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Cloud had spent his entire life preparing for this. He’d learned the family trade from his mother, and devoted all of his time and energy into improving his skills until his craftsmanship rivaled even her own.
He knew that he would be expected to take over the family business one day. Though he was more than old enough, it still felt too soon when the time came. The death of Cloud’s mother was sudden and shocking and left him a wreck in more ways than one. But the tailor shop had been on the decline even before her death, and Cloud knew that if he didn't do something about it, he would lose both his mother’s legacy and his only means of survival.
It was hard, returning to sewing without his mother by his side. He’d long since grown used to the silly conversations they shared, her soft singing filling the workroom, her very presence. Cloud was alone now, and he ached because of it.
He was alone and had to work as if nothing had changed.
The quality of the clothes he made didn’t suffer for his grief, but his hard work still wasn’t enough to pull their little shop out of the steady decline it had been on for the last few years.
Cloud didn’t know what to do. He could barely take care of himself, yet still ended up pouring all of his time and energy and effort into his failing business. Sewing was all he knew, all he loved—he’d been raised to learn his mother’s craft, and could do little else. Sewing was his everything, made even more so by the passing of his mother.
It wasn’t until one day, one simple mistake, that things changed for the better. Mistakes didn’t usually lead to success, no, but Cloud had always had a knack for working through them.
He couldn’t remember how old he was when he started seeing the strings. It was just after his mother had begun to teach him to sew that he noticed them.
The first string he saw was his own. He’d woken up one day, rolled out of bed, and noticed that there was a red thread wrapped around his left pinky. Curious, he moved his hand about, only to realize that it wasn’t a sewing scrap that had stuck to him from the day before. No, it was tied to his finger in a loopy bow, and its tail seemed to stretch on without end. Cloud didn’t know what to make of the red string, of the fact that it floated in the air, making him wonder just what it led to.
His mother had one too, Cloud learned, but hers was cut short, the end trailing along on the ground behind her wherever she went. When Cloud grew older and finally understood just what the threads meant, it suddenly made sense that he’d never known his father.
The threads tied people together, people who were fated to love and care for one another in a way that no one else could. As far as Cloud knew, he was the only one who could see them. It would always be his greatest regret that he never shared his secret with his mother before her death.
Cloud was experienced with the strings, to say the least. But he never thought that they were tangible, had never even tried to touch them. This lack of knowledge led him to make the most important mistake of his life, struck as he was by the loss of his mother.
One day, as Cloud was crafting a garment for one of the few customers he had, he grew careless as he reached for the thread he needed. He was distracted by the silence that existed in his mother’s absence, and instead of the deep blue he was looking for, he ended up with a rich red grasped between his fingers. It wasn’t his own string, no, but that of his customer, who had only left the shop moments before.
In that one moment, because of that one mistake, his life changed forever, just as it had the first day he woke up and found himself able to see the strings.
Being able to touch the threads changed everything.
He made a snap decision in that moment, and sewed his customer’s thread into the garment he was making. He never cut the string, no—he knew better than to toy with what was surely fate itself, and wasn’t sure if he could even cut through the string, besides. But somehow, as he worked, the red string began to blend in with the garment, taking on the color of the thread that Cloud had originally been using.
By the time that Cloud had finished, the thread he was sewing with had somehow separated itself from the long trails left behind by his customer, though he was sure that it was still the same. Not severed or broken, no, but simply a new bit of thread that was as much a part of the garment as it was still connected to the customer and whoever they were bound to.
When Cloud finished off the order and presented it to his customer, something seemed to snap into place. His customer was suddenly filled with vigor, almost lit from within.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Cloud realized what had happened. The customer returned, bringing someone with them for a garment of their own. When Cloud looked at the two of them and saw that they were connected by a single piece of thread, it all made sense. The customer was wearing the blouse that Cloud had sewn, and the threads that held it together seemed to sparkle.
The threads were pieces of fate itself, but if Cloud could weave them into clothing, could help guide them into the right place… Well, he couldn’t manipulate fate, and would never attempt to, but he didn’t mind helping to nudge it in the right direction. He allowed his clothing to serve as a conduit for fate to pull people together by the strings that connected them.
For the first time since the death of his mother, Cloud found that he was happy. It made his heart soar, being able to bring others joy by guiding them toward their fated love. And it didn’t hurt that it was helping his family’s shop, too.
