Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Sector 5?" you ask, lifting the basket of baked goods from the counter, its weight a comforting reminder of your daily routine.

Rose, your boss, nods, her expression alight with excitement. "Yes, the restaurant in Sector 5 wants to start serving our dinner rolls. If things go well, we might need to deliver a fresh batch every morning!"

As much as the prospect of more business for the bakery excites you, the thought of trekking all the way to Sector 5 in the sweltering heat dampens your enthusiasm. “I won’t be back for quite a while going all that way,” you warn, raising an eyebrow at her.

Rose waves off your concern with a smile. "That's fine. Cassandra is in today, and she'll help me fill orders while you're gone." She folds her arms, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Besides, aren’t you glad you’re getting paid to go for a walk?”

You laugh, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, when you put it that way.”

Rose steps closer, resting a hand on your shoulder as she walks you toward the door. “I know it’s pretty hot out today, so if the walk gets to be too much, take one of Sam’s chocobos. I’ll cover the fare.”

Stepping out into the sunshine, you turn back to her with a playful roll of your eyes. “Don’t be silly. Those carriages are way too expensive to be worth it—it’s only a thirty-minute walk.”

“Thirty minutes?” Rose tilts her head, her tone dripping with mock disbelief. “You planning on sprinting?” She laughs and waves you off. “See you in a few hours—and be careful, you hear?”

You descend the steps of the bakery, adjusting the basket in your hands, and turn onto the bustling street heading south. Along the way, you wave to familiar faces—friends and neighbors who make up the vibrant patchwork of Sector 8. Having grown up here, you’ve come to see the community as your extended family, especially after losing your parents. The warmth of their smiles and the occasional shouted greeting always make your days a little brighter.

As the lively hum of central Sector 8 fades behind you, the road ahead grows quieter, the path leading toward Sector 7 stretching out in the heat. The thought of Rose’s offer about a chocobo carriage briefly crosses your mind again as the oppressive warmth presses down. Maybe I should’ve taken her up on that, you muse, glancing up at the cracked metal plates overhead. The sunlight filtering through them feels magnified, radiating heat that clings to the air.

“Hey, you!” a familiar voice calls out, pulling your attention back to the road. You spot Charlie, a good friend from the neighborhood, jogging toward you. His usual carefree grin falters as his eyes land on the basket in your hands. “What are you up to?” he asks, gesturing to it.

“Delivery to Sector 5,” you explain, lifting the lid to show him the neat rows of dinner rolls. “The restaurant there wants to start serving these.”

“Sector 5, huh?” His grin fades into a slight frown. “Not surprising—they’re probably dying to get their hands on those. But…” He scratches the back of his neck, hesitant. “I heard some monsters from the scrapyard wandered into the street between Sectors 5 and 6.”

Your heart sinks, and you glance down at your feet. “Oh.”

“Just be careful, alright?” Charlie says, patting your shoulder reassuringly before continuing on his way. “See you later!”

“See you,” you reply, though your voice is distant, your thoughts already consumed with his warning. Monsters are nothing new in the slums, and growing up here, you’ve handled your fair share. The only one who’ll look out for you is you, as the saying goes. But ever since leaving the neighborhood watch to work at the bakery, your fighting skills have grown rusty. You haven’t so much as thrown a punch in months, and today, of all days, you’re wearing a flowing dress instead of anything remotely practical for combat.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you continue toward Sector 7. Familiar faces greet you as you approach the bustling streets, their smiles a small comfort. Delivering here regularly has earned you recognition, and your work with the neighborhood watch years ago left you with connections you still treasure.

Just as you enter the heart of Sector 7, you catch sight of a familiar figure—Tifa Lockhart. She’s walking alongside a man you don’t recognize, his massive sword slung over his back catching your attention immediately. What the hell is up with that thing?

Quickening your pace, you call out to her. “Tifa! Hey!” After a few attempts, she finally turns around, her expression brightening as she spots you.

“Hey!” she exclaims, stepping toward you and pulling you into a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you! What brings you here?” Her gaze drops to the basket in your hands. “Bakery delivery?”

You smile warmly. “Yeah, just passing through on my way to Sector 5. Dinner rolls for a restaurant there.”

Tifa nods, then gestures to the man beside her. His blonde hair and cold, disinterested expression stand out as much as his sword. “This is Cloud. We grew up together. He’s an ex-SOLDIER and Sector 7’s newest mercenary.”

Meeting his gaze, you manage a polite smile. His glowing, mako-infused eyes and muscular build leave no doubt about his background. “Hi, Cloud. Nice to meet you. I’m—”

He nods curtly, crossing his arms and looking off to the side. “Hi.”

“Do you want to stop for something to eat or drink while we’re here?” you ask, the idea of taking a short break sounding nice. “You’ve got to be thirsty in this heat, right?”

“Nah,” Cloud replies without hesitation, shaking his head. “Thought you said you were on the clock.” Without waiting for a response, he resumes his brisk pace toward Sector 5, clearly uninterested in lingering.

You sigh, glancing at the massage parlor as it comes into view on your right. “Hmmm. Maybe I should stop by and give Madam M a bun.”

Cloud stops abruptly, turning to look at you. Though his face remains mostly blank, there’s something faintly uneasy in his mako-lit eyes—like you’d just brought up a topic he’d rather avoid.

“I get a lot of tension in my hands from kneading dough all day,” you explain, confused by his sudden reaction. “It used to happen when I was fighting too. Honestly, I bet you’d benefit from her help, carrying around that massive sword all the time. Haven’t you heard of her before?”

Cloud avoids your gaze, his discomfort all but written across his face. “I’ve… heard of her,” he mumbles, then turns sharply and picks up his pace, clearly eager to move on.

