Chapter Text
It was a punch to the gut when they arrived at the entrance of the small village.
He and Tifa had been prepared for whatever they would see the moment they realized they needed to go back to here.
But not this. Never this.
People were bustling everywhere. Houses and buildings were standing tall. From an outsider's perspective, everything was normal; there were neither signs of debris nor an indication that it was a ghost town as it should be. Everything was fine and so unlike how Cloud and Tifa remembered it the last time they were her.
Nothing should be standing. No one should be living here but monsters and animals, because everything burned down in flames on that fateful day five years ago.
Fake. Everything was fake. This Nibelheim was fake.
Swallowing those thoughts was like choking on air. Cloud knew for sure that he was shaken. The headaches were intense the moment they stepped inside and Tifa...Tifa looked like she’d seen a ghost. Her eyes were empty and vacant and he knew that her emotional turmoil was high. He didn’t know why, but when it came to the ruby eyed fighter, it was as if he was connected to her emotions. His hands ached to pull her close, not only because he wanted to erase that expression on her face, but because he needed that stability as well. Yet, his hands stayed at his sides as he pushed the urge away. He was good at that if he willed himself hard enough. Her face wore a mask of perfect calm a heartbeat later, an attempt to show she was okay and that she wasn’t bothered, but all of them knew the lie she was trying to show.
It snapped when they went inside her childhood home.
“Everything’s the same,” she said. The only difference was that the house was occupied by strangers, not her or her dad.
“Gone. The feeling of home is gone.”
Her voice cracked then.
It was hard watching the way her mask slowly tore itself apart, bit by bit, with every step. It started with a furrowing of her eyebrows and ended with tears furiously falling from her eyes as she punched and punched the walls of her old room, the letter of her master clutched tightly in her fists. She wasn’t wearing her gloves right, and it was strange, but maybe it was because she had this semblance of hope – hope that she would be coming back to a place of real comfort instead of an imitation.
What was once a reminder of safety and life and joy, what was once considered a home, became a reminder of tragedy and death and wicked memories.
And it hurt him to see her wrestling with the heavy reality of it. He thought it should’ve only been him, not her too.
“Tifa.”
He wrapped his arms around her to stop her from striking the walls further. Cloud caught Barret’s and Aerith’s eyes and gave them a small nod, signaling for them to wait outside while he spoke with Tifa. After the others left the room, he turned her within his arms to face him while tucking her head on his shoulder. This wasn’t the first time he’s witnessed Tifa cry after they reunited, but it was the most painful. It was her quietest sob, but it might as well have been the loudest too. Every broken inhale and exhale of breath, every tear that rolled down, was full of rage, confusion, sadness and much more.
And all he could do was to hold her close and tight. His right arm moved to bury one hand in her hair while his left arm was wrapped around her torso, the other hand resting on her middle.
Moments passed and her tears finally stopped escaping, but they stayed like that for a few minutes more, not wanting to let go and break away. When they finally did, both of them didn’t pull away too far. Silence reigned over them as no words were exchanged, because what could they say? It wasn’t until Cloud’s eyes focused on Tifa’s hands that the stillness evaporated. He reached for the hand that punched the wall earlier and touched her gloves, glancing almost shyly at her, as if to ask for permission. Tifa nodded her head despite not knowing what he was about to do, that was when he started to take off all the armor she wore on her arms until he was touching her bare skin.
He could see how her knuckles were bruised now, a mixture of greens, purples and blacks. They almost looked as if they would bleed. Maybe this was how she felt inside too. Cloud rubbed them gently with his thumbs before lifting knuckles up and brushing his lips on it softly.
He remembered his mother doing that to him whenever he hurt himself. She would kiss his wounds and whatever ached in his body, wishing for it to heal. And he wanted Tifa to heal, because she deserved happiness. Under all of it, he kissed her knuckles with a promise that he would always be there to take her pain away.
I promise you will never have to bear the pain alone.