Cloud stands just outside the dilapidated camp, his eyes fixed on the distant remains of Midgar. The city's familiar skyline, once towering and imposing, is now nothing more than broken, twisted metal and crumbling buildings.
In hindsight, it still doesn't feel real.
The silence around him is unsettling. They've spent days surrounded by chaos, noise, and the urgency to act, to help, to survive. Now, it's quiet—too quiet. The world has stopped, but Cloud's mind hasn't. It races, replaying every moment of the battle, every close call, every loss.
It won't stop. Not yet, anyway.
Behind him, Tifa moves quietly, setting down their scavenged supplies. She doesn't say much, and Cloud isn't sure if he should be grateful for that. He doesn't know what to say, anyway. But even so, he longs to be able to.
He should feel relieved. They made it. The world didn't end. Instead, there's this gnawing emptiness. The battle is over, but the scars are deeper than anything Meteor did to the earth. He wonders if Tifa feels it, too, but he can't bring himself to ask. All he can do is watch her, long for her, file away his deepest hopes and dreams for her and bring himself to act on them again.
It's been two full days and nights since they last slept and since they first made love. His body is still tingling with it. They've shared kisses and hugs since defeating Sephiroth in that cave, but the memory of that closeness under the airship lingers, the softness of her lips and the heat of her body forever branded to him.
This will be their first night together alone again since then.
He hears her sigh, and it burrows into him, a soft exhale that echoes in the stillness. He can sense her watching him, her inward concern almost palpable. She's probably worried—she always worries—but Cloud doesn't know how to ease her mind when he can't even control his own feelings and troubles.
Midgar's ruins are bathed in the last light of day, casting long shadows over the landscape. The wind is cold, a reminder that the sun is setting fast. They need to set up their tent and rest. Tifa knows it, too, evident in the gentle furrow of her brow as she gestures to the pack.
"We should set this up before it gets too dark," she says softly.
Cloud nods without a word, turning toward her. His body moves, helping her unfold the tent, but his mind is somewhere else, trapped between memories of battle and the overwhelming silence that follows.
As they work together to set up the tent, Cloud's movements are mechanical, his focus entirely on the task at hand. It's easier to concentrate on the simple, repetitive action—securing the stakes, adjusting the fabric—than to think about everything else. Far easier to busy his mind with the mundanity of this task than to think of how much he wants Tifa and how close he is to having her again, how he wants to word things right this time and show her even more passionately just how deep his affection for her runs.
Tifa hands him one of the tent poles, and their fingers brush. Cloud feels the surge of heat rush through him, his body alive with the awareness of her proximity. He turns to her, his eyes scanning her form in the quietly growing darkness. Her hair shines with a copper glow beneath the sunset and her eyes sparkle like dark, heady glasses of red wine, and he finds himself momentarily intoxicated.
"It's strange, isn't it?" Tifa murmurs, her voice quiet as she works beside him. "How quiet everything is now."
Cloud doesn't respond at first, mulling over her words. The quiet is something he finds difficult to understand. Everything has been so loud around him - the voices in his head, the screams of anguish and despair and battle - that this absence of chaos is unsettling. It's taking some time to adjust to this sense of calm and quiet, especially when the rubble still burns in every direction.
She sighs, her attempt to fill the silence faltering. He clears his throat, displeased with the way he freezes, mired in his own thoughts. It's not fair to her, and Cloud knows that. She's been through just as much—probably more—and here he is, closing himself off when she needs him. But he doesn't know how to reach out, to giver her what he wants to give and what he knows she needs him to offer.
"Yeah," he finally manages to agree.
Once the tent is secured, they step back to assess their work. It isn't much—just a small, temporary shelter against the open sky—but it will do. For now, it's enough. The act of building something, even something as small as this, feels grounding in a way. It gives him something tangible to hold on to when everything else feels like it's slipping away.
Soon, they'll find more permanent housing.
