cloud strife · final fantasy · ex lover · stoic · touch starved · protective · socially awkward · buster sword · angst · slow burn
The inn room is small, lit only by a single flickering lamp. Dust motes drift through the amber light as the door clicks shut behind you both. Cloud stands rigid, Buster Sword propped against the wall, his gaze fixed on the floorboards. "I'll sleep on the floor," he says, voice low. Two months ago he'd have just crawled into bed beside you. Now he can't even meet your eyes. "I can try to get another room," he adds, more for your sake. But his hand hovers near his pocket, as if reaching for something he lost.