“Are you okay?” you ask tentatively, jogging a little to catch up. His reaction was so strange, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly his issue with Madam M was.

“I’m fine,” he says curtly, and that’s the end of it.

As he walks ahead, you swipe at the beads of sweat forming on your forehead, grateful that Cloud wasn’t the type to glance back. The heat was doing you no favors, and the last thing you wanted was for him to see you flushed and shiny with perspiration.

“We’re on the path to Sector 5 now,” Cloud says over his shoulder. His eyes scan the area ahead, sharp and calculating. “Keep an eye out for those monsters you mentioned.”

“Right,” you reply, your attention snapping back to your surroundings.

It doesn’t take long before you spot movement along the path—at least a dozen hedgehog pies scrounging through the scrap metal. Before you can even open your mouth to warn Cloud, he’s already unsheathed his enormous sword, the blade gleaming as he leaps into action.

The sheer speed and precision of his movements leave you frozen in place. Cloud cuts through the creatures like they’re nothing, his blade carving arcs of destruction through the air. His control is impeccable—every step, every swing calculated to perfection. The hedgehog pies barely have time to react before they’re wiped out, their bodies disintegrating into nothing as they return to the planet.

You watch in stunned silence, your jaw practically hitting the floor. He moves like a predator—no hesitation, no fear, just fluid, practiced dominance. You’ve seen fighters before, but nothing like this. By the time it’s over, Cloud’s already sliding his sword back onto his back, turning to face you with a calm, almost smug expression.

It’s only then that you realize you’re gaping at him. His lips quirk into the faintest of smirks, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Come on,” he says, turning on his heel and continuing down the path like nothing happened.

“Uh… yeah, right,” you stammer, jogging to catch up. “That was… incredible. I’ve never seen anyone fight like that before.”

He shrugs, barely sparing you a glance. “Yeah, well, I’d be surprised if you had.”

The arrogance in his tone catches you off guard, and your initial admiration sours. Sheesh. Cocky much? You’d been patient with his attitude up until now, but his dismissive response stings enough to make you reconsider your efforts to engage with him.

The rest of the path to Sector 5 is clear, and the two of you arrive without incident. As you step into the sector, a few people wave in Cloud’s direction.

“Hey, merc!” a shopkeeper calls out. “Come by later—I’ve got some jobs for you!”

Cloud acknowledges the man with a nod before gesturing toward a side street. “The restaurant’s down that road,” he says. “I’ll wait here.” Without another word, he sits down on a nearby bench, adjusting his sword so it doesn’t scrape against the backrest. He closes his eyes, his body going still as if he’s fallen asleep on the spot.

You sigh and make your way toward the restaurant. A man standing outside greets you warmly. “Hello! Looking for a table?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not today. I’m here to deliver these dinner rolls from the Sector 8 bakery.” You lift the basket in your hands.

His face lights up. “Oh, fantastic! I’ve been looking forward to these.” He takes the basket eagerly, then disappears inside for a moment. When he returns, he hands you a small pouch of gil. “Here’s a tip—it’s a long walk from Sector 8. Treat yourself to something cold on the way back!”

Thanking him, you pocket the gil and head back toward the bench where you left Cloud. You’re surprised to find him surrounded by children, their excited voices overlapping as they chatter and tug at his arms.

“Cloud! We beat the monster all by ourselves!” one boy exclaims, beaming up at him.

Another girl clings to his sleeve, giggling. “You’re so strong! We’re gonna grow up and be just like you!”

“What’s going on here?” you ask, approaching the group with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

The kids turn to you, their eyes lighting up. “Who’s your pretty friend, Cloud?” one of them asks, grinning mischievously.

“Is she your girlfriend?” another chimes in, earning a round of giggles.

Cloud sighs, visibly uncomfortable. “No,” he says flatly, ignoring the teasing. “And you shouldn’t be fighting monsters on your own, no matter how many of you there are. Next time, get Aerith. Promise me.”

The kids groan in unison but nod reluctantly. One of them mumbles something about being late for a lesson at the Leaf House, and they scatter, leaving you alone with Cloud once more.

“Well, you ready to go?” you ask, your tone flat as you turn back toward the path. “I’m sure you’re eager to get back to Sector 7.” You don’t wait for his reply, setting off without him.

Cloud follows a few steps behind, his silence heavier than before. Ahead of you, a man perched on a ladder fiddles with an electrical pole, stripping wires with shaky hands.

As you pass, you hear him curse. “Shit!” The ladder wobbles, and before you can react, the man loses his balance. Both he and the ladder come crashing down—directly toward you.

Your mind blanks, and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and brace for impact. “Fuck,” you whisper under your breath, frozen in place.

Chapter Text

Suddenly, you feel a hard thud against your body, and the next thing you know, you’re on the ground—or so you think. Disoriented, you lay there for a moment in shock, mentally bracing yourself for the pain that never comes. Slowly, you begin to assess the situation. Why don’t you feel the weight of the ladder? Why aren’t you hurt?

“You okay?” Cloud’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. It’s low, steady, and unusually close. Your eyes flutter open, blinking against the light until everything comes into focus. Except… you’re not on the ground at all.

You’re on top of him.

Your breath catches as you suddenly realize his arms are wrapped tightly around your back. His green-blue eyes meet yours, their intensity almost paralyzing, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. His face is impossibly close—no more than five inches away—and in that proximity, you can’t help but notice the small details. The unblemished clarity of his skin, the way his jawline is perfectly sculpted, and those lips—perfectly shaped and maddeningly distracting. Then there are his eyes, unnaturally vivid yet mesmerizing, like windows into a storm you can’t look away from.

“Hey,” he says, frowning slightly, his brows furrowed in concern. “You with me?”

