there’s a routine to these nights now. she knows them well, but even if she does, it still doesn’t hurt any less. she’s become a light sleeper - has been ever since she was a little girl - and she’s become very good at figuring out who’s walking down the corridor in the middle of the night. marlene is light on her feet, whereas denzel sort of shuffles and occasionally knocks into things if he’s not looking where he’s going.
cloud’s steps are measured and paced and she has to wonder if he walks this way in the hopes he won’t wake the others when he seeks out his own solitude at the bar downstairs. tifa knows this building like the back of her hand; she knows every squeaky floorboard, every creaking step, every door that doesn’t close properly - she knows the sound this place makes when it settles after its inhabitants go to bed for the night. all save for one.
she doesn’t need to measure her steps or walk quietly down the corridor - the children are fast asleep and won’t wake for anything - and she’s not about to put in the effort to conceal her approach when she knows cloud can hear her. he probably heard her when she threw off the covers and placed her bare feet on the floor, sitting there for a few minutes before deciding to come downstairs, knowing he’d be there.
when he pulls out the chair for her, letting her know he wants her to stay, there’s a few seconds of stunned silence before she slips in and leans forward, her elbows on the gleaming countertop of the bar. the city lights from outside still find a way to penetrate through the pulled down shades of the bar’s windows, and from their reflective lights she can see the bottles of alcohol lining the shelves. she’s never been one for much drinking despite the profession she’s kept, but occasionally she’ll find herself having a drink or two.
tonight’s not one of those nights and she notices the glass of water cloud’s poured himself, but left on the counter, untouched. while she doesn’t have the kind of eyesight that will grant her perfect vision in the dark, when a car’s headlights pass along the ceiling of the bar, she can spot the coaster he’s put beneath the glass to prevent the condensation creating a ring in the wood that would’ve been impossible to get out.
for a second, she can put aside the reason she’s found herself down here, in the middle of the night, and smiles at the thought that he remembered the coaster. that moment comes and goes and she looks ahead, her own head bowed.
when he asks that question, she can feel her breath catch in her throat.
let it all wash away…, is something she remembers thinking when she’d see the lifestream bursting through the surface of the earth, battling back meteor but also inflicting damage upon the world that would have its own set of consequences - though none of them could have predicted what they’d be back then.
❛ … ❜ has she moved on? there’s the newly constructed bar, she’s raising two kids, helping cloud with his business, going at it every day - living life like she’s been given this second chance.
her breath catches again, and she has to look away because she can feel unshed tears ready to fall and she’s not ready for cloud to see her like this - despite the fact that he’s seen everything there is about her. he’s seen her at her lowest, seen her when she was about to break - the cracks turning into fissures then turning into chasms that she could hardly breach - he’s seen everything and knows everything…so, why not this?
❛ i…i don’t think i have, ❜ she whispers into the dark, and it hurts her because she’s unable to face him. tifa, who’s strong, who supports everyone and never backs down from a fight, who always gets up again when she’s knocked down - tifa, who has a lock around her heart.
open a new bar, it’ll be good for you. keep everyone in line. just keep moving forward, and don’t look back. it honestly feels like she’s not been allowed to grieve ever since they were all convinced that the end was upon them. she thought she had come to terms with it all when it had just been her and cloud alone in the highwind while the others went off to find their reasons for fighting before coming back before the final battle; she’d been resolute in everything if it meant she was by cloud’s side - and that’s always been the truth - but that had also been when she was convinced she wasn’t going to survive the final fight.
when she looked upon the lifestream bursting through the planet’s surface, when she looked upon the energy of the planet coming to save itself from destruction, she was overtaken by its sublimity - a terrifying, but beautiful, spectacle that left her stupefied. when it had been determined she would live, along with the others, the guilt came rushing back. all the things she had done, all the things she could’ve prevented…it came rushing back, just like how the lifestream rushed to save the planet.
❛ …but i’ve also accepted that whatever happens to me, will happen, and there’s nothing i can do to change that. so, even though i feel like i’m still adrift, like a ship lost at sea, i have to try… ❜
she’s looking at him now, having turned in her chair to face him. her cheeks are streaked with tears and she doesn’t bother to wipe them away. everyone has their breaking point, and she’s definitely crossed hers several times, but she wants cloud to see that that’s not a line that can be crossed just once.
☆ ━━━ I just have to try.
He stares ahead beyond as Tifa speaks, her words dropping loudly onto the floor in the quiet, dark room. The headlights from clunky cars splash over the plastered walls, making them both glow briefly before passing on and casting them into darkness again.
But she doesn’t know, does she?
His right arm, covered by the cloth of his uniform, throbs painfully, a deadly reminder of his sins.
And there’s something ugly boiling in the pit of his stomach--a terrible hatred clawing up his insides, leaving him bleeding and on the edge of the end, so fucking angry, embroiled in such garish rage.
After everything he gave up for this Planet... it still betrayed him so easily.
Tifa is staring at him now, her cheeks splashed in sparkling tears, those ruby eyes watery and dim in the dark. She’s begging him to see her, but he’s too blinded by his grief to look at anything else. All these precious things in his hands--this family, his new business, his friends--and he only wants to crumble them to dust, leave them behind forever.
He’s all used up--a broken, withered doll that should be left to simply collect dust.
And suddenly, abruptly, with no warning at all, Cloud SLAMS his fist on the counter. His glass of water jumps, shivers, sloshes its contents over the nice, shiny bar. The sound is like a gunshot going off in a barren alley. Cloud is breathing hard, shaking his head numbly. He’s looking at Tifa, but seeing beyond her too.
“Just try,” Cloud scoffs in disbelief, holding his hand over his eyes as he regards his fist on the wood of the counter. “That’s all we’ve ever done and look what happened, Tifa. Really look! We tried to save the world and don’t you see what’s left?”
He finally focuses on her tears, on her sadness, and he makes sure she witnesses the way he’s crumbling at the edges, ready to finally give in.
“There’s nothing. Nothing at all.”
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