#denzeru

〈     ⠇⠁⠝⠛⠥⠁⠛⠑  ⠙⠁⠽  ⠎⠞⠁⠗⠞⠑⠗◞        ❛   @⠙⠑⠝⠵⠑⠗⠥   .     〉

⠉⠇⠕⠥⠙   ⠓⠁⠙   ⠙⠑⠉⠊⠙⠑⠙   ⠞⠕   ⠇⠑⠞   ⠙⠑⠝⠵⠑⠇   ⠚⠕⠊⠝   ⠓⠊⠍   ⠋⠕⠗   ⠓⠊⠎   ⠙⠑⠇⠊⠧⠑⠗⠽   ⠞⠕⠙⠁⠽ ⠂     ⠁   ⠓⠁⠇⠋   ⠙⠁⠽   ⠞⠗⠊⠏   ⠺⠊⠞⠓   ⠃⠗⠑⠁⠅⠎   ⠊⠝   ⠃⠑⠞⠺⠑⠑⠝   ———   ⠓⠑⠙   ⠇⠑⠞   ⠙⠑⠝⠵⠑⠇   ⠎⠊⠞   ⠊⠝   ⠞⠓⠑   ⠋⠗⠕⠝⠞   ⠎⠕   ⠓⠑   ⠉⠕⠥⠇⠙   ⠎⠑⠑ ⠂     ⠁⠎   ⠺⠑⠇⠇   ⠁⠎   ⠏⠥⠞⠞⠊⠝⠛   ⠓⠊⠍   ⠕⠝   ⠏⠁⠉⠅⠁⠛⠑   ―   ⠛⠥⠁⠗⠙⠊⠝⠛   ⠙⠥⠞⠽ ⠲          ⠞⠓⠑⠽⠙   ⠙⠑⠇⠊⠧⠑⠗⠑⠙   ⠊⠞   ⠁⠇⠗⠑⠁⠙⠽   ⠁⠝⠙   ⠺⠑⠗⠑   ⠕⠝   ⠞⠓⠑⠊⠗   ⠺⠁⠽   ⠃⠁⠉⠅   ⠓⠕⠍⠑ ⠲          ❛    ⠉⠕⠍⠑   ⠕⠝ ⠂     ⠇⠑⠞⠎   ⠞⠁⠅⠑   ⠁   ⠃⠗⠑⠁⠅ ⠲    ❜           ⠓⠑   ⠙⠑⠉⠊⠙⠑⠙   ⠁⠎   ⠓⠑   ⠑⠁⠎⠑⠙   ⠋⠑⠝⠗⠊⠗   ⠞⠕   ⠁   ⠎⠞⠕⠏ ⠲           ❛    ⠽⠕⠥   ⠓⠥⠝⠛⠗⠽ ⠦    ❜

〈     unprompted◞        ❛   @denzeru​​   .     〉 just your friendly reminder that you're sweet, kind, talented and just all around fantastic and i look forward to reading things you write and talking with you all the time!

⟨     prompt◞        ❛   @denzeru​​​​​   .     ⟩ ♗ !!

@denzeru​ said: “ where  have  you  been ? ”

        cloud is accustomed to stepping into the bar and being met with the sight of denzel waiting at the window or door  ---  the sound of fenrir’s engine is distinct enough in this part of edge that such a rumble hardly belonged to anything else.  but never this late.

        “  denzel ?  ”  more of a murmur.  his voice has never been particularly loud,  not without any added effort for the benefit of those closest to him.  keys and phone are discarded briefly at the bar.  usually,  tifa  ...  ---  she’s probably upset with him.

        “  where have you been ?  ”  at the question,  the tone of denzel’s voice,  guilt washes over him.  out of the house.  late.  again.  and sometimes cloud doesn’t even come back.  for days or doesn’t stick around long enough for anyone to notice.  more than likely,  he’d be out of their home prior to when tifa tended to wake up  ---  just before sunrise.  cloud’s eyes wander to the clock,  narrowing at the time: 3:30.

*      ◞      D͟e͟n͟z͟e͟l͟.   there’s nervousness in his gaze, & also a hint of embarrassment—— as if he suddenly realized that his insistence on working on her gift by himself had limited him. he’d spent time decorating the little picture frame with things he thought tifa would like ( flowers, materia, little stick figures of their little family ) but now he wonders if it’s too...little. if she might look at it & be disappointed. briefly, he considers tucking it away & never pulling it out, but he doesn’t want her to think that he forgot. & so, he gathered all of the courage he could muster. ❛ happy birthday! ❜ & he holds out the gift—— a tiny ribbon tied on top—— & his homemade card. ❛ i made you these. ❜ it’s quiet, almost whispered as he awaits her reaction.    |   @denzeru​