You scramble off him, your movements clumsy and hurried, brushing dirt off your dress as you stumble to your feet. “Oh my god, s-sorry!” you stutter, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. As much as you’d been gawking at him, you realize he’d had just as much time to stare back. So much for him not noticing my sweaty face.

Cloud rises smoothly to his feet, his movements precise, like he hadn’t just cushioned your fall with his entire body. Folding his arms across his chest, he watches you closely. “Are you okay?” he asks again, his voice steady but softer now.

You nod quickly, feeling a little dazed. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” You force yourself to meet his gaze, his faint worry throwing you off even more than his previous aloofness.

Spinning around, you search for the man who’d been on top of the fallen ladder. Thankfully, a small group of bystanders is already tending to him, and he appears shaken but unharmed. You let out a relieved sigh. “Looks like he’s okay too.”

Cloud glances over at the commotion, then back at you. “That was a close one,” he says. His tone shifts back to something more neutral. “Maybe you should let me lead again, huh?”

You laugh nervously, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “Yeah. Good idea.” Then, quieter, you add, “Thank you… for what you did.” The reality of how close you’d come to being seriously injured—or worse—sinks in. Without him, you would’ve been crushed.

Cloud shrugs, his expression unreadable. “Just doing my job. Tifa told me to take good care of you.” He pauses, letting his arms drop to his sides. “Stay closer this time. If you’d been any further away, I wouldn’t have been able to grab you in time.” With that, he turns and starts walking again, his pace measured and confident.

You stand there for a moment, watching him retreat. Your heart feels strange, unsettled, like it’s trying to process what just happened. It had been a long time since a man touched you like that, even if it was purely situational. Ever since your ex had walked out on you, leaving nothing but a hastily written apology, you’d sworn off emotional entanglements. Admiring someone from a distance? Sure. But allowing yourself to feel something more? Absolutely not. And yet, in that brief moment with Cloud—however ridiculous it was—you’d felt something.

You shake the thought from your mind and quicken your pace to walk closer to him, as he’d requested. As the two of you reenter Wall Market, you catch sight of the familiar neon lights and bustling streets. Your gaze lingers briefly on the massage parlor, remembering Cloud’s odd reaction earlier, but you decide to leave it alone.

“Do you mind if we stop for a drink?” you ask as the smell of food and drinks wafts through the air.

Cloud shrugs. “Sure.”

Surprised by his willingness, you seize the opportunity. “Let’s go to my favorite spot,” you say, stepping ahead of him and weaving through the crowded streets. After only a few minutes, you stop in front of a small, colorful storefront with a glowing sign: Wall Market Boba.

“You ever had bubble tea before?” you ask, gesturing to the shop as the two of you step in line.

Cloud’s eyes scan the menu board, the colorful lights reflecting off his face. “I don’t think so.”

You smile, already anticipating his reaction. “Well, you’re in for a treat. This place has the best tapioca pearls—they import them from Costa del Sol.”

He frowns slightly, shifting his weight. “I don’t need one. It’s fine.”

Rolling your eyes, you step up to the counter when it’s your turn. “Hi there! Two large milk teas, half sugar, with tapioca pearls, please!” You reach into your pocket and pull out the 150 gil from the Sector 5 restaurant owner’s tip, placing it on the counter before Cloud can protest.

He stands stiffly beside you, clearly unhappy about you paying for his drink but unwilling to interrupt. When the drinks are ready, you hand him one of the cups with a smile. “Enjoy!”

He sighs, taking it reluctantly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Consider it a thank-you,” you say, taking a sip of your own drink. The familiar creamy sweetness washes over your tongue, and you sigh contentedly. “Besides, it’s a hot day. And trust me, you’ll like it.”

Cloud hesitates for a moment before stabbing his straw through the lid and taking a cautious sip. His expression doesn’t change much, but you catch the faintest flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“Well?” you prompt, grinning.

He exhales, his lips twitching into the barest hint of a smile. “It’s... not bad.”

“Told you so,” you tease, stepping ahead of him and back toward the path to Sector 7.

“Hmph.” He falls into step beside you, sipping his drink as you walk.

The silence stretches for a few minutes, broken only by the sounds of Wall Market behind you. Then, to your surprise, Cloud speaks.

“So... how do you know Tifa?” he asks, his voice casual but curious.

You glance at him, momentarily caught off guard by the question. “We met through the neighbourhood watch. I joined when I was sixteen, but I left about a year ago.”

“Why’d you leave?” he asks, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

You hesitate, taking a long sip of your drink. “It’s kind of a long story,” you say, unsure if you want to get into it.

He hums, then after a beat of silence, he adds, “We’ve got time.”

Looking up at the steel sky, you sigh. “Well... my parents were in the watch when I was a kid. I really looked up to them, so I joined as soon as they’d let me. Another boy, Jasper, joined around the same time. We became close—inseparable, really. But when I was seventeen, my parents were killed on the job.”

Cloud’s expression softens, and his voice lowers. “Sorry.”

You nod, forcing a small smile. “Well, it's not your fault... but thank you," You swallow hard, trying to get back on track. "Anyway, I stuck with it for a few more years, but... about a year ago, Jasper and I started dating. One night, he stayed over at my apartment, and when I woke up, he was gone. He left a note saying he was sorry and moved up to the plate. After that, working for the watch didn’t feel the same anymore.”

Cloud is quiet for a moment, his gaze steady on you. “Coward.”

“Yeah. Maybe he was.” You let out a small, dry laugh, but it quickly fades into a faint, self-deprecating smile. “Or maybe I’m the coward,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “I mean, I left the watch because of him. Everything about it reminded me of him—where we worked, the people we helped, even the stupid equipment we used. Instead of facing it, I just… ran away.”

Cloud’s brows knit together slightly, his expression unreadable as he considers your words. He glances at you briefly, like he’s about to say something, but then his gaze shifts back to the path ahead. His silence leaves you unsure of whether he agrees with your assessment or if he just doesn’t know how to respond.

