Chapter Text
Virtual reality could be a real downer sometimes.
Most of the time, it was pretty fun. You could engage in epic battles of titanic proportions, hack and slash at the most freakish fiends from all four corners of Gaia, even grapple with the gods themselves and emerge without a hairline scratch. But it was the biggest letdown imaginable when you desperately wanted it to be real.
Cloud Strife, ex-SOLDIER, First Class, knew how it all worked. He had gone through the most rigorous training available, supplementing it at various points throughout his journey across the planet. Here at the Gold Saucer, though, it was different. Now a dry, sterile voice whispered prompts in his ear, telling him exactly what to do.
He was in the middle of what amounted to a private performance taking place inside his head while he sat in an auditorium full of theatergoers, all experiencing the same thing—but not, he dearly hoped, with the same people.
No one else better have their hands on Tifa. Not even in their imagination.
Breathtaking in a sleeveless white gown tailored to every curve of her magnificent figure, she had just freed him, her courageous knight, from a dreary dungeon.
It was her turn to save him, after all.
Then he’d enjoyed a nice little bit of swordplay that got his blood pumping and had managed to keep her safe in the end, which was a relief.
Cait Sith, decked out in fool’s garb, had just presented him with three choices. Two of them were ridiculous. For Cloud, there could be only one.
His true love.
And now he was supposed to hold out his hand and let her spin. Only their hands would touch.
But he didn’t want to follow the damn script. This was his show, his one chance to act out his fantasies in any way possible. Even if none of this was real, he could make himself believe it for just a moment. And he’d have one more memory of her to treasure, adding it to the collection of polished jewels he had stored up in the secret vault of his mind, ready to take out and admire at his leisure.
He held out his hand. Tifa took it.
And then, in the most respectful way he could manage, he grabbed her waist and spun her into him.
Her head fell back in delighted surprise. Her lithe body twirled beautifully in his hands, and it was better than any of that meticulously choreographed bullshit. This was his show, after all. No one else would ever see it.
Was she really here with him, in his version of the play? Or did someone else stand in his place while she experienced it? He couldn’t bear that thought, so he shoved it away.
She was in his arms now, and he tilted her backward, slowly and carefully. He knew the confines of the programming wouldn’t allow him to actually kiss her, but this was closer than he’d ever been, and he was going to relish it.
Just before he closed his eyes, he saw her lids flutter shut in anticipation. He imagined the sound of her soft sigh, the feel of her warm breath on his cheek. She wanted this, too. He could make himself believe it. He could practically taste her strawberry-pink lips…
Then Barret’s voice boomed, and the moment shattered. And so did the madness that inflamed his blood.
The show must go on.
Cloud had been desperate to kiss Tifa since a certain momentous morning in Gongaga, two days ago. No, probably long before that. And he still couldn’t explain why.
It should have been simple. He liked her… well, a lot. He felt comfortable around her. He jumped at any opportunity to spend time with her.
In other words, they were friends. And it didn’t hurt that they’d known each other since infancy as well. Come to think of it, he’d had a bit of a childhood crush, too… hadn’t he?
If that was the case, it hadn’t gone away. Quite the opposite. And now that they were no longer kids, his feelings were far from innocent.
Her smile did things to him… very specific things that a smile from any other person couldn’t emulate. So did her laugh, for that matter. And her sighs.
Especially her sighs.
Not to mention she was basically a goddess among women.
But these feelings weren’t a mere symptom of his physical urges, though he had plenty of those to contend with, too. And they were very inconvenient—especially when Tifa happened to bend down in front of him wearing a low-cut bikini. The hottest thing in Costa del Sol that day sure as hell wasn’t the sun.
He didn’t want to think about that now, though. He needed to focus on the mission—the vital, all-encompassing mission of keeping Tifa safe and happy at any cost. Even if it was all inside his head.
Therein lay the biggest battle, after all.
His mind might be slipping. His cells might be degrading at a terrifying rate. But as long as he still had breath in his body, he would do his utmost to protect her.
He was Cloud Strife, Ex-SOLDIER, First Class. And he was here for her, just as he’d promised seven years ago, on that starry night on top of the water tower in their hometown.
She surely couldn’t help but notice him now—though she’d been oddly unimpressed five years ago. He hadn’t done a stellar job back then, to be honest. But physically speaking, he was strong enough to protect her.
