Work Text:
Holding a valentine made for Tifa is not one of Cloud's ideal activities. It quivers in his shaking hands, and when he considers sweat stains, he stops clutching it and instead holds the corners pinched between his fingers.
Tifa should be away from her locker. He can slip it in just fine--
"Cloud? Are you okay?"
Cloud jumps and turns to face Tifa. "Oh, uh, hey."
Tifa tilts her head and points to the card Cloud is holding oddly. "Who's that for?"
"Um..."
"Hm?"
Cloud takes Tifa's hand, slaps the envelope into it, and takes off in the opposite direction.