The quiet stretches between you, broken only by the crunch of gravel under your feet. You’re too tired to fill the space with nervous chatter, and Cloud doesn’t seem inclined to do so either. But somehow, the weight of the conversation lingers, heavy and unresolved.

It isn’t until Sector 7 comes into view that Cloud finally speaks again. “I’ll take you to Sector 8.”

“What?” You glance at him in surprise. “Why?”

“If I’m with you, Tifa can’t send me on another job.” He shrugs, his tone as casual as if he were commenting on the weather. “Seems like a good enough excuse to me.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his blunt reasoning, but a small smile tugs at your lips anyway. “Fine,” you say, unable to suppress the faint amusement in your voice. “If you insist.”

Cloud doesn’t respond, but he falls into step beside you as you make your way through the streets of Sector 7. For someone who claims to want to avoid work, he sure doesn’t seem in a rush to part ways... It’s almost enough to make you wonder if there’s more to his decision than just dodging jobs.

Chapter Text

As Cloud leads you through Sector 7, the oppressive heat begins to take its toll. Each step feels heavier than the last, and you can’t help but feel like your body is moving through molasses. The air is thick and muggy, clinging to your skin, and despite wiping your forehead every few steps, the sweat never seems to stop pooling. At least Cloud, walking a few feet ahead, doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just doesn’t care.

You glance at his back as he strides effortlessly along the dusty path. His skin glistens faintly with sweat, but somehow, on him, it’s not unflattering. His damp blonde hair catches the light, and you can’t help but think how unfair it is that someone can look so composed—even attractive—in this weather, while you feel like a soggy, overheated mess.

Finally, after forcing yourself to catch up, you let out a loud, tired exhale. Cloud must hear you because he turns around, his brows knitting together in mild concern. “Are you okay?”

You roll your eyes, though it’s mostly at yourself. “I mean, you kinda left me behind.”

“Oh.” He pauses, looking over you with a mix of sheepishness and scrutiny. “Sorry.”

You’re secretly relieved for the chance to stop and catch your breath, even if the apology feels a little half-hearted. Shrugging, you wave it off. “It’s fine. I really should’ve finished my bubble tea while it was cold.”

Cloud shifts awkwardly, resting a hand on his hip as he looks around. “You’ll have to lead the way. I’ve never been to Sector 8.”

His admission catches you off guard. “Wait, really?” You push a damp lock of hair behind your ear, cringing inwardly at the knowledge that he can clearly see how much the heat has gotten to you.

“Yeah.” He shrugs, his expression a little stiff, like he’s uncomfortable admitting he doesn’t know something. “I’m pretty busy around here. Never needed to work in Sector 8, so I never figured out how to get there.”

His mako-lit eyes meet yours, and for a fleeting moment, they seem… softer somehow, though you can’t be sure. You try not to read too much into it. “Ah, well, you’re on the right track. And honestly, you’d get plenty of work in Sector 8. Lots of people could use a helping hand—more than the neighborhood watch can keep up with, honestly.”

His brows lift slightly. “Huh. Guess I’ll check it out after I drop you off.”

You nod. “I’m sure the neighborhood watch would be thankful to have someone like you around... Anyway, I’ve been gone from the bakery for a while now. We should keep going.”

Cloud watches you for a moment, his gaze steady but unreadable. “You sure you’re good to go? You look a little…”

“I’m fine!” you cut him off quickly, spinning on your heel to head toward Sector 8. The last thing you want to hear is him pointing out how disheveled you look right now.

He doesn’t reply, but the sound of his boots crunching against the gravel tells you he’s following.

For a while, neither of you says anything. The heat has drained your energy, and while you’d love to get to know Cloud better, it’s probably for the best that the conversation stalls. He doesn’t seem like much of a talker anyway.

As you walk, people you recognize wave or call out to you from the sides of the path. You do your best to smile and wave back, even though all you want to do is collapse into the nearest shady spot.

“You’re pretty popular,” Cloud remarks, his tone more observational than teasing. He’s fallen into step beside you now, apparently deciding to walk at your pace. “You’ve said hi to, what, ten people in the last two minutes?”

You laugh, a little surprised he even noticed. “It’s not really about me. When you grow up in the slums, you just... know everyone.”

He tilts his head slightly, his gaze fixed on you. “I’m sure it has more to do with you than you think.”

You blink, caught off guard. Was that... a compliment?

“Uh, well... thanks,” you reply awkwardly, suddenly hyperaware of how flustered you sound. You curse yourself for being so thrown off by a single comment.

Cloud nods once, turning his attention back to the path ahead. “You’re friendly,” he says matter-of-factly. “I can tell you like getting to know people. And people like getting to know you.”

The sincerity in his tone leaves you momentarily speechless. You laugh sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck. “I guess I’m an open book, huh? Well... thanks.”

Cloud doesn’t respond, but the fact that he said it at all leaves you feeling a little lighter, even as the heat continues to bear down on you.

By the time you finally enter Sector 8, the sight of your hometown fills you with a small rush of pride. Sector 8 has always stood out among the slums—neater, more colorful, and better organized than most of the other sectors. The streets are straight and orderly, thanks to a retired engineer who helped with the town planning. The scrap metal buildings are painted in bright hues, and many have flower baskets hanging outside, purchased from the florist in Sector 5.

Cloud slows his pace, his eyes scanning the streets. “Wow,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with genuine admiration.

You can’t help but grin. “Yep. Nicest sector in the slums. No debate!” Turning a corner, you spot the bakery up ahead, its familiar sign a welcome sight. “We’re here!” you announce, coming to a stop outside the door.

