Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Righteous anger. What’d been so fucking righteous about it again?

Sephiroth’s encouragement slithered around in Cloud’s skull like a viper. In turn, his own words deafened him. 

You have no scar.

Tifa’s face when he said them blinded him— her pretty, red eyes disappearing into infinite green. 

Don’t do this!

Don’t do this!

Don’t do this!

Who’d said that? Was it the part of him that kept a death grip on the fraying reins of his reality? Or was it Tifa right before she plunged into oblivion? They might have been one and the same. When he came to, on his knees and screaming, he wanted to dive in after her, to take it back or die trying. But his body wouldn’t move the way he wanted it to. He stared over the pool's edge, looking for something he knew he wouldn’t find until Barret yanked him up by the back of his collar and dragged him back from the ledge. And still, he couldn’t move. This was probably Sephiroth’s idea of a joke. He couldn’t finish the job himself, so why not make Cloud do it? 

At the thought, he tucked his head between his knees to stave away the nausea that followed. The mako fumes weren’t doing him any favors, either. He tried to close his eyes, but anything he saw was worse than the sight before him.

Cait Sith paced the perimeter with Red as the latter tried to sniff Tifa out and track her down—as if they didn’t already know where she was. Yuffie was biting her nails into the quick and bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was saying something to Aerith, eyes wide and darting. She glanced at him and looked away just as quickly. Aerith’s back was to him, where she stood closest to the pool. Once Yuffie walked away, she bowed her head. Barret remained closest to Cloud, pacing between him and Aerith. Now and then, he’d mutter something to himself, shoot Cloud a look he was still too fucked up to decipher, then rinse and repeat. 

After what Cloud guessed was a few minutes (it could’ve been a few hours, for all he knew), Barret stood next to Aerith. She put a hand on his shoulder. 

Consolation? Or was it reassurance?

The answer didn’t matter. Seconds later, there was an earth-rending rumble beneath them.  Before they knew what was happening, the Weapon that had devoured Tifa soared from the depths and anchored itself on a guard rail. Everyone retreated in fear and awe. Cloud barely lifted his head.

Aerith’s voice broke through his malaise from somewhere far away.

“Tifa! ”   

Tifa?

Cloud couldn’t look anywhere but at the floor. He couldn’t move at all. He couldn’t face what he’d done. 

To be paralyzed by her was to know himself. 

Aerith called for Barret.

“Coming!” He moved toward them and hesitated before turning to Cloud. 

His fist connected with Cloud’s jaw like a lightning bolt, flipping the breaker on his nervous system. 

“Get your shit together, man. Tifa needs you!” 

Barrett dashed toward Aerith’s voice as the Weapon roared, rattling everything that wasn’t nailed down. 

Cloud’s eyes widened as he came back to himself, and all at once, Barret’s words made sense. He heaved himself up through the vertigo and the nausea and the shame and followed Barret as quickly as his body allowed. Blinding light radiated from the creature’s mouth as Tifa’s silhouette took shape above them.

Barret caught her one-handed as she descended, and Cloud dropped to his knees next to where Barret laid her. 

Tifa was alive; that much was clear. Her breaths were slow and deep—slower and deeper than any of the others as they watched her. 

Still not feeling fully in control of himself, he began to reach a hand out to…what? Let her warmth prove he hadn’t succeeded in what he’d been so hellbent on doing just moments ago?

Aerith noticed the trance he appeared to be in and grabbed his hand, preventing him from touching her or spiraling further. Cloud blinked dumbly at her, and she shook her head.  

Not wanting to draw even more attention to him, she leaned in and murmured, “Give her a little breathing room, okay?” She did her best to smile at him, and her best was pretty damn good, but it still didn’t reach her eyes. Cloud sat back on his haunches and waited, fists balled on his thighs. 

Aerith was right on cue for the second time as Tifa coughed weakly. Her eyelids fluttered, and Cloud couldn’t keep himself from calling her name. 

“Come on, Tifa,” Barret whispered. “Attagirl.” 

When her eyes opened, they were already on Cloud. He recoiled. He’d wanted to be the first to see her come to, but he didn’t want himself to be the first thing she’d have to see. Still, her eyes rested indifferently on him like she knew exactly where he’d be. It was better than fear, he figured.

