here, and I'll always be here, no matter what."
He lifts his head then, his eyes finding hers in the flickering firelight. They are wide and haunted, but the unspoken plea in them takes her breath away. "Promise me, Tifa," he whispers, his voice low, a softness entering its broken tenor that she hasn't heard since their date at the Gold Saucer. "Promise me you won't leave me."
Tifa swallows past the lump in her throat, blinking back a fresh hot sting of tears. Promises were always hers to beg for, his to keep. She blinks, seeing the desperation and the fear in his eyes, and her heart bleeds with the need to take care of him no matter the risk to her own heart.
"I promise," she vows softly. "I'll never leave you, Cloud. Never."
He stares at her, his glowing blue eyes boring into hers, and he is so silent for so long that she wonders if her words failed to reach him. But he stuns her, eyes dropping to her lips before he leans in, and instinctively, Tifa knows what is about to happen.
She is back on the Skywheel, adrift a thousand feet above ground, the boy who has held her heart forever pulling her under into the tide of his love.
Cloud's lips find hers then, desperate and seeking, his kiss a silent plea for connection, for comfort, for absolution. Tifa can't stop herself, meeting him with equal fervor, her own pain and longing pouring into the embrace as she pulls him closer, needing to feel the solid warmth of his body against her own.
Their kisses deepen, growing more urgent, more demanding. It is nothing like their kiss on the Skywheel, a shy and tentative first kiss juxtaposed with the raw, fiery need and passion of this desperate and broken moment. Caught in her passion, Tifa's hands slide over Cloud's chest, mapping the hard planes of his torso, feeling the shudder that runs through him at her touch. He responds in kind, his fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her head back to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat. Every nip and suck marks her skin, leaving a trail of bruises that blossom like dark flowers.
Tifa's mind is a whirlwind, desire warring with despair, neediness and love battling against the bitter knowledge that this moment is but a temporary balm for the wounds they both carry. Still, she cannot bring herself to pull away, cannot deny the ache that pulses through her veins like molten fire.
"Cloud," she breathes, his name a broken whisper on her lips. "Please..."
He seems to understand the unspoken plea, for he draws back just long enough to meet her gaze, his eyes dark with want and something else, something deeper that she feels rather than comprehends. "Tifa," he murmurs, his voice rough, gravelly. "…Need you."
The words send a shiver down her spine, igniting a fierce, possessive joy within her heart. "I need you too," she whispers in kind, unable to quell the want behind her words, her hands coming up to cradle his face and her thumbs brushing tenderly across his cheekbones. "I need you so… so bad."
This ignites him like the fire in their hearth, because his mouth is on hers again, hot and hungry, his tongue delving deep to tangle with her own. Tifa arches into him, her body molding itself to the hard contours of his frame as she loses herself in the heady, feverish rush. The blanket slides down their bodies, revealing the way they grind and fold themselves into one another under the soft yellow and orange glows of the fireplace.
Cloud's hands grow bolder and more demanding, mapping the curves of her body through the thin fabric of her shirt. Tifa gasps into his mouth when his fingers find her breasts, kneading the soft flesh with a rough urgency that borders on desperation. The sensation is exquisite, a delicious ache that spreads through her veins like molten honey, pooling low in her belly.
She knows this is wrong. Cloud has never been so demanding with her; even in their most passionate of moments he has always hovered over that uncrossed line. But tonight he crosses it boldly, his hands and mouth taking possession of her body and her heart as if he has owned them all this time.
And maybe he has, Tifa thinks, sighing into another kiss and arching her back. She can't bring herself to care, not when every touch of his hands, every slide of his lips against her skin feels like it is unlocking the chains around her heart, like it is freeing her from a prison she's been trapped in half her life.
"Cloud," she breathes, frantic. "Please..."
He growls in response, a primal sound that sends a fresh wave of heat rushing through her. He pulls back just enough to give him room to tug at her clothes, pulling at the leather of her suspenders and the cotton of her shirt. He hesitates for a moment with her bra, but he meets her eyes and Tifa can't stop the longing that she betrays when she stares back at him.