Through the window, you catch a glimpse of Rose pulling a tray of cookies from the display case. Cloud glances inside, then back at you, his expression unreadable.

“You should come inside to cool off—it’s air-conditioned,” you suggest, mostly because you’re not ready to say goodbye yet.

He hesitates, looking between you and the door before nodding. “Okay.”

As you step inside, a wave of cool air washes over you, and you sigh in relief. Rose looks up from the counter and smiles, folding her arms. “Well, well, well. I was wondering when you’d be back!”

You set the empty basket down on the counter, wiping your sweaty palms on the front of your dress. “It was quite the journey,” you say with a nervous laugh. “There were some monsters on the path between Sector 5 and 6.”

Rose’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh dear. Well, never mind how long it took—you’re here in one piece, and that’s all that matters.” Her gaze shifts to Cloud, and her eyebrows lift slightly. “And who might this handsome man be?” she asks, her tone teasing.

Your cheeks flush. “Oh, uh, that’s Cloud,” you stammer. “He’s a merc from Sector 7. Tifa sent him with me to deal with the monsters.”

Rose nods in understanding, offering him a warm smile. “Ah, so you're the new merc! I’ve heard good things about you. Thank you for taking care of her.”

Cloud inclines his head slightly. “My pleasure,” he says, glancing at you. For the first time, the corners of his mouth tug upward into the faintest of smiles.

Your heart skips a beat, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to let your jaw drop. Still, the heat creeping into your cheeks is impossible to hide.

“Well,” Rose says brightly, clasping her hands together, “the restaurant called, and the dinner rolls were a hit! They want two baskets delivered tomorrow.”

“That’s great news!” you exclaim, though you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. Without monsters on the path, there’d be no reason for Cloud to escort you again.

Rose glances at her watch and suddenly hurries to remove her apron. “I’ve got an appointment, so we’re closing early. Can you lock up?”

“Sure thing!” you reply, taking the apron from her as she rushes out the door.

When you turn back, Cloud is still standing by the door, his eyes fixed on you, his expression unreadable. Something about the way he’s looking at you sends a flutter through your chest, and you’re not sure what to make of it.

Chapter Text

“You aren’t a coward.”

“What?” You tilt your head, blinking at Cloud in surprise.

“Back when we were walking,” he says, shifting his weight slightly and glancing away, “you said you thought you were a coward for leaving the watch.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widen as his words sink in. You weren’t expecting him to bring that up again.

He sighs, clearly uncomfortable, but after a beat, he looks you in the eye. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re not. The way I see it, you left because you knew it was the best thing for you. From what I’ve seen... it looks like you made the right choice.” He gestures vaguely toward the bakery, his tone steady but quiet.

You feel a warmth creeping up your neck and spreading to your cheeks. Breaking eye contact, you glance down at the floor, unsure of what to say. Where had this sudden openness come from?

Before you can gather your thoughts, you hear the subtle click of his boots against the tile floor as he takes a step closer. A large, warm hand rests on your shoulder, grounding you.

“Trust me,” he says simply, his voice low but firm.

You swallow hard, your heart hammering against your ribcage. “...Thank you,” you manage to say, though your voice is barely above a whisper. Could he hear your heart pounding? Could he tell how much this simple gesture—this moment of kindness—was affecting you? Your shoulder tingles where his hand rests, and you’re certain your cheeks must be as red as freshly baked cherry tarts.

Cloud nods, letting his hand fall back to his side. “No need for thanks,” he says, stepping back again.

You’re surprised by how much you miss the contact as soon as it’s gone, but you try to focus on calming your nerves. Normal words. Just say something normal.

Cloud glances out the window, folding his arms across his chest. “So... you’re finished working now?”

You sigh, forcing yourself to snap out of your daze. “Well... sort of. Closing up shop isn’t just locking the door. I’ve got to take inventory for tomorrow, balance the register…” You trail off, narrowing your eyes at him. “Why?”

He shrugs, avoiding your gaze. “Tifa invited you to Seventh Heaven. That’s where I’m headed. Thought I’d see if you wanted to come.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you’re not sure how to interpret his words. Was he implying he wanted you to come? Or was he just relaying Tifa’s invitation? “Oh, uh... It’s okay,” you reply, your voice faltering slightly. “I don’t want to make you wait around. Besides, I’ve got a lot to do here.”

He gazes at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before responding with a simple, “Okay.”

Well, that answered that. He was just being polite. You tell yourself you’re not disappointed—why would you be?—but the dull ache in your chest says otherwise. You watch as Cloud takes a step toward the door, your thoughts racing.

Why do you get attached so easily? you scold yourself. Are you really so pathetic that all it takes is someone saving you from a ladder and saying you’re not a coward? Apparently, the answer was yes, because as Cloud pulls the door open, you feel your heart sink. Once he leaves, it’s unlikely you’ll see him again, at least not like this. It’s not like you have the money—or the need—to hire a mercenary.

“Thank you again for escorting me,” you say, forcing a cheery tone. “Like I said earlier, I was really lucky you were there. You know... because of the ladder.”

Cloud leans against the open door, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. Then, unexpectedly, he says, “What time should I come by tomorrow?”

You blink, caught completely off guard. “I’m sorry? What do you mean?”

“To pick you up,” he clarifies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Your boss said you have another delivery to make to the restaurant.”

“What? Oh no, no, no,” you stammer, waving your hands. “It’s totally fine! You got rid of all the monsters—it’ll be safe now. And besides, I can’t afford to pay you in anything other than baked goods.”

Cloud shakes his head. “What if there’s another ladder?” His tone is so deadpan, you’re not sure if he’s joking or serious. Then, after a brief pause, he adds, “And I’m not offering to come as a job. I’m offering as…” He hesitates, his expression softening ever so slightly. “As a friend.”