Steel groaned behind them. Seeing that its charge had been delivered from harm, the Weapon retreated into the abyss. Tifa turned her head to look as it slipped away. 

“Good luck down there.”

Tifa’s eyes fell closed once again despite Barret’s protests. 

Aerith leaned over to him. “We need to move her.”

“Already on it,” Barret grunted, scooping Tifa into his arms. 

“Cait and I’ll head back to the village,” Red offered. “We’ll let Cissnei know what happened.”

“I’ll come with you,” Yuffie offered. “Unless you need me to stay behind.”

Aerith shook her head, glancing at Cloud. He hadn’t moved since Tifa opened her eyes. 

“No,” she decided. “You guys go on ahead. We’ll catch up.” 

Cloud still couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Things had gone from slow motion straight into double speed. All he knew was that Tifa was still alive—that was all that mattered. He felt a tug on his arm. 

“Alright, let’s go,” Aerith heaved. She knelt and pulled one of Cloud’s arms around her shoulders. “Up and at ‘em.”

Cloud resisted. “No, no. I’m good. I can walk.” 

“Hmm, neither of those things is true, and unfortunately for you, Tifa’s already flying first-class with Barret Airlines, so you’re stuck flying coach with me on a single propeller. Come on.”  Though she downplayed it, Cloud was surprised at her strength. Then again, the bar was a stumbling hazard at the moment. 

He let her help him, and as they began to move, he understood why she’d insisted. His feet felt like lead, and the faster she tried to drag him along, the more he tripped over them.  

It didn’t take them long to make it outside, and Cloud immediately began to feel normal again - what a joke that was. He stopped and took a deep inhale of lush jungle air, closing his eyes. Now, with more clarity, he heard Aerith’s labored breathing beside him as she tried to push him forward. He took her hand at his waist and pulled himself from her grasp. 

“Aerith,” 

“What?” She kept her eyes forward, and for the first time since he’d known her, there was a whisper of agitation in her voice with his name all over it. 

“Can you at least look at me?” 

She stopped and turned to him when she realized she couldn’t drag him anymore. He couldn’t blame any of them if they couldn’t look at him right now, but he needed someone to look him in the eye and recognize what they saw. He needed that, or there’d be no point in returning with them. 

“What?” She repeated the edge from before having feathered away. 

He squeezed her hand in both of his, doing his best to reassure her. 

“I’m fine—“ 

“If you say you’re fine again, I’ll scream.”

“Wha—“

“You’re not fine, Cloud! You are not fine! You almost…” She shook her head and took a deep breath. “I know you want to be the hero and do it all yourself, but someone else is going to end up paying the price one day. And they won’t be as lucky as Tifa.”

Seeing Aerith so rattled and hearing the truth that he’d been trying to drown out for so long knocked what little wind he had out of him. And yet…

“Was just gonna say I’m fine to walk on my own.”

“Oh.” She pursed her lips, skeptical. “Right. Are you sure? Like really sure?” 

“Yeah. I’m good. Good enough, anyway.” he squeezed Aerith’s hand one last time for good measure before letting go. “Thank you.”  

Her eyes met his again, and she searched one last time for a sign of deception before flicking him on the forehead.

“Thank me once we wash that blood off your face. You look awful.”

He groaned, feeling the tightness across the bridge of his nose.

“Ugh. Will do.”

“I still mean what I said, you know.” 

“Yeah. I know you do.”

She afforded him a small smile. 

“I’m gonna go on ahead, but I’ll stay nearby, okay?” 

Cloud nodded. “Sure thing. You don’t need to waste any more time on me.” 

She looked at him like she wanted to chastise him but didn’t bother before picking up her pace. 

A short while later, Cissnei’s cottage came into view and Cloud’s fatigue hit him in a wave. Barret was posted outside the door, leaning against the wall, but there was no sign of Aerith or the others. He saw Cloud and stood straight. Cloud braced himself for a confrontation.

The two men stared at each other. Barret blocked the door just enough that Cloud couldn’t move around him, removed his sunglasses, and cleared his throat. 

