Disclaimer: Characters belong to their proper creator(s)
A/N: Okay so I lost all my notes and scribbles of where I had wanted this story to go. So I had to start afresh; thinking of new ideas and scenarios, which sucks. But anyway, this chapter is the most longest I've written, which is okay. It's like 3 or 4 of my chapters combined ha, but it just flowed out that way. Please leave your opinion and thank you for reading.
Chapter 9: Living in the Past; Her confession
Hey, Cloud, can we talk?
Cloud inhaled deeply, trying to steel his nerves and control his heartbeat. He had faced ferocious monsters-big and small, a momma crazed lunatic, as well as knocked at death's door. But at the sound of those four words, he felt his heart start palpitating and his palms start sweating. Sure he knew they needed to have this conversation sooner or later; he even suggested it earlier that evening, but he hoped it would be later, much later, maybe through a text even. He exhaled slowly and looked back longingly at his bed and then looked pointedly at her, his look silently replying, 'I'm going to bed. Can't we do this another time?'
As if reading his mind she continued, "I need to talk with you, now." She looked at his bed. Taking notice of its rumpled-ness and askew pillows. She folded her arms under her heavy chest and looked down, her eyes shifting nervously. She continued rapidly. "Please? I have some things I need to get off my chest."
He let out a sigh and scratched the scruff of his neck, trying to think of an excuse. But he figured none would suffice and would only service to piss her off, and in the long run make this discussion even more unpleasant. He reluctantly moved to the side, granting her temporary access.
As she passed the threshold, she said a quiet "Thank you." and made her way to his bed.
Preparing to sit, she picked up his pillow and noticed its slight dampness in certain areas. She looked at him quizzically. He roughly snatched the pillow out of her hands and then used the pillow to point towards the bed in a 'take a seat' gesture. Her hands slowly lowered, finally taking note of their sudden emptiness; being stunned by his abruptness. She sat down heavily, smoothed out her short skirt and gave a quiet cough; trying to clear her nerves. She waited for him to sit beside her, but noticed he chose not to sit next to her in favor of the bay window that was across the room. Her brow furrowed in thought 'Already he's trying to put a distance between us.'
He threw the pillow against the window pane to service as a cushion and sat down with a heavy sigh. 'Let's get this over with.' He thought as he rubbed his tear wearied eyes. The moon shone bright through the large window offering adequate lighting, but was too intimate for his liking.
"Why are you sitting all the way over there?" She asked, throwing him a hopeful look.
He shrugged and silently stood, made his way to his desk and switched on a lamp; the light of the lamp offering more than the moon. He pulled out the chair from within the desk, moved it more closely to the bed and sat; his front to the back of the chair. He folded his arms in front of him and rested his chin on his forearms and waited for her to speak.
She sighed and let a sad smile play on her lips. "I was hoping you would sit with me, but I guess we're not as close as we used to be."
He frowned. "What is on your mind, Tifa?" He asked, a little too nonchalantly for her liking.
Her brows furrowed, her lips quivered and her bosom heaved out from her inhalation. She wanted to scream, to spit and throw things at him, but instead let out a desperate whisper. "How, can you be so dense?!" Her eyes were pleading, beckoning a response.
He stared straight into her eyes and saw all the hurt he had caused her. Like an open canvas, she was, but instead of staring into its beauty he shuddered and averted his eyes. There was a time once, when he was younger, that he would've been happy to simply be caught in her gaze, even if her attention was to be shared with many. He would have done anything to have her undivided attention, even going as far as joining SHINRA to show her his worth.
He shook his head. 'Man what a love struck punk I was…?'
She saw the shake of his head and took it as a negative. Her eyes shifted and she stared blankly at the floor. She could feel her throat constrict, her face muscles twitching and eyesight becoming blurry.
'Damn!' She thought as a single tear rolled smoothly down her face. 'I haven't even begun to tell him—to explain to him my feelings, and already I feel like curling into a ball and sobbing.' She chanced a glance his way and met his guilty stare. The lamp was positioned behind him, casting the front of his body into shadow, but the mako energy that would always live in him, glows a slight green in his naturally blue eyes; standing out against the darkness. It would always be a reminder of his painful adolescence.