Cloud never gave much thought to the fact that he had a red string of his own. It wasn’t something that he’d ever focused on, especially not now that he was as busy as he was. Business was booming ever since he’d first sewn the threads of fate into his clothing, with new and old customers alike seeking out his work.
People seemed to understand, somehow, that Cloud’s clothing brought love and joy to those who wore it. Cloud was grateful for both the happiness and security that came along with the increased workload.
The first time someone from outside of his village had traveled just to buy clothing from Cloud, he’d been so shocked that he almost forgot to be flattered. Word got out quickly after that, and Cloud saw just as many strangers come into his shop as he did locals. It made him happy in a way that he didn’t know how to describe. He was glad that he could keep his mother’s legacy alive, and he hoped that she would be proud of him.
Every day, someone new walked into his shop. Every day, he made a new piece of clothing, a piece completely unique to its wearer and the fate they carried with them. Cloud poured his heart and soul into his work, and if he could make thread out of his love instead of his fate, he’d put that into it, too.
Despite the fact that things were going so well, that Cloud encountered so many new people who were brought to him by his work, he never expected that his own match would walk through his door.
It wasn’t until early one winter morning that everything changed. A customer came into his shop just a few minutes after he’d opened. Cloud rushed out from the back, the slightest bit frazzled; he always opened early, but people rarely came by in the first hour or two, so he usually worked on clothing in the back while he had the shop to himself.
His eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed, and that certainly wasn’t the first impression he wanted to make on the man before him.
The man was so very tall, with skin as fair as Cloud’s and hair that was long and silver. He was the most beautiful person Cloud had ever seen, and that was before he turned to look at him. When their eyes met, it felt like a bolt of electricity shot through him.
All of this happened before Cloud had even bothered to look at the man’s hands, the way he always did with his customers. He should know better than to get so swept up by a stranger, let alone one who was tied to someone else and–
Cloud followed the path of the man’s string with his eyes, but rather than leading out of the shop the way they always did, it led to… his own.
His heart stopped for a split second and then hammered away furiously. He looked up at the man, leaning into that electric connection the way he hadn’t let himself do just moments before. It suddenly made so much sense.
As someone who had never left his village in his life, Cloud had honestly expected that he wouldn’t ever find the person he was bound to. Yet the man had come to him. He didn’t know what to do, for he had never imagined that he would be in such a situation.
Belatedly, he realized that the silence between them had stretched on to the point of being awkward. Fated match or not, this was still a customer, and Cloud prided himself on both his craftsmanship and his ability to work with those who requested his services.
He cleared his throat, sure that if he didn’t, his words would get stuck there, “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”
The front of the shop was filled with fabric samples and a few example pieces he kept on display. Most of the work that Cloud did was custom-made, however, and he was worried that he wouldn’t have anything to offer the man in front of him if he wanted something that Cloud kept readily stocked.
“I have heard a great many things about your skills. You come highly recommended,” the man said in lieu of answering his question.
Cloud flushed—there was no denying it. He could feel the way his cheeks grew warm, the way he was trying his damndest to avoid eye contact.
“Thank you. I’m glad that you decided to come by. Hopefully you didn’t have to travel very far.”
“It is rather cold this time of year.” Cloud couldn’t tell if the man was the most awkward person he’d met or if he was trying to give him the runaround, somehow.
“...Yes, it is. Because we’re so close to the mountains, the village is known for having bad winters. It’s only going to get worse from here, unfortunately.” It wasn’t at all the usual type of conversation he would have with a customer, but Cloud decided to go with it. If the man wanted to talk idly about the weather, then that was what they would do.
Though he could see the strands of fate, Cloud would never once claim to be a mind reader. He had no idea what the man was thinking, but he could tell by the look on his face that he’d made his mind up about something. He looked into Cloud’s eyes, suddenly, and it felt just as intense as it had the first time.
“Would you be able to make me a coat?” He asked, determination swimming in his gaze.
Cloud smiled. What a strange man. But it only seemed fitting, for Cloud too was strange in his own ways. “Of course. What were you thinking?”
“Something warm.”
It was difficult to keep from chuckling. Of course a coat would need to be warm. Instead of laughing, he nodded his head as if it made perfect sense, and asked, “How long will you be around for? I can get this done quickly if you’re in a hurry, but if you have a few days, I can make it a little nicer.”