“You gon’ make it?”

“I’m—“Expecting a confrontation, the concern in Barret’s voice threw him, and Cloud’s shoulders sagged. “Getting there...” 

Barret nodded in understanding. “We can’t let this happen again, man. You know that. We’re dependin’ on you. She’s dependin’ on you. If somethin’s wrong, you gotta tell us. None of this “ I’m fine” bullshit. I know that ain’t your style, but that’s the only way this is gonna work, ‘cause we’re all we got, you understand?”

Cloud wondered if Barret and Aerith were in on a coordinated effort. 

Or maybe he was so far gone that they all thought the same thing. 

This blows. 

He nodded. “I know. Thanks. She wake up yet?”

“Nah. Aerith’s in there, doin’ her thing. You should get in there. But…” Barret scratched his chin. “Fix your face.” 

“I plan to.”  

Barret nodded again, unblocking Cloud’s path. 

“Uh…just so you know, I ain’t sorry for deckin’ ya. And I’ll do it again if I got to.” The somber concern was gone, replaced by the rowdier Barret Cloud was used to. He smirked and shook his head. 

“I know. I’m just sorry you had to.” 

Cloud stepped inside the cottage, with Barret close behind. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the rest of his companions, minus Aerith, in the modest living area. Cissnei was in her kitchen with her back to them. She turned at the sound of the door opening and nearly dropped the mug of tea she’d been pouring. 

“God, you look like hell.” 

“Yeah, rough day at the office. You got a bathroom?” 

“Yeah, of course.” She grabbed a clean rag from the drawer next to her and bumped it closed with her hip before tossing it to him. “Door on the right.” 

He thanked her and headed in that direction. The door across the way was open. Aerith sat in a chair next to the bed where Tifa lay. When she heard him, she looked up and gave him a small smile, far more sincere than back at the reactor. He nodded at her before closing the bathroom door behind him. He took a deep breath and looked in the mirror. 

Fuck.

He saturated the rag in warm water and held it over his face for a moment, resisting the urge to scrub at his skin until he felt like someone else: a stranger’s blood on a stranger’s face in a stranger’s mirror. Except it wasn’t a stranger’s face, was it? His eyes were a little too green, but they were still his.

And that’s what was so goddamn terrifying about it. 

When he entered the bedroom, Aerith stood and smoothed out her dress. 

“Saved you a seat,” she chirped, gesturing to the chair. 

“Thanks.” Cloud made no move to sit. “How is she?”

“The village doctor left a few minutes ago. She said she should be able to sleep it off. She’s going to be fine.”

He exhaled, and some of the tension in him dissipated. He nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth. 

“Seriously,” Aerith gestured to the chair. “Sit.”

Cloud thanked her again and waited until she left before shutting the door and taking up his vigil at Tifa’s bedside. 

Cloud removed his gloves and tossed them on the floor. He watched her for a moment, and before long, he realized his breathing was in time with hers. There was an irony at work: her grounding him, keeping him in the present, even without realizing it. 

He leaned forward in his seat and took her hand in his. He absently rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, unable to help himself. She had a couple of scars—only noticeable if you looked for them. She’s got a fighter’s hands, he reflected warmly. 

And a fighter’s reflexes. In a better life and a kinder time, she could’ve been a dancer, and it wasn’t lost on him that that fact alone prevented an even worse outcome at the reactor. His recollection was still fuzzy, but the lack of any indication to the contrary told him that he hadn’t drawn blood. He hadn’t replaced an old scar with a new one. 

Not physically, anyway. 

She stirred as he touched her hand, and he realized it wouldn’t be long before he found out just how much damage he’d really done. 

Chapter Text

Tifa napped in her bedroom while her parents talked downstairs. She was just awake enough to catch parts of the conversation and just aware enough to be confused. 

“She’s very fortunate.” 

That was her doctor’s voice; she knew that voice anywhere. She’d seen the same doctor her whole life. What was her name again?  

“What did you say happened, exactly?”

“She, uh, well—,” her dad began, too loudly. 

“A fiend cornered her, and she lost her balance,” her mom explained. “She lost her footing and just tumbled right in! She wasn’t in there for more than a minute!”

