Follow You

by Naminesfriend

Summary:

For Zayana, the magnificent cloti lover!
Years after a promise not kept, can two adults rekindle something unspoken? Cloud and Tifa might need a good push from the kids to do it.
Modern AU

Notes:

• For Zayana.

Chapter 1: Prologue

It was above everything, when he first climbed up. In the distance past the thick canopies of trees, he could see the sun kiss horizon in orange and purple hues; just the edge was left before total darkness eclipsed and beckon moon to join the sky. The rail guard surrounding the edge of the water tower was painted white, but was chipping away by the underside. At first, there was pacing. His boots made large clanking noise on metal of the water tower. He had his phone, yet with internet always spotty in general there was little idea from him it would work. Instead, he went into the audiofiles he had saved and listened to a favorite album. One he felt showed best just how interesting he could seem, should anyone decide right then and there to appear from the rusty ladder; it was the only way in or out of the space. They were hundreds of feet up in the air, and no one really came up there anymore save for those who did maintenance on it. The water tower used to be a huge deal for teenagers to come up and hang out without their parents knowing what they did. They'd leave booze, cigs, magazines scattered about before an announcement at the last city hall abolished any and all hangouts there. 

That didn't stop Cloud though. Not from coming. And especially not from inviting someone important he once used to meet there when they were little.

 As he dangled arms about it, a wind passed through that rose gooseflesh along the skin. Cloud wasn't one to stay out this late into the night; his mom gets worried when he wanders about the woods rather than sticking around town. It's just… The quiet felt nicer. He always felt that way. When first moving here, Cloud spent hours just wandering around the woods surrounding those houses well until he found a tire swing. 

And a little girl swinging on it. 

If he closed his eyes, the image was as clear as day. Her Mary jane slips were dangling off one foot and another entirely on the ground surrounded by old, orange or red leaves. From autumn's gone by. As she swung her legs back and forth, the dirt caked on the bottoms of her socks grew worse and worse. Dirt along white lace of her ankles. A cut on her knee. Yet there, upon her face, did he stare slack jawed from the most angelic set of eyes he ever saw. The rose of her cheeks, it matched with her lips. And long dark hair in pigtails swayed with her, flowing soft and free. A young boy thought it must have been a dream he slipped into, like one of those stories he read for school. Into a wardrobe and out into a forest where the most angelic of creatures may make play out of simple things. 

She noticed him from the crunch of his feet upon the leaves. The warmth from summer in the air, but fall just around the corner. A white frock with shoulder length sleeves rustled when she skid heels of her shoes onto the dirt, stopping the tire. Wide, carmine gaze. A smile.

And one word.

***

“Hey.” She called out, just above a whisper so the winds could not carry her voice too far. The cork sandals made sharp noise along the metal flooring, and each step was delicate when she rounded the corner of a white water tower. A shrug made from wool her grandmother gave as a birthday present that year. And a teal summer dress, one she picked herself. Small touches of lace along the bodice, an hourglass figure down to the knee. Yet when she came forward, she found that his blond spikes bobbed in the other direction, rather purposefully. As though he were trying not to stare. 

“You. Called me here, right?” Almost unsure. She shifted weight from one sandal to the other, bringing out a note with chicken scratch on it. When Tifa got ready to go home Friday afternoon, there sat a surprise atop her books from her locker. Must have slipped it inside the short slits of the door. Crumpled on the sides. And it was direct, without introduction. 

Saturday night. Our water tower.  

Our. It echoed in her mind the whole time, this concept. Like no one ever had the idea of going up there to chat anymore. As though only the two of them ever did it as children, and now. Sparingly, did they still talk. He was so reserved these days, and she thought it must have been something she did. So close to senior year, the summer was almost over, and now after all this time he asks to meet with her? Half of her mind was frustrated.

The other, relieved. 

“You. Wrote this, right?” 

“Uh-uhuh.” He was quick to say it. And Cloud clenched tighter on the rails. 

“So…” Her head nodded. Fingers intertwined before lowering to sit down. Not too close. But not far away either. “Why… did you ca–”

“I'm leaving. For the military, tomorrow.” 

“...” She swallowed. Was she holding her breath without realizing it. And shook her head in response. 

“You're only 17.”

“I lied to get in early.” 

“And your mom is OK with it?” This wasn't what he was expecting. But then again, he had no idea what he was doing here. Or if any of it was right. His cheek turned so Cerulean orbs might finally look; and it was just as he remembered as they passed through halls of their high school. Or stole glances after her club and his leaving the library. 

She was beautiful.

She always was. 

“She. Doesn't know. I wrote her a letter to read tomorrow when I'm gone.” 

When Tifa sat down, her legs inched closer to the edge before finally dangling in the air. Her arms rested on the rails, much like his own. And her chin touched the back of her hands, making rest. 

“So. You're really going then, huh.” Was it dejection in her voice? Or a sense of acceptance without any thought. He darted eyes to try and read her face, but quickly turned away as she noticed. 

“I'm. Gonna be a war hero. I'll be bigger than this town. Everyone will know my name.” You’ll know my name. Really, know my name.

“I already know your name.” It felt like she knew what was on his mind, then. But her eyes narrowed and lips pursed after she said it; Tifa wasn't going to say what was truly in her heart. Not then, not when it became obvious this was much more a goodbye than a rekindling of whatever kind of childhood joy they once harbored within their meeting place of a water tower. A tinge of disappointment plagued her heart then, and she pulled her shrug around her, closing it over her chest. The stars were coming out, moon luminescent as shadows danced along her face. 

“I. I guess that's that then, huh?” She sighed; her knees bent to get up. 

Cloud held out his hand, without really thinking, to hold her elbow. 

“Wait! I. I'll come back.” It hitched in his breath, the other words he wanted to say but did not. The things he thought he had the courage to say, only to realize this wasn't the time. 

Maybe after training. Maybe then, he would have the courage to tell her what he held for a long time. 

“In a year. I'll come back. So.

Will you meet me here, again?” 