Your jaw drops, and for a moment, you can only gape at him. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he replies, his tone almost amused. Though his face remains neutral, there’s something in the faint upward twitch of his lips that suggests he’s enjoying your reaction.

You push a stray piece of hair behind your ear, laughing nervously. “Okay... if you say so. I need to leave here around 10:30. But really, you don’t have to come if you don’t feel like it!”

“I’ll see you then,” Cloud says with a firm nod, cutting off your rambling. And with that, he steps out the door, letting it swing shut behind him.

For a moment, you stand there in stunned silence, staring at the door as if it might provide some kind of explanation for what just happened. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, disbelief, and, buried somewhere underneath it all, a tiny flicker of hope.

A smile tugs at your lips despite yourself, and you shake your head, exhaling slowly. “Well,” you mutter under your breath, “tomorrow’s going to be... interesting.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, you find yourself standing in front of your wardrobe, staring blankly at the assortment of clothes hanging before you. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as the bustling sounds of Sector 8 filter in through the window. You run a hand through your hair in frustration, flipping through your dresses, shirts, and jumpsuits without any real satisfaction. None of it feels right. None of it feels like something Cloud would notice.

What even is his taste? you wonder, biting your lip. You’re not even sure if he liked what you wore yesterday—or if he noticed at all. The thought gnaws at you, and you curse yourself for not going shopping on your last day off as planned. With a groan, you start sifting through the same clothes again, hoping to miraculously discover something you’d overlooked.

A sharp knock at the door startles you, and you quickly tighten the belt on your robe before heading to the front of your apartment. “Coming!” you call, padding across the floor.

When you open the door, you’re greeted by Cassandra, your best friend and coworker, who’s practically glowing with excitement. In her hand is a large paper bag, and the playful grin on her freckled face tells you she’s up to something.

“Hey!” you say with a smile, stepping aside to let her in. “What are you doing here?”

Cassandra strides into your apartment, the enthusiasm radiating off her unmistakable. She grabs one of your hands with her free one, her eyes alight. “I’m so glad I caught you before you left. Sometimes you head in early, and I wasn’t sure I’d make it. Anyway,” she pauses for dramatic effect, “Rose told me all about that mercenary who escorted you back to the bakery last night.”

Your cheeks heat up instantly. “Oh, uh—”

“She said he was gorgeous!” Cassandra interrupts, shooting you a playfully suspicious look. “It’s interesting that you didn’t bring him up at all when we went to dinner last night.”

You laugh sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck. “I might’ve left out a detail or two.”

Cassandra raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press further. Instead, she thrusts the paper bag into your hands. “All you told me was that someone would be picking you up for your delivery today. So, I put two and two together…”

Curious, you open the bag and gasp as you pull out a folded red sundress. The sight of it instantly floods you with excitement. It’s the dress from Wall Market—the one you’d been eyeing for weeks but hadn’t splurged on.

“Cass, you didn’t have to do this!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around her for a tight hug.

She laughs as she hugs you back. “I know you didn’t get a chance to go shopping last week, so I figured today was the perfect opportunity.” Pulling away, she winks. “This guy is gonna pass out when he sees you in this. It makes your boobs look—”

“Cass!” you cut her off, your face heating up like a furnace.

“What?” she says, feigning innocence. “You know I’m right.”

You shake your head, fighting off a nervous laugh. “He said he’s picking me up as a friend, okay? It’s not like that.”

“Sure he is,” Cassandra replies, her grin widening. “Sure he is.”

You open your mouth to protest again, but she glances at her watch and steps toward the door. “You should get ready before you’re late!” she says, slipping out the door before you can get another word in.

Alone in your apartment, you turn your attention back to the dress, carefully pulling it out of the bag. You hold it up to the light, admiring the vibrant red fabric before hurrying to your room. You toss it onto your unmade bed and quickly shed your pajamas, slipping into the dress with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

When you step in front of the full-length mirror, you let out a small gasp. Cassandra wasn’t exaggerating—it really is perfect. The hem hits mid-thigh, striking the perfect balance between flirty and casual, while the neckline dips just enough to show off a hint of cleavage.

On a normal workday, you might have paired it with a light cardigan, thinking it was a little too much. But today wasn’t a normal workday, was it? Sure, he said he’s picking me up as a friend, you think, smoothing the fabric over your hips. But friends can want to look nice for each other, right?

A small, guilty smile creeps onto your lips as you murmur, “Thank you, Cassandra,” under your breath. Shoving the wardrobe doors shut, you head to the bathroom to finish getting ready. You brush out your hair, adding just enough shine to catch the light, and dab on a touch of makeup—nothing too heavy, just enough to brighten your features.

As you lean closer to the mirror to apply lip balm, a sudden thought hits you: Why am I getting so worked up over this? It’s just Cloud. He probably won’t even notice. Still, as you step back to admire your reflection one last time, you can’t help but feel a flicker of excitement. Maybe he wouldn’t notice—but maybe he would.

When you finally make it out the door and head to the bakery, you’re running late—just as Cassandra had predicted. Thankfully, the morning weather is cool and forgiving, allowing you to hustle down the street without worrying about your makeup melting off or your hair sticking to the back of your neck. 

You reach the bakery only three minutes past the hour, breathless but relieved. Pushing the door open, you’re greeted by the smell of fresh bread and pastries. Rose is already in the back, busy decorating a birthday cake, the faint hum of the radio accompanying her work.

“Good morning!” you call out, hanging your purse on a hook near the door.

“Morning!” she chirps back, turning down the volume just a touch before glancing over her shoulder. The moment she sees you, her face breaks into a wide grin. “Well, I’ll be damned.” She sets her piping bag down, wiping her hands on a towel as she steps closer. “You look stunning.”