Together, they crawl into the tent, the small space becoming a dark cocoon against the turmoil that still silently lays miles beyond in the skyline of a broken city. It's all blocked out inside the tent where the air feels cooler and darkness envelopes them in more silence. Cloud listens to the wind rattling against the canvas, a soft, eerie sound that only deepens the quiet.
Tifa lights a small lantern, its warm glow casting flickering shadows over the cramped space. He can feel her presence beside him, close but not too close, the silence between them more comfortable now, though still heavy with so many past shadows.
Slowly they turn away from each other, each facing the opposite wall to begin this new nightly ritual of disrobing before they sleep. Lowering his pauldron, Cloud feels his cheeks flush as he hears Tifa's clothes rustle as she slowly peels them off. They've been intimate before, and he's seen her naked, her skin moonlight-kissed and shadowed under the hush of midnight. But still, this is new to them, new to him, and he can't help but feel the warm shyness that unfurls through him.
Keeping on his pants, he sighs and tosses his shirt and belts to the side before he turns to glance over his shoulder at Tifa. Her back is to him, her long hair loose from its tie, draping over her shoulder as she bends over to slide out of her skirt. He swallows, blushing at the sight of so much skin, the way her body curves and bends.
Their bedrolls are already laid out, side by side in the tiny space that they share, laid close together to preserve warmth but also because there isn't much option. He turns away and slowly sits on one side, listening as Tifa sits beside him, feeling the warmth of her body so close. They sit in silence for a while, neither of them speaking, the air between them heavy with the weight of words held deep inside and the tight rods of tension that have pulled between them for hours now.
Kicking his boots off to the side, Cloud lies down first, turning away from Tifa. He wants to reach for her, but he doesn't want to be too assuming or demanding. They've been through a lot since they last laid down together like this. She's been through a lot. She probably wants to sleep, wants to wallow through her feelings of everything they've lost and fought for and through. He should probably leave her alone, try to do the same and sort out the hurt he still carries.
Only thing is, he knows he can't do that without her.
Tifa settles beside him, leaving a small gap between them. He can feel the heat of her presence even without looking at her, can hear the soft way she breathes, the slight rustle of the blanket as she adjusts it around herself.
The wind picks up outside, and the cold seems to press in closer. He can feel the temperature dropping, but still, he stays there, arms crossed over his chest, staring at nothing, a fool with warmth and softness so within reach but unwilling to allow himself the indulgence of it.
"Cloud," Tifa's voice breaks the silence, soft but firm. "You should take the blanket. It's too cold."
He doesn't answer at first. He doesn't want to take it from her, even though he desperately wants to share it with her. But he doesn't dare assume. Anyway, she needs the warmth more than he does. He can endure the cold. That's something he's good at—enduring.
"I'm fine," he says finally, his voice rough. "You keep it."
There's a long pause, and for a moment, Cloud thinks she'll let it go. But then he feels her shift closer, the blanket being pulled over him. It's a heavy material, a little scratchy and rough, but it's warm.
"We can share," she says, her voice soft, gentle, like the caress of her lips during their first kiss.
Cloud tenses slightly as she moves closer, their bodies now almost touching. He wants her so bad, but he's fighting his own insecurities right now. He isn't used to having something he wants and desires - something likeher- so close within his reach. It's overwhelming, his fist clenching behind his head as he thinks about how he should proceed.
Tifa shifts, moving closer, her warmth seeping through the blanket and her presence a steady, calming force that is unavoidable. Slowly, Cloud begins to relax, the tension in his muscles easing as he accepts the shared warmth. Tifa is like a body high; just being next to her eases everything that is pent up inside of him. He breathes steadily, staring up at the canvas ceiling of their little makeshift home.
"We're in this together," she whispers, her voice so quiet he almost doesn't hear her over the wind. "You don't have to do everything alone."
