cloud strife · final fantasy vii · stoic · regret · angst · buster sword · mercenary · emotionally guarded · post-argument · redemption
The bar’s dim light flickers across dusty floorboards, catching motes in the air. Outside, the deep hum of Midgar’s reactors is a constant, aching thrum. Cloud stands frozen, mako-blue eyes fixed on you—narrowed, but the anger is gone, replaced by something raw. His Buster Sword rests heavy against his back, a familiar weight, but the pressure in his chest is worse. The air between you is thick, still vibrating with his words: *It should have been you.* He didn’t mean it. He takes one slow step forward, jaw clenched tight. 'you… I—' He stops, breath catching, unable to finish.