Carefully, he pulls the stretchy fabric over her head, and she helps by lifting her arms. His eyes are hungry on her and her immediate instinct is to cover herself, feeling the sudden vulnerability of her bare breasts and the remnants of her scar. But Cloud zeroes in on her body, kissing his way down her throat. The cool air is a shock against her overheated skin, but it's quickly chased away by the searing heat of his mouth as he trails more rough kisses down her skin that leave bruises in their wake.
"I'm so sorry," he apologizes brokenly as he kisses her scar over and over again, his hands now holding her tightly by the waist. He is still fully dressed and his gloved hands with all their leather and steel press sharp little divots into her skin.
Tifa's hands fist in his hair, the silky strands sliding between her fingers as she holds him close. She arches her back, offering herself up to him. She is rewarded by the scrape of his teeth against her the valley of her breasts, the sting soothed by the lavish swirl of his tongue. She moans at the pain of his grip contrasted by the affection of his mouth, and it only causes him to squeeze her more tightly.
Cloud's hands skim down her sides, his leatherbound palms leaving trails of fire in their wake. Tifa shivers, her skin pebbling with goosebumps as he traces the swell of her hips and the dip of her waist. He worships her exposed flesh with his mouth, descending on her with an intensity that borders on reverence. His lips close around a nipple, sucking deeply, drawing forth a cry from Tifa's lips that echoes off the cabin walls, a raw sound mingling with the crackle of the fire.
His touch is reverent and worshipful as if she's something precious, something to be cherished. It makes her heart ache, this unexpected tenderness from a man who not too long ago would scarcely even look her way.
She's jolted out of such thoughts when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her skirt, tugging it down over the curve of her hips, dragging her belts and suspenders with it. She blushes, but Cloud's hands are relentless, fingers brushing dangerously over the wet spot in the center of her panties. She moans and twists at the pleasure that assaults her, her eyes meeting Cloud's, a now scorching blue that simmers under the blaze of the fire. He smirks at her, but it isn't cold or foreboding - it's playful, like the smirk of a boy who turned into a frog for her and promised her he would spill his guts for her.
Cloud tugs on her panties next, and the fabric whispers against her skin as it falls away, leaving her bare and exposed before him. Tifa fights the urge to cover herself, to shield her vulnerability from his piercing gaze. But then he's sinking to his knees on the floor in front of her, his hands bracketing her hips as he looks up at her with eyes that burn like twin blue flames.
He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of her inner thigh. She giggles at the gentle sensation, unable to stop herself. Tifa's breath hitches, her fingers tangling in his hair as he trails his lips higher, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh. When he reaches the apex of her thighs, he pauses, his breath ghosting over her heated core.
"Cloud," she whispers, voice trembling with need but unsure of what she wants to say. He drags this side of her out, just like on the Skywheel, a passion and want that's long simmered below the surface. "I..."
He doesn't let her finish. With a low groan, he surges forward, his mouth hot and demanding. Tifa cries out, her hips bucking involuntarily as he licks and sucks at her sensitive clit, aching with need. He works her with lips and tongue and fingers, stroking and teasing until she's writhing beneath his touch, desperate for more, coaxing a starburst of warmth from her center that she thought had been lost.
With one finger buried inside of her and his lips wrapped around the swollen bud of her clit, the pleasure builds inside her like a rising tide, cresting higher and higher until it finally crashes over her in a blinding wave of ecstasy. Tifa throws her head back, a ragged moan tearing from her throat as she shatters, her body shuddering with the force of her release. Cloud holds her steady through the aftershocks, his hands gentle on her hips as he eases her down from the peak, watching her with bright, scorching blue eyes.
When it's over, he pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against her stomach as he catches his breath. Tifa cards her fingers through his hair, marveling at the intimacy of the moment. She dreamed and fantasized about this forever but never thought it could be real, and in the aftermath, it feels like a gift.
It's a fragile, precious thing that she knows can shatter at any moment.
As if sensing her thoughts, Cloud lifts his head, his eyes finding hers in the flickering firelight. There's a vulnerability there, a rawness that makes her heart soar. Slowly, deliberately, he stands and dispatches his gloves and armor, leaving all of it on the floor before he reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head, tossing it aside. His pants follow, leaving him bare and beautiful before her.