“I am only passing through the area, but I am willing to stay for as long as you need.”
“Alright. I’ll need to take your measurements, if that’s alright?”
The man looked a bit bewildered, as if he hadn’t realized that in order to have clothing made for him, it would be necessary to know his sizes. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded his agreement.
“If you’ll follow me,” Cloud said, already walking toward the small, private room he kept for changing and measurements alike.
There was a measuring tape hanging around his neck, as usual, so Cloud simply slipped it free before gesturing for the man to follow him into the privacy of the fitting room. There was plenty of space for the two of them, but they were certainly in closer quarters than they had been in the main area of the shop.
Cloud usually talked as he worked, explaining what he was doing. This time was no exception.
“I’m going to start with your shoulders, okay? I’ll be just behind you.”
When the man nodded, Cloud got to work. He measured the width of his shoulders (and my, were they broad), and then moved on to measure the length of his back.
Circling back around to the man’s front, Cloud explained that he was going to measure his arms next. He started with the length of them, and then noted the size of his wrists and biceps (and those were large too, gods help him).
“I’ll have to get a bit close for this next part, is that alright? I need to know the size of your chest.” Cloud peered up into green eyes, suddenly very aware of the difference in size between the two of them. The man was so very tall, and they were so very close…
There was a moment of hesitation, one in which Cloud held his breath. Then the man nodded his permission, and Cloud stepped close so that he could wrap his arms behind his back, bringing the two ends of the measuring tape around to the front.
It wasn’t until this moment that Cloud realized just how… intimate it felt, taking the man’s measurements. They were close physically, which was a thrill of its own, but there was also the excitement that came along with knowing that he would be able to craft a piece of clothing just for this beautiful man.
When he stepped away from the man, he realized how warm he’d been, and how cold he felt now in comparison. He mourned the loss, but had no more excuses to get so close.
“How long do you want the coat to be?”
Instead of simply telling him, as most people would, the man bent down to gesture with his hand, making a chopping motion just above his ankle.
Cloud couldn’t help but chuckle, finding the strange mannerisms more adorable than they had any right to be.
Wrapping the tape back around his neck and tucking the paper he’d been writing down measurements on into his pocket, Cloud led the man out of the room and over to the table where he attempted to keep his bookkeeping organized.
He opened an overly large book, the leather binding creaking in protest at the action. It was a ledger, one that had been in the family for generations. Sometimes, he liked to flick through it, looking at the history of his family, seeing the legacy of his mother all over again.
“What’s your name?” Cloud asked as he turned to the most recent page he’d been using, jotting down the date and a description of what the man wanted.
“Sephiroth. And yours?”
Cloud blinked in surprise, peering up at the man, at Sephiroth. People didn’t usually ask for his name, not when the focus of a business transaction was on the customer. For all the social nuance he seemed to miss, Cloud found Sephiroth endearing.
“It’s Cloud. Cloud Strife.” He held out a hand across the table so that they could shake.
Instead, Sephiroth grabbed his hand, and then seemed confused as to what to do with it. His grasp was gentle as he held Cloud’s hand palm side down, though his hold was a bit loose, betraying his hesitance. Then, in a move that left Cloud too flustered to consider his shock, Sephiroth bent down to press a kiss to the top of his hand. He was clearly unsure of what he was doing even as he did it, and Cloud didn’t have the heart to fault him for it.
Sephiroth looked into his eyes, as if checking that he’d done the right thing, and all Cloud could do was look back as he felt his face grow hot.
He cleared his throat, attempting to clear his thoughts along with it. “Come back in a few days, and we’ll take some more measurements and do a fitting to make sure it’s coming along the way it should.”
“Alright,” Sephiroth said, his voice low. He walked out of the shop, but looked back at Cloud just before he left. He didn’t smile, not quite, but something in his eyes seemed to light up.
Cloud was in trouble.
The next morning found Cloud at work before the shop was set to open, as usual.
He’d puzzled all night over what kind of coat to make for Sephiroth. The man really hadn’t given him much to work with other than specifying the length and requesting that it be warm.
It was decided rather than quickly that the coat would be black, as Sephiroth had been dressed in the color from head to toe the day prior. He clearly favored it, and Cloud had to admit that it looked wonderful on him, complementing his pale features and silver hair.
