Thanks to your inspiration, I was able to write another...character piece type thing...but I may have butchered him. D: I don't even know what I'm doing half the time. Hopefully it's somewhat decent, though, because you provided me with great writing, so I should do my part. I only manage to write these things cause I like you and your works so much that it fuels my soul! No one else gets stories from me in any case. But perhaps that's a good thing because I need to improve a lot? o__o Hahaha. But I will always enjoy swapping stories and world-building with my friend! Let's keep going and make October a month full of creativity! Ja? Ja! ;)
The blond sat alone on a bench. He wore a leather jacket that looked as if the tags had been cut off moments before. His jeans, faded to indigo perfection, looked equally as new. But his face was haggard. He stared out over the lake, seeming to search for the shore, but twilight had ended long ago and the other side was cloaked in shadow. His hands rested on his lap, but his right foot tapped the ground repeatedly, betraying his picture of serenity. He cleared his throat and reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes labelled “HB”. Scanning the surrounding area, he opened the box and pulled a cigarette free; it rested on his palm like a promise. He couldn’t look away from it. All the while, his foot continued tapping the ground.
“Cloud?” a female voice called. “Sweetie? What are you doing out there?”
Cloud dropped the unlit cigarette and crushed it beneath his heel. And not a moment too soon. A woman, dark hair cut into a chin-length bob, strode into view. He noted that she wore a mini-skirt. Not that it came as a surprise to him; he didn’t think that he had ever seen her in pants. As always, her cleavage was on prominent display. She smiled and bent forward so that their foreheads pressed together. He could smell the scent of her perfume, but the floral notes were drowned out by a stronger scent.
“What are you doing?” she repeated. “You’re out here all alone.”
Cloud held her at arm’s length. “Tifa. You’re drunk again.”
“Drunk? Me? No, no, I only had a little bit.”
“You promised you wouldn’t drink.”
Tifa planted her hands on her hips. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot that we’re still in Berlin, working away like mad people with no sense of fun. It’s not as if we’re on a vacation. Mr. Strife never wants to let loose, does he?”
Cloud remained silent as she launched into a rant. They had come to Potsdam courtesy of her parents: the Lockenhartz loved spoiling their only child. Cloud hadn’t wanted to leave Berlin. Unlike Tifa, who played at being an adult, he had to work hard to pay the bills. Being an accountant didn’t bring in much income. Sometimes he wondered whether opening his own garage would have been a better idea than crunching numbers. But he didn’t have the money to do that. Tifa always hinted that she could help him, but he refused to hear her speak of his finances. Fixing up broken motorcycles was a childish dream. He knew that. He didn’t even have a motorcycle anymore. He had sold it after careful consideration. The car he drove now was more suited to his adult self.
Cloud’s eyes fixed onto the ring on her finger. The motorcycle money had been put to better use, after all. He had never seen Tifa that happy before. All it took was a ring and a promise, and she had smiled genuinely for the first time since his return.
“Are you even listening to me?”
He nodded.
“Oh, sweetie.” She joined him on the bench. “You never talk to me anymore.”
“Let’s discuss this tomorrow, all right? It’s getting late.”
“But I want to talk to you now.” Tifa cuddled close to him. “It’s funny, isn’t it? The two of us together again, after all this time. And we’re so much stronger after you came back. Do you believe in fate?”
“I—”
“I do.” She squeezed his arm. “I...I...really love you. More than ever.”
But Tifa’s drunk tongue couldn’t manipulate her words properly; her German came out as something different. Something vulgar. Cloud tried not laugh. If he had laughed, she would’ve stormed off, and it would take all night to comfort her. Lately he had been so tired...
Cloud maintained his carefully neutral expression as she said the words over and over again. I love you. Each time, her proclamations of love seemed more and more absurd.
Cloud couldn’t look at her. The smell of alcohol seeped out of her pores. The smell tormented him in his dreams. His nightmares. Sometimes when he was working at his office, the scent of alcohol permeated the room. Tifa came home drunk almost every night in Berlin. She always insisted that it was the bar patrons who had left the scent on her. As a manager, Tifa claimed that she couldn’t drink. That would be irresponsible, she said. I’d never, she said. How dare you!
“Sweetie? Did you hear me?”
Cloud ached for a cigarette. “Yes. I love you too.”
She let go of his arm. “You’re speaking in English.”
“I slip sometimes.” Cloud stiffened. “I’m sure you’re aware that I lived overseas for quite a while...”
“Don’t be sarcastic. I just...wonder, that’s all. Do you...do you miss that place?”
His answer was swift. “Not at all.”
“Really?” She wasn’t touching him anymore. “You don’t miss your friends?”
“I’m happier here with you.”
“Then why do you say her name at night?” Tifa’s voice wavered on the edge of tears. “Why the hell do you say K—”
“Those are just dreams. They don’t matter.” Cloud stood up. “You’ve really worn me out. I’m going for a smoke.”
“You’re not supposed to be smoking! You promised!”
Cloud tilted her chin so that she was forced to look at him. “I’ll keep my promises when you keep yours, darling.” He kissed her forehead. “Now go to sleep.”
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Behave yourself, now. ;)