She would forever feel slightly guilty when she thought about their past childhood. She felt that if maybe she paid more attention, if she stood up more often than not against the town's people hurtful words and seemingly strong dislike towards Cloud that he would have had a better childhood. Growing up, she never understood why people treated him as they did, why they chose to make him the outsider of their little town. When she was young she thought surely there was someone, other than his mother, who cared for him. Of course there were a few of the elderly townsfolk who felt bad for him and treated him better than the others. But when it came to the kids, they would always shun him; most of them anyway. At first when she befriended him it was because of pity, but as she came to know him, she began to like him. He wasn't like all the other boys who fought and acted stupid for her attention and she begun to seek his company more than the others. Of course, that only made the young boys dislike him even more. Sometimes, Cloud would even find himself at the end of their hurtful pranks. Of course, he would take it all in stride.
'Cloud was always strong. I guess he always had to be then, but now…?' She quickly wiped the cooling, remnant tears from her cheeks and rubbed her hands against her skirt.
Cloud saw the faraway look disappear from her face and wondered—"Where were you, Tifa?" he asked out loud, watching as she wiped her face.
She jolted a bit. She didn't forget that he was there, far from. If there was anything the man lacked, it definitely wasn't presence. She just didn't expect him to speak. "Hmm? Oh, I was just remembering," she said as she shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She watched as his head tilted slightly to the side and his brows arch inquiringly, encouraging her to continue. "I was remembering when we were younger," She watched him nod his head in understanding. She continued. "How some of the people treated you, especially the young, dumb kids," she let out a soft chuckle, more out of sadness than mirth.
Cloud smiled softly in understanding, but not knowing why she chose to bring it up. He vaguely remembered those days when he was a child. He never quite understood why people made him the bane of their existence and till this day, he really doesn't. He supposes he never will. He figured it had something to do with his father, who he never knew, or remembers knowing. He doesn't remember if his mother ever showed him pictures of him, surely if they were lovers she must have had photos of his father. He couldn't recall though. Also, he doesn't remember if she ever spoke of him, in fact, he hardly even remembers his own mother or any of the conversations they may have had; about his father, school, or about life in general.
'Great! So I can recall painful memories from my childhood, but I can hardly remember my mother!" he thought angrily as he rubbed at his head, trying to ward of the headache that was threatening to sneak through, of which he failed miserably. The headache started gradually, but seemed to have taken on a life of its own as it became in sync with his heartbeat and thu-thumped against his cranium. From 0-60, that is how his headaches work. They come even faster when he tries to recollect certain memories, or if he tries to remember at all. He knows it's because of his time spent being used as an experiment and has resigned to never truly remembering anything but bits and piece of his youth.
He released his breath and then continued to breathe deeply and slowly, letting his eyes stay closed; trying to clear his thoughts. He could hear Tifa, faintly, as she continued to talk. "I don't blame you for what happened at the mountain or the coma I was in, that followed," He continued to breathe deeply. "I'm sure my father would have forgiven you, eventually." He opened his eyes slowly, letting them rest on her as she continued, albeit more quietly, nervously. "And I'm sure nothing could have been done about Nibelheim. I mean who would have known Sephiroth—"
He let her voice fade, try as he might. That was a memory was burned on his mind, which could be recalled without even trying. Sephiroth and the fire he created that killed their parents, his mother and her father, and countless other innocent lives that wouldn't be spared, also, another moment where Tifa had been badly injured, which he had no control over. 'And I'm sure if her father had survived, he would have made me responsible for that one as well. Not that I blame him…' He thought as he released an aggravated breath, his nerves way beyond agitated.
And in his aggravation he spoke and interrupted her before she could continue to go down the long list of his faults and failures. "As much as I appreciate your forgiveness, can you just…shut up about it already!? I'm sorry you father's dead, but so is my mother. It's in the past. Leave it there!" he said harshly as he got up quickly, letting the chair scrape against the hard floor. He walked towards the bay window and stared out into the stillness below, wanting and trying to reign in his anger.
She sat stunned, but then stood just as quickly; ready for a showdown. "Oh, excuse me? You fucking hypocrite! It's not even about that, and don't you tell me to shut up! And how dare YOU, of all people, tell me to leave the past alone, when all you're even doing is living in the past!" she yelled angrily as she made her way towards him.
He turned around, coming face to face with her. "Will you be quiet? There are other people here. The last thing we need is everyone barging in here wanting to know what's going on." He hissed.
She tsked. "Good, let them come! I know everyone wants to know where you've been and why you've been gone so long, you JERK!" Her voice picked up volume with each word that was uttered, finally coming to a full blown scream as she cursed at him.
He heard the sound of a bang, as if someone either fell out of bed or rushed to get up. Most likely being the latter. 'I wouldn't be surprised if Barret came busting in now.' He thought nervously, letting his eyes shift to the door before letting them scan the room, finally allowing them rest on her.
