A/N: Thank you all again, endlessly, for taking this journey with me. This is going to be the last chapter for this story, but I'll be back with other ideas for other stories! And I actually have inspiration to finish them, and a super cool community to hang with when I can. So, I hope you all enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. This was, I think, the funnest thing I've ever written, and it reminded me of the unpredictability of (my) writing, and the life experiences that mean everything, when at the time, they didn't feel like they meant anything at all.

Shout out to some of the reviewers who mentioned wanting to see more of the Rude dynamic! Your words inspired me, and I think you made this chapter better than what it was originally.

As always, happy reading. Stay safe and love one another.

v. There's No Now Without Tomorrow

"Okay, remember what I said about the DJ being the bomb at New Midgar's bar?" Yuffie says, body loose and ready to fly. "I lied. This DJ is the bomb."

Tifa agrees. The music is upbeat and lively, and the place is bordered with the deceptive luxury of a parlor, though it's truly just a fancy bar with all the trappings of an elite, inclusive club.

Tonight, the WRO is holding its annual company awards ceremony, which Cloud has told her is a very exceptional excuse for the executives to collectively get drunk, commingle, and gossip to their heart's content. The awards are bogus. Cloud has been working here for two years, now, and he went the previous year for approximately fifty-two minutes.

"Think you'll stay for fifty-three minutes this time?"

He gives her a smile. "I have a much higher incentive to stay this year."

The WRO is rich enough to rent out the Honey Bee Parlor for a whole evening—which is labeled from 6pm to 6am. Andrea Rhodea is on good enough terms with Reeve Tuesti and Rufus Shinra, the CEO and CFO respectively, and all of them are for making this party a full on tradition. With such powerful heads in charge, it will take something very catastrophic to make the tradition collapse. Cloud doesn't hype up the party with any degree of interest, but Zack's enthusiasm more than makes up for Cloud's lackluster response.

"There's gonna be free booze, dancing, guest rooms in case you party too hard—or, honestly if you find a friend—" Zack winks. "And rich people and an excuse to dress up and look hotter than usual."

"Oh, Cloud, it sounds exactly like your scene," Tifa teases.

He leans into her, wrapping his arm around her back and squeezing her hip. In her ear, he says, "The guest rooms sound promising."

She elbows his side, and he huffs a laugh.

All WRO employees receive an invitation for a plus one. Tifa had worried Yuffie would be upset being left behind, though she had planned to shut her bar down that evening to allow Yuffie and the rest of her employees a well deserved day off.

Yuffie, however, surprises her.

"The WRO ceremony? Oh, yeah. I'm going."

She's all nonchalant, blasé, and completely aloof. All three things are very un-Yuffie-like. Tifa doesn't fall for it for a second. She recruits Aerith for a very well-meaning interrogation.

"Okay, Kisaragi, hit us with the goods," Aerith says.

"Who is it?" Tifa prompts.

Yuffie smirks, rubbing her nails against her shirt. "You don't know him. Maybe you'll meet him."

"Yuffie!"

"That's not fair!"

Yuffie only cackles, their whining hardly putting a dent in her defenses. Yuffie loves suffering. They never had a chance. Even when they spend all afternoon getting ready in their bathroom together, both Tifa and Aerith needling her endlessly, then occasionally, then with subtle jabs, but Yuffie only shrugs or smiles or hums and deflects.

And, finally, they merely enjoy dressing themselves up, spending plenty of time in front of the bathroom mirror, swapping makeup, telling each other how gorgeous they are, and blaring music from the stereo system in Tifa and Yuffie's bedroom.

Tifa, Cloud, Zack, Aerith, and Yuffie had all taken a ride share together, arriving to the Honey Bee Parlor around 7 pm. Cloud had ushered Tifa in on his arm, and Tifa was slightly dazzled by the atrium, the sprawl of it in a semicircle formation, the arms of the stained concrete floor reaching almost all the way around the front room. Three, thin steps lead down into the open space of the lounge, with small, barstool tables interspersed along the floor. Women in honey bee outfits flit between the WRO employees, carrying trays of champagne and hors d'ourves. Tifa internally applauds the women for their delicate balance between holding the trays and avoiding collisions with their rotund bee body and stinger.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look, tonight?" Cloud asks her, once Yuffie flounces off to the dance floor.

"You've only said it about three times," Tifa answers, sipping at her champagne. She had decided on a new dress for the evening. It is a halter top, with a peek-a-boo diamond along her midriff, and the length ending at the body of her calves. It is a deep shade of crimson, the material a lightweight chiffon. It is fitted through the waist with the skirt free and flowing, the left side having a daring slit up her thigh. It's a dress Tifa can wear several places other than this one outing. Pretty, yet practical. That's how she liked her clothes.

Cloud must also like her clothes this way. He keeps finding the open slit on her side and drawing lines on her thigh.

Yuffie and Aerith chose her lipstick, which is almost darker than the crimson of her dress, but is a striking contrast with her skin tone. Then she went with a neutral smoky eye, using browns instead of blacks and grays.

Cloud's dressed up nicer tonight, as well. She hasn't seen him in anything fancier than relaxed jeans and a casual shirt. This evening, he's wearing a dark, forest green button down shirt, black slacks that look pressed, and black boots. He's rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, and the top two buttons have been left undone. He makes the formal dress almost seem casual, and the loosened collar tempts her to tease the skin there. The deep green of his shirt makes his blue eyes seem richer, too, the threads of green running throughout them more prominent. The low light of the parlor makes them shine like lightning.

"You don't look so bad yourself, Strife."

"You'll be shocked to know I dressed myself."

"Zack didn't give you any pointers?"

"Nope."

"Wow, a man who can dress himself without help? That's so attractive."

Cloud drags his hand to her butt and pinches it. She jumps and laughs.

They sip on their champagne as Cloud points out all of the employees and prominent figures. There's the main players—Reeve Tuesti, the president and CEO of WRO, and his assistant, Cait, who is a very feline-like man, his jaw sharp and his eyes thin. His grin is genial, however, and that softens his appearance. There's Rufus Shinra, the son of the controversial President Shinra, and whom Tifa is overly familiar. She wrinkles her nose and makes a noise under her breath, and Cloud's hand on her hip is a welcoming thing. Rufus and his father were never on good terms. They had always been at odds. She can't blame the son for the sins of the father, but Rufus' likeness to Shinra twists her stomach.

"He seems to be a great CFO, from what I've heard," Cloud says. "Guess there's one good thing to come out of the old Shinra."

There's a myriad of employees underneath Rufus, Cloud goes on to tell her, with Elena Brogan, Reno Kirke, Tseng Li, and…Rude.

Cloud says his name with blatant spite, and Tifa smiles at him.

"You know, this whole time and I didn't realize Rufus was Rude's immediate boss. How weird."

"What a dick."

Tifa shakes her head. "If he hadn't dumped me, I wouldn't have met you."

Cloud frowns. "I wouldn't give Rude that much credit."