He had jumped from a moving train to cushion her landing when the Sector 5 mission had been blown off course. Pulled her to safety on the support pillar when the Turks blasted the stairs out from under her feet. And he’d held her tight in a field of flowers while she cried for the loss of her home and his, the second time Shinra had taken it from them. Comforted her when she’d succumbed to panic in the Nibel reactor.
She had been there for him, too.
She thought he was a hero. Even in this damn play, she kept telling him so. And as the periwinkle dawn had poured through that bedroom window after his all-night vigil by her side in Gongaga, she’d told him it was her turn to save him.
But what he’d needed saving from in that moment wasn’t his fear of falling apart, of losing himself.
It was his fear of losing her.
She was the only thing in his life that kept him tethered to reality. He needed her in ways he couldn’t begin to describe. And somewhere deep inside, a part of him yearned for her… a part of him he didn’t even know.
And maybe, in that moment when she’d grasped his hand, when he felt himself spinning out of control as he leaned in, reached for her, utterly mesmerized by her warmth, her closeness, the fullness of her lips…
Damn Yuffie.
Maybe it would have made things better. Maybe it would have made them worse. He didn’t know anymore, and he didn’t care. The obsession had taken hold, and it wasn’t going to loosen its grip on him anytime soon.
Maybe he didn’t know who he was, sometimes. But tonight, Cloud was sure of one thing.
Tonight, he was the man who was going to kiss Tifa Lockhart.
The performance had come to an end. The kingdom of Guardia went up in flames as Cloud stood and embraced Tifa—as enthusiastically as the script would allow—to wailing violins. He’d told her he was leaving, and she’d begged him to be safe. Typical melodramatic theater drivel.
He refused to take it seriously. He didn’t like the way it made him feel. And he certainly didn’t want to leave her. But in a way he couldn’t explain, he knew he was going to, sometime soon. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
The flames faded. The backdrop changed. Another figure in a white dress appeared, scattering his anxious thoughts like the yellow petals that danced all about her.
Holy balls, Aerith could sing? This must be some unprecedented marvel of VR technology. He and Tifa stood together with their eyes glued to the stage. Her words, the ones she must have penned herself, moved his heart and lifted his spirits.
Take my hand and believe we can be together evermore…
That sounded like something out of a dream, something too wonderful to hope for.
He’d settle for this moment.
He swore he felt Tifa’s hand at his side, and whether it was real or just his imagination, the distinction no longer mattered. When he gripped it in his, he felt the reassuring curl of her fingers as she gripped back. He couldn’t remember being this content in a long time.
Then Aerith was taking her bow. Before he knew it, the show was over. The spell was broken. But Tifa was still right there next to him, living and breathing… and giving off a fragrance that made him sweat under his collar. Not for the first time, he wondered if she had experienced everything he had.
The song, for sure.
They left the Golden Theatre and headed for the Skywheel.
Cloud gave the attendant two tickets. This was it. They’d missed out on this before, but now the Skywheel was in full operation.
Last time, Tifa had held his hand when they’d walked to the ride, and his thoughts had run amok with anticipation even then, before the increased probability of a kiss had hijacked his dreams and a large portion of his waking hours. But now she raced ahead with the most adorable bounce in her step.
“Are you ready for this? A gondola’s here!”
Hell, yeah. He was ready.
She stood and watched as the glass panel slid aside, hands clasped behind her, and her hair floated across her back in a sleek, shiny wave of perfection that made his head swim. He almost tripped in his hurry to catch up to her. But the doors were wide open, and she didn’t move. Was she waiting for him to do something? Did she want him to—
“Well… after you,” she said to the carpet, turning away from him.
What?
He gestured toward the gondola. “You first.” Wasn’t that the gentlemanly thing to say?
“Uh… Cloud?”
Tifa’s hand was on his arm. And the gondola was leaving without them.
Shit!
His SOLDIER instincts activated in a heartbeat. He leaped onto the moving platform and threw out his hand for her to grab. And as the Skywheel spun upward, she spun into him, nearly bumping up against his front. Her hands were on him and his were definitely on her.
Her eyes blinked as they met his for a split second, huge and startlingly crimson. This was reality. There was nothing virtual about it.
And he couldn’t look at her.