You smile, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “Thank you. I can’t take all the credit—Cass picked out the dress.”

Rose gives you an approving once-over, her expression warm. “Well, you’ll knock that boy right off his feet. Anyway, the dinner rolls are packed and ready for you up front. If I were you, I’d wait for him out there. You’ll make quite the impression.”

You chuckle, walking toward the front of the store. “We’re just friends!” you call over your shoulder, trying to keep your voice light.

Rose’s loud, knowing scoff follows you. “Sure, sweetie.”

In the front of the bakery, everything is already set up. The display cases are filled with freshly baked goods, the open sign glows in the window, and the tables you’d suggested Rose add months ago are sparkling clean. It’s clear she’s already handled all the opening tasks, leaving you with nothing to do but wait. Glancing at the digital clock on the cash register—10:07—you let out a small sigh and perch on the stool behind the counter.

With nothing to distract you, your thoughts wander back to Cloud. Had he worried as much about what to wear this morning as you had? The thought makes you laugh quietly to yourself. Of course not—he didn’t seem the type to overthink things like that. And why would he? He’d said it himself yesterday: he was coming as a friend.

You try to tell yourself that’s all there is to it, but you know better. Your attraction to him is undeniable. You’d spent more time than you’d like to admit admiring him yesterday—his strength, his quiet confidence, the subtle moments of kindness that peeked through his stoic exterior. And sure, maybe it was pathetic how quickly he’d wormed his way into your thoughts, but you couldn’t help it. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite shake.

With a sigh, you hop off the stool and grab a rag to wipe down the already-clean tables. The rhythmic motion helps calm your nerves a little, and by the time you glance at the clock again, it’s 10:23. You return to your seat behind the counter, stomach grumbling in protest. Skipping breakfast had been a mistake, but you’d been too nervous to eat earlier. Now, with the anxiety finally ebbing, your hunger hits full force.

You grab a buttery croissant from the display case and savor every flakey, golden bite. Working in a bakery definitely has its perks. Just as you’re swallowing the last piece, the bell above the door jingles, and you instinctively glance up.

Cloud steps inside, and your heart skips a beat. He’s wearing the same dark outfit as yesterday, but it’s noticeably cleaner, the dirt and mud from the previous day’s events gone. His blonde hair catches the morning light as he walks toward the counter, his expression calm but... softer than before.

You quickly stand, grabbing the two baskets of dinner rolls from the counter and stepping out to meet him. “Good morning, Cloud,” you say brightly, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

“Morning.” His voice is as low as ever, but there’s a warmth to his tone that wasn’t there yesterday. His mako-blue eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s noticed your dress.

“Shall we get going?” you ask, hoping your voice doesn’t betray the fluttering in your chest. “These rolls won’t deliver themselves.”

Cloud nods. “Right.” As he steps past you toward the door, the faint scent of him—clean and woodsy, with hints of cedar and cardamom—lingers in the air. It’s subtle but comforting, and you find yourself momentarily distracted.

He pushes the door open, glancing back at you with a slight tilt of his head. “Ready?”

You nod, shaking yourself back to reality. “Yes, sir!” Brushing past him, you step out onto the sunlit street. The air is warm but pleasant, the perfect weather for a walk.

“It’s so much nicer out today,” you remark as the two of you set off toward Sector 7.

“Thankfully,” Cloud replies, his tone light. “Not sure we’d survive another day like yesterday.”

You laugh, glancing up at him. His expression is relaxed—content, even—and the sight of it makes your smile widen.

As the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, Cloud surprises you by asking, “What did you do after work last night?”

You swing your arms slightly as you walk, grateful for the easy conversation. “Oh, my best friend and I went to eat at a restaurant on the plate in Sector 6. It’s called Fratelli’s. You should check it out sometime if you like pasta.”

Cloud raises an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Haven’t had pasta in a while,” he admits. “I’ll have to look it up.”

“They have the best chicken parmesan,” you continue, your excitement building. “It’s my favorite. You should try it.”

“I can’t remember the last time I had chicken parm,” Cloud says, glancing down at you. “Think you’d want to come with me?”

You stop mid-step, blinking at him in surprise. “Really? You’d want me to come?”

Cloud nods, his tone as casual as ever. “Yeah, we should go together.”

You look down at your feet to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks. We should go together—as friends, you remind yourself firmly, though the thought doesn’t do much to calm the fluttering in your chest.

The two of you continue walking, and before long, Sector 7 comes into view. People call out to Cloud as you pass, asking him about jobs and tasks. He acknowledges them with curt nods, his face settling back into the neutral, stoic expression you’d come to associate with him. Still, you can’t help but notice the contrast—how much more at ease he seems around you. It’s a small thing, but it makes you feel special.

“And you said I’m popular,” you tease as a shopkeeper waves at him.

Cloud shrugs, his expression unreadable. “We’re popular for different reasons. People don’t like me. They just need me.”

Your chest tightens at his words, and you glance up at him, trying to gauge his mood. “They just don’t know you,” you say softly.

Cloud glances down at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “...I guess, maybe.”

Before either of you can say more, Tifa steps out of Seventh Heaven, waving at you both. “Hey there!” she calls with a bright smile.

“I’d wave back, but my hands are kind of full,” you joke, holding up one of the baskets of rolls.

Tifa laughs and descends the steps, reaching out to take the baskets from you. “I’ll handle the rest of the delivery. Don’t worry about it.”

“Wait, what?” You blink in confusion as she takes the rolls from your hands. “Tifa, you don’t have to—”

“Jessie and I have it covered,” Tifa says with a wink, stepping past you before you can protest further.

Before you can process what just happened, Cloud gently takes your hand in his, the unexpected gesture sending a jolt of electricity through you. Too stunned to speak, you let him lead you up the steps and into the bar, your heart racing.