"I guess not credit. More like…happenstance. Serendipity?"

Cloud looks at her, his frown turning contemplative. "I'd been to Seventh Heaven before I met you."

Tifa feels her jaw go slack. "What?"

"I'm almost certain more than half the people at this function have been there at least once."

"But…but…" Tifa splutters, suddenly shocked. "I never saw you."

He smiles a bit at that, shifting his weight. "You weren't looking for me."

His simple answer does nothing to help her grasp the thought of Cloud being in her bar without her even noticing. "But I should have seen you."

"Tifa, you have a thousand customers. You're always manning the bar and managing everyone. It's not like I ever went up to talk to you before meeting you in New Midgar. I just hung out with Zack or Aerith or Biggs, always in some booth far away from where you worked."

The thought of Cloud being in a booth in her bar, being so close to him and never knowing it, makes her feel like a rod has been shoved through her spine. Everything has tensed up within her.

"Why didn't you come up and…" she starts, interrupting herself with a sigh.

He gently presses himself closer to her side. "I never came up to talk to you because I didn't have the nerve."

"But…why…you're telling me this, now?"

Her reaction has him chuckling into her ear. "It's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal, too!"

"Why?"

It's such a silly question to her. "Why? Because we…this could have happened so much sooner."

The smile he gives her is soft and sweet. "I don't think I would have wanted to meet you in any other way than the way we did."

The rod in her back twists. She almost feels crippled by his words. She edges up to kiss him, and he kisses her back.

She leaves a reddish-pink imprint on his lips, and she raises her hand and rubs her fingers against them, attempting to wipe it off. "I've marked you," she says.

He catches her hand. "Leave it."

They stare at each other. Tifa can hear her heart beginning to drown out the bass and treble of music flowing out of the speakers. The pounding of it rages into her fingertips, and she wonders if Cloud can feel it in his palm.

"Wanna find one of those guest rooms?" he asks her. His voice is low and rough. Tifa laughs breathlessly.

"Cloud, we haven't been here for half an hour! We should enjoy it."

"We'd enjoy it much more by ourselves."

She thinks about it. She bites her lip. His eyes dart to it, and she feels his hold on her tighten. He's about to pull her away, she knows it, into some dark trenches of corridors, to be alone, as he said, enjoying the night all by themselves.

Before she loses her composure, she says, "I want to learn about where you work. I want to know the people. Then, I promise, we can enjoy the rest of the night."

He presses his forehead to hers with a deep, agonizing sigh. "There's nothing interesting about where I work," he says, petulantly. It is so boyish and whiny that it makes Tifa laugh, and it unwinds and calms the rampant desire Cloud always seems to stoke when they're together.

"I want to know every single boring detail."

"Tifa."

"C'mon. You'll be rewarded in full later," she winks.

He eases back from her, but his hand lingers on the slit at her thigh. "Fine."

He tells her the rest of what he knows. Reno is a ladies man and he tends to hear conversations of ladies in the office either talking about him, lusting after him, or describing him, and Cloud admits he is embarrassed by the amount of information he has gleaned over Reno's anatomy.

He calls Rude a dick again, and that's all he has over the subject of him, making Tifa laugh more.

Elena is one of the newer members of the organization. She may or may not have a crush on Tseng, who is her adviser and mentor.

Tseng has been working there for a number of years, now, and is the main liaison with the intelligence branch, where Zack works. They are the ones who tend to communicate with each other, though the jury's out on if Tseng actually likes Zack at all.

"Did Aerith ever tell you how her and Zack met?" Cloud asks, taking a drink from his newly acquired whiskey soda.

"She's told me some things, but not the full story. All I know is that Zack fell into her flower garden when he was chasing after someone who stole information from WRO's archives," Tifa says. "And that she scolded him for five straight minutes for ruining her lilies."

Cloud smiles at that. "Yeah, that was it. Aerith didn't like him at first. Zack took it as a challenge to get on her good side. You know how competitive Zack is."

Tifa rolls her eyes good-naturedly. Zack has been trying to beat Tifa's score at darts ever since he gained the knowledge she had the highest score. That's unfair! You own the bar!

"Zack visited Aerith at least once a week, buying a different bunch of flowers every time. He'd ask her what the flowers meant and what colors signified and the genus and species. He'd flirt with her. He'd talk to her about why she chose flowers as a profession. He even helped fix one of her flower wagons and did a few errands and deliveries. He was really putting it in for all he was worth." Cloud sends a glance to Tseng, who's talking between Elena and Reno. Elena laughs at something he says.

"Tseng had a thing for Aerith before Zack met her. Apparently, he'd visit her flower shop whenever he was in the neighborhood, and according to Zack, he was in her neighborhood all the time."

Tifa blinks. "Aerith never told me this! What happened with Tseng?"

"Zack walked into her shop one day after work, like usual. Tseng was already there. Him and Aerith were, uh, kissing."

Tifa's mouth parts. She glances around the room to find Aerith, who's in the middle of the floor and dancing with Zack. She feels an immediate stab of betrayal from the information—but then shakes her head at herself. She's only known Aerith two months. And Tifa has hardly relayed to Aerith her rickety past.

"What did Zack do?" Tifa asks. She watches as Zack spins her and pulls her back in, Aerith's dress fanning out with the motion. Zack's hand lands on her waist, and Aerith grins up at him.

"Zack told me he stood there and stared at them in shock before accidentally toppling over one of her plants."

"Accidentally?"

Cloud shrugs, smiling a little. "Zack's a klutz. I could see him stumbling." He goes on to tell her that the broken pot made Aerith and Tseng stop kissing. Tseng seemed embarrassed to be caught. Aerith looked mortified.

Zack, with all his bluster and bravado, realized he had a desperate fondness for Aerith, and seeing her kissing Tseng was an unending bruise to his spirit.

"Zack ended up laughing, apologized for ruining the moment—" wow, Tseng, I didn't know you had it in you to feel things! "—and left." Cloud shakes his head, following Tifa's gaze to Aerith and Zack. "I've never known Zack to be so upset. He never lets things get to him, but the next week, his mood was awful. He was distracted. He's always had a thing for girls—he wasn't as bad as Reno, but he'd flirt with them and charm them—so this was new. It really bothered him."

Zack didn't visit Aerith that week, nor did he visit her the week after. Cloud had been fed up with him and told him to go to the flower shop and stop wallowing. Zack had said, angsty and dramatically, what's the point?

It was the third week when Aerith came to visit Zack instead. She was carrying a basket full of daffodils, wearing a white sundress bordered with pink and red threaded patterns along the hem. She was vibrant and vivacious, everything that Tifa has equated with her since their meeting. Tifa can imagine it, Aerith standing like a beacon in Zack's doorway, and Zack being walloped with breathless adulation, adoration, and filled with the gleam that she sees in his eyes right now, as they dance across the parlor.

"I waited," Aerith told him. "I was hoping you'd come back, and I waited, but you never came."