Fell “in”? Fell in what ? Why were they lying? She’d gone up the mountain to find her mo— no, that’s not right. Her mom was in the other room.

It sounded like her parents had company. More vagaries wafted up the stairs.  

“Okay, now that doc’s gone, are we not gonna talk about this? What got into him? That was so scary! Why would Cloud do that?”

“He seems to be more susceptible to the effects of mako than the rest of us. Curious.”

Cloud? Do what? Cloud didn’t do anything. He was the one who saved her when she fell off the mountain. She knew that already. She discovered that when she—no, that wasn’t right either.

“Don’t say nothin’ about this when he gets here, but Tifa told me back when she found him in Midgar, he was strung out on mako. You think that’s what it does to you?”

“Aggression is atypical of mako poisoning.” 

What were they talking about? What about mako? What about him attacking her? 

The conversation outside faded, and she felt someone next to her. Tifa heard her mom’s voice closer to her now, and she felt her stroke her hair. 

“You know, I almost lost my cool with him earlier,” she said. “I just couldn’t help it. I always wanted a friend just like you, you know? And you almost… ”

Friend? But…

“I can’t even imagine how guilty he feels. It’s so clear to everyone how much he cares about you. Sometimes…painfully clear.” Tifa could hear the smile in her voice. “I realized there was no point, though. He’ll be beating himself up over this one for a while. I figured there was no need to do it for him. Of course, I guess Barret didn’t quite feel the same.”

Her mother’s voice was suddenly in her ear. “Speak of the devil. He just got back. I’ll leave you guys to it.” 

What was she talking about?

“Saved you a seat,” her mother offered. 

“Thanks. How is she?” A young boy’s voice asked. Tifa didn’t open her eyes, but she didn’t need to see the messy hair, the scraped knees, and those too-big boots he always wore. 

Cloud!  

She missed the rest of their conversation, but a short while later, she felt a sensation across the top of her hand and realized Fluffy was trying to get her attention. 

Of course, Tifa thought. It all makes sense now. Cloud had to bring Fluffy back again. 

But no, she backtracked. That’s still wrong. She didn’t get Fluffy until after her mother—  

That was a few years after she fell off Mount— or was that before?

The whispered touches over the back of her hand urged her through the haze, and she found his voice again.

“I really fucked this one up, huh?”

She didn’t know what he meant. She didn’t know what any of them meant. Through her frustration, one final voice echoed softly next to her ear, clearer than the rest:

Time to get up, Pumpkin. They’re all waitin’ for you. 

Dad?

The realization hit her, shoving her over a precipice into a free fall of recollection. This wasn’t her house, and those weren’t her parents. 

And Cloud sure as hell isn’t here to bring back Fluffy. 

Every memory was a pin in a lock and one by one, they fell into place. But Tifa still had to turn that key.

She called to Cloud, and the sensation against her hand disappeared. She remembered watching him slip just out of reach, his ears deaf to her. She wouldn’t let that happen again. 

Her eyes opened slowly, and she turned her head at the sound of movement.

There he was.

Cloud was still with them and still with her. He was leaning towards her, frozen like a deer in headlights. He stared, eyes wide, before he dropped his gaze, unable to meet hers. 

“I’ll go get the others.” He turned to leave, but she wasn’t ready to see him walk away from her again. Not yet.

“Cloud?”

He paused, already halfway to the door, but said nothing.

There was no use beating around the bush. 

“You remember how our parents used to tell us that when a person died…their spirit would cross Mt. Nibel?” Her voice was hoarse and foreign from the sleep and mako. 

In a few short strides, he knelt at her bedside. 

“Yeah. We all knew it was a story to scare us out of climbing the mountain. You believed it, though.”

She felt a pang of self-consciousness— like she was a naive kid again. She sat up carefully and faced him.

“I didn’t. At least not really. I had my suspicions. But I buried them. I wanted it to be true so badly. I didn’t want to think my mom was just…gone.”

“Plus,” she hesitated, picking lint from one of her thigh-highs, “Emilio and the others said they’d help me find her…so up the mountain we went.”

