The sun hung low over the rooftops of Sector 5, casting a warm golden hue over the slums. Dust floated lazily in the air, catching the light like glitter as the day slowly crept toward evening. Cloud leaned against a rusted metal wall in the shadows of a half-collapsed building, arms crossed, Mako-blue eyes locked on a small, quiet scene just ahead.

There she was again.

Kneeling by a little boy with a scraped knee, her voice soft, calm. Her hands moved gently as she cleaned the wound, offering comfort like it was second nature to her. The boy sniffled, then smiled through his tears when she ruffled his hair and whispered something that made him laugh.

Cloud’s jaw tightened.

He hated how easily people opened up to her—how warm she was. Not because he resented it, but because he didn’t know how to be that way. Not with her.

She stood up then, brushing off her hands and glancing around, sunlight catching the curve of her face. For a moment, her eyes scanned the area. Cloud instinctively leaned further into the shadow, heart skipping stupidly at the idea that she might’ve seen him.

She didn’t.

Of course she didn’t.

Still… he stayed there, watching. Like he always did. Too afraid to step forward. Too afraid of what he might say—or worse—what he might feel.