He let go and turned away. So did she, staring out the window for a moment before they finally sat down. He tried to wipe his palms on his thighs, forgetting he had gloves on.
Why had she seated herself a mile away from him? Did he have bad breath? Impossible. He’d chewed three mints on the way from the Golden Theatre.
This was not a good start.
But at least they were both on the ride now. He’d pulled her up in the nick of time and saved her… from his own inattention.
He wanted to say something. And it didn’t need to be something witty or smooth—just something that would put her at ease. Cloud Strife, ex-SOLDIER, First Class, always knew what to say. But he wasn’t himself somehow, like that night he’d fumbled his way to a hug among the yellow flowers. He was losing his edge.
A script would be pretty damn helpful right now.
In the end Tifa was the one to break the ice, taking the wheel in the center of the squishy leather donut they were sitting in.
“Think we can steer with this?”
Her playfulness was contagious. Relief loosened his tongue.
“Worth a try.”
She gave him one of those smiles, and it did all of those things.
“Here goes!”
Cloud flattened his back to the cushion as the lights began to swirl.
She was making the ride spin. That was fine. He could handle a little spinning. Yuffie would lose her popcorn and orange soda for sure, but he’d never been motion sick.
He stole a glance at her, and his stomach clenched… but that was for a different reason. He shifted his legs.
A spectacular light show burst to life in the expanse of midnight sky just outside their window. In spite of how badly he’d flubbed their entrance, Tifa was having fun. When a fleet of holographic spacecraft zoomed past the gondola and one careened straight for them, she leaped from her seat and ducked out of the way. He turned to find her posed with her hands on her hips.
“Well?”
“Nice save,” he told her.
With a laugh that made his heart flip over like that runaway saucer, she sat down next to him. She was on his other side now—and quite a bit closer than she’d been before. He hugged his arms to his chest to calm his clanging nerves.
He watched her reaction to the Chocobo racing. She was still leading the conversation, and that was fine, but he wished his comatose brain would wake up already and give him some words. All he could do was respond appreciatively to her, and that seemed to make her happy. She laughed and smiled at him with that irresistible tilt of her head.
And then the fireworks began, and she was transported, gazing in every direction with wide-eyed wonder.
“It’s beautiful,” she sighed.
Cloud agreed, but he wasn’t looking at the fireworks. She shone brighter than any of them. She was making his head spin. And this kind of spinning, he wasn’t sure he could handle.
She turned to him. Their eyes met. A second too late, he gasped and looked away.
She looked away, too—which gave him the perfect opportunity to scoot just a little bit closer. Their knees were practically touching. Beneath his SOLDIER uniform, a cold drop of sweat crawled down the side of his torso.
And then, at the moment he was most desperate for something, anything to say, he remembered Aerith’s tears at the end of her song—and he blurted out the question that had been bugging him since that awful afternoon in Nibelheim.
Tifa hadn’t told her yet.
Cloud understood why she hesitated. They both knew Aerith still had feelings for Zack. And feelings of that particular nature, at this particular moment, were a topic that interested him very much.
Tifa’s feelings, to be precise.
Why did she say it was complicated? Why did she bow her head and clutch her hands together like that, as if some dark, secret something paralyzed her?
“Hey, it’s kinda weird—us being here like this, isn’t it?” she said suddenly.
He frowned. “Is it? I mean… I guess it is. Kinda.”
He didn’t quite agree, but he didn’t want her to think she’d said something wrong. Maybe it really was weird for the two of them to be alone together.
He wasn’t sure he liked that.
“Ever since we left Midgar on this crazy journey,” she went on, “ever since we were kids, even… I can’t remember a time like this.” Fireworks flooded the sky all around them, diffusing their light on her cheeks, framing her beautiful face with showers of golden sparks that danced in her ruby eyes. “A time… when we were this close.”
Cloud’s heart was beating in his throat. They were close right now, perhaps more so than they’d ever been—and he wanted to get closer. He gulped and looked away.
Tifa lowered her gaze. “Or… am I getting ahead of myself again?”
He whipped back to her. Did she really mean what he…
“Again?”
“Yeah. Again.”
And he realized she was trapped. In trouble. Her thoughts were the enemy now, assailing her from every corner, making her doubt, forcing her to withdraw. Her shoulders shrank and her hands twisted on her knees.
