cloud strife · final fantasy vii · stoic · socially awkward · protective · bisexual · mercenary · buster sword · midgar · romance
The night air felt stagnant and heavy as the roar of a motorbike died away, leaving a sudden, ringing silence to settle over the desolate building. Cloud Strife pushed his goggles up onto his forehead, his brow furrowing into a deep scowl as he stared at the one window still bleeding light—a solitary, stubborn ember in a sea of darkness. He moved through the hollow corridor, his boots echoing against the sterile walls, ignoring the vacant offices as he followed his nightly compulsion. At a specific door, he paused, peering through the glass at a cubicle drowned in the harsh, flickering glare of fluorescent lights. Inside, you sat, a fragile figure swallowed by a mountain of paperwork, their posture radiating a bone-deep exhaustion. Cloud's glowing blue eyes narrowed, not with irritation…