Tifa watches the entire display as he disrobes in front of her, the fire and the icy moonlight haloing his skin and his hair, his eyes locked onto hers as she cages the desire to devour him whole.
Greedily, he takes her hand and guides her down to the rug in front of the hearth. Tifa follows willingly, her heart pounding in her chest as he lowers himself over her, bracing his weight on his forearms. His eyes search her face, and suddenly he paces himself, a silent question in their depths.
"I know I'm getting carried away," he rasps, "But I need you, Tifa. I... I think I might be lost without you."
The words pierce her heart, the ache they create almost unbearable. Because she knows it's true. Knows that whatever darkness is consuming him, she's his only tether, his only lifeline. And so she pulls him down to her and kisses him with all the love and longing in her soul, pouring everything she feels into the press of her lips against his.
"Then let me find you," she breathes against his mouth. "Stay with me, Cloud."
Cloud's breath hitches, and then he's kissing her back, deep and desperate, like a man starved for air. His hands roam her body, his touch igniting sparks across her skin as he maps every curve and hollow. Tifa arches beneath him, yielding to his explorations even as she conducts her own, her fingers trailing over the hard planes of his back, feeling the play of muscle beneath smooth skin.
He settles between her thighs, and she can feel him, his silky flesh hot and hard against her core. A shudder runs through her, equal parts anticipation and apprehension.
But this is Cloud. Her Cloud. The boy she's loved since childhood, the man she'd follow into the depths of hell itself.
Even if that hell is lurking beneath the heat of their sheets.
Slowly, carefully, he pushes his length forward, breaching her entrance. Tifa gasps at the intrusion, her body stretching to accommodate him. It hurts, a sharp sting that makes her tense, but Cloud gentles her with soft kisses and whispered praise.
"I've got you," he murmurs, nuzzling her cheek, fingers sliding between their bodies to gently circle her clit. "Just breathe, Tifa. Breathe with me."
She does, focusing on the rhythm of his chest rising and falling against hers, letting it soothe her. Gradually, the pain recedes, replaced by a growing sense of fullness, of connection. He's big and he's deep, filling her in a way she never imagined but for weeks has hoped and dreamed for.
Cloud begins to move then, rocking into her with shallow thrusts that send pleasure sparking along her nerves. She purrs and coos, clutching to him desperately, not wanting any space between them. His pace quickens, each stroke driving him deeper, stoking the heat building between them. Tifa meets him eagerly, tilting her hips to take him fully.
The air fills with the sound of ragged breaths and skin meeting as Tifa drags her nails across his back. Cloud growls and shifts, stopping to hook her legs over his shoulders, and the change in angle has Tifa seeing stars, crying out as he hits that spot inside her, again and again.
"Shhhh," Cloud whispers desperately, covering her mouth as he bottoms out inside of her and then pulls back again, giving her slow, long, deep strokes. He's rough, but he's passioned and loving, tears springing to the corners of her eyes as she holds him, digging crescents into the smooth, pale flesh of his shoulders.
Take me, she cries silently in her mind. Use me, fill me up, let me heal all your broken parts. I'm yours.
She's close, teetering on the knife's edge of ecstasy, and when Cloud reaches between them to circle her clit with his thumb again, she shatters. Rapture crashes over her in waves, tears streaming down her face, and Cloud thrusts raggedly and harshly through her climax, prolonging it and deepening it before he follows her over, shuddering and spilling inside her with a hoarse cry of her name.
Afterward, they lie tangled together, sweat cooling on their skin as their racing hearts begin to slow. Cloud presses gentle kisses to her face, her hair, murmuring words of gratitude and wonder, words she can hear but can't decipher. In this moment, she dares to hope that maybe, just maybe - her body, her love - will be enough to lead him out of the darkness, to bring him back to the light.
As the afterglow fades, exhaustion settles over them like a heavy blanket. Cloud's breath evens out, his body growing slack in Tifa's arms. She tightens her embrace, cradling him close as if she can protect him from the demons that haunt his mind. She reaches for the discarded quilt, pulling it over their bodies as they settle into the soft carpet and Cloud burrows deeper into her.