They were avoiding meeting eyes this entire time; maybe even all of high school too. So to finally look, without holding back. To see the earnest way his eyes shone beneath that moonlight. 

It still gave her hope.

“Only. If. You promise. After a year?”

“Yeah Tifa. 

I promise.” 

Chapter 2: The Meeting

Summary:

A reunion without ever asking for it.

The swirling of ceiling fans made shadows from the lights dance along the wooden floorboards. Her hand meticulous as it dipped washcloth into a cleaning solution and wiped down the bar counter, Tifa was not one to shy away from hard work. It was early in the morning, the place was closed, and she had herself and a radio spewing classic rock with a little bit of static. Such was the way of her daily routine. A soft sigh escaped her lips and she used the back of her hand to wipe sweat from her forehead. 

“Almost done.” 

Putting chairs up and mopping the floors was already done by the closers last night, but she could right away when something’s been half-assed. They were probably in a rush, it can be hard to push out those last few customers. The problem always was, Tifa as an owner had a difficult time letting other employees close or open; she had a particular way of getting things done. So to see that there were spots not mopped or a chair left in a corner. She felt irritation in the back of her throat. Quickly quelled by her understanding nature, but it was still enough motivation for her to choose to close tonight. She'd pop in unannounced, come as a bartender, and give small reminders to the waiters how things needed to be cleaned. 

There was a chime of entrance bell that sounded each time someone opened the door. And as it made its chirp, she looked up briefly to see that large man walk in as if he owned the place. 

“Barret,” She called out. “I didn't know you knew what the AM looked like.” A short smile adorned that mouth and a warm laugh bubbled up, as she pushed forward a stool for him. 

“Haha, full a it today aren't ya Teef? Managed to get off early last night to tuck my princess in for bed.”

“Hm. Good for you, I bet Marlene was happy.” The small tiptoes of a young girl's feet would often times go about Tifa's bar in the afternoons while Barret worked. His schedule was erratic in that way; it all depended on what was needed at his job in the Mines. But the funny thing was, he did it on purpose too. He didn't want Marlene to get used to his lack of presence in the morning, or the afternoon, or him missing bedtime. So he had a mix of times to make sure he was there for at least one important thing of the day. It seemed he had grown greedy for yesterday and today, as he was able to tuck her in AND make breakfast for her. 

But at what cost?

“Teef, listen–”

“It's okay,” She chuckled, low. Washcloth was put back in its bucket, and hands ran through clean water from the faucet. Methodical, a slow rhythm of lathering soap and swarming her fingertips, her palms. Dark lashes skewed the concentration of carmine like eyes, making sure not a single bit of skin was without sanitation. “I'll do it. You need me to pick up Marlene, right?” 

“I gotta go in early since I left early yesterday. Sure it's okay?”

“She's most comfortable here at the bar. And besides, I put her to work.” A short laugh, and she dried her hands with a towel before placing them on her hips. “It's how a girl grows up strong! Serving water, helping with the dishes. Why else I got this stool back here?” 

“Hah! Owe ya one, then.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Go on, wouldn't want ya late. Need me to pick her up from school?”

That warm static of her radio cut off with the touch of a dial, her hair tied up in a high ponytail. When it hit a proper afternoon and she heard the chime from a big clock by the central street square, that was her signal she needed to get going. Not quite autumn, yet summer was properly closed, she chose a white halter crop top with long organza black skirt, see through save for the black shorts attached. High slit on either side of her thighs, it swayed with the soft breeze when she emerged from her bar. 

In a small town where everybody really knows your name, mostly because you've never left, it becomes common to have to wave and make chitchat on the way to the public school. Her smile was polite, the dip of her head in greeting just the way her mom had taught her in addressing elders. Yet she did not linger, would remind them she needed to be on her way. And so all was kept pleasant and true in her hometown as she grew up to be the woman she is now. 

Never changing. Only memories lingered in the air. 

The warm golden hue of a sun's descent into the horizon painted a beautiful scene behind the school building. She waited by the gate, scanning the crowd of small people before a familiar one caught her eye. Tifa bent down to crouch to her knees, welcoming Marlene with open arms as surprise danced in the brown gaze of that little girl. 

“Tifa!!!” 

“Hey, surprise.” 

It would happen this way, throughout the year. Sometimes Marlene had her dad, other times it was Tifa. It felt well balanced, those familiar faces that surrounded her world. And despite sometimes worrying, both adults found that Marlene was not one to question what it meant to have a single dad and his friend as her family. To her, it was the only way a family was until it had been pointed out to her.

And pointed out, it had been that day. As they held hands and walked through the crosswalk, a frown pronounced on puckered lips defied Tifa to ask what was wrong. 

“Someone seems… In a mood? Did something happen at school today?” In support, the four fingers Tifa used to hold Marlene's hand squeezed, urging the little girl to try and speak up. 

There was no ignoring feelings. Not when a child is five and trying to figure out what feelings even were inside that small body. 

“Ugh. You wouldn't believe the day I've had!” She sounded very matter of fact, and blew hot air from her mouth in frustration.

“These two stupid little boys thought they were all that, telling me my house is broken or something, and I was gonna just ignore them–” 

It caught in Tifa's throat, and in turn she held breath. A pit in her stomach, an idea in her head. 

Broken home, Marlene. 

They were telling you that you're from a broken home.

How dare they.

Bubbling, instantaneous. The bartender's jaw clenched when they turned the corner from crosswalk. 

“But they got madder when I didn't talk to them. So they got in my face! And you and daddy always told me not to throw the first punch. So I waited. And they got in my way to get to the water fountain! That's not nice!” 

“Marlene, we need to head back to the school. I'm going to talk to the principal RIGHT. NOW.” Words spilled between clenched teeth, Tifa's entire body did a 180 as they walked right back through the crosswalk again, ignoring oncoming people going the opposite way. The guard appeared puzzled, but paid little mind as they had more important things to do. And as they approached the school, Tifa felt the tug on her arm and the aggravated noise coming from her little friend. Her daughter equivalent. 