Zack looked away. He hesitated. "I'm sure you have a lot of customers, Aerith. Why would you wait for just one?"

She stared at him for a long moment, determination growing on her brow. "These are daffodils," she told him. "They can mean a lot of things. Chivalry. Regard. Misfortune." She quieted. "Unrequited love and new beginnings."

Zack shifted his weight before opening his mouth. "If this is your way of trying to nicely reject me—"

"New beginnings," she said, interrupting him and holding out two daffodils towards him. Zack stared before reaching up to to take them. Their hands lingered.

"Wasn't Tseng..."

She shook her head, glancing at their hands. "Tseng wasn't the one I wanted."

"To this day, Zack still regrets not getting there first. Aerith teases him about being late," Cloud says. "It would have saved them both a lot of grief. Me included."

Tifa grins. "It makes me love them even more."

Cloud carries on, pointing over to the other side of the dance floor, where interspersed, small, circular tables pepper the area. A tall man with short, black hair and strikingly red eyes stands at one, nursing a drink, wearing a black suit and tie that is as red as his eyes. He's somehow able to make himself blend with the darkened lighting, as though he is encapsulated in shadow, but something is terribly familiar about him. It's on the tip of Tifa's tongue, and she frowns in thought.

"That's Vincent Valentine," Cloud says. "He's the COO, and he's my boss. I report to him when needed, but like with everyone else, I communicate with whoever I need to if necessary."

The name doesn't ring a bell. Tifa continues watching him, and she almost spits out her drink when Yuffie sidles up next to him, grinning her mischievous, impish grin. Vincent looks down at her with a blank, apathetic expression. It all suddenly hits Tifa like a bulldozer.

"No way," Tifa breathes, setting down her glass on the bar counter. "He's the guy I saw her sitting with at the New Midgar bar!"

Cloud raises a brow. "Vincent? Oh," he says before scoffing a laugh. "Yeah. That's why I told you she'd be fine."

Tifa spins around, turning on him. "What? You knew this whole time?"

Realizing his mistake, Cloud holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "I didn't know they actually…got together. Vincent hardly talks. I just knew his code of ethics was supernatural. He'd never do anything to harm a woman. Actually, I didn't even know he was interested in women," he mutters.

Tifa's jaw drops lower and lower until she starts laughing uncontrollably. She places a hand over her face. "How does this even happen?" She glances over to where Yuffie stands with Vincent and spies the man's hand wrap around her waist. Yuffie looks up and catches eyes with Tifa across the room, and Tifa unabashedly points an accusing finger at Vincent. Yuffie only grins and shrugs, looking for all the world like she got away with something.

"I guess the WRO employs only the most good-looking, smartest applicants," Cloud deadpans, making Tifa burst into a little snort. Cloud laughs at that.

"I don't think I've heard you snort before."

"Oh, no. This happens when I drink."

Cloud leans in close. "Really? What else happens when you drink?"

She narrows her eyes at him, her lips quirking up. "Oh, you know. I talk to random, handsome males and ask them life's most difficult questions. I kiss strangers and take rides home with them."

"That's right. I remember, now. I think you dance, too."

"That's only after a few more drinks."

"Andrea is around here somewhere. Should I find him for you? I think I also remember you saying you really wanted a lesson from him…"

"Cloud! No, no, no, no," she protests as he grabs at her waist, attempting to pull her toward the expanse of the dance floor. "Not yet, not yet!"

"If not now, when?" he smiles, and Tifa brings her hands up to hold the sides of his face.

"Later. Or tomorrow. Or never."

He lets her pull him down for a kiss, making his lips tinged with an even redder hue.

"You should try on my lipstick," she tells him. "It'll look good on you."

"Only if I can apply it by kissing you."

"I wouldn't mind that."

"Tifa! Cloud!" Aerith's voice calls from the abyss of the parlor. She runs up to them and tugs on Tifa's arm. "Come with me! I've never danced with you! It's a tragedy we must change this instant!" Tifa grins as she's tugged along, glancing back at Cloud and Zack. "Hey, you two! You are coming!"

Zack waves her off, and Cloud only smiles at her. "Maybe later. You two need your girl time."

Aerith sticks her tongue out at them. Tifa grips Aerith's hand.

"Why didn't you tell me how you and Zack got together?"

"What? I didn't?"

They find their place in the middle of the floor, and Aerith grabs both of Tifa's hands while they sashay around each other.

"You only told me he fell into your flower garden and ruined your lilies. You didn't tell me about Tseng!"

Aerith's cheeks turn rosy, and she laughs. "Oh, I feel like I've told everyone that story so many times, I just assumed you knew it, too! Oh, Teef, it was so weird. I was in a literal love triangle!"

Tifa shakes her head and spins around her. "Did you like Tseng?"

Aerith follows her lead, and she shakes her hips while they both laugh. "A little. He was a good friend, especially when I first opened my shop. But then Zack appeared out of nowhere, and he made me so angry for ruining what I worked so hard on—did you know he ripped up about a third of my inventory? I thought, the nerve of this boy!" Aerith places her hands on Tifa's shoulders, and Tifa wraps hers around Aerith's waist. "Then he made me even angrier by being so cute. He had dimples. He was charming. He was sweet and dangerous. And he kept visiting me! I thought, what is this boy trying to prove?"

"Obviously that he had Gaia's largest crush on the pretty flower girl in town."

Aerith's laughter tinkles like bells. "Tifa, he asked to run errands for me. When I broke my flower wagon, I didn't even have to ask him to fix it. He just did it. I knew I loved him, then. We'd barely touched one another, but I knew. And then Tseng came in one day, and he strolled up and confessed that he cared about me. I didn't know what to do. He kissed me, and I was shocked and just stood there. Oh, Tseng," she sighs, squeezing Tifa closer to her. "Zack witnessed the entire thing. It was a soap opera!"

Tifa grins. "You can't tell me you didn't enjoy the drama."

"Ugh! You're so right. I did. I admit it," Aerith groans, but she gives a playful smile. "But I'll never forget the look on Zack's face. He was a wounded puppy. He looked so hurt. His heart is so big and full, and I could almost feel it shatter." Her eyes flicker to the side, and Tifa follows her gaze. Zack is telling something to Cloud, but he looks up to catch them staring at him. He grins and waves. Aerith smiles back and sighs. "I waited. He didn't come back to me. I knew I must have obliterated him, because it wasn't like him. He gave me so much space. But I waited, anyway. Then I had to seek him out, myself. So dense," she says under her breath, and Tifa smiles.

"Yeah. Dense."

"Love is stupid, isn't it, Tifa?" she asks her, turning back to her. They sway together, the music still thrumming and wild and yet utterly subdued with their conversation.

Tifa feels her throat tighten. This has been happening every time she thinks about confessing the words aloud. When she's around Cloud, it hides and jumps into the box of her heart, locking itself inside forever. It doesn't want to leave her, doesn't want to be noticed or seen or vulnerable. It is stupid. Tifa knows she shines with it, regardless. With every look or glance or touch, it beams through her like a thousand sun rays. The terrain of her skin is different, too, rippled from the force of Cloud's affection.

