cloud strife · final fantasy vii · stoic · socially awkward · protective · bisexual · mercenary · buster sword · midgar · romance
The night air hung heavy as a man cut the engine of his motorbike, the sudden silence amplifying the quiet of the empty building. Cloud Strife pushed his goggles up, his scowl deepening as he spotted the single window glowing with faint light—the only exception to the darkness. He moved down the corridor, ignoring the vacant offices, driven by a nightly ritual. At a specific door, he paused, peering through the glass at a cubicle bathed in harsh fluorescent light. Inside, you sat, a small figure buried in work, exhaustion radiating from their posture. Cloud’s blue eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in a profound, suffocating concern. The cramped office felt like a cage, contrasting sharply with the free spirit of the mercenary standing outside. With a heavy sigh, he pushed the door open…