onepassingnight | 003. the strength of the Wolf is the Pack

It's a meadow, surprisingly bright and green and the heat of an early spring sun is just beginning to warm the air. The grass is tall and green and there are almost more flowers than blades of grass in the area, riots of bright color and pure white hanging in delicate bells or open bursts of petals. Listening there's the faint drone of bees somewhere nearby, busy with their pollen and even fainter the hint of a stream somewhere, quick with the melt of snow from the mountains that take up the not that distant horizon. Weathered, stunted trees form a wood of sorts nearby, full of cool shade and the old smells of moss and bracken and last years fallen leaves. And Cloud -

Cloud is hard to find.

Until you notice the ears above the grass. Or perhaps a stray breeze blows by and you catch the ripple of gray fur between the swaying blades. He's lying on his stomach, chin resting across his arms and he's...

Well, he's a wolf. Grey and furry and lean muscle with eyes the color of the waters off Costa del Sol. And at the moment, he's watching the whispy clouds overhead, one ear twitching absently at a nearby bird that's trying to decide if he's invading it's nest space or not.

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"Oh, don't feel bad, little guy!" Tifa smiles, giggling at him. "And stop that!" She playfully pushes his nose away, though she does lean her face forward to bury her face in the fur on the side of his face.

"I just worry... It's like I don't know what he's thinking about anymore." She laughs slightly, though, shaking her head. "But I shouldn't bore you with that kinda stuff, huh?"

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.

003. the strength of the Wolf is the Pack

SORRY FOR LATE/SMALL TAG

sorry about the tl;dr in response