A baby she knew caked in dirt and a dad cradling her like his life depended on it. 

In some ways, Tifa still saw her like that, when she least expected. She would be sitting on a stool coloring and suddenly it'd be the baby carrier on the counter, with a wailing Marlene as the bartender tried to heat up the formula properly for the first time.

“Ti-FA! You're not LISTENING to me!” That defiant, booming voice was so much like her father's when they had disagreements. In spite of herself, Tifa smiled, relieved to know the world couldn't just kick her around without a fight. 

“Right. Sorry, I guess I dragged us back here huh? It's…

Finish your story, Marlene.” She bent down again to get to eye level, and it seemed the little girl was satisfied with this absolute sense of attention. Smaller hands placed to her own hips, perhaps something she learned from her mother like guardian. And a knowing sparkle in her eyes. 

“Another boy came by and told them to stop picking on me! He didn't even wait to hear from ‘em, just hit one of the guys in the nose!!!” 

“Oh? And…” Why didn't the school call me or Barret about any of this? It continued to spring in her head despite herself. “He didn't get in trouble, did he?” 

“Huh…” Marlene stared down to the ground, fingers curling about the hem of her dress. “I. Don't know? A teacher took everyone away. I tried to tell her what happened, but she said for me not to worry. And to go play. 

I haven't seen the boy since.” 

That can't be good. Tifa sighed. “Then, we should go to the principal anyway. It wouldn't be fair if he got punished for helping you. Let's just hope he hasn't left school yet…”

“–Marlene!”

A call, soft, with broken voice came right from the doors of the school. Slight oversized boots, clunky and rough, bee-lined it towards Barret's daughter, and in spite of herself it seemed Tifa instinctively reached out to go between them. Fingers inched, arms outstretched. But a smile graced Marlene's lips and she pushed Tifa aside to meet him halfway. 

“Hey! Hey, you know my name!” 

“Mhm. Yeah, the boys mentioned it in the principals office.” 

His brown locks in loose swirls, haphazard about his head. Pretty blue eyes, button nose, and scratches all along his cherub like cheeks. Tifa instantly frowned, upset at herself for thinking he may have been one of the boys Marlene spoke of who made fun of her. 

“About that… We were just heading to the principal's to explain everything. Wouldn't want you getting in trouble. 

“No need.” A voice, low and certain came forth as a bigger silhouette approached them. His black vest and white long sleeve coupled with tight jeans displayed a somewhat taller stature than Tifa, but not by much. Muscles protruded along the cotton fabrics, lips parted with upper teeth grazing along bottom lip. 

“He explained himself just fine. Be back in school tomorrow.” A gloved hand pressed along the back of the other kid, and a small smile appeared in satisfaction. 

Cerulean eyes from a man much older, they went wide as he stopped in his tracks. Fingers curled into gloves, and sweat ran cold along the nape of his neck. Another hand ran through blond spikes, while mouth seemed unable to work. He tried to say something, only to pause and give nothing. 

No. It was Tifa, who looked up and locked eyes with him, that had her whisper something. To close the air. 

That had run so, so dry. 

“Cloud?

Is that you?” 

Notes:

Stef mentioned being sick, which is no way to celebrate new years eve. So I decided to finish this chapter up early hahaha
Happy New Year everyone!

Chapter 3: Hope

Summary:

A misunderstanding can be cleared up between two kids. Maybe the same could be said between adults too.

Her fingers curled about the edge of the water tower's landing, the cold from winter's overstayed welcome just a reminder that spring was starting late. Cool wind whipped about, striking against the trees below and bending branches like they were paper. As she kicked her feet and blew hot air into her palms, Tifa could only think upon the year's events to tell him. 

Got one of those old junk trucks abandoned from behind Cid's Repair Garage working. So it's mine now.

I managed to get my license. 

There's a new mayor. She used to be a scientist, her daughter and I are pretty close.

I went to prom with friends. As a group.

…

My. Dad is sick, I think. He won't tell me, but…

She could hear it, a ringer specifically for the old man muffled by her bag. The boots she wore were clunky as they raised up to steady her while she rummaged around. The static almost overwhelmed the call itself. 

“Baby,” He began, before falling into a coughing fit. She frowned. “Ya gotta come home; I'm serious. It's gonna be a storm.” 

“Just. Just a few more minutes. And I'll be right there.” Her reassurance prompted an annoyed noise out of the speaker, but he agreed. Her hands buried into her Jean jacket and legs crossed beneath her skirt. It was much more like an hour. And she had gotten soaked from head to toe. 

Much better this way, though. 

The tears looked the same as raindrops. 

The night could not reflect the sadness in dark eyes. 

 

***

Her glossy hair gathered up atop her head seemed to cascade in pools of smooth sable down, framing the back in intricate waves. Bangs side swept with bits loosely framing her angelic face. Pronounced lips painted the faintest nude color, dark lashes outlining white before the warmth of a vermilion like caramel brightened her gaze. Wonder. Curiosity. 

She was beautiful. Stop cars and cause traffic kind of beautiful. The ones where people made movies about love, kind of beautiful. 

He just couldn't breathe. 

“Do. You know his daddy?” Marlene interjected, her fingers curled into the see-through organza of Tifa's long skirt. The spandex shorts revealed themselves as she bent down, rubbing the young girl's back, eyes lowered as though the bartender were scanning and analyzing his shoes. 

“Hm…” She softly mumbled. The halter was white with a short bout of lace along her degligee, cut off to show how slim her waist was and the hourglass of her body without revealing too much. It clung to his throat, it ached somewhere he hadn't thought of in a long time, with this silent contemplation.

In his heart.

“We. Know each other.” It finally broke from the hold her figure had over him. The tension in his jaw, he grip in the pocket of his vest threatening to pull at threads completely. He placed a hand atop the little boy's head, trying to be gentle, before nodding his head towards Tifa. 