No script existed for a moment like this. He would have to write his own. And he knew what happened next.
He held out his hand—to tell her there was nothing wrong or misguided about what she was feeling. Because he was feeling the exact same thing.
“Not one bit,” he said.
He met her eyes earnestly and waited, giving her a tiny nod of confirmation. At last she nodded back, and the bashful look she returned him, full of astonishment and cautiously subdued joy, set his heart on fire. It was a look that convinced him, once and for all, that this moment with him was all she had ever dreamed of.
And he had better not screw it up.
It took her an eternity to place her hand in his. Its warmth burned through his leather glove and thrilled him so much that he yanked her to him. His arms flew around her, and for a few sweet seconds he kept them right where they were. It shocked him how much he wanted to hold her, to be her anchor, tough and strong.
But her arms didn’t move at all. She had to be as shocked as he was.
He couldn’t wait a second longer. This was it.
He inhaled deeply, slid trembling hands to her shoulders, and gently nudged her into position. He angled his head.
Fireworks were exploding. Everything was spinning, racing, pounding. And then it all hovered, as if the whole world were holding its breath.
Tifa looked at his lips. Her eyelids fell shut.
Cloud went for it.
He closed his eyes at the last possible second, to make sure he wouldn’t miss the target. He didn’t even realize his mouth was open until his lips crashed into hers, and he tasted her.
She was sweet. And warm. And so, so soft.
And those petal-soft lips were pushing back against his.
Tifa.
The fireworks multiplied in brilliant fanfare, popping like a million firecrackers, flashing an entire rainbow of colors so fast that each one blended right into the next.
The same thing was happening inside his brain. His body, for sure. Maybe his soul.
He was kissing Tifa. She was kissing him back.
And it didn’t stop at just one kiss.
Over and over again he savored her full lips, drawing back only to breathe. He turned his head this way and that, mashing his nose to her cheek, trying to figure out how they best fit together. But no matter which way he found her, it always felt right.
Did she feel it, too, when she kissed him the same way he kissed her?
Was he her first?
Was she his?
Why couldn’t he remember? And why didn’t he give two shits whether a suave SOLDIER with many conquests under his belt would know how to kiss the woman of his dreams?
Maybe that wasn’t him at all. Maybe the man who was kissing Tifa Lockhart so awkwardly and passionately right now, up here, high in the night sky against a blazing backdrop of fireworks, was the man he’d been searching for.
He wasn’t himself.
He was more himself than he’d ever been.
And he was spinning into her.
He kept his hands firm on her shoulders as he sealed his lips to hers. He didn’t dare move them, no matter how much they longed to wander. He would be respectful if it killed him.
As far as he knew, Tifa’s hands were still folded in her lap, demure and ladylike as always. He wished she would put them somewhere else—but it was probably a good thing she didn’t. He was excited enough already.
He didn’t want to push things too far. And he didn’t want to be sloppy. But he could feel the portentous shift in gravity as the gondola descended. The ride was almost over, and he wasn’t even close to having his fill of her.
He opened his mouth, but only slightly. His pulse soared as her lips parted against his, inviting him in.
He prodded and teased. He nibbled.
She licked.
He gasped, gripping her arms tighter. She sighed and spread her hands over his chest, directly on top of his hammering heart. When he nervously explored her with his tongue, hers was right there, poking at his teeth.
And he let out a moan… into her mouth.
The gondola swooped toward the landing as their ride drew to a close, but the two of them clung together, oblivious, kissing a little more breathlessly, making a little more noise. At last, the whirring whine of the glass doors shook them to their senses.
“Oh!”
Redder than a sunset, Tifa jumped up like a guilty rabbit and hopped off the moving platform. With a quick, discreet adjustment to his fatigues, Cloud rose and hopped down after her, fists pumping at his sides.
She took a few quick steps and paused just inside the archway, feet shifting in her red boots, hands knotted behind her back again. He tentatively approached her. Their eyes met.
They couldn’t look each other in the face.
Volcanic heat trickled up Cloud’s neck and set his ears flaming. He stared at the floor.
Was he a bad kisser? Had he stuck his tongue in too far? Slobbered all over her?
“We should prob’ly head back to our rooms,” Tifa mumbled in a strangely high-pitched voice, still refusing to look at him.
