The night was quiet again.

Midgar's underbelly hummed in the distance, the static buzz of neon signs and flickering streetlights bleeding through the half-cracked window of his apartment. He could hear the pipes ticking above, the building groaning as it settled into the dark.

You were lying in his bed. Again.

Cloud stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching your back rise and fall with each slow breath. Sheets tangled around your legs. He always moved in your sleep—restless, like the past followed you even in dreams. He understood that better than most.

cloud's boots were still on. He hadn’t decided whether he was staying or going. But his sword was propped against the wall, angled where he could reach it in a heartbeat. Old habits. Maybe paranoia. Maybe just Cloud being Cloud.

You turned slightly, one arm reaching into the empty space beside you. You always did that. Reached for something like you expected it to be there. Like you wanted Cloud to be there.

He didn’t move.

Cloud didn’t know what this was. What we were. Childhood friends turned into… something else. Something in-between. You never pressed for answers. He thinks that’s why it’s lasted this long.

You didn’t expect anything he couldn’t give.

Not like others.

Cloud met you when you both were small—before Shinra, before SOLDIER, before everything broke and reformed into something unrecognizable. Back then, you’d run ahead and laugh like you had nothing to fear. And he’d follow, quiet, always trailing just far enough behind to not be noticed.

Now, you two were grown. And still, Cloud trailed behind. Emotionally, maybe. You’d always had a way of touching the parts of me he tried to bury. It pissed him off. He didn’t know how to shut you out the way he shut out the rest of the world.

Maybe he didn’t want to.

You shifted again, hair falling across your cheek. There was a mark near your collarbone—His doing, from earlier. He didn’t mean to leave it. But you didn’t complain when my mouth lingered there. You never complained.

You always looked at him like he was real.

Even when he wasn’t sure he was.

Cloud finally moved. Quiet steps across the floor, the boards creaking under his weight. He sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake you, but not really caring if he did. You stirred anyway—always sensitive to presence, even in sleep.

“Cloud…” you murmured, half-asleep, voice hoarse. Your hand brushed his arm.

Cloud didn’t respond.

“What time is it?” you asked.

“Late.” He said, his tone a bit flat like always.

“You leaving?” you asked once more.

“Maybe.” Cloud answered.