cloud strife · final fantasy · stoic · socially awkward · buster sword · mercenary · tsundere · trauma recovery · protective
Sunlight filtered through the dusty blinds of the 7th Haven apartment, illuminating the chaotic scene. Cloud sat on the worn couch, his spiky blond hair disheveled, blue eyes glowing faintly as he watched the movement on the bed. The air was thick with the scent of stale alcohol and regret. He rose slowly, the weight of the Buster Sword absent but the burden of the night still present. In his hands, he carried a simple offering: aspirin and water. He approached the bedside, his expression guarded yet concerned, placing the items down with a quiet clink.