A/N: My first fanfiction. I guess it's a good first try, but it's not really representative of me as a writer anymore. Kept up for nostalgic purposes, but I feel I have to warn you: this isn't really how I write anymore / IMA CHANGED PERSON.

Disclaimer: I own not Final Fantasy VII nor any of it's characters. Don't sue me, I'm poor and dorky.

Like Always

He was late.

Again.

The sound of the front door swinging open cautiously, the sound of steel-toed boots clomping in, the sound of the door being closed oh-so-carefully. It was all too familiar.

Why was he always so late? Every day I tried to stay awake, but the light from desk lamp in front of me seemed to get dimmer and dimmer and I struggled to fight the tendrils of sleep, claiming me, telling me that he wouldn't be back anytime soon, coaxing me into submission, saying that I might as well close my eyes for just a second…

It wasn't like I couldn't hear him anyways every time he stomped around the bar below as he entered. He tried to be stealthy and soundless so as not to wake anyone, but exhaustion controlled his movements, and exhaustion was altogether a bit too clumsy.

I heard him shuffle around, sitting down at a bar stool and eating the leftover dinner I had set out, with a note beside it of the orders I had received when he was out. I heard him scrape it up, gobbling up leftovers like a starving wolf after days of long deliveries and eating too-old packed meals.

I think he was trying to avoid me. The gap between us, the gap that Aerith and her death left, was never filled, a gaping hole that neither of us were brave enough to try to bridge. It was too uncomfortable and difficult to try to act like she hadn't existed, but acknowledging her death and accepting it was even harder. The stupid gap was always there, constantly reminding me of why we wouldn't ever be together.

I loved him.

He loved Aerith.

It was just that simple.

It was funny that two people who helped save the world could be so scared of trying to move on from the events, however heartbreaking, of the past. But at least with Sephiroth there was a clear right and wrong. Here, the lines were blurry and I could see it messing with his head. I could see him struggling to figure out what he wanted in life, if he was truly forgiven for everything that he'd done… or hadn't done.

I knew it was hard for him, but I wished he would realize that I could… that I wanted to share his burden. I could make it easier for him, I knew I could. If only he'd realize.

But maybe that was my fault for being too scared to say so. For being too afraid of him not wanting or not needing my help.

I heard the barstool creak as he stood up, placing the plate in the sink gently before he turned and headed up the stairs. He forgot that the fourth step was monstrously creaky and stopped immediately after stepping on it, listening to make sure no one had been awakened.

When there was no sound, he continued up the stairs, wearily heading past his room and pausing outside of mine.

I wanted to acknowledge his presence, I wanted him to know I was waiting for him, but I knew he'd shy away if I did, mumbling something before quickly backing away and heading to his room. He wasn't one to openly show his affection, and he only ever did do so after dark, when he thought no one was paying any attention, and then, only then, would he let down the barrier that forever blocked everyone else from viewing his emotions.

But I didn't.

I wasn't even sure if I had the energy to say something, even if he wouldn't have backed off and hurried away. Exhaustion seemed a recurring theme in this household.

He stepped tentatively into my room, afraid and somehow not afraid at the same time of waking me up from my slumped position at my desk, head resting gently on my arms, seated on my wooden chair. When I didn't stir, his courage rose and he stepped more quickly, more surely, as he made his way over to my desk. He snapped off the desk lamp, the pool of buttery yellow light vanishing instantly and flushing the room with darkness.

I felt him bend down to scoop me up into his arms, and a rush of warmth spread all throughout my body. It seemed to stem from somewhere in the center of my chest. I was too busy feeling amazed at the heat creeping through me to focus on him as much as I was a moment ago, and it caught me by surprise when suddenly he was close, very close, close enough to make my heart skitter and swell and stop at the same time, close enough for me to smell the dirt and sweat on him, close enough for me to remember, all at once, all the reasons that I loved him.

The way he scratched the back of his head when he was thinking.

The awkward but loving way he acted around Denzel and Marlene.

The dedication he had to his job.

The dedication he had to the kids he called his own.

The loyalty and faith he had for his friends.

His rare smile.

The way he promised me he'd protect me from any danger that came my way.

My heart was ready to pour out a thousand more reasons why I loved him so, so much but my brain wasn't cooperating. It seemed to be acting of it's own accord and was sending me a million messages at a time, causing my breathing to quicken, my heart to race, my eyelids to flutter, my chest to pound, and my palms to sweat.

How could one person have such an effect on me?

I, after all, had prided myself on not needing anyone to help me survive. Sure, I loved to have people you could rely on as much as the next person, and I valued nothing more than companionship, but if the need arose, I didn't have to have anyone with me to get by.

But the idea of getting by without him by my side made me want to not get by at all.

He paused, sensing the tensing of my muscles, and I could feel him seize up next to me as well. Was it possible I was having the same effect on him?

I convinced myself that it was only because of my sudden movements that he had reacted.

I didn't want to get my hopes up again. That way it didn't hurt so much when they weren't fulfilled.

After checking to make sure I was still sleeping, he tenderly deposited me onto my bed, surefooted in the inky blackness, thanks to Mako-enhanced eyes. I cursed myself, wishing for a second I had supercharged eyes too, so I could somehow see him, his face, his eyes, his mouth, some part of him, any part of him, just to confirm that this is really happening and not some dream my sleep-deprived mind cooked up. But I had to live with just feeling his presence near me, hearing his slow and steady breathing, smelling his work smell.

He grabbed my covers and tucked them neatly around me, leaving my arms free. And for a second, just a second, his face was close enough to kiss, close enough for me to feel his warm breath, close enough that his long sleeve brushed my wrist, sending shivers up and down my arm from that spot, shivers that I knoew would linger for awhile to come. And for a second, I thought, I hoped, I prayed that he would bend down and make some sort of contact, some small gesture or sign that he did love me, that he wished I were his as much as I wished he were mine, that fear was the only thing holding him back too. And I allowed myself a fleeting moment of hope, where I let myself believe that today was the day when he would remove the walls surrounding his heart, that today he would show that he does care.

But he stepped back, and I felt his warmth, radiating in waves from his body, retreat, only to pause at the doorway one last time before disappearing into the room next door.

I rolled over and sighed, a sigh that wondered why nothing ever happens between us, why when he looked at me there was no spark in his eyes when there should be fireworks, why whenever I looked at him he only looked away.

I curled up and shut my eyes, too preoccupied with my own thoughts and roiling emotions to notice the same sigh coming from the next room over.

Like always.

A/N: Thanks to natural spring water for pointing out that my tenses kept on switching back and forth. I always had a tendency to do that and I believe it's fixed now.

Hope you liked it.