"Yes," Tifa answers. "I can't tell him."

Aerith places a palm on her cheek. "You can. He loves you, too, don't you see?"

Tifa takes a deep breath from the words. They are a sledgehammer to the lock on her heart.

"You're dancing without me!"

Both Tifa and Aerith glance over to their side, with Yuffie bounding up to them. She wraps her arms around their shoulders, bowling into them. They all rock, almost falling over each other.

"Wow, I might even be jealous. Gross. But now it's fine, because I'm here."

"Yuffie!" they scream, breaking apart from each other and grabbing at Yuffie's limbs.

"Why did you not tell us about Vincent?" Tifa rounds on her.

Aerith gasps. "What? Vincent? Vincent Valentine, Vincent?"

Tifa points off to the side where Vincent remains standing. Aerith follows her finger, her mouth still open and gaping. Vincent catches them both staring at him, and he blinks at the blatant attention.

Yuffie rolls her eyes with a shit-eating grin. "He's so hot, isn't he?"

Aerith makes a loud, squealing noise. "I can't believe you didn't spill!" She grips Yuffie tighter. "How'd you manage to land him? I've heard all kinds of things."

Yuffie shakes her head, sighing loudly. "I didn't land him. He's one of those mythical wed before bed types. I didn't even know that still existed?"

Aerith shakes her head, and Tifa snorts. "No, Yuffie, I didn't mean to ask if you'd had sex! I just meant, how did you end up dating?"

Tifa places a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Yuffie pokes her stomach. "Tifa, how much have you been drinking?"

"Not a lot!" Tifa objects. "I think champagne makes me snort more than usual."

"Oh, I bet Cloud loves when you snort," Aerith titters.

"Shut up!" Tifa says, pushing at her lightly. "Yuffie, he's the guy you were with at the New Midgar bar! The night I met Cloud."

Aerith's eyes widen. "You mean Yuffie's been seeing him this whole time?"

They both hover over Yuffie, Aerith with her hand on her hips and Tifa with her arms crossed over her chest. Yuffie waves an arm with an unnecessary amount of theatrics.

"Okay, first off, no, not since then! That's only when I met him. But we have been talking since then. He is so proper with his speech. I could listen to him talk all day." Yuffie's eyes glitter in a vortex of a smitten sea.

"Cloud told me he doesn't talk a lot," Tifa says.

"Honestly, I think I talk enough for the both of us," Yuffie admits. "But when he does talk…" she trails, her face turning uncharacteristically dreamy. "He's a scholar. And he can wield a gun like nobody's business."

Tifa turns to Aerith. "Yuffie doesn't go for scholarly types."

"What's happened to her, do you think?" she stage whispers. "Do you think it's because…"

"He can 'wield a gun'?"

"Oh, sweet Leviathan! You guys!" Yuffie huffs, grabbing their arms. "Let's go to a table. I need a drink."

Tifa and Aerith grin at each other, being pulled closely behind.

Yuffie tells them all about her secret, burgeoning relationship with the mysterious, dark, tall, handsome, scholarly Vincent Valentine. Tifa and Aerith hum with delight and force Yuffie to extrapolate over him, and it's made even more enjoyable with the champagne that continues to be delivered to their table.

"Does he open doors for you? He must open doors for you," Aerith says.

Yuffie grimaces. "I can open my own doors."

"It's the principle of it, Yuffie," Tifa says. "Of course you can open your own doors, but does he effortlessly do these things when you don't pay attention?"

Yuffie opens her mouth before she moans. "Ugh. Yes. He does."

"Does he kiss your hand?"

"Does he send you flowers?" asks Aerith.

"Does he touch you for no other reason than to be close?"

"Does he sound regretful every time you say goodbye?"

Yuffie blinks at them, eyes darting back and forth between them. "You two are nuts, and I don't know why I'm friends with you. But…yeah, he's done all those things before."

Tifa and Aerith give each other knowing looks.

"Not all the time," Yuffie rebukes before they can say anything else. "If he did, it would make me gag and be such a turn off."

"From what you've told us, he does seem like the aloof, uncaring about your emotions, type," Aerith says, sipping at her Cosmo through a straw.

"He's not the best with emotions or physical touch," Yuffie says. "I think it's because of one of his past breakups. He hasn't told me much about it, and it seems like a sore topic. But he's good at listening and doing things. Sometimes, he'll send me a letter instead of a phone message. Or he'll send me something I mentioned in passing, like the newest brand of ninja stars or a headband. He's a nerd."

"That sounds really thoughtful, Yuffie," Tifa smiles.

Yuffie shrugs. "He's alright, I guess."

And it seems, the more they talk and needle her about him, the more and more Yuffie tries to brush them off. Yuffie must like him very much if she acts this way, Tifa thinks. She's wrapped up in him like a cape caught in a fan, twisting and tangled. Tifa sees it in the furtive glances Yuffie takes when she thinks they're distracted with conversation. Tifa notices Vincent's glances, too, his red eyes too conspicuous to lie about their intent.

Eventually, Zack and Cloud join their table. Yuffie tries to wave Vincent over, but he doesn't budge. She sighs loudly.

"I'm going to try to drag him over here," Yuffie states, standing up from the table. "I'll be back!"

Tifa scoots closer to Cloud until she's almost in his lap. Aerith lays her head on Zack's shoulder.

"Yuffie really likes him," Aerith says to the group, though she's looking at Tifa.

Tifa nods, smiling. "She doesn't like many." She glances off to the side, watching Yuffie thread her fingers into Vincent's. She pulls him down to say something in his ear, and while his lips don't move, his eyes crinkle at their sides.

Zack laughs. "I can't believe she got the COO to want to date. Honestly, the only things I've ever heard him say are the things we need to be better at doing."

Cloud shakes his head. "His glares are loud enough without him having to say anything."

"Yuffie's a hell of a girl, then," Zack grins. "Figures she'd be friends with us."

Aerith squeezes his arm. "She's one of a kind. Of course she's friends with us."

They sit together comfortably for a while, and Tifa glances around the extravagance of the room. Lights flicker and change on the dance floor, making it glitter and gleam like the night sky. The rest of the room rests in a haze of low lights, shadow, and the hint of dim oranges and reds, like the dusky hue of sunset. Each corner of the room holds a bar, with lounge chairs scattered around the walls. Some of the honey bees sit in the laps of executives in suits, while other employees stand and chat and slowly make their way into deeper intoxication, the braver souls dancing without a hint of care.

Her eyes come upon Rude, who is standing beside Reno. She remembers some of their conversations—Reno had always been Rude's partner and closest work friend. They're chatting amicably with one another, and Reno says something that has Rude smiling.