“We. Grew up together, around here. It's good to see you–” 

“Then you can come to my house!” Marlene interjected quickly, superseding any and all kind of way Cloud could have tried to be cool and collected in front of his childhood friend. Maybe better this way too; what would he have said to explain anything left unsaid right here, in the middle of the schoolyard? 

“Oh, yeah?” The little boy raised his chin, eyes darting back from Cloud's figure, to Tifa's. “It's okay?”

“Of course it's okay.” The matter of fact way in which Marlene placed hands on her hips and nodded head, it was a similar gesture Barret would pull when it was a late night and she'd ask to crash at Tifa's. Which then occurred to the woman in question; just whose house was Marlene referring to? Barret wouldn't be home until late and that was the whole reason for her picking her up in the first place! 

“Wait, do you mean the bar?” 

“Yeah, it's okay right? You know him, so he's been there before.” That was some absolute mental gymnastics the little girl had placed upon her guardian, and Tifa looked off into the distance with furrowed brow and pursed lips, trying to rationalize whatever ideas were put into that head. 

Does she think I grew up in the bar?  

“Denzel, I don't know if it's a good time to ask that much of them…” Cloud coughed uncomfortably, rubbing his charge's back. Though curiosity did get the better of him, looking rather into the thought provoked gaze of another rather than Denzel himself. Trying to gage the situation. 

Trying to imprint her appearance into his mind forever. 

“Of course it's okay.” This time, Marlene brushed her shoulder against Tifa's leg. “One good turn for another! We always say that at home.” 

Home. It rang a soft, guilty pang along his chest. Our home. He looked up to Tifa as she sighed and shook her head. What kind of home had she built with her daughter, with her husband? What life inside, what was it she said. A bar? 

A bar?

“Oh. I guess that's true. Come on, you two, a quick drink and play date couldn't hurt, right?” She touched and rubbed her cheek in contemplation before finally making a decision. Hand placed to her hip, and it made it obvious who lived together and spent time together. Her daughter might not look just like her, but there were always ways. He admired that, if it didn't hurt so much. 

Well, what were you expecting? For her to not move on? To stay the same?

She's. So much more now…

“Well?” She called out. 

“You coming?”

“Uh. Yeah, come on Denzel.” 

We've got a playdate. 

***

When he heard the soft chime as she opened the door, he rubbed Denzel's shoulders to reassure him that yes, it was okay to go inside. The warm scents of mint and basil greeted them, as he scanned the room to find wooden chairs and tables, as well some booths with faded blue plush along the backs of the seats. Tifa rounded the corner behind small swaying double doors before facing them and tapping along the bar counter. 

“Marlene, go ahead to your booth. Show him your toys?” 

“Oh, I just got this truck from the Stamp movie, you gotta see it!” 

It was the delight in being in Marlene's presence; she could easily take a child's hand and run off with them. Whereas Tifa was a bit more cautious when it came to those playmates, there was little worry on her face as she gathered up steel mixing cup and ice, taking to her syrup bottles and glass displays. 

“Hm. What'll it be,” Her eyes darted up, discerning yet slightly curious. “...Mr. Strife?” 

“The only people who call me that are teachers, Teef.” He chuckled, shaking his head. Elbows leaned onto wooden countertop, and he leaned in till chin lowered to the surface. 

“Didn't answer my question, y'know.” She chimed in, thrumming fingertips in short rhythm near his face. 

Something she used to do when they had classes together. On his desk. It was the thing he looked forward to the most during the day. How she'd smile when she did it. 

Oh gods, don't think about that. She has a kid now.  

“Something hard.” He muttered, he could have sworn it was in the back of his mind instead of his own mouth. But brow raised in response and she laughed.

“At 4 o’clock? That meeting with the principal must have been something.” She twirled the measuring cup between deft fingers and let fall the whiskey in smooth, long pour. Ginger beer. Lime juice. Clasp on steel mixing cup and she shook it forcefully, ice bouncing against the cup hard. Just what he wanted, right?

This is what people saw every day, at her place. The confidence. The beauty. The smile. It ate away at his heart. 

“When did you get back, Cloud?” She asked. Delicately, the bartender tip cup to glass and soak mint within. 

“When I heard the pipes at the power plant don't freeze anymore, thanks Mayor Tim.” His response dry, and she held palm to her mouth in short fit of giggles. 

“Not Tim anymore. Ya really thought he'd go outta his way for something like that? It's Ifalna now. And her husband works at the plant too, so no surprise it was the first thing she did.” 

“Shoulda known, the old cheapskate never gave a shit for the workers there. Explains why all the potholes are filled now too.” 

When she slid the glass over to him, he immediately caught it with a single hand. The color was nice, chilly but refreshing as he gave a big sip. Half the glass. 

But that whiskey, oh.

It stung so good. 

“Guess you work at the plant then, too?” Her inquiries were not subtle, but it might have been the drink that she poured remainder into her own glass and took a sip that distracted him, beguiling him to answer all queries. Yeah. That's what he'll call for his excuse. 

“Not everyone can own a business at the young age of 27.” 

“I was 25 when I took it over, and the guy said it was my long legs that sold him on it.” 

“Well, glad to know he had good taste.”

Pause. 

Reverse. 

Shut his mouth. 

Her eyes went wide. Lips pursed. And if only the thumping in her heart would go away. Tentatively, she offered her glass to clink along his. The one he suddenly downed completely so he wouldn't have to answer to anything he'd been saying. 

“Don't think your wife would appreciate that kind of compliment; even if I do.” She whispered. 

“Should be more worried about your husband finding out, I guess he's used to it though.” 

Another pause. They could hear laughter and possibly an argument between the two kids in their booth, running under the table and sliding into each seat like it was musical chairs. Turned their heads so they wouldn't have to look each other in the eyes. Cerulean to carmine. Blush to blush. They watched as the kids bumped shoulders and made a scene, before apologizing and hugging it out. Could life be so simple?

“I don't have a husband.” It caught in his throat. That taste on his tongue. Was it the same that she tasted? 

