kinkfest | Communication Breakdown [FF7, Cloud/Tifa, PG] (Reply)

Title: Communication Breakdown
Rating: PG
Words: 1,102
Warnings: Movie spoilers and no beta, so read on your own risk. [I'm very sorry this is late!]
Prompt: 15^th – FF7, Cloud/Tifa: Silence – if there were no words, no way to speak, I would still hear you
Summary: They've shared their moments silently together, more than they realized.

Tifa surrenders her bed to Cloud when he arrives at Seventh Heaven that year, ineligible words gurgling out of him like a child learning how to speak all over again.

The fever comes and goes—it’s getting harder for her to handle the bar and watch over Cloud at the same time, especially when they’ve had five years of gap and history of almost non-existent verbal exchange.

Marlene volunteers to bring him warm gruels and replace the ice bag on her spare time. The rest of AVALANCHE aside from Barret watches from the sidelines, less demanding on their post missions’ liquor request. Jessie offers to help once, and then Barret had rumbled with that thunderous voice of his, reminding that AVALANCHE members need not worry themselves with scums of ShinRa. The only thing Tifa glad of is that he didn’t open fire on the ceiling to emphasize the notion.

“I felt like I’ve forgotten something really important,” Cloud utters to her with his eyes closed.

She’s on her way downstairs to refill the ice on the ice bag today, and manages not to spill it when she hears his voice. The train station reunion was three days ago, and there's a rough edge in his voice that she doesn’t recognize from his teen years.

“Like something just slipped my mind, lost just like that,” he opens his eyes, casting bright blue eyes on her face, and Tifa remembers the shade, the beautiful blue from a SOLDIER with a giga-watt grin that visited her hometown years ago.

She has questions, countless of them, and still can’t bring herself to open her mouth.

So she places her open palm on his forehead, and kisses the top of his head like how her mother used to.

I’m here for you.

Later that night, when everyone has said their goodbyes to her, Tifa slumps to the corner of the Forgotten Capital, eager to leave her comrades in their makeshift tents. She hears Red XIII' s howling from somewhere, probably practicing some rite of passing from his tribe's custom, but she could hear his sorrow in the sound, a high-pitched wail that sends shiver to her spines. Everybody need their rest, yet nobody tells him to stop.

Unfortunately, all she left bubbling from inside of her is not sorrow, just repulsive anger that makes her clenching her fists, ready to lash out on any unfortunate soul that cross her path.

Nobody came to realize their powerlessness on protecting a comrade, of the helpless feeling of watching her murdered. Nobody is supposed to die like that. Especially not sweet, kind Aerith.

Tifa doesn’t know how long she’s been crying, but Cloud is sitting cross legged beside her when she stops from rubbing her sodden, red eyes. She keeps telling herself it’s not sadness, yet the tears won’t stop.

He stays by her side all that dreaded night in silence, and curses her weakness once more, when he pats her head lightly before leaving in the morning.

Thank you for crying for me.

The bonfire they’ve made crackles slightly in the Northern Crater’s chilly wind, and Cloud suppresses a shudder as another one almost sends his teeth chattering.

Even Yuffie, who had claimed she’d stay up to accompany him on the watch is splaying helplessly on top of Red XIII’s belly, snoring in tandem with the beast. Not far from him Barret is chatting animatedly on his PHS, presumably with Marlene. Vincent somehow disappears into the shades of the rocks, resigning himself.

Cloud isn’t scared of Sephiroth anymore, neither of Sephiroth’s power nor his suffocating control over him. The only thing he’s worried of are the Planet’s safety, his comrade’s survival and Meteor. The fate of the entire Planet rests on their shoulder, and it is not an easy task. He’d made up his mind long ago, after waking from the mako induced coma the second time.

“There’s no gettin’ offa this train we’re on,” Tifa says from beside him, watching the fire swaying along with the wind.

She is hugging her knees, rocking herself back and forth, lost in her own thought. But Cloud notices her shaking is not temperature induced, he knows better for a village kid growing on a mountain. Across the bonfire, Cid is making eye contact with him that urges Cloud to conduct a desperate, soul searing act on his childhood friend. Cloud Strife is never fond of public display of affections. He thinks they’re reserved for overly emotional people and evil mad scientists that experimented on their own children.

He answers by slowly taking her hand into his until their fingers are interlacing together. Ignoring the muffled cackle across the fire, he continues to grip her hand tightly until the trembling stops.

Come Hell or meteor, we’ll win and survive this together.

He gets the red ribbon from an old woman who received a package from her daughter’s family in Rocket Town, enough to tie it on everybody’s limb.

So Tifa takes a pair of scissors and cuts enough shares for everyone, and when all of them had left, she takes her own ribbon and realizes the difficulty of tying something that thin on your arm with one hand.

Across the room, Cloud is trying his best, circling the ribbon around his bicep and failing repeatedly. Yet he keeps on trying, and several useless attempts later, Tifa trudges to him.

She pries the ribbon from his clumsy, rough fingers, and circles the red ribbon around his left upper arm, pulling a neat bow on top. Outside the newly established bar and diner, his self-assembled bike is parked. Inside, there are bedrooms and self-brewed Corel wine. Their new life is just beginning; the Edge community are picking themselves up and starts living a life without Lifestream.

She pats his now-ribbon-ed arm with a hint of satisfaction, and requests him to do the same on her.

We should never forget.

There is a quickening on Tifa’s heart when she sees Cloud’s smile. Small and honest, even though unlike Denzel’s teethy grin, it sparks some thing else in her heart.

She knows why he’s been staring at the church’s door without blinking, can hear the quiet footsteps amidst the children’s laugh, can smell the faint scent of lilies that’s always connected with Aerith. But Tifa doesn’t turn around to look at her; she understands what his small, beautiful smile means. I’m all right now. But I’ll still miss you.

Slowly, he climbed out of the pond, giving Denzel’s hair a quick ruffling before leaving.

When he pulls her into his arms, all she can think of is how he’s going to get her clothes all wet. But then he presses his lips to hers, muffling her laugh of protest, ignoring catcalls from Yuffie and Cid’s jeering of ‘get a room’, and Tifa stops thinking about the meaning of his action altogether this time, as his presence there is enough, as it always has been.