Chapter Text

Cloud pushes open the heavy wooden doors of Seventh Heaven and steps aside to let you in first. The soft glow of orange-yellow string lights draped along the ceiling bathes the bar in a warm, inviting hue. You pause just inside the threshold, your eyes scanning the space in amazement. The familiar clutter of posters, knick-knacks, and old mementos that line the walls feels comforting, but it’s the small table in the center of the room that catches your attention.

A single white tablecloth is draped neatly over it, with a delicate vase of yellow and white flowers placed in the middle. The bar’s far counter is adorned with a row of small candles, their flickering flames casting playful shadows on the polished wood. Your mouth falls open slightly as you take it all in. Is this for me?

Cloud steps in behind you, his presence grounding you as your mind races to make sense of what’s happening. He gently places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward the table.

“Take a seat,” he says, his voice soft but steady. He pulls out one of the chairs and gestures for you to sit, his eyes meeting yours briefly before flickering away.

Still in a daze, you let him guide you into the chair, your hands brushing lightly against his as you settle into the seat. He rounds the table and takes the chair across from you, his movements deliberate yet a little hesitant. As you finally meet his gaze again, a grin spreads across your face.

“This is... wow,” you breathe, shaking your head in disbelief. “What is going on here?”

Cloud scratches the back of his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Welcome to Seventh Heaven,” he says with a soft chuckle, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.

“Thank you,” you reply, laughing lightly. You gesture to the setup around you. “But seriously... what is all this?”

He exhales, his cheeks tinged pink as he shifts slightly in his seat. “Well…” He hesitates, his eyes briefly dropping to his lap before finding yours again. “I’m not great with words, so... bear with me.”

You tilt your head, your curiosity piqued. “Go on.”

Cloud leans back in his chair, his hands clasped in front of him as if steadying himself. “I know I’m not the most... friendly person. I don’t like opening up to people, and I’m terrible at small talk. Honestly, yesterday, when Tifa sent me to go with you, I wasn’t exactly... thrilled.”

Your heart sinks slightly at his words, even though you already suspected as much. Your face must betray your feelings because Cloud quickly raises a hand. “Wait—let me finish.”

You nod, your gaze softening as he takes a breath and continues. “The thing is... you still talked to me. Even though I wasn’t giving you much to work with—and even though I was kind of a dick—you kept trying. You were kind to me anyway. And the more time I spent with you, the more I realized how unfair I was being.”

He pauses, his eyes locking onto yours, and you feel the butterflies stir in your stomach. “Something about you made me want to be better. You’re so open and patient, and it made me realize I’ve been keeping people at arm’s length for way too long. By the time I walked you to Sector 8, I didn’t want the day to end. I made up that excuse about not wanting more work from Tifa because...” He shakes his head, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Because I didn’t know how to tell you that I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as his words sink in. You can hardly believe this is the same man you met yesterday—the one who seemed so distant and cold. “Cloud…” you murmur, your voice trembling slightly.

He runs a hand through his hair, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... I really enjoyed spending time with you. And I want to keep spending time with you. I’m just... not great at showing it.”

Your face feels impossibly warm as you bury it in your hands, a giddy laugh escaping you. “I don’t even know what to say,” you admit, peeking at him through your fingers. “This doesn’t feel real.”

Cloud’s soft chuckle fills the space between you. “It doesn’t feel real to me either, to be honest. I don’t usually... put myself out there like this. But I wanted you to know.”

You lower your hands, your eyes meeting his again. “I’m glad you told me,” you say, your smile widening.

He lets out a quiet sigh of relief, the tension in his shoulders easing. “And, um...” He scratches his cheek, his blush deepening. “I thought you were beautiful the moment I saw you. That dress you wore yesterday looked great, but this one…” His voice trails off as his gaze sweeps over you. “This one’s incredible.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you instinctively tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your cheeks blazing. “Thank you,” you murmur, barely able to meet his eyes.

He leans forward slightly, his voice softer now. “I mean it."

You can’t help but laugh, the overwhelming warmth in your chest threatening to burst. “I don’t know what to say. This feels like a dream.”

Cloud’s lips twitch into a small, shy smile. “Me too.” He clears his throat, his tone turning slightly more serious. “I just hope I didn’t ruin my chances yesterday. I know I didn’t make the best impression.”

You shake your head, your heart swelling. “You didn’t ruin anything, Cloud. If anything, I’m glad I got to see the real you—well, at least the parts you’re starting to share.”

He nods, his expression softening as he murmurs, “Thank you.”

The moment lingers, and for a while, neither of you speaks, the silence filled with unspoken emotions. Then, with a quiet screech of wood against the floor, Cloud pushes back his chair and rises to his feet. He crosses the small space between you and extends a hand.

You take it without hesitation, letting him help you to your feet. As you stand, you realize just how close the two of you are. Your chest is nearly brushing his, and you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. The air between you feels electric, charged with a tension that makes your heart race.

Cloud’s hands find their way to your hips, his touch gentle but steady. He searches your face, his eyes flicking between yours as if asking for permission. “May I?” he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, your heart pounding as he leans in. His lips press against yours, warm and soft, sending a jolt of electricity through you. The world seems to fade away as you kiss him back, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders before clasping behind his neck. His arms tighten around you, holding you close as if he’s afraid to let go.

When he finally pulls back, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth, he murmurs, “I should’ve done that yesterday.”

You laugh breathlessly, your fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt. “Better late than never.”

Cloud’s cheeks flush, and he looks down briefly before meeting your gaze again. “I, uh... almost forgot. I got us food. Are you hungry? I don’t want it to get cold if you—”

You cut him off with a laugh, standing on your toes to press another kiss to his lips. “Shut up,” you whisper against his mouth, smiling as his arms tighten around you once more.