Hope?

“I don't have a wife.”

Huh…

Hope.

“Most people would say something sweet right about now,” She pointed towards his glass, empty save for the mint and ice. And it was true, the owner knew what she was doing clearly as it was more whiskey than mule. 

He tilted glass, eyes closed. Contemplating.

“I'm sure they would.” 

“Ah, but you're a more discerning customer?” It was a question this time. One where she tilted head and let hair sway from her ponytail down by her ears. Hands on her counter. Teardrop earrings reflecting soft glow from fluorescent lighting. 

But he pressed hands to the counter too. And nodded his head.

“Or…

Maybe I just know what I want,

Tifa.”

Notes:

I like paralleling Marlene and Denzel playing together to what's going on between Cloud and Tifa this chapter.

Chapter 4: Recover

Summary:

Take a chance, Cloud.
Take a chance, Tifa.

As his heels hit the ground, water splashed up and soaked his socks. The army green grew darker on his pants as his boots were caked in mud, but he didn't stop. Not until he hit past the trees and saw the opening. Lush green grass, a field with tower right in the middle. Grey of the sky fogging everything save for the rain's heavy pour. When he leaned against one of the trees, he dug nails into bark and grit his teeth. And he looked up. Her boots were brown, kicking on the back of the tower's edge as she swung them. He swallowed hard, because she covered her face. And he wanted to do the same. 

It had happened an hour earlier. His whole world came crashing down, as her father loomed by the window and shook his head. The door remained shut, but the army recruit stood there resilient, still knocking on it every few minutes. It was about forty minutes before the older gentleman finally opened the door, yet blocked it completely so as not to give Cloud indication he'd be invited. It was notable, however, that a pale countenance showed as he tried to stand tall. And a short coughing fit stopped any formal greeting that might have been there. 

“Look, son,” A rough sigh, and the older man rubbed the back of his neck. “Yer not getting the message. So I'm gonna spell it out for you.

She's not out there cuz I told her she had to grab the groceries. And when she comes back, I'm not letting her out. 

Cuz I don't want my baby falling into that military wife bullshit you got planned for her.” 

Cloud stood in position, hands behind his back and feet apart. But he was sucking at the inside of his cheek hard. And his eyes were dilated. 

“I'm sure you like her; a lot of guys do. But I'll level with ya here. I'm not doing so hot. And I don't want someone taking advantage of Tifa just cause I might not be around forever. Go home; she's not coming. And even if she somehow does? 

I won't ever say yes to it. That how you want us all to end things?”

When he slammed the door, it felt like a punch to his own stomach. Cloud had no idea how to react to it. But here, watching her wait for him at the tower. The lump in his throat grew. It was impossible for him to have come out of this with Tifa being okay. 

He waited. Until she looked like she was coming down. And as she passed by, he swore it beneath his breath. 

“Some day…

Some day I'll tell you. How I really feel…

Tifa.” 

***

On the fourth time they had a “play date,” he left the bar that night with Denzel passed out and carried over his shoulder. Dusty brown hair tickling against Cloud's cheek, yet never a single complaint was uttered. Cerulean gaze lingered on the visage by the doorframe, and he beckoned her to come closer with two fingers curling towards him. 

“I found him outside of town in Chicago, traveling back from my third turn. Everyone… Ignored him, sitting there in the corridors of the motel. Now look at him,” A small nudge of his hand against the child's shoulder. 

Out like a light.

His breath so even, it sounded like an air filter. 

Her eyes aglow with tears veiling them, she blinked them away before rubbing his back. 

“I…” A hesitation to start, but he shook his head as though to push it away. It was a question, one so roundabout he wasn't sure how to go about asking. Cloud was always this way, she noted as his spikes swayed and gaze intensified when staring at her. There was a sudden recollection of how they became friends; he had moved next door in middle school and kept kicking the soccer ball by the side of her house where her bedroom resided. Had he known? She waved at him a few times. But it was as though something caught in his throat, and he'd turn away. Eventually, she had opened her door and told him she knew how to make the ball spin when you kick it. And the rest, as they say. 

Was a bittersweet history. 

Tifa tilted her head, waiting. Because this time she had no idea what was on his mind. 

“I think he wants a better Christmas, than the one I gave him last year. So. I was wondering…

No. Can we please spend Christmas together?”

He might have been feeling bold, what with four or five more drinks in quick succession thrown back to impress. Told her he had tried so many different kinds of cocktails in the army he lost count, and yet when she asked him to explain further, he somehow blanked on all the names. Her chuckle was all knowing, yet veiled in innocence as she offered to him different cocktails of unusual origin to see if they might match. Satsuki oranges in the screwdrivers. Smirnoff vodka to the birthday shot. And unusual smile on his part, one of fascinating as he lifted the glass and looked through it. She often thought it was to maybe study how the ingredients mixed together in the glass.

All the passerby mentally noted he wasn't looking in, but through it. To the other side.

To her. 

So a few drinks gave him what he had initially lacked; courage. And to see it in his gaze, a grown man who can talk to her about it instead of leaving a note in her locker; she chuckled.

His cheeks were flushed though. 

It was cute. 

“I close the bar every year on Christmas. Throw a big party just for Marlene. Her dad, her, me, we make it seem huge so she knows she feels special.” She intertwined her own fingers and lowered chin, closing her eyes. 

“I think. She'd feel special, having her friend and you there.”

***

He was reading the newspaper. A quick scan to show that nothing in particular, save for old traditions of the town, were of note as school would be letting out and the children would play. In truth, he still got up around 6 due to military habits, but the way he crept down and just stared at the wall as he sat on the couch, he felt it counted as some weird way of relaxing. A version of sleeping in. 

The dusting of grey crown molding along the edges of the floor showed that the apartment was older than the owners might like to admit. Not that they could put anything past Cloud; he used to live here, of course everything was old. And he preferred it that way too. Old meant sturdier, cement blocking in the basements and “So. Christmas, huh?” The little boy sighed, crossing his and shrugging his shoulders. 