If she was expecting an apology, she'd be sadly mistaken. "Would you keep your voice down?!" he said through clenched teeth and his eyes glaring at her.
She let out a cry of frustration and pulled her right fist back, ready to take a swing and like a spring being released, her gloveless fist flew at him. His eyes widened in surprise, but his instincts kicked in; feeling the rush of adrenaline, he moved to the side. He roughly grabbed her offending appendage; taking her by the wrist, the momentum of her flying fist making it easier to maneuver her.
She yelped in pain as her vision became an instant blur. Her world shifted as he blocked and then spun her around to avoid her punch. His tight and painful grip on her wrist made her fist give way under the pressure and she could already feel the numbness from the lack of blood circulation. She cried out in surprise as the back of her knees hit the seat of the bay window and felt his grip release finally as he let her go. She could feel herself falling backwards and tried to regain her balance; her arms swinging wildly in her effort. She landed crudely. Her butt helping to cushion the rough landing, but the force caused her legs to kick up awkwardly and the back of her head to hit against the window pane with a loud thud; the sound seeming louder against the silence of the room.
His eyes widened at the sound and his body tensed as he feared for the worst. He watched the scene play in slow motion, as if in someone else's body even, and felt the rushing sense of guilt and shame as he knew he took it too far. He could clearly see the reddish hue in the shape of his hand tainting the skin of her wrist. Tifa was a tough woman, Cloud knew this—she fought alongside him in many battles; he knew of her strength and of her ability to withstand what most women couldn't or wouldn't. But, despite all that he knows, he is also aware of her delicateness; the petite-ness of her body, could feel as such when his hand engulfed the entirety of her wrist and felt the carpals shift under the pressure they were receiving; ready to snap and crumble if not released .
He stood still, afraid to move even afraid to breathe as he watched her lay motionless. His body relaxed and he let out his held breath as he watched her move into a sitting position. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face wet with tears and he felt the weight of guilt again gnaw at his heart. He walked over to her and stretched out his hands to her; more out of surrender than of any real help, and felt the sting of rejection as she slapped his hands away. He watched as she folded into herself; her knees pressing in close and her face tucking into the wall they created. Sob after sob could be heard and her body shook with the force of her cries and her breath would hiccup. He had never seen her this way and it made him nervous. She was like an open wound that was gushing and needed stitching, and he was like a poor, scared civilian, untrained and unsure of what to do, but stay back and wait it out or call for help. He was tempted to call Barrett, even took a step back towards the doors direction, but was afraid of how that might look to Tifa. Like a wild person running from a fire, hands flailing about, screaming at the top of his lungs, 'Barret!' that's how he would be because this person before him isn't the physically, mentally and emotionally strong woman he had grown up with; this person was frail, almost broken.
'When did she get so skinny? Why haven't I noticed this before?' He thought as he took in her small stature. Tifa was always 'small', but there was always an underlying strength to her; like muscle just simply being covered with skin. But now as he looked at her, truly looked, she was just skin and bone. Where curves and softness was, now is a hardness and sharpness to her body. He turned away from her in shame, knowing that he was the cause of her pain.
The light from the hall outlined his door frame and he could see shadow underneath his doorway, a telltale sign that someone was listening. He made his way to his bed, opposite Tifa and sat down heavily, the springs squeaking in protest. He continued to watch the eavesdropping shadow. 'If it's Barret, I wish he would just come in here and blow my head open. It's what I deserve.' He thought darkly as he watched the shadow disappear to the left side, followed shortly by the light turning off. 'Definitely not, Barret—he would have probably busted down the door at the first sound of her crying.'
He laid his head down in his hands and roughly rubbed his eyelids; trying to get rid of the scratchiness and pending tears that threatened to break through. 'I won't allow it…I won't cry, not again!' He thought fiercely as he brought the inside of his right hand to his lips and lightly bit; the slight pain taking immediate focus. He released a heavy breath as he got control of himself once again and noticed the silence of the room, and then the light dip of the bed as Tifa sat right beside him. Her right arm wrapped around his left and she laid her head upon his slouched shoulder. He raised his head and looked at her, her red and puffy face being the first thing he sees, her eyes unfocused as she stares blankly at the wall.
"I'm sorry, Cloud," She whispers softly. He continues to look at her, finally meeting her gaze as she looks at him, "for everything."