"Aerith, Tifa, this is Vincent," Yuffie announces, and Tifa turns to look up to her side. Vincent's eyes, upon closer inspection, are almost frightening in such proximity. His face is severe with angular lines, his mouth in an expressionless flatline, reminding Tifa of a dead heart. He surveys the table with one sweep of a glance. "Vince, you already know Zack and Cloud, so play nice, please?"

It's then when Tifa sees it—the tiny twitch of his mouth. It's the telltale beat of life. The first breath in once drowning lungs.

Zack nods in greeting. "Mr. Valentine. Good to see you, sir."

"Mr. Valentine," Cloud says.

"I have been told this is a night of merriment," Vincent says, and Tifa knows immediately why Yuffie is so attracted to his voice. It is deep, and slow, and stately. "You may call me Vincent."

Zack and Cloud share a look with each other. Zack hesitates.

"You're sure you won't decide to fire us if we do?"

Vincent glances at Yuffie before looking back at them. "I have been advised she will break up with me if I fire you."

Aerith snickers into her hand, elbowing Zack. Tifa smiles at Vincent.

"Job security," Aerith whispers to Zack.

"That is a very Yuffie-like bargain," Tifa says.

"Appreciate the foresight on that, Yuffie," Cloud says, smirking a bit.

"She is almost too cunning for me," Vincent says, pulling out Yuffie's seat for her to take before taking his own. Tifa meets Yuffie's eyes and raises her eyebrows at the gesture. Yuffie answers the look with an annoyed one of her own.

"She's too cunning for all of us," Zack laughs. "I'm pretty sure she rigged the dart board at Seventh Heaven to make me lose all the time."

"Honestly, you just suck at darts, Fair," Yuffie states. "Also, that's below my level of pettiness."

"Zack, how dare you! Yuffie has standards!" Aerith scolds him teasingly.

"Forgive me, oh great one," Zack says, placing a hand over his heart.

"I'll think about it."

"Vincent, Yuffie has told us so much about you. I feel as though we know you, already," Tifa says, infusing her voice with as much sweetness as she can. Yuffie glares at her and mouths no.

Aerith follows her lead. "You're such a gentleman. Yuffie wouldn't stop gushing over you."

"She'll say she hates you doing anything for her, but don't believe it. She loves being treated like a princess."

"Tifa…" Yuffie says warningly.

Aerith shrugs. "She's basically royalty. She tells us all the time."

"She's mentioned you send her letters and, on occasion, flowers. That's so romantic," Tifa says. Aerith sighs happily.

"If you need any help with the flowers, I'm your girl," Aerith winks.

"I…appreciate this," Vincent says, with a questioning inflection, as though he's uncertain if he should be saying anything at all. Tifa relishes the infuriated look growing on Yuffie's face, her cheeks, for once, becoming flushed with rare embarrassment.

"Of course," Tifa says, glancing at Yuffie and trying to hold back her laughter. "She's even mentioned that you're old-fashioned, too. Something about wedding before—"

Yuffie kicks Tifa's shin. Tifa bites her tongue to silence her yelp, but she still chokes out a grunt and digs her nails into Cloud's forearm to help with the pain.

"Yuffie!" Aerith exclaims, reaching over to place a consoling hand over Tifa's fisted one on the table. Aerith begins giggling, and it evolves into laughter after looking at Yuffie's expression. It's a confused cross between murderous rage and suppressed amusement.

"Yuffie, that hurt so bad," Tifa breathes, before the laughs gust out of her.

"Tifa, are you—" starts Cloud.

"Oh, she's fine," Yuffie says, nonchalantly waving away Tifa's pain. "You know, she's like a martial artist or whatever. Sorry, my foot must have swung weird under the table. And I forgot, I'm wearing heels. I never wear heels. My bad."

"You're the worst," Tifa says. Yuffie's lips curl into a smile, her eyes glinting.

"Touche, Teef. I've taught you well."

Zack, Cloud, and Vincent all glance at each other in bemused silence while the girls continue snickering, their shoulders shaking with shameless humor.

They spend the better part of an hour together, sitting at the table. They talk about the different missions the boys have endured, specifically Zack and Cloud, and the growing pains of beginning their jobs. Cloud talks about how he had been woefully unprepared for his first deliveries, being cut up and limping and sore as all hell the next days, only to have another delivery to make. Zack describes outlandish things that Tifa's unsure are wholly true, but his tales are entertaining, and most of the things Zack did to get out of the scrapes he placed himself in are goofy and klutzy—and Tifa imagines the scenario with him, Tseng, and Aerith much better after listening to his stories.

Vincent does not say much, but he seems content. In the midst of their conversation, he places his arm along the back of Yuffie's chair. Yuffie begins to lean into his side.

Aerith tends to make remarks—mostly teasing remarks—during Zack's monologues, and Zack takes them all in stride. He takes to calling her honey because of their setting, and Aerith shoves her hand into his face.

Cloud either makes disproving noises or scoffs or laughs at Zack, and he turns to Tifa and whispers into her ear when he's lying.

"He actually dropped the materia. The thief didn't have to steal it."

"Hey!" Zack outcries. "He stole it, and we both know it."

The music bumps and thrums like a conga line, pulsing its way through the parlor and weaving its way between the tables. It seems to grow and grow, and the space begins to feel like it's even more crowded than it was when they first arrived. Tifa thinks if she wasn't sitting, it would lift her up and pull her through the tables like the rushing of a river.

"Tifa?"

Tifa glances up from the table, blinking in heavy surprise. "Rude?"

He still wears his sunglasses, even in the darkness of the parlor. He wears the same suit he wears for work, his goatee as tailored along his jaw as it has always been. Nothing is ruffled or out of place, even though they are deep into the night.

She can feel Cloud's hand tighten on her thigh, and she glances to him out of the corner of her eye. He's frowning, and he looks at her when she shifts.

"May I have a dance?" he asks.

Tifa is floored at the question. She can just imagine what kind of look Yuffie is giving him. She's not sure how Zack and Aerith are reacting, if they are, and Vincent is intimidating on his own without knowing him at all. Tifa is admittedly impressed that Rude's nerve must have been sown of steel and granite to come talk to her, to ask her to dance, when surrounded by her friends. Nerve or alcohol.

…Probably alcohol.

"Oh," she hears herself say. "Um. Yeah. Sure."

"Tifa—" Cloud says softly. "You don't have to."

She looks at him, noting his uncertainty. He knows how much she hurt. He knows her trust in herself was fractured. What he fails to know now, however, is that none of it matters anymore.

"It's okay," she smiles, then she leans forward to kiss him in a public display of affection she doesn't mind so much, tonight. Cloud's grip on her tightens again, and she places her hand over his with a squeeze. As she stands from the table, Yuffie catches her eye. She gives Tifa a look of frustration and disapproval, but she's unsure of how much it's for Rude versus herself.

"Don't have too much fun without me," Tifa calls. She follows Rude to the floor, and they find a space for themselves. Rude opens his arms and Tifa takes her position, the memory of how they used to dance together like a dated, crumbling photograph. Rude leads her into the beats, and while they are heavy with bass and flickering lights, it is in three-quarters time, and they are somehow able to foot their way into a waltz.