“I guess we're talking about Christmas now.” Cloud smile was small, subtle, yet indicative of the affections that have grown over time towards the way such a little person could express so much in few words. He turned the page and ran a finger over a small advertisement for 7th Heaven; the picture of the owner was pretty. 

Cloud had already told Denzel as soon as they got home about the day they would spend with the family he'd come to adore. Excitement seemed to fill the room, the child woke up from his exhausted stupor and jumped on his bed. It was only later in the week that he would start walking around, frustrated. Confused. And finally, he sat here in the morning. Expressing it. 

“What are we gonna get Tifa?” 

An echo of his own mind. A question he had not spoken. But the man pressed hand to his knee and leaned in, to look one on one with his ward. “I thought you'd be more concerned about Marlene.” 

“Why? I've got the perfect present.” His hands clapped together before opening them up. “I made a book. It's about her being a princess on a monster truck.”

God damn it, that's good. Cloud frowned. He put the newspaper down. 

This was something he had considered, when passing by storefronts on the way to her bar. There were dresses and earrings, necklaces and rings. Romantic, should anybody at the hallmark store be asked. He mumbled something along the lines of “I'll think about it.” Before tugging himself off the stool and going into the garage. 

There it sat, a motorbike with a beautiful silver sheen along the centers of the wheels. Cloud changed the oil yesterday, and today was giving it no fog lights so it'd be a bit safer on his night drives. This was a new thing; where Tifa would let the kids sleep in her spare room while he went off to think. And there was never a fuss, never an issue as she waved him away and he turned to see her cleaning glasses with a smile on her face. 

He grabbed his tools and rolled up his sleeves. 

“A book…. 

Huh.” 

There was one idea that popped into his head. And in rummaging through old boxes, he found them. No one had touched those things since his mom's passing, and in truth it was due to the fact that she had been the one to put everything together in those boxes when he first officially moved out. Her voice echoed a short rhythm, a knowing laughter over the phone when he first received the package overseas. ‘Open it Cloud.

There are important memories inside.” 

Brow furrowed, eyes glossy, his gloved hands still held grease and grime from his bike. So he tossed them aside before unfurling the clear tape his mother years ago had put there. A deep breath, it still smelled like home even if a tinge of musk adorned it too. The touch of something old matched with something new… He felt it justified to give to Tifa something only the two of them could truly understand. If he was anything, he was loyal. So, even if it was hard, he went through it all piece by piece, placed things together, and smoothed pages out. Put small notes where he could, and closed the book before putting it in its own box he decorated himself. A sigh as he kept it on the nightstand of his room. And he stared at the ceiling in the night, rather than the lamp or the gift. Despite everything, thoughts went back to Tifa. She had grown up. Hadn't he? Was he expecting everything but himself to be different? Was it a good thing or a bad thing, that time moves forward? 

The weeks went by fast. So fast, he almost forgot about the present that sat with crinkled wrapping paper on the corners of the box but held a beautiful bow of satin ribbon he purchased after seeing the disaster of him trying to use the paper to make a nice gift. Snow days. Class parties. Deliveries from his job taking more than one overnight trip outside the city. 

It wasn't until Christmas eve where he sat on the couch with Denzel, watching movies that he realized he never purchased a second option, in case this one was too personal. His cheeks heated, he ringed his hands, and then opted for bed time early “So we can go over early too.” With this explanation. 

He sat on his bed, the gift in his lap. Palm smoothing over that wrapping paper. 

Fuck. 

I'm gonna give this to her, aren't I? 

***

As Tifa laid out the rolls of satin, her fingers undid each one and let it dance across her tables, cutting in exact measures. There were already lights hanging delicately along the wooden boards at the top, holding the roof up. A tree in the corner, bigger than herself and even bigger than Barret, who wasn't even up yet as he opted to sleep by Marlene who clearly had him trapped by the good arm. She didn't mind; in fact, it was better this way so no one would distract her. At least half of the decorations were up, and she just wanted ribbons for Marlene who adored them when they passed by some stores on the last day of school. So thete Tifa sat, quiet hum of nothing in particular on her lips. For some reason, she glanced from the materials in her hands to her phone, faced down. Her humming stopped. The analog clock hung by the door ticked away, just after 7:45. A buzzing noise, and her hand caught the device as soon as it roamed, flipping it over. 

Cloud: morning. Is it OK we head over?

Her pulse quickened. She looked over the room before nodding her head. 

Tifa: I'm still decorating. But if you want, you can keep me company.

She erased it. A thoughtful gaze overcast carmine orbs before she typed again. 

Tifa: we'll be ready for ya!

The quick succession in which she tied those bows was nothing short of a miracle, and how she roused the Wallace family by tossing blankets off and flashing lights on may not have been the most graceful… But it was all in good fun. Her smile infectious, a Santa hat upon her head, and small gifts scattered about the bar and home, not just under the tree. She wore a white sweater and long red layered skirts with white cotton about the hem. A brown belt, and earrings to match, Tifa only ever admitted physically that this was her favorite holiday. And to see Marlene's face light up, along with Denzel's own, it was clear as to why. 

There was a sense of joy spilling forth, everywhere about the bar. And her smile had to be the biggest one there. When they waved to her to announce their arrival. When presents were opened, scattering wrapping paper about the wooden floorboards. When dinner toon three hours because the girls got brazen and tried to do ham. When Barret helped the kids pull the Christmas crackers. Denzel placed the green paper crowns on everyone, save for Tifa who opted to place it on her wrist like a bangle. Then there was Cloud’s, which seemed to bounce off each spike of his hair as though it had a mind of it’s own. The bartender chuckled; recalling something similar in high school when she and a big group of her friends had passed their own crackers to pull. She walked over to him and helped him pull it apart, only for him to rush and place it atop his head just for the fake crown to fall right to the ground. It took her and two other friends with Bobby pins to keep it afloat his hair, so too here did she do the same. From her own head, where she placed Santa hat fixed atop, Tifa took apart bobby pins and settled them into his blond strands. Careful. Precise. Her concentration did not waver, even as he stared transfixed by the features it presented in front of him. The dark lashes outlining the marble shape of her eyes. The rosiness of her cheeks, possibly from her running around attending to all her guests. Bangs and loose strands fallen about her face, he silently sighed in admiration before she backed away and declared her effort finished. “Won't move now!” Tifa clapped her hands together, smiling to him. And he placed elbow to the counter, cheek in hand before quietly whispering “Thanks.” 