Tifa's thoughts drift, her heart heavy with worry and love in equal measure. She knows that this moment of peace is fleeting and that the morning will bring new challenges and uncertainties. But for now, she pushes those fears aside, focusing on the solid weight of Cloud against her, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Gently, she brushes a lock of wispy flaxen hair from his brow, marveling at the softness of his features in repose. Gone is the hardness, the distant look in his eyes. In sleep, he looks young and vulnerable, like the boy she remembers from their childhood.
"Please," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the dying fire. "Please come back to me, Cloud. I need you."
Outside, the wind howls, a mournful sound, echoing the ache she feels inside. Tifa shivers, the chill seeping into her bones despite the warmth of Cloud's body.
As she settles into their embrace, Cloud mumbles something in his sleep, his brow furrowing. Tifa runs a soothing hand down his back, humming a half-forgotten lullaby from their youth. Gradually, the tension leaves his body, and he relaxes into her once more.
"Love you," she thinks she hears him mumble. She isn't sure, but she holds on to the sounds of his voice. She closes her eyes, listening to the even cadence of Cloud's breathing, the muted sounds of the storm outside.
He is her fallen star, bright and burning, dimmed by the shadows of his own mind. But here, in the aftermath, in her embrace, he is just Cloud—vulnerable, real, hers.
"I love you too," she breathes in response, pressing a feather-light kiss to Cloud's temple. "No matter what happens, I'll always love you."
With those words, Tifa allows herself to drift off, secure in the knowledge that, for now at least, Cloud is safe in her arms.
The first rays of early dawn filter through the frosted windows, casting a pale light across the room. Tifa stirs, her eyes fluttering open as she becomes aware of the empty space beside her. A sense of unease and emptiness settles in her stomach as she sits up, pulling the blanket around her bare shoulders. She realizes that she is lying alone now, her body filled with harsh chills where there was once soft, firm warmth.
Cloud stands by the fireplace, his back to her as he fastens his armor, his movements precise and mechanical. Tifa watches him, her heart sinking as she realizes that the vulnerable, open Cloud who made love to her last night has disappeared, has retreated behind his walls once more.
She rises, the floorboards cold beneath her feet as she approaches him. "Cloud?" Her voice is soft, tentative.
He turns, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he looks away. "We need to leave soon. We're running out of time." His tone is clipped, distant.
Tifa nods, swallowing past the lump in her throat. She reaches for her clothes, dressing quickly as Cloud checks his sword. The black and red glow of the materia in the slot catches her eye, and a shiver runs down her spine.
As she finishes dressing, Cloud moves towards the door, his hand on the handle. He pauses, turning back to face her. For a moment, his expression softens, and he steps close, right into her sphere, bringing his warmth and the quiet strength beneath his hard exterior. She nearly reels backward from the sudden, intimate proximity, gasping as his hand cups her cheek and he leans in to press a gentle kiss to her lips.
Tifa leans into the touch, her eyes drifting shut as she savors the fleeting moment of tenderness. But all too soon, Cloud pulls away, his features hardening once more.
"Let's go," he says, his voice firm as he opens the door, letting in a gust of icy wind. Upstairs, she can hear the others beginning to move and rustle about, preparing for the day ahead as well.
Tifa pulls on her coat and follows him out into the snow, her heart heavy with the realization that their lovemaking, as passionate and intense as it had been, hadn't been enough to heal the cracks in Cloud's psyche. She looks up at the sky, the stars fading in the growing light of day, and wonders what the future holds for them.
She feels broken by it all, once again a toy that he no longer wants or needs, placed back on the shelf in fractured pieces.
But then she remembers the muffled way he had whispered those three little words to her in the darkness, the way his voice had cracked with emotion as he begged her not to leave him. And she knows, with a clarity that cuts through the doubts like a blade, that she will never give up on him, no matter how hard the journey becomes.
As they set out towards the looming shadow of the Northern Crater, Tifa steels herself for the challenges ahead, determined to stand by Cloud's side, no matter how cold and distant he may become. She knows that the real Cloud, the one she loves, is still in there somewhere, and she will do whatever it takes to bring him back, to save him from the darkness.
She'll be his anchor, the moon in his sky. And maybe - just maybe- they'll find their way back to each other.
She'll draw him back to her warmth and her light.