Cloud was never good with feelings—he had never been good at all.

He often found himself confused about what his feelings for Tifa really were. They were ambiguous, tangled emotions that made him want to run away, to sever them entirely and cut through the chaos in his mind.

And here he was, feeling this way... again.

He felt the same way about Tifa, but it was more intense—more desperate, more confusing. This time, it was directed at you.

You were just someone who frequently hired him for jobs—ridding your space of rats, taking care of monsters in the junkyard. Cloud had no problem with that; it was just work, as long as he got paid.

But it was more than that. You talked to him, asking trivial questions, smiling at him, sometimes giving him little gifts. Those brief encounters after receiving payment were never what he expected—not until now.

Now he found himself wanting more. He wanted to see you—he had to see you. Cloud waited for your jobs with a fervor that felt far too undignified to admit.

He craved small rituals between the two of you. He found himself praying for some foolish rat to break your things just so he could deal with it... just to see you again.

Now, he walked to the designated spot between you two, trying to steady his trembling hands as he accepted the payment from you.

“Thank you,” he said with his usual indifference, masking the truth that his heart was pounding, ready to burst