"How are you?" Tifa asks. "I haven't seen you in so long."

"I'm well," he says. "Busy with work, is all."

"As always," Tifa smiles.

"How are you?"

"Good. Busy working, like you."

Rude nods. "Enjoying the evening?"

"It's been a great time, so far."

They are quiet for a minute or two. Tifa opens her mouth but doesn't know what to say. Polite conversation seems moot after all this. She takes in the profile of his jaw and the bald shave, and she wonders about the passage of time. It feels like another life when they had danced this same dance together in restaurants. When he bought her chocolates and when they watched movies. When they kissed and enjoyed each other's presence. When Tifa made him dinner. When they talked about the future. When he smiled at her and when she delighted in it.

It's been six months since they've broken up. It's been a longer time than they had been dating, and while it wouldn't be deemed a long relationship to anyone else, Tifa considers it to be. It's because of the details inside of their window of time. She got to know him well, and she got to know herself well, too.

She's been dating Cloud for three months, now. They are two different species of relationships. There is nothing to compare. She can't even compare out of spite, because she is too satisfied and contented to care. She's so fully entrenched in Cloud, she almost feels like he's a shawl across her back, even now, with her right hand in Rude's and her left on his shoulder. This makes it easy to smile at him when he looks at her, when he takes her through a spin that details a history written in her older chapters.

"You were always so good at this dance," Tifa remarks. "So classically bred."

Rude smiles a little. "It's always been my favorite."

"Have you taken any other girls dancing?"

"…not yet."

"You will. Take a break from work. You do too much of it."

"So do you, Tifa."

"I won't disagree with you, there," she says, laughing. "But life's more than just working, Rude. It'll always be there when you get back."

Rude contemplates this for a while. "Yes…I suppose."

The music speeds up a little, and they move quicker together.

"You're dating Cloud?" he asks.

Her eyes automatically rove to find him. When they do, she sees him staring at them. It's probably a glare, and she attempts to give him a smile before they turn.

"I am."

"He makes you happy?"

Happy is a simple word, she thinks. Simple and inadequate.

"He does."

Rude hums a noise. "I am happy for you then, Tifa."

She smiles at him. "And one day, you'll find someone who makes you feel the way I do for him."

He laughs, short and brief. "Perhaps. Time will tell."

The DJ doesn't allow the music to stop, one song fading and flowing into the next. As soon as the song they are dancing to transforms into a different beat, Cloud appears beside Rude.

"Can I cut in?"

Rude obeys, letting go of Tifa's waist and hand. "Thank you for the dance, Tifa."

Abruptly and suddenly, she wants to tell him the same thing. Thank you for the dance, Rude. And thank you for breaking up with me. Thank you for shattering my heart and allowing me to mend it. Because now, she has this new one, with old scars both white and dark and leathery, permanent callouses along the apex, rewired veins to overpass the ruptures. And beautiful hands to hold it.

"Of course, Rude. Take care of yourself."

He gives her one last smile before he leaves them. Cloud takes no time at all in wrapping her up in him, placing both hands on her hips. Her hands land on his chest before she slides them up to his shoulders.

"You're too nice of a person," Cloud mumbles under his breath, leaning forward to nudge his nose against her jaw. He places a kiss on her neck.

"He's not bad. We just weren't right."

"A blessing for me."

She laughs. "Yuffie wasn't too angry?"

"Oh, we were all livid. Don't worry."

"Even Vincent?"

"Especially Vincent."

She smiles. "I think you have all forgotten I don't care anymore."

"Maybe you don't, but we do."

"So protective," she says with affection.

"It was the longest five minutes of my life."

"I'm sure he could feel your glare."

"I thought about sending a zap of lightning at him."

"I survived it, somehow."

"Yeah, somehow. What did he want, anyway? A second chance?"

"No," she sighs. "I think it was helpful closure for him. Rude is kind at heart. I know he did the breaking, but I think it hurt him just the same."

"He should hurt, the asshole."

She places her hands behind his neck and kisses him. They stop swaying. He pulls her in close to him until every line of their front presses together.

"Cloud? Thank you."

"For what?"

She lifts up a shoulder in a shrug. "Everything."

Andrea Rhodea makes his appearance around midnight. Every WRO member whoops and hollers when they see him take precedence on the upraised stage in the middle of the room. The spotlight shines down on him. The honey bee dancers take their formations. The music begins to blare, trumpets bursting through the speakers in pulsating shouts. The accompaniment of drumbeats and guitar riffs and techno beats blend together in an array of sound, decorating the air like paint splatters on the walls.

And Andrea dances. He spins and he jumps and he creates arching shapes with his body. He is a centerpiece and his bees are accessories, like earrings and shoes and necklaces, making him sparkle and shine.

Tifa can't take her eyes off him. Neither can Yuffie or Aerith. Zack seems to be impressed, and Cloud has his arms crossed and attempts to look blasé.

"You're good at that," Tifa tells him during a riff in the song and dance.

"Good at what?"

"Pretending not to care."

He scoffs at her, but a smirk creeps up on his lips.

"There's no denying he's good at what he does, but I've seen it before."

Her eyes brighten. "Is this the routine he taught you?"

Cloud opens his mouth but hesitates. It is the best confirmation. "Parts of it."

Tifa grins widely. Cloud gives her a skeptical look.

"Don't get any ideas."

"Too late."

Andrea finishes in a spectacle of flashing lights and an explosion of colors. It is a dazzling feast for her eyes, and Tifa claps loudly. Yuffie whistles and Aerith shouts her glee.

Because of the audience being limited and specified in selection, Andrea makes his rounds to the top executives after his performance, walking around with a gracious strut to his hips and his arms. He's made simple movement an art form.

"You might wanna close your mouth, Teef. Cloud's gonna be jealous," Yuffie says.

Tifa startles at the observation before she laughs. "I didn't even know I was gawking!"

"We all are, don't worry," Zack says, placing an arm around Aerith's shoulders. "Listen, if I wasn't so deeply heterosexual and head over heels for my honey bee, I'd be hard pressed to have a crush on that guy."

"Cloud would, too," Aerith says, grinning. "If he wasn't so head over heels."

Cloud only makes a noncommittal noise. Aerith winks at Tifa. Tifa pointedly looks away from her.

Vincent, throughout the whole thing, seems to be unaffected. It's only when Yuffie nudges him that Tifa realizes he had been staring, unblinkingly.

"Vincent might be with both of you," Yuffie laughs.

"...no," is all he says.

Tifa keeps tabs on Andrea's trajectory through the parlor, though she doesn't mean to be such a fan girl. She feels ridiculous, but being star struck is a powerful thing.

When he sees Cloud, he halts. "Ah! Cloud Strife! I am pleased to see a fellow dancer in our midst."