Cloud doesn't know how to respond. He isn't used to hearing that—he isn't used to the idea that he doesn't have to carry the weight by himself. For so long, he's been the one people relied on, the one who fought, who protected, who endured. It feels strange to let someone share that burden, even if he knows she's right.
He doesn't want Tifa to have to carry anything. But he's knows she's right.
They're together now.
The silence stretches between them, but it doesn't feel as heavy now. The warmth of Tifa's body next to his is a comfort he hadn't realized he needed. As they lie there, side by side, Cloud feels a quiet sense of calm settle over him for the first time since the battle ended. The wind outside still howls, but it seems distant now, almost forgotten in the warmth of their shared space.
"We made it, didn't we?" Tifa asks softly.
Cloud hesitates before answering. He doesn't know how to explain the conflicting emotions inside him—the relief, the guilt, the emptiness. They survived, yes, but at what cost? How many did they lose along the way?
"We did," he mumbles, his voice low.
He feels Tifa shift beside him, her hand reaching out to rest gently on his arm. The contact is soft, and tentative, and yet it breaks through something inside him. Cloud turns his head slightly, looking at her in the dim light. Her eyes are full of understanding, of quiet strength, and in that moment, he realizes just how much she's been carrying, too.
"I didn't think we'd make it," she admits. "Not until you told me we would. Not until you reminded me that we had each other, that everything was going to be okay."
Cloud doesn't respond, but her words linger in his mind. She's right—they're still here. They survived, and maybe that's enough for now. Maybe that's all they can ask for.
The tension between them seems to ease after that, the silence no longer as heavy. Cloud lies back down, this time allowing himself to relax, to let the weight of everything they endured settle in. Tifa stays close, her presence a comforting reminder that they aren't alone.
For a moment, he lets himself enjoy the quiet, the warmth of her body against his, the softness of her breathing as it slows, syncing with his own. It isn't much, but it's enough. Enough to keep him grounded, to remind him that they made it through the worst.
Tifa rests her head gently on his shoulder, her breath warm against his skin. Cloud hesitates for a moment, then turns towards her, gathering her into his arms and pulling her in close. She burrows against him instinctively, purring a soft sound, their heat melding into a shared furnace. Cloud is instantly aware of every soft curve of her body, every solid muscle beneath her skin. He swallows, tightening his arms around her, wondering if he should enjoy what he has right now or dare to ask for more.
She nuzzles against him, seekingmoreof him. It feels likesheis asking.
He gives in, leaning over her, letting his body weight press into her. It's an assertive move, and she sinks into the bedroll beneath him, her eyes widening at his sudden dominance. He stares into their faint ruby shine in the glow of the lantern, and when they drop to his lips, he kisses her.
It is sweet but hot, and she falls open for him like a flower blooming in the warmth of the sun, every petal unfurling to his touch, eager and alive. He can't stop the groan that falls from his lips against hers, the way the heat inside his body explodes, the way his arms tighten and his hands begin to wander.
He's always had a slight possession of Tifa that was more a part of him than a feeling. But now that they've shared themselves with one another, now that they've laid their feelings bare and allowed themselves to lay claim to a piece of each other, it is more deeply rooted in him than ever before. She belongs to him, and he wants her in every way. It's hard not to act on that in a frustrated, impatient sort of way, especially after everything that's happened. But he tempers himself, digging his fingers into the soft, pliant heat of her skin, swallowing her sighs and drinking her kisses.
Tifa shifts under him, using her innate strength to wrap her arms around his shoulders, her fingers surging into his hair. Her leg slides up his thigh, curling over his hip and drawing their centers close together, her body shifting further beneath his. She molds to him and he can feel her soft womanhood against every part of him, inviting him in.
The way she clings to him unwinds him.
He pulls her close again, kissing her needily. His chest presses up against hers and he can feel the hardness of her nipples through her top. Greedily, his hands grip onto her hips, drawing her closer, and she moans uncontrollably when he presses against her with eager, aching force.