When the darkness of longer hours greeted the outside, and the kids had dozed off by the tree, there still sat Cloud Strife throwing back shot after shot. As it was never his intent to decline from Tifa, whatever was leftover from leaving guests seemed a free for all to handle so she may not feel her product wasted. It might have had to do with one of two last gifts under the tree, waiting for them to exchange. The bulky one he tried to wrap again and only improved slightly compared to his first attempt.

The bow was pretty at least.

Same color as her cheeks. 

She looks nice tonight…

Another drink, down the hatch. How many was it now? Her hand on her hip, brow raised, before retracting the bottle in her hand. “I think maybe you've had enough. It's a special night, but I might have to take those keys if you don't slow down.” 

“Just. Like the cocktails.” He waved his hand, as though to move the thought aside. Her smirk was knowing, but just shook her head before finally approaching the decorated tree once more. A roaring fire by the chimney, taste of cedarwood and pine in his mouth while she ran digits along his–

Before opting for the other one. 

There was a sting of bourbon in the back of his throat, like he was being picked last for dodgeball. It only felt stronger when he tried opting for water instead. Only when she placed it in his lap, did it even strike his mind that she might have a gift for him. 

“Uh… huh?” He blinked at it. Cerulean gaze all but telling. And her smile went fully wide, with elbows on the counter and hands clapping, waiting in anticipation. 

“Uhuh.” 

“R. Really?” 

“Did you think I would forget? You used to love Christmas, Cloud. I'd wake up and find you buried in the snow already, with only some blond spikes poking out to show you were still alive.” It was fun, slipping out of the window to join him before they both got caught(and a cold) and were rushed inside. So it felt appropriate, giving him alpaca lined gloves. Leather on the outside, softness on the inside. And some goggles to match. The man felt a tremble in his heart he couldn't describe, the thoughtfulness matching almost the same to how his mother would treat him in her care packages back on base. 

He wanted to bury his face in the package. It took everything for him not too. 

“I! I have something for you. It's not as, as great as these are,” He squeezed the gloves while Tifa took the goggles to adjust to his head size. “But. 

But it's only something I can give you, I think.” 

***

The bakery had brought freshly baked cookies for her, to share with Marlene. Her friend Aerith had brought by these delicious smelling lotions and potions, crafted by her own hand from the flowers she grew in her garden. Her grandmother on her father's side resided in Florida, as the bitter mountain air had finally gotten to be too much for her sensibilities. But there was still a knit sweater Tifa would openly wear just because it was Nan who made it, given by the mail with a short note saying “love ya, Nan.” She had all these beautiful glasses given by customers, and even Barret brought out a nice chair for her to sit on. 

“I figure ya never sit down cuz ya don't got no place to do it. So here.” Half a joke. Half sincere. It was plush so she sank into it and laughed. All these considerate folks in town showing the appreciation for what she does throughout the whole year, but none of it prepared her for opening a box with a satin bow, unveiling a makeshift photo album covered in notes from page to page. At first she thought it only pictures of her and Marlene, subtitled things like “the day you went to the fair.” Or “the first snow of 2023.” She giggled, and told him he should have joined the photos.

But then.

They got older. 

Her carmine orbs went wide, surprised and in awe. There was “the first day of high school.” Where she gave a peace sign next to a locker and her old friend Mayuki. Another where she's at Cloud's place, her cat Maru playing with string as she once again had escaped to his backyard. A field trip in middle school to the aquarium. That time in sophomore year she started the calisthenics club, only to end up outsourcing it to the senior center. 

“You'd bring equipment over to me, even when you refused to join the club.” She chuckled.

“It was your thing, I just didn't have anything better to do.” 

“But you still took pictures. Of all of us practicing. Should have joined photography, these are pretty good…” 

He sighed, disapprovingly. “Those stuck up prices? No thanks.” 

She laughed. “I'm sure you took some without me in them right? I'd like to see those too.”

And he grew quiet. Looked away. “Mm. There's… More pages, Tifa.” 

Teenagers. Tweens. Elementary school. She had a million clips in her hair and matching overalls with a friend. She had a pretty dress for a chorus spring concert. They spent most of their night talking about each event, because Cloud or Claudia were also around to take these pictures. Yet the Cloud she saw in front of her had seemed so different, only to give her this reminder that they came from the same place. He leaned in, laid his cheek on his arm and stared at her, a bit more obvious than normal. The world was growing dizzy, and the view he had of her was becoming fuzzy. As though she were a shimmering star basking under the warmth it created. His hand reached out and touched a small sliver of her hair, caressing it between index finger and thumb. She stopped turning the pages and held her breath. As though it might stop happening should she intervene. But the seconds turned to minutes. And his hand grew heavy, instead sliding down to the table.

He closed his eyes. 

And she placed a hand to his cheek. 

“Cloud?”

***

The plush comforter was cool to the touch as it brushed against his forehead. As he roused, there was a muffled echo of alarm further back in his mind, that he preferred sleeping on the ground because it reminded him of when he was deployed. The safety in the familiar had all but dispersed, instead replaced by the lovely sheets and ten pillows that seemed to surround him. His whole body felt loose, like his fingers might release from his hand if he let them, and he examined the digits with eyes half lidded. 

“Hmm…” He stretched. A small desk lamp by the night stand was all the light present, though overhanging ceiling fan did display some mighty looking bulbs. 