Cloud scoffed. “Some help they were…running off and leaving you out there.”

Something was familiar about his indictment of the other boys, but she couldn’t place it. She tucked her legs under her.

“Not that I knew about any of that,” she said to the floor.

“You don’t remember?”

“I hit my head pretty hard when I fell off that cliff. I think it messed with my memory. Everything from around that time’s a blur. I only knew what the others told me. It didn’t even occur to me to question them.”

Cloud leaned in closer, his hands resting on the edge of the bed.  

“What’d they tell you?” His eyes reflected the rawness in his voice and it took her breath away. When had he ever looked at her like that? Spoken to her that softly— especially after he came to Midgar? She resisted the impulse to touch his face, to smooth the doubt from his features. 

“They said you egged me on.” 

She knew it wasn’t her fault and that hindsight was twenty-twenty, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t help but feel guilty at his resigned withdrawal from her. Cloud looked down and shook his head.

Tifa leaned in, trying to make up the difference and hoping he’d meet her eyes again. 

“But now I know…that’s not what happened at all. When the rest of them ran, you were there for me. You stayed when I needed you most. If that’s not a hero, then I don’t know what is.”

She may not have thought to question the others, not because she assumed they’d been truthful, but because she couldn’t fathom that they would lie . 

There’d always been a part of her that couldn’t reconcile what she’d been told and her gut feeling that there was more to it. Cloud barely spoke to her at that point in their lives, so why would he bother? Why would he care enough to come along in the first place?

He still didn’t look up. He couldn’t, not under the weight of his shame.

“I’m no hero. What kinda hero falls off a cliff with the person he’s trying to save? And pushes ‘em into a pool of mako?”

“A human one,” she blurted.

His eyes snapped to hers. At least that caught his attention.

“One that knows there will always be things outside his control and does his best anyway. That kind of hero,” she shrugged, faltering under his mako-laced scrutiny. “Since you asked.”

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. His eyes went glassy as he stood and turned away from her. 

I was this close to getting through to him , she thought. Tifa couldn’t restrain her little sigh of defeat. 

“Sometimes…I don’t even know who I am.” 

Her eyes widened, and she realized she’d written him off too soon. Even if he wouldn’t look at her, it was something . 

“I forget things everyone else remembers just fine…and know things I’ve got no right knowing. It’s like there’s different people inside of me.” He turned to face her again, despair on his face.  She scooted to the edge of the bed, drawn to him. 

“Go on,” she encouraged. 

He closed his eyes and swallowed, gathering his thoughts. 

“SOLDIERs’ cells degrade…I think that’s what’s happening to me. That I’m falling apart.” The hairline crack in his voice triggered something in her, and she stood, taking his hand in both of hers.

“That’s not going to happen to you.” She declared just as much to herself as to him. 

He looked at her like she’d lost the plot, but that didn’t deter her. 

“You saved me before. Now it’s my turn.”

Cloud stared at her, and she prayed that he believed her. She’d made it through the last five years on her own, so there was no reason she couldn’t lend him the same strength. In such a short time, they’d proven over and over again that there wasn’t much that this pair of scrappy Nibelheim kids couldn’t tackle, and this would be no different. She was sure of it.  

His hand closed over hers, and she took a step toward him. He swallowed as his eyes roamed her face, settling on her lips, and his parted as he drew her in further still. Cloud had never been much for words, but Tifa never expected he’d answer her like this, and her eyes drifted closed so she could fully understand him. 

If someone told her as a little girl that Cloud would kiss her in some other backwater village that wasn’t Nibelheim and only hours after he’d tried to kill her, she wouldn’t have believed it. 

Unfortunately for the woman she was at that moment, little Tifa was right. 

Kiss! Kiss!

The spell was broken, and their attention darted to the closed bedroom door.

There was a thud as if someone had tripped and fallen into it. 

“Aye! Steady on, lass!” Cait Sith’s brogue and Yuffie’s harsh whisper were unmistakable.

“I told you not to pull my hair!”

Cloud looked at her again and huffed in annoyance. He released her hand and started to go for the door, but she grabbed him again before he could pull away altogether. 