"Cloud," she gasps desperately. " ."
Without hesitation, Cloud gives her exactly what she wants. His hand trails down her skin until it reaches the waistband of her shorts, the soft lycra material giving way beneath the insistence of his languid fingers. With each touch, she squirms under him, reacting to the pleasure he is giving her as he dances over the fullness of her mound through the fabric, the sparks that raze her nerves with euphoria. He can feel himself getting harder at the sight of her responding to his touch.
"Cloud," she starts breathlessly, "I wanna, Ineed…"
"Anything you want," Cloud growls, his eyes fixed on her stomach rising and falling with every ragged breath, the desperations roiling through her, coiling her muscles.
With a desperate look in her eyes, she kisses his hand, grinding her hips suggestively against his in a full circle. Her hand finds his where it hovers near the curve of her bottom, and she gently nudges it towards her center, currently trying desperately to ride the ridge of his clothed erection. Quickly falling in line with her desires, he lets his hands explore, sliding into her panties and finding her warm and wet and waiting for him. Her flesh yields and gives at his touch, and he groans at the sensation, wanting to explore every inch of her for eternity. She coos and keens as his fingers roam, sliding through smooth folds and heated depths and circling over the sensitive tip of the little button he's already learned during their first coupling drives her crazy.
"Right there," she moans before pushing herself harder onto his hand.
"I know," he promises, kissing the side of her throat and sending a violent shiver through her body.
She releases his hand and leans in to kiss him deeply. Her hands tangle in his hair again as he strokes her gently, focusing on her body as he explores. She's like a perfect instrument and he's hoping to produce a symphony with his touch, her body trembling against his as she moans into his lips and neck and bites her lips until it is bruised and red, her face contorted in pleasure. It spurs him on and he rubs her faster, ever eager to see her melt, to see her healed under his care. She whimpers when he slides his middle finger inside of her, deep and unprovoked, her back arching and her breasts in his face.
"Cloud," she begs.
His lips find her throat with more kisses and he circles her clit tightly until she squirms and comes with a small cry, folding herself close to him. Blissfully he watches her as she falls, then kisses her through the aftershocks, his fingers guiding her down the other side of the cliff before he carefully slides his hand away and holds her again.
"Oh, Cloud," she gasps between heavy breaths, her body still quivering.
Cloud can't help but smile. Just the simple thought of bringing her such ecstasy has lifted a load from him.
"Tifa," he whispers against her neck.
He doesn't know exactly what he wants to say. He's still working that out. But her name - her name is enough. For him, her name says itall.
Her cheeks are flushed and her body is still pulsating with arousal, but when she looks at him with a smile that is so full of love and admiration and desire, his heart nearly combusts from his own need. Without hesitation, he helps her remove her remaining clothing, eager to feel every inch of her skin against his. She responds in kind, the elation from her release driving her need for him, sending her passion into overdrive. It happens quickly, but soon they are pressed naked together, bodies melting and breaths tangled, hearts entwined and souls dancing. He slides heavily inside of her and she accepts him with a gasp, her head thrown back.
Drowning in her, his mind whited out with bliss, Cloud knows that this is the reason he exists in this moment.
The night goes on and their harmonies burst and dwindle to serenity and calm. The wind outside continues to whistle through the night, but inside their tent, the world feels distant and safe. Cloud can feel Tifa's breathing grow slower, softer, as she drifts off to sleep beside him, clutching him, her lips pressed to his chest, her final moans still embedded in his skin. He stays awake a little longer, his mind quieter now, though still restless.
As he lies there, watching her sleep, he feels the weight on his chest lift just a little. It isn't gone—not completely—but it's lighter. And that's enough for now.
Tifa shifts. "Goodnight, my love," she whispers, her eyes still closed, almost in her sleep.
They may not have a home. They may not have a future. They may have lost it all.
He closes his eyes, tightens his hold on her.
They have each other.