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Every now and then, the pressure of the double life he’s leading is too much. Leslie Kyle tells himself it’s not worth it anymore— she’s not worth it anymore. She wanted to do this, after all. He starts to believe there will never be answers, that he should get out while the getting is good.
On those nights, he escapes the streets of Wall Market. He slips through the greasy clutches of the Don and his men just to remind himself that he can. That he’s got the upper hand, no matter what Corneo thinks.
Even so, he’s become predictable in his method of escape. It doesn’t take long for a habit to develop. A habit that started with a venture into Sector 7’s slums—to the station where he might catch the last train out of Midgar.
Sometimes, he’d be there all alone. Not many passengers on those late trains. But every once in a while, he’d see her. The fighter with the kind heart, always smiling at him while she saw a friend off or welcomed a few home—usually a man who seemed larger than life and a couple of kids in bandanas and homemade armor. Her name was on so many people’s lips in that slum, it was hard not to catch.
Tifa Lockhart.
Sometimes, if he were honest, he’d show up just hoping for that smile.
Eventually, she started to come alone. “What’s your story? I see you here so often, but you’ve never left.”
“I like to know I can still get out.”
They’ve since developed a friendship of sorts. Once a week, they meet to wait on that last train. They never board, they just wait for it to depart. While it speeds away, they scream into the night everything they wish they could change, the sound lost to the roaring engine as the train accelerates.
Tonight, the station is covered in twinkling lights, someone’s idea of decorating for the holidays. The train arrives with a wreath hanging inside the door. Tifa’s smile is genuine when he looks her way. The doors close and to his surprise, she laces her fingers through his and takes a deep breath.
Tonight, he has nothing to scream at the train when it rolls away.
After it’s gone, he turns to her. She’s sweet, all bundled up against the chill night. The twinkling lights dance in her eyes and he thinks that he’s never seen anything so beautiful in all of Midgar, the Planet even.
She doesn’t move away when he tucks strands of hair behind her ear, nor when he brushes her cheek with his thumb. He knows they’ll probably never escape, but he lets himself hope. Lets himself slip off his cap as he leans down to press a kiss against her forehead, then her cheek, finally the little space by the corner of her mouth.
A sigh flees her lips when he rests his forehead against hers. Then she surprises him again, rolling onto her tiptoes so she can twine her arms around his neck. Her kiss is a soothing balm, then an awakening. A sign to stop living in the past, to let things lie. Why shouldn’t he get to move on?
Every now and then, Leslie Kyle forgets all about that double life he’s leading.