“Yeah.” His voice sounded funny, too. “Prob’ly.”
He was relieved. He had a mission to focus on now.
He strode purposefully out of Skywheel Square and into the corridor, and Tifa followed close behind him. She easily kept up with his hurried pace, but they weren’t quite walking side by side.
At least she wasn’t running the other way.
Nah. He was being stupid. Of course he wasn’t a bad kisser. Not according to her, anyway—and that was all that mattered.
She had enjoyed it as much as he had.
They were going to have to talk to each other eventually, but right now he had no earthly idea what to say. Not even Aerith and Zack could save them this time.
Oh, shit.
How would Aerith react if she knew? Would she feel even more alone now that he and Tifa had gotten closer, missing Zack more than ever? Or would she take it in stride, put on her sassy face and tease them mercilessly?
Nope, that would be Yuffie’s job. And she’d know right away, too—just by looking at them, probably. For a teenager, she possessed a weirdly inappropriate intuition about those things. She and the robo-cat had been nefarious partners in crime since Gongaga.
What about Barret? Cloud rolled his eyes at the long-winded lecture he could already hear.
We ain’t got time for you two to be messin’ around with each other! We got enough trouble as it is!
Well, at least they weren’t fighting again, right?
Out of all their companions, Nanaki would probably be the most mature about it. The pilot and the caped weirdo wouldn’t even blink an eye.
He found a fast travel station and they took it straight to the Haunted Hotel. No need to prolong this torture.
They walked through the garishly decorated lobby. Cloud punched the button to call the elevator. When the doors slid open, he stole a glance at Tifa. She looked mortified.
“C’mon,” he urged, trying with all his might to sound casual. If she didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t force the issue. But she could at least get inside this elevator with him. He wasn’t going to eat her.
Well, not entirely.
He stepped through the doors, and to his relief she followed him. To the longest elevator ride in the history of the Gold Saucer.
It took ten seconds to reach their floor.
“Big day tomorrow,” Cloud said as they exited, finally remembering the Battle for Naming Rights.
“Yeah.”
“So…” They said it together.
She sighed. He cleared his throat.
“You won’t tell anyone… will you?” Tifa pleaded, glancing down the hallway toward the Eligor Suite, the room she shared with the girls.
“No.”
She released a breath. “Thanks.”
They looked at each other, then looked away again. Cloud’s heart began to pound. More than anything in the world, he wanted to kiss her one last time. But should he? Did she want him to?
After tomorrow’s battle, once they’d won the Keystone, they would all pile into the Tiny Bronco and sail off to find that Cetra temple, though they might roam around for a day or two first, picking up odd jobs, following up on some side missions. This might be the last time the two of them would be alone together for a while.
“Well… good night,” Tifa said at last, her voice smooth and steady. “And thanks for coming out with me tonight, Cloud. I had a wonderful time.”
Cloud didn’t speak. A hundred questions were zooming through his mind. What had the experience been like for her, seeing LOVELESS with him? Would they ever talk about what had happened on the Skywheel? Would they still feel the same way tomorrow, or would they continue on their journey as if nothing had ever happened?
“I-I…” he stammered, realizing she might appreciate a response. “Me, too.”
Tifa’s eyes darted around the elevator lobby one more time. Then her hand crept over his shoulder, and she popped up on her toes and kissed his cheek.
And then she turned and ran to her room, her hair flying behind her. She frantically let herself in and shut the door.
With a heavy, whooshing sigh, Cloud stumbled backward until he hit the wall next to the elevator. His sword thumped loudly.
His head was spinning.
She was gone. Like she had never been there at all. He almost expected to see a glass slipper lying on the carpet, just like in that fairy tale his mom used to read to him.
What the hell had just happened? Not even ten minutes ago, had he actually been way up in the night sky, surrounded by fireworks, locking lips with none other than Tifa Lockhart?
Had he forgotten to take off the VR goggles or something?
Had it really been… real?
All of a sudden, he was unbelievably exhausted. A strange, hollow ache yawned in his chest. He closed his eyes and brushed his gloved fingers over the tingling spot on his cheek—and then his lips. At last he forced his rubbery legs to walk again.
“Good night, Tifa,” he said to the empty corridor.
And he slowly made his way to the Tonberry Suite.