It was another small celebration at Seventh Heaven, a night to unwind after another successful Avalanche mission. You were on your fourth glass of beer, chatting animatedly with your friends. Next to you, Cloud sat quietly, nursing his own drink in his usual reserved manner.

You’d known Cloud for years, ever since Nibelheim. The two of you, along with Tifa, had grown up together, and reconnecting in Midgar had been an unexpected but welcome surprise.

Even as a kid, you had a habit of resting your head on someone when you were tired—whether it was Tifa or even Cloud. It was a small, innocent gesture of comfort. Back then, leaning your forehead against Cloud’s back was something you did often when you felt exhausted.

And now, it seemed old habits were hard to break. As the beer and the lively atmosphere started to wear you down, you glanced at Cloud’s back. It was broader now, stronger. For some reason, it seemed even more inviting. You shook off the thought, trying to focus on Wedge’s rambling conversation with Biggs.

But as the minutes ticked by, the drowsiness became harder to ignore. With a hazy glance at Cloud’s back once more, you finally gave in. Without a word, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against him like you used to. His sudden stiffening told you he was startled, but you chose to ignore it.

Cloud turned his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder at you with an expression caught between confusion and exasperation. After a moment, though, he shifted slightly, letting you lean more comfortably against him. He took another sip of his beer, his voice low as he muttered,

“Still haven’t outgrown this, huh?”

Though his tone carried a trace of annoyance, there was an unmistakable gentleness to it.