Cloud's cheeks flush immediately. "Uh, Andrea. You're too…kind."

"Nonsense!" he says, flourishing his arms. "One of the best amateurs I've seen in quite a while!"

Cloud looks like he wants to crawl into a hole and die.

"One of the best?" Tifa says, her enjoyment of his discomfort growing. "Then I need to see it."

Andrea looks to her, and he does a double take. "You—your figure! That tone! Those legs!"

Tifa's enjoyment halts, and suddenly she begins to feel like Cloud looks. "Wait…what?" She glances down at herself. "I…um…"

"So athletic! You keep yourself in tip top shape, and that takes discipline and perseverance. That is something I truly admire." Andrea walks up to her, and Tifa is floored by both his proximity and praise. His famous, electric aura is otherworldly, and suddenly Tifa has no words left to say.

He takes her hands in his own, and Tifa feels almost lightheaded. "Please, tell me you will dance with me."

Tifa stares at him.

"She will," Cloud answers for her.

Tifa is jolted into looking over at him. The words appear again. "Wait, no, I don't think I—"

"Nonsense! Cloud understands the kindred spirit of another dancer when he sees one. Now, what is your name?"

"…Tifa."

"Tifa. Ah. Lovely!" he says, his exuberance and enthusiasm bold and infectious. "Come, come, Tifa. Let us dance."

Tifa is dragged behind him, and her eyes seek out Cloud. He's watching her with his arms crossed, smirking at her as she goes.

"Cloud—!"

"You said later, and it's later. Don't worry. You'll be great."

"Hell yeah!" Yuffie whoops. "You're going to be so hot, Teef!"

Aerith claps with tremendous fervor. "It's going to be amazing!"

Even Zack shouts with a few hollers and a whistle, grinning widely.

Tifa feels an absurd fear settle over her like a sticky spider's webbing. She feels desperately out of place and woefully unprepared.

"Um, Andrea, sir, I don't think I can—"

"Oh, Tifa, just listen to the beat. Let it speak to you. Let yourself feel it."

Tifa's mind runs over all of her chakras and poses and stances. They aren't dances, but they are somewhat graceful. Andrea claps, and two spotlights shine from above. He's already standing in one, and he gestures for Tifa to take the other. Tifa fidgets, glancing back out into the crowd. Most people are too drunk to care what's going on on the stage, anymore. It gives Tifa little solace, because her friends are watching, and they somehow are the only ones who mean anything.

"Tifa," Andrea calls. He's giving her an understanding look before walking up to her and taking her shoulders in his hands. "Don't be afraid. True beauty is an expression of the heart. Think of what is beautiful to you. Think about who you are. Think about what makes you. Then, follow my lead."

They are pretty words coming from an even prettier man. Tifa glances down at her dress again, and she wonders how much her makeup has faded. She glances at the spotlight and huffs out a breath. She's done so many other reckless, potentially life-threatening things in her life and survived. This isn't anything different.

As she takes her place in the spotlight, the emotions she felt from dancing with Rude pile onto her like a gush of rain. If beauty is an expression of her heart—and it must be, because she can feel it flooding through her, as rapid as her adrenaline—then she thinks she knows exactly what this dance is supposed to be.

"DJ! Play the next track!"

A swell of violins expand over the space like a blanket, a gentle piano accompaniment, and then the ricochet of a techno bass beat.

A woman's deep, soulful voice trickles and weaves together with the music.

"You're just too good to be true," she sings. "Can't take my eyes off of you."

Tifa almost laughs. This song. It had to be this song. Can Andrea read her heart as much as he can talk about it?

"Tifa!" he says. "Follow me!"

Tifa watches him first, then is grateful she still has a slight buzz running right alongside her adrenaline, because it's easier to move and spin and step foot over foot, heel over heel. It's simple at first, the steps and movements straightforward.

"You'd be like heaven to touch. I want to hold you so much."

Andrea rolls his hips with a turn, and Tifa copies him, almost laughing at the exaggeration and then not caring as soon as they step into the next move.

"At long last, love has arrived, and I thank God I'm alive."

Andrea turns toward her and grabs her hand. He leads her into a turn and a dip, then spins her back out.

"You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you."

Andrea struts, so Tifa struts. At Andrea's smile, it emboldens her to send him an air kiss. He catches it and presses it against his chest. Tifa holds her face in her hands and swoons and sways. "Pardon the way that I stare. There's nothing else to compare. The thought of you leaves me weak."

Andrea slides up beside her, and they shimmy together. They twist and turn over each other, and their arms fall together, bending and turning.

"There are no words left to speak. But if you feel like I feel, then let me know that it's real."

Andrea puts his hands on her hips and they rock back and forth before she spins to dance face to face.

"You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you."

"I told you," he says. "A natural."

Tifa smiles, and her heart is a rocket, blasting off from her chest and flying off somewhere into the atmosphere.

The music jumps into a bouncy punch of strings, and Tifa follows Andrea, with her feet crossing over and her hands finding her hair—and it's like she's dancing with Yuffie again, those few months ago, when her heart was hurting and mending itself, and her body was moving without a care in the world.

"I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm my lonely nights."

She opens her eyes, not realizing she had closed them. "I love you, baby. Trust in me when I say…"

Her eyes find Cloud's like magnets, her dark red ones hitting his blue ones like a violet hurricane. He's smiling at her, and she wonders for a moment what she looks like—and then she doesn't care about that, either.

"I love you, baby. Don't bring me down, I pray. I love you, baby. Now that I've found you, stay, and let me love you, baby. Let me love you."

She spins and sways and turns, and Andrea takes her into several other steps Tifa doesn't have names for, but it is fast and wild, and she is burning and melting and reforming.

The song repeats, cycling through the first verse, with livelier beats that punch out a stronger rhythm. It is more certain of itself, filled with courage and bravery and fearlessness. When it hits the refrain, Tifa is shaking with euphoria, and she's laughing, and Andrea takes her into one last marathon of spins before he dips her—

"Let me love you, baby. Let me love you."

And it's over. Andrea pulls Tifa back up to standing, and Tifa brings him into a sweaty, blistering hug full of leather and chiffon.

"An outstanding pupil, Tifa," he tells her.

"An indescribable teacher," she answers him, babbling all the thoughts in her head. "I can't believe I met you. Or danced with you. I have a pair of your workout tights, and I'll never look at them the same."

Andrea only laughs at her. "Follow that beauty, and follow that heart, Tifa. I hope we can dance together, again."

Tifa nods so vigorously, she thinks her head will pop off. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Tifa doesn't realize people are clapping for her until she floats down the steps of the stage to the parlor floor. Yuffie and Aerith pounce on her, and she isn't ready for their sudden weight. They all almost topple over each other, taking several steps to the side before they catch their balance.

"Tifa!" Yuffie screams. "Who was that on stage!"

"You were so beautiful and amazing, I can hardly breathe!" Aerith squeals.

"You…guys. I don't know. I don't know! It was Andrea."