“Don’t,” she shook her head emphatically. Cloud turned back to her, his features softened, and his posture relaxed. The realization that he dropped the mask for her with just a word planted her heart firmly in her throat. 

“I don’t think I’m ready yet. Just a little longer, okay?” A part of her was mortified that they’d been overheard, but more than anything, she still didn’t have the energy to put her own mask on again.

He nodded in understanding, and she sat on the edge of the bed again, hands in her lap, wringing every drop of resolve from them.

“Yeah, no rush. You want me to get you some water or anything?”

He wasn’t quite getting it. “No, Cloud,” she shifted uncomfortably. “I’d like you to stay…with me, just for a little while. If that’s okay with you.” 

She looked up at him in time to see the understanding wash over him, and his eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything. 

Figures . 

“Never mind,” she shook her head. “Don’t worry about—“

“You want me to?” He interjected, voice rising a half-step, uncomprehending. 

“I mean, yeah. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. And…you could use a little rest too, don’t you think?” 

Whatever he was going through, it was apparent that pushing through it wasn’t helping him. She didn’t think a catnap would fix him either, but it was her justification for being a little selfish. If he stayed with her, she wouldn’t lose sight of him. 

He stiffened. “I’ll be fine—“ the well-worn line died on his lips as if he’d remembered something, and he sighed deeply. 

“Sure. You’re probably right.”

She hoped her smile was more reassuring than over-eager. It didn’t seem to matter to Cloud, though. The bed dipped as he sat beside her and began working the laces on his boots. Those went, his pauldron went, and then…there they were. His hands rested on his knees, and she only caught him looking at her from the corner of his eye because she was looking at him from the corner of hers. She cleared her throat and shifted back to give him space. 

She turned on her side and closed her eyes in a futile effort to steady the pulse rushing in her ears. 

He lay down next to her, keeping a respectable (but unnecessary) gap between them. Unable to help herself and bolstered by the fading daylight, she opened her eyes and found herself eye-level with Cloud’s chest—not his back as she expected. At the same time, he gingerly wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She froze.

“Sorry, is this okay?” He murmured, already pulling away.

She moved in closer and draped her arm over his back. His sweater muffled her “Mhm,” but in an instant, he relaxed, and she felt his arm grow heavier across her body. It was comforting, like nothing in the world could get to her. 

At the thought, she was standing in Aerith’s garden after midnight again, crushed so closely to Cloud’s chest that she could hardly breathe. Smoke drifted up from the wreckage of sector 7, diffusing the starlight into a weak imitation of the night sky back home. Maybe it was the eternal idealist in her, but she felt like he’d enveloped her in another promise that night, even if she wasn’t sure what it was. 

The bed creaked as she moved closer, and his arm tightened around her in response, pulling her in even more. She wondered if he felt her promise to be there for him, to protect him from himself and the person he became when his stare went vacant and his words turned cold. 

Every few minutes, she felt his thumb trace skin at the hem of her shirt before abruptly stopping as though he hadn’t meant to do it in the first place. 

“Tifa?” 

She mumbled a sleepy acknowledgment. 

“I, uh…,” he trailed off. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.” His arm tightened around her again.

She turned her head so she could speak clearly. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s nothing, it’s just,” he struggled to find the words, “I’m glad you didn’t remember what happened when we were kids.”

Tifa furrowed her brow as mixed emotions swirled in her head. 

“Why? What do you mean?” 

“That came out wrong,” he sighed. “Do you remember that night on the beach when you brought up the other guys in town?”

Her cheeks grew warm at the memory. She’d drunk just enough to be a little too bold that night but not enough to commit to it. On the other hand, he’d been stone-cold sober when he waited until he thought she was asleep before whispering to her that they’d return there one day. 

“Yeah, why do you ask?” Where was he going with this?

“It’s just bugged me this whole time; I thought that you didn’t care they’d left you alone on the mountain,” he paused even as he forgot to stop stroking her back. “I didn’t like that you were just…okay with them treating you like that. You’re…you’re worth more than that. Like, a hell of a lot more.” 

She was too stunned to speak, and tears pricked at her eyes. Of course, he seemed to take her lack of response as a rejection—he was no better than she was in that regard. 