He pulls out of the hold she has on him, just to pull her into an embrace; hugging her tightly to him, her arms coming around him as well. "I'm the one who should be saying they're sorry, Tifa." He said into her hair, kissing the top of her head softly. She sighed contentedly at his warmth. "This is how it's supposed to be." She mumbled as she snuggled deeper into his chest. He smiled lightly, not hearing her, and petted the thickness of her dark, brown hair. He had been in love with her once and if it had been years before, this single moment would have been his moment of bliss. They stayed in the embrace for several minutes, offering and allowing one another comfort.
'Barret was wrong. He does know I love him and I know he loves me.' She thought, feeling Cloud start to pull away. 'But I'll tell him just so he doesn't doubt…'
Cloud pulled away from Tifa and gave her a soft smile in his departure. He got up and made his way to his closet, remembering the two items that were stashed away. "Hey, Tifa, I got something to ask you." Cloud said as he opened his closet door. He recalled Marlene saying she got Tifa to help her with some of the words, hoping it was because of their difficulty and not the book being in a completely different language. 'Maybe Tifa can help me figure this out.'
She inhaled and exhaled slowly, gathering her courage. "Cloud, I love you." She said. Her eyes shut tightly as if afraid of his response, which when there was none, she opened her eyes. She repeated. "Cloud, I love you." The words coming out easier, she waited for him to respond and got a muffled "Hmm?" She huffed as she heard him digging around in his closet. She waited for him to come out, which wasn't long, and saw that he had his hands full. She closed her eyes and opened them, trying to refocus herself. "Cloud, I love you…"
"Huh?" he asked, more out of distraction than of any real confusion. "Oh, yeah, I love you too, Tifa." He said, looking at her and giving her a small smile before redirecting his attention to the two objects in his hands again. Her eyes squinted, trying to make out the items he held. 'That book and the lamp…when did he get those?' She thought as she watched him clumsily drop the lamp. He let out a quiet, "Shit." as he bent to pick it up. "Where did you get those, Cloud?"
"Marlene. She told me about them. She even said that you helped her decipher some of the words." He said, closing the closet door behind him. He continued, "I thought maybe you could help me? Figuring since you already had a look at it, maybe you could fill me in on what you know?" He asked as he made his way back towards her.
She shook her head in bewilderment and let out a frustrated breath. 'Like hell!' She thought before replying, "No, Cloud, you do not understand..." She stood before him, wanting him to comprehend and not be so unresponsive to her declaration of 'love'. He looked at her in confusion. "What," he asked, "you're not going to help me?"
She stomped her right, booted foot and huffed. "No, Cloud…!"
He looked her incredulously, "Okay, Tifa, that's all you had to say, although, I don't understand why you won't. All you have to do is tell me what you know and I'll figure it out from there, but, okay. And you don't have to yell at me, I get it." He said as turned from her, wanting to make his way to the desk to set down the lamp and heavy book.
"No, you don't, Cloud!" she yelled as she roughly turned him back around, making him face her. He gave her a looked that said, 'what the hell is wrong with you?!' and replied, "Aright Tifa, what am I not getting?" He shifted the book and lamp more sturdily into his arms and awaited her reply.
She growled and grabbed for the two items in his arms and yelled, "Will you put that shit down already!" She roughly threw the lamp and book on top of his bed, both items ricocheting from her harshness and a few of the books pages tearing in the process. His hands went immediately for the objects, quickly saying, "What is wrong with you, Tifa. Be careful with those…!" But before he could check the damage, she swiftly grabbed at him; begging, "Cloud, please! Will you listen to me?" She grabbed at the front of his shirt positioning him before her. "What is it, Tifa?" Cloud asked through pursed lips, growing frustrated at her rough handling. Her hands slid up from the front of his shirt, to his neck, and settled on his cheeks, which she used a leverage; wanting to bring his face to hers. She felt him jerk back in surprise. When she had him where she wanted, she could clearly see his nervousness; his brow furrowed and his eyes shifted from left to right before allowing them to settle on her again. She brought him closer still, until they were eye to eye, nose to nose, lips to lips. His arms went out to the side of them, his hands ghosting over her hips, not wanting to touch her, but needing to keep his balance from the awkward, hunched position she had him in. She stared deeply into his eyes, "Cloud…?" she whispered against his lips:
"Cloud, I'm in love with you."
A/N: Again thanks for reading and please leave any comments you may have. When writing the story I wanted to delve deeper into their past, but alas, it's been a while since I've played FF Crisis Core, or watched the movie, even longer since I've played FFVII, so sorry for any inconsistencies. also, sorry for any grammar mistakes. the only spell check my chapters get are the Word Pro' and even then I can't catch them all.