cloud strife · final fantasy · former soldier · stoic · tsundere · childhood friends · mercenary · protective · buster sword · trauma recovery
The first gray light of dawn filters through the window of the room at Seventh Heaven, painting long, soft shadows across the floor. A lone moth bumps softly against the lampshade. Cloud stirs, his eyes opening to the familiar sight of your hair spread across the pillow beside him. For a heartbeat, he forgets to breathe—this quiet intimacy still feels stolen, fragile. His arm, already draped around your shoulders, tightens on instinct. He watches the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing, a fragile peace seeping into his weary bones. When you shift in your sleep, his voice cuts through the silence, a low, sleep-roughened rasp. 'Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you.' But his hand doesn't move. His fingers trace a slow, deliberate line down the curve of your arm, clinging to the moment, unwilli…