𝙼𝙴𝙴𝙺     𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽     𝙸𝙽𝚅𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶      𝙷𝙴𝚁     𝚂𝙸𝙻𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴       to     veer     its     angle     en      route     to     parallel     their     horizon,      forsooth     the     pugilist     twigged     his      languorous     umbra     of     a     sheepish     stance.      patella    wrings    its    hinge - joint    slanting    to    hunker    downhill      &      counterpoise     onto     her    bottom - pads,    it    aligned     their     measures     to    indulge    into    his    𝙱𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚅𝙾𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴       ❛      How   thoughtful   of    you.     ❜         𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚    𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒆    in    the     midst     of     its     affection    embodiment  :   cladded    palms    gently    patting    his    scalp,   futhermore     there’s     also     her     archetypical    smile       [     rosebuds   puffing   outward,    protruding   its   cheekbones     &      enveloping   her   lids   to   crinkle    𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆   𝒕𝒐   𝒂   𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒕𝒉    ]       to    cherish    his    deed.

pledge     of     commitment     per     remorse,      heretofore    Tifa    deemed    its       𝚂𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙾𝚁 𝟽       pane's    collapse       𝙰𝚅𝙰𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙷𝙴'𝚂       stigma,     despite    of     the     𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙺𝚂    scheming     to    its    most    contribution    to     such     circumstance,    the     barmaid     ought     to     bear     the     catastrophe's    outcome    triggering     memoirs     of     a     cauterized     townlet.        somewhen,    this     compunction    disembodied    out    of    fostering    Denzel    to     her     household    forasmuch    his    connivance    had    the    aspects    of     what     they      may     actually     sympathize.       deft    phalanxes    sink    into    the    crate’s    arris,     smoothly     plucking     from     him,     subsequently     her    sights    plunge    to    gander    at    the    ribbon        [     𝙰𝙴𝚁𝙸𝚃𝙷    . . .    ]        digits    sliding    through    its    fabric,     traits    subsiding     &      flattening    its    facial    tendons         ❛      𝙸   𝚆𝙾𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁   𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃   𝙸𝚂   𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴       (      curved   extremities   shift   the   vessel   to   her   earlobes,   a   slight   jiggle   to   discern   its   subsistence    )        I   do   hear   clinking   sounds       ❜     

@denzeru​ said “  ❛ i’m sorry. ❜ it was the first thing that he thought to say, & a part of him wished he had taken him up on the offer to carry cait sith, so he’d have something to hide behind. ❛ she protected me, & i just-. ❜ his lip trembled, his heart aching for the mother figure they’d shared. ❛ i really wish i could have protected her, too. ❜ “

  This had not been the first time they’d met, but it had been the first time Reeve had taken a moment to explain himself clearly — to thank the boy that had taken his place and cared for a mother he should have been there for. He’d arrived at 7th Heaven to visit old friends, but upon seeing Denzel decided there were more pressing matters at hand. 

  And so they walked, and Reeve explained himself, the boy beside him listening patiently, but even with those educated topside manners he could feel the boy slowly curling into himself, wanting to hide — needing to hide... and he understood. Even as a man he had felt that way when he learned of his mother’s death, years of experience and maturity stripped away until he was a little boy again longing for his parents in a world that was barely hanging on by a thread.

  Hazel eyes caught the tremor in his companion’s jaw and it caused him to draw up short, catching Denzel gently by the arm and stopping him as well with a gentle tug for the boy to look at him. 

  “—Hey,” he spoke softly, crouching down onto the balls of his feet to catch the other’s gaze with a small squeeze of that arm. “You did,” he stated matter-of-factly, shaking his head, “far more than you can imagine.”  He let go of Denzel’s arm, both wrists draping over his knees as he remained crouched, thinking for a moment. 

     it was early.  too early,  he thought,  for any of the kids to be awake.  that was his plan,  to slip out while they were still sleeping.  he was still feeling the heat from Tifa last night,  she’d really laid into him for it.  do you even realize how heartbroken the kids will be when they wake up and you’re not here?  she’d lectured,  and Cloud took it because he supposed she was telling the truth.  he’d denied it first,  then argued that the kids would get over it.  they want you here,  Cloud.  and yet,  here he was with his hand on the doorknob and hesitating.

                         please.  the word hits him like a bolt of lighting and he releases the door and spins around,  his eyes meeting Denzel’s as the boy leans against the door frame.  he looks tired.  please don’t go.  his heart drops.  go figure that Tifa was right.  it seemed like she was always right.

@denzeru​ asked

it’s with caution that denzel approaches the table that cloud is doing his work on. he didn’t hop into the seat across from him just yet. his return was still fresh, & denzel wouldn’t blame him for wanting time alone, but he still found it within him to ask. ❛ is it okay if i help you with your delivery stuff again? ❜