“But that’s pretty rich coming from me right about now, huh?” His weak chuckle was a bandaid over the massive crack in his conscience. 

She pulled away and craned her neck to peer up at him. 

“Cloud, I don’t blame you for today any more than I blame them for back then. We were just kids, and it was my idea to begin with.” He scowled in protest. “Not everyone is cut out to be a hero like you, you know?” She tilted her head playfully. 

“Still,” she settled against his chest again, “I do blame them for lying about it. That was…cruel. And unfair to you.” Bitterness tinted the tears she’d kept at bay as she remembered how everyone treated Cloud after that day—particularly her father. Though she’d be lying if she said that her budding crush on Cloud at the time wasn’t due in teeny-tiny part to him suddenly being the “bad boy” in the village, even if that wasn’t why she’d liked him in the first place. 

“Don’t worry about me. They were never my friends in the first place.” Although it wasn’t nice to hear, Tifa still bit her lip to conceal a smile. She could imagine him saying the same thing as a broody kid. 

“Is that why you got into so many fights back then?”

She felt his sound of amused surprise rumble against her cheek. “Yeah. You could say that. But I wasn’t the one starting them. Most of the time.”

“You usually finished them though, yeah?” Oh god, she thought as heat crept up her face. Great. Real subtle.

Cloud unfortunately seemed to draw the correct conclusion as his hand stopped tracing her back. He swallowed. 

“Hm. Can’t remember.” She could almost hear his smirk. When she didn’t respond, his hand at her back began to move again, and by now, she suspected it was no longer something he was trying to keep himself from doing. “But if you say I did, that’s enough for me.”

“I dunno,” she teased, finding her footing again. “That’s a lot of responsibility. How do you know I’m not making it up?”

“I don’t.”

“But you’d believe me anyway?”

“Prob’ly. Yeah.” 

“How come?”

“‘Cause it’s you.” 

Tifa didn’t respond, too startled by his faith in her and his readiness to admit it.  

“I mean,” he cleared his throat, “You’re not a very good liar, so…”

She smiled against his chest. 

“How would you know, huh?”

“Call it SOLDIER intuition.” 

“Whatever you say,” she giggled. 

She tried to push the day’s events from her mind. She was happy enough to have her Cloud’s trust. One day at a time, one foot in front of the other, they’d work on the ghosts inside of him that believed she was one, too. 

She moved up on the bed to get a better look at his face.“I hope that means you believe when I say I want to help you.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sounded so content, she thought, before he pulled her in again, gently as ever. That gradually narrowing space between them was now gone entirely. “Thanks.”

Despite her best efforts, Tifa couldn’t stop her sigh of satisfaction at being pressed against him. It was too warm, too comforting, and too right . She bit her lip as a horrible idea sank its teeth into her and locked its jaws. 

What would he do if I kissed him right now?  

Whether it was her earlier brush with death and beyond, his chest rising and falling against hers, or the way she could’ve bet her last gil that he’d wanted to kiss her less than an hour ago, it didn’t matter.

“You’re welcome.”

Before she could change her mind, she closed the distance and brushed her lips against his. They were soft, just like his hitched breath against her mouth. 

When she realized he wasn’t kissing her back, she pulled away and ducked her head, burying her face in his chest again. She didn’t dare look at him. 

“Sorry!” She wanted to combust. Had she misread the situation altogether? She waited for him to push her away, to get up, excuse himself, and let her sleep off whatever had come over her. 

But he didn’t. Instead, the hand on her back drifted up and into her hair. He ran his fingers through it before cradling the back of her head against him, making her feel more cocooned than she already did. He didn’t let go of her even as he adjusted into a more comfortable position. 

“Don’t be,” he exhaled roughly, and Tifa thought he almost sounded sad. “Try to get some rest, okay?” 

Rest was a laughable prospect, especially when she could still feel his lips on hers, when every nerve ending was on high alert, trying to discern from any minute movement or brush against her skin why he would stay this close to her if he didn’t want to be. 

Eventually, she was able to quiet her mind just enough to realize it wasn’t her heart thundering in her ears. 

It was his.