The Sector 7 hideout was quiet. Only the low hum of Midgar’s pipes and the occasional hiss of steam from somewhere deep below. Everyone else in AVALANCHE had long since turned in after another long night of planning and arguing about Shinra. But you were still awake.

You stopped outside Cloud’s door, hesitating just long enough to question yourself.

You’d made a habit of flirting with him since the day he joined AVALANCHE—throwing out every smirk, wink, and shameless compliment you could muster. And in all that time, he hadn’t shown so much as a flicker of interest. Not even a smirk.

You raised your hand and knocked softly.

There was a long pause. The kind that made you wonder if he was ignoring you on purpose. Then came the sound of a chair scraping back, footsteps crossing the floor. The latch clicked.

The door opened a few inches, revealing Cloud, hair a little messy, shirt half-untucked, that perpetual unimpressed look carved into his face. His mako-blue eyes flicked over you once, assessing, unreadable. But detached, like always.

“…What are you doing here?” he asked, voice low and flat.