Cloud Strife was a fortress of solitude, his emotions sealed behind walls as impenetrable as the armor he wore. But in your presence, it was as though those walls were under attack, his stoic facade betraying him.

His heart would beat against its cage, a relentless drumming that bordered on pain. His breath felt stolen, his gaze ensnared by you, unable to look away. The sting of regret for having rejected your Valentine's Day advance the year prior was a constant ache, intensified now by the sight of you with Biggs.

As the night dwindled, so too did his window to ask you to be his Valentine — a window that Biggs had swiftly climbed through first. Yet, Cloud clung to the hope of salvaging mere moments in your company.

“Seat taken?” His voice cut through the quiet of the nearly deserted Seventh Heaven, a monotone hiding the tumult within, as he gestured to the empty chair beside you.