But as for everything else… Cloud found himself struggling. Usually he had more to work with, and he could clearly imagine what a garment would look like before he made it.
This time he had no such luck, and the knowledge of exactly who the coat was for certainly wasn’t helping. It had to be perfect.
Sewing was all that Cloud knew, was what he was best at. He wanted to pour all of his love and skill into making a garment worthy of being worn by the man he was bound to by fate itself.
All of his indecision led Cloud to flipping through bolts of black fabric in the early hours of the morning. When he was about to give up and settle for having to make an order of specialty fabric, he found a bundle of treated leather that he remembered his mother squirreling away long ago. Somehow, it felt like a sign of her approval.
With a small smile to himself, Cloud laid the leather out and got to work.
First he cut the leather into templated pieces based on the measurements he’d taken the day before. The material was difficult to work with, but Cloud didn’t mind. After he was satisfied with his cuts, he began sewing the pieces together.
It was strange, reaching for his own hand for the thread he was sewing with. He’d reached for the threads of fate countless times now, but never his own. For whatever reason, just the thought had heat blooming across his face.
Cloud became so absorbed in his work that he only realized how much time had passed when the bell at the front of the shop rang.
“Coming!” He yelled out, scrambling out from the sewing room in the back. A quick glance out the front window told Cloud that it was already afternoon. The hours had really gotten away from him, it would seem.
As soon as Cloud’s focus shifted from the window to his customer, he stopped in his tracks. It was Sephiroth, back again only a day later.
Cloud pursed his lips. He was secretly thrilled to see the man, but was by no means ready for his return.
“Hello, Sephiroth. I’m sorry, but your coat isn’t ready. It will be a few days yet,” he said, voice gentle. He hoped the man wouldn’t be disappointed, but he had told him when to return, and today was by no means that day.
“I know,” Sephiroth said, matter of fact. He didn’t elaborate further.
Cloud hesitated, unsure of what to say. He didn’t want to upset Sephiroth, but he was confused now. “Is… ah, is there anything else I can help you with, then?”
Sephiroth simply shook his head, which left Cloud even more perplexed. It must have shown in his face, somehow, for Sephiroth took a step forward and presented Cloud with a paper bag he hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding until that moment.
“You looked tired yesterday. I thought… I worried that…” Sephiroth trailed off, not finishing his thought.
Ever so gently, Cloud took the bag from Sephiroth’s outstretched hands. He opened the bag, only to release a heavenly scent out into the shop.
It would appear that Sephiroth had stopped by the nearby tavern. The meat pies in the bag were still warm, and Cloud’s mouth was beginning to water.
He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to thank Sephiroth for such a kind gesture. Instead, he asked him a question, “Would you like to share them with me?”
Sephiroth’s eyes widened as if he hadn’t even considered the possibility that Cloud would ask.
“I…I would like that, yes.”
Cloud smiled at Sephiroth, cheeks warm. His stomach loudly growled before he could say anything else, prompting him to burst out into soft laughter.
He gestured Sephiroth toward the stairs that led up to his living space above the shop, locking the front door and flipping the sign that hung there to ‘closed’ before following him up.
The food was amazing, but the company was even better. Cloud found himself hoping that this wouldn’t be a one-time occurrence.
Over the course of the next few days, Sephiroth continued to stop by with food for Cloud, who always insisted that they share it. One time he even brought a blanket, claiming that Cloud had looked cold the day before.
Cloud felt as if he was going to melt in the best way possible. He knew that he and Sephiroth were bound together, but that didn’t necessarily mean that the man would be so kind, would treat him so well.
Each morning, he’d continue his work on Sephiroth’s coat. He also worked on his other orders; as enamored as he was with Sephiroth, he still made sure to treat his customers right. The mornings were a quiet time for Cloud, as they had always been. Then, sometime between the late hours of the morning and the early afternoon, Sephiroth would inevitably stop by the store.
He honestly hadn’t expected that Sephiroth would ask to watch him work one day. The question came out of nowhere, really, as Sephiroth’s questions often did.
Other than his mother, nobody had ever watched Cloud work. It was more because of his lack of close connections with others than a need for privacy, but Cloud still felt strangely shy about the idea. His craft was… everything to him. But, he decided, if Sephiroth cared enough to ask, then he could show the same care by sharing this part of his life with him.
