You don't want to know what he's thinking anymore, Tifa. He's pretty damn sure of that. Not on his bad days when he wakes up from dreams of dead friends and knows that every second he enjoys of his own life are seconds that they should be having and enjoying instead. That they would have - if it wasn't for him. Why would he ever tell you that he's so happy with you and the children that it hurts - and that he's terrified that being that happy means he's about to lose you - because he always loses everything good in his life? Why would he tell you that he hates that narrow, uncomfortable bed in his office - but it's his fault he's there and he's pretty sure it's where he belongs? He makes you unhappy enough as it is. He's not what you need him to be. He knows it but he won't leave.

Why would he tell you things as ugly as that?

But her cheek is against his and it finally calms the restlessness in him. The tension goes out of him and he shuts his eyes with a quiet exhale. Against her he makes a throaty sound, low and soft. She doesn't bore him. Not with anything she does or says. He needs to hear her voice, to know she still wants to talk to him. Maybe... maybe she wants the same thing...

Maybe... maybe he should try talking to her more than he does. Not about the guilt. That's his fault, his problem. But - she always seems to like his stupid stories about his day. And their silly conversations that won't make sense to anyone but each other. Maybe - he should talk to her about Denzel and finding him outside the church? It - seems like a good place to start. A small confession. He can do that. Gentle, he rubs his cheek against hers. He'll make things right. He will.

Somehow.