“Need to hold still. Though I wasn't expecting to  see you do a full body stretch like a cat.” Her words were rhythmic, warm. And barely above a whisper. She placed a cold compress to his forehead, fluorescent lighting like a halo upon the back of her head. 

“Ah.” He huffed, eyes squinted shut. “Having that dream again.” Cloud was not a man of so many words, rather his quips and responses were short, dry. At times, she found he was incredibly sarcastic, especially to strangers that dare interrupt their conversations at the bar. But here, his voice raises light as a feather, while placed his hand over her knuckles and curling, tickling the skin. 

“I'd think a dream wouldn't give you a fever if it's a good one; maybe a nightmare?” Her brow raised, his touch almost always came by accident. Yet here, Cloud was deliberate. Traced small make believe symbols along her skin, over her wrist to the forearm. 

“You're in it. So it's a good dream.” His smile, how carefree. Her hair fell along her shoulder, brushing against her shoulder, before she chuckled and brushed it aside. Murmured as she watched her old friend become more languid in his inebriated. “I see someone's gonna regret more than the headache come tomorrow morning.” Leaning in so his cheek brushed her fingers even if the compress was cold, hebpaid no mind to her words. Gooseflesh rose along his neck, down, but there wasn't a single notice when he opened those beautiful eyes and pouted lips. “No. Only one regret. Should've. Been there…” 

She gasped, cupping her own hand to her mouth and dropping the cold compress entirely to the bed. As soon as he had said it, there his arm curled at her waist, pulling her along. 

“I think, I'll be okay.” It was mumbled, slurred. “Because I have you this time.” She laid stiff, thinking these were intimate words he never meant to say to someone, certainly not to her. These words might be for someone else. 

“Oh, Cloud. You've always had me… Around.” Tifa sighed. He had pulled her to lay on her side, yet he managed to snake his arm around her waist and bury his cheek just above her navel. 

“Cloud!” It was no use. The man had gotten so much larger from the military, and he weighed a ton despite the lean physique. Tifa was no pushover, to be sure, so it had to mean something that through her own force, there was no moving him. Even if she had called his name, the man had settled in and wouldn't budge. 

“What I mean, is something different.” The intensity of his furrowed brow, the pursing of his lips. And eventually, he swayed forehead into her skin until his chin fell into her lap. Where he fell asleep. Her hand hesitated, in the air. And something about her own hesitation almost felt cumbersome; hadn't they been dancing around this for months? A question still on her lips, silently filling the air with her own self doubt, before finally she pressed her palm atop his head and slowly, Tifa stroked to smooth out his wild locks. She fell asleep, with the light on, her temple pressed against the headrest. 

Hours passed.

There were more pillows in this dream, he thought to himself, that strange haze swirling him even in the land of sleep. And usually, Tifa would still be wearing that pretty dress she wore up on the tower. 

No , His own thoughts deterred him. Not the dress. You're thinking about the other one. I'm talking about the skirt. And the boots. They got soaked because…

I couldn't…

Her dad…

I always wanted to tell her…

***

Daylight hit him like a freight train. A thousand and ten swears emitted in low breath as he covered himself in cool, plush sheets, casting them overhead. But despite Cloud's best efforts, he could still see that shining light, accumulated slivers through the opened blinds of a window. His head was pounding, the entirety of his body felt heavy. Almost knocking a glass on the night stand over, he looked over to find some white pills and water. Didn't even bother to check if it was for him, Cloud down the entire thing and swallowed hard. Wasn't even aware how dehydrated he felt until the water was in him. With the back of his hand the former soldier wiped sweat to and from his body, looking around to see if anything around was familiar. Simple decorations of children's drawings were in frames on the wall, a few colorful beads and a brush on a beige dresser. He began to notice the familiar scent permeating the room.

And his stomach dropped, down deep as realization dawned on him.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh God fucking damn it–”

“You kiss yo mama with that kinda mouth?” The door had been open, and an incredibly large man loomed in the hall. He was leaning back against the wall, arms crossed; and as far as Cloud saw, it looked like only a single hand available to thumb in annoyance. 

“I uh.” The hypocrisy was not lost on him, he'd seen this guy before shrieking a filthy mouth at the bar before. Even last night where his adorable daughter was present, it didn't seem to stop him. The little girl appeared to revel in it too; guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Cloud narrowed his eyes, trying to match the man in nonchalance by crossing his own arms. “What. Where–” 

“Tifa's out. Left ya a note.” He tossed the paper without much thought, making a short click of tongue against roof of his mouth. “Better be half the man she thinks ya are. Gotta nice kid though.”

“I. Didn't really ask for your opinion.”

“Oh. We're gonna be BEST friends.” A wide teeth sneer, and just like that he was gone. A yellow notepad paper folded in two, probably crumpled by the guy known as Barret. Luckily, it was Tifa's handwriting when he unfolded to read. Only six, familiar words on it. 

 

Meet me at the water tower. 

 

He ran. She waited, with clunky boots kicking against the metal, her hands gingerly holding the railing. He ran so fast he nearly slammed into the ladder, and she watched with delight. On her lap was the album he made, each page meticulously looked at as she waited for him. Cloud was out of breath, pale about the forehead but flush on the cheeks. Sweat dripped through his t-shirt, pupils dilated as he recalled that pounding headache in the back of his mind. Medicine helped a bit at least. With raised brow and a short chuckle, Tifa closed the album and set it aside, raising up to meet him. Her hand felt rough on some parts, soft in other. Tantalizingly, did she press on his shoulder, before the world stopped and all that was beautiful came to the forefront. 

Her lips tasted of coffee and mint. Her eyes a vibrant rosy red, ablaze in consuming him. When he brushed his palm to cup the back of her head, she dipped into his touch. Wrapped arms around his neck. 

Their water tower.

Their promise. 

“Cloud?”

“Yeah?”

“Words aren't the only thing that tell people what you're thinking."

Notes:

This chapter size became huge over time hahaha. But I hope everyone enjoyed the ride.

Notes:

When you just want love to be easy; and sometimes with a little help, it can be.