The smile that Sephiroth gave him when he agreed, though small, was more than worth it. He gestured for Sephiroth to follow him back to the room he worked in, apologizing that the space was a bit cramped for two. He and his mother had never minded, but Sephiroth was much larger than Cloud was.
He’d already made the decision to line the coat with fur for warmth, the leather acting as an insulator. Cloud had a pelt of Nibel wolf fur laid out, ready to be bleached and dyed.
It wasn’t often that he worked with fur. He knew how to, of course, but he usually didn’t make clothing for outdoor wear, tending to stick to silks and cotton and wool.
Regardless, the process of preparing the fur was one that he knew well. The pelt had already been washed and cut to match his specifications. He usually worked in silence, but didn’t mind explaining to Sephiroth what he was doing as he covered the fur in lightening powder so that the color would take.
The powder needed time to work, so Cloud and Sephiroth sat in comfortable silence as they waited. Cloud made an attempt at tidying up his workspace a bit, but it had always been what his mother had lovingly called “organized chaos” in the workroom, so he didn’t make much progress.
Once enough time had passed, Cloud brought Sephiroth upstairs so that he could wash the fur off.
Then came the dye. Though the outside of the coat was black, Cloud thought that a touch of color wouldn’t hurt for the inside. He explained to Sephiroth that he was going to create a gradient; white at the top, fading to a cream color in the middle, with the very ends of the fur being colored a light purple. It would make the tails of Sephiroth’s coat so very eye-catching when he moved.
Leaving the dye to set was yet another waiting game, so Sephiroth snuck off to grab lunch while Cloud worked a bit on other projects.
By the time they were finished eating, it was time to wash the dye out. When the water ran clear and the wolf pelt was clean, Cloud and Sephiroth shared a smile. It was going to be a beautiful coat.
When the coat was finally finished, Cloud hesitated to present it to Sephiroth. The man had told him that he was passing through town, and while Cloud had only just gotten to know him, he felt like a part of him would break if the man he was bound to were to leave him so soon.
But with Sephiroth coming by each day, it was impossible for Cloud to hide it from him, not that he’d want to, not really.
On the day that he finished the coat, Cloud greeted Sephiroth at the door with a smile. He told him to head to the dressing room, and went to grab the coat from where he’d been working on some finishing touches in the back room.
When Cloud shut the door behind him and turned to face Sephiroth, he found that the man had already shed his outer layers. Cloud smiled, equal parts happy and sad, and stood behind Sephiroth, holding out the coat for him to put his arms through the sleeves. He did so, and then Cloud smoothed it out over his shoulders.
He came around to Sephiroth’s front, adjusting and fussing with the coat, making sure that it fit perfectly, that the clasps worked the way they should.
“Well? What do you think?” Cloud said, still a little closer to Sephiroth than was strictly necessary. He was giddy with anticipation, excited and the slightest bit nervous to hear Sephiroth’s thoughts.
“Cloud, it’s… this is beautiful,” Sephiroth said, voice quiet. He thumbed awkwardly at the clasps of the coat, as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands.
“I’m so glad that you like it. I hope it will keep you warm enough for wherever you’re headed next.” Cloud was unable to hide the mournful tone his words took. He hoped that Sephiroth wouldn’t notice.
“A coat as warm as this would help me weather the winter in a village like this, would it not?”
Not sure what Sephiroth was getting at, Cloud hesitantly nodded.
With one of his usual tiny smiles, Sephiroth said, “Cloud, I believe that you are in desperate need of an assistant. Now that I have a coat that is warm enough for this environment, I will stay here and take care of you. Would you be amenable to that?"
Cloud blinked once, then again. It took him a moment for Sephiroth’s words to register, and then another for them to sink in. As soon as they did, his face erupted into a furious blush, one that he had no hope of hiding in such close quarters.
Reaching out with shaky hands, Cloud adjusted the collar on Sephiroth’s jacket. There was a single loose thread hanging from it, red as the one tied around their fingers. Cloud pulled the thread off, heart overflowing with love for the man who was now dressed in a garment fashioned from the very thread that bound them together.
“I’d like that,” Cloud said, eyes moving from the red thread tied around Sephiroth’s finger to his eyes, wide and glimmering with hope.
As perfect as the coat he’d made for Sephiroth was, the smile they shared was warmer than it could ever hope to be.