"I'm your biggest fan," Yuffie says.

Aerith laughs. "No, I am!"

"I have years on you, honey!"

Tifa's stomach hurts from laughing, and as they untangle, Tifa realizes her hair is plastered to the side of her face, and sweat is slipping down her neck. She fingers her hair away in an attempt to make it more presentable.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm all sweaty."

"Your sweat is liquid gold."

Aerith snorts prettily, and they fall into a fit of giggles.

Running high on a thousand emotions, Tifa begins to feel her eyes well up. "I love you both. A lot."

"And we love you," Aerith says, her smile large and wide and gleaming. "Always."

"Ugh. Love. I mean, duh, of course we do, Teef."

Tifa smiles and blinks, turning her head upward to make the tears fall back into her eyes. As she does, she feels Cloud's presence before she sees him. When she thinks she's ready, she turns towards him. He's still smiling that smile, and his eyes are still that blue, and it's a violet hurricane, again, a riptide and a storm. Tifa tries not to let the tears come back.

"I told you you'd do great," he says.

"I can't believe that just happened."

"I couldn't either when it happened with me," Cloud says. "It feels a bit…legendary. Did he tell you to follow your heart?"

"Yes," she says, still a bit breathless from the dancing and laughing. "Yes, he did. And he told me he hoped we would dance again."

"We could be a trio, next time," Cloud says. "I think we could make it work."

"I don't know. That might be more surreal than this one was."

"You're probably right," he says, still smiling. "You were really great, Tifa."

Don't cry, she thinks desperately. Don't do it.

"I had a lot to dance for. I think that was it."

Cloud steps closer to her, reaching up to push her bangs off her forehead.

"What did you dance for?"

Tifa reaches up to her hair and lifts the curtain of it off the back of her neck. Of course, he'd ask her. A honey bee is carrying a tray of champagne past them, and she filches one. It is cold and welcoming down her heated throat.

"Tifa, are you okay?" he asks her, a puzzled look coming over his face.

"I'm fine, just overheating," she says, finishing the champagne. It doesn't help her like she wants it to. What happened to the courage and the bravery and the fearlessness? She wonders. It was so prominent and ceaseless on the stage, in the blaze of the dance. Now, it's all burned up, and the rocket of her heart landed back in its locked cage. She feels a brief building of panic.

"Let's go outside," Cloud says, gesturing. "It's a bit cooler there than in here. It might help."

"Good idea," Tifa says, and Cloud places his hand on the small of her back to guide her. Her limbs continue to feel loose and foggy from the dance, and her pulse feels like a bug stuck in a jar, her blood pushing against her arteries with careless force.

Tifa sighs when the outside air hits her. It is almost chilly against the sweat along her neck and back, and it is more than welcoming. It helps the fog deteriorate, and it awakens her senses. The euphoria remains along with the avalanche of leftover adrenaline, and it is a better cocktail than she could ever create on her own.

"Thanks. This is much better."

"I'm glad," he says, and he stands behind her. He wraps his hands along her waist, and she settles back against him. The stairs twinkle above them, swimming around the large, gleaming eye of the moon. It is a clear night, the clouds that linger wispy and threadlike and draping over the night sky like see-through lingerie.

Tifa smiles at the thought. She still hasn't worn it for him. Funnily enough, he hasn't asked. All she's needed is one of his shirts to wear to bed.

Tifa closes her eyes and takes a deep fortifying breath. "Cloud?" she says.

"Yeah?"

She thinks about Aerith's words. He loves you, too, don't you see?

She thinks about the way his hands feel, holding the ledges of her hips. She thinks about the time before she met him, and she thinks about their confessions in a hotel room, and she thinks about now, right now, and how this moment will never be the same in a second or a minute or an hour. Each moment has never been the same since she met him. He holds her heart, here, and what can a heart be if he can't look inside of it, or open it, or learn the way it works? It would be a useless thing, then, a trinket. Something to admire and then put away.

The cage of it rattles, and the lock is melting with all her overheating. She's still sweating. She's still breathless. She's going to burst.

"Tifa?" he asks.

One tear falls, then another.

She's bursting.

"I love you," she says.

The words hang in the air, ripped from her like a plug. It all comes rushing out of her. It is the adrenaline again, the euphoria, the exquisite ecstasy.

Cloud's hands tighten on her before he turns her to face him.

She isn't sure what to expect when she looks up into his eyes. He might be smiling, but all she sees is the deep, dark blue that must be the color of several thousand leagues below the sea, because she is drowning, drowning, and the pressure on her throat makes it hard to breathe.

He grabs her face and kisses her. He breathes the air back into her. She subsists on this kiss he's giving her. It is scalding and rough and gentle and sweet and it is dense and decadent like a five-layer slice of chocolate cake.

"I think I've loved you the first time I saw you in Seventh Heaven. I just didn't know it," he says. "I could have talked to you, then. I could have known you."

She shakes her head against him, her teeth catching on his lips. "No. We met when we needed to. No could haves. No what ifs."

He sighs into her, his arms like bands around her torso. It doesn't feel as though he'll ever let her go. "Don't cry, Tifa. I love you."

"I don't mean to. I'm just—I'm—" she inhales sharply against the closure of her throat. She can't speak, so she kisses him again. He seems to understand her without an explanation, their mouths conveying everything against each other in a mad and silent tangle, another dance.

After a while, Tifa's tears dry, and they break apart to breathe.

"Did you…want to go to a guest room?" Tifa asks him quietly.

Cloud smiles, but he shakes his head. "Not here. Not after this."

Tifa nods slowly. "Okay. Are we…"

"There's a guest room at the Seventh Heaven. I'd rather be home, wouldn't you?"

Her heart pounds eagerly at the word. Home. It is intimate and meaningful, and a word that they share, connecting them like their tether.

"I would," she says.

They go inside and tell the others they are calling a ride and leaving.

Zack grins cheekily. "Guess that means I get to bring Aerith home, tonight."

Aerith colors and smacks him on the shoulder but doesn't protest, only laughs. "If that is what must be," she announces dramatically.

"And I'll go home with Vince!" Yuffie volunteers.

Vincent finally seems to start at this. "Yuffie…"

"Oh, don't worry, Vince. I'm not going to jump you!…unless, of course, you want me to." She winks. Vincent has enough drink in him to be flustered.

When Tifa and Cloud arrive to Seventh Heaven, they shower and they lay together, and they stare at each other like tomorrow doesn't exist. Because love may be stupid. It may be cowardly and weak and fearful, and it might hide and make foolish decisions. It might hurt. It might poke and prod and be the most uncomfortable thing in existence.

But when the sun rises in the morning, their love remains wrapped around them, steeping in their skin with each passing moment. It is becoming bolder and deeper and stronger. As Tifa watches him, a smile softens her face, because even if love is all those things, it is also an expression. It is beauty. It is wonderful. With Cloud, it will be new and different, a journey with a million uncharted roads—and Tifa looks forward to following where they lead.