[At first his eyes close in sweet bliss at her kiss, feeling that tender warmth and love rippling from their lips down to his chest where it helps soothe his still aching heart. He hadn't lied when he told her his condition had improved, but it would take a lot more time for him to really fully heal from the emotional trauma he went through, one that dug deep into one of his deepest fears and weaknesses. One he had tried most of his life to guard against only to have it ripped out to remind him that no—it's still there. And now he has someone important inhabiting that small, vulnerable space.
Yet, regardless how terrifying it can be, he wouldn't change it. He had already lived most of his life with his heart sealed off and in isolation. Now he's able to live this life filled with love, joy, happiness—peace. That's everything Tifa and all his friends and connections have given him.
So when she lies back down, his hand over her chest, he can stare down with warm fondness, knowing what she's trying to do. Knowing she's trying to reassure him that she's still here safe, alive. How strong her heart beats beneath his hand—for him. How precious it is, how much he treasures it.
Leaning over a little closer to her, a soft gaze in his eyes, he reaches out with his other hand—the one that's now bare with his sleeve and glove still gone—to lightly caress her face, wanting to once more trace those beautiful lines and curves. Yet just as his fingertips brush against her skin, instead of warmth he feels a strange chill and the hand he sees is not his own but of that cursed claw that had once dug into her flesh. And Tifa...
It's all just a brief hallucination, like a series of static filtered memories that flash before his eyes before it corrects itself. There's no change to his hand, it's all in his mind. Even though he knows that Tifa is alive, in that moment he could only see her lying on the ground, cold, lifeless, bloody, torn apart—and eventually disappearing from his helpless grasp.
Immediately the air around them chills, the flowers that had started to bloom like they usually do around them slowly frosting over as he stares down at her wide-eyed, his breathing quickening as his fingers over her chest suddenly curl in, digging in as he tries to fight off that ripple of terror and anguish that threatens to overwhelm him. A part of him realizes what he's seeing isn't real, telling himself that he can feel her heart right there. But another part, that part still affected by the nightmare energy that still lingers around him is recalling that terrible moment and twists the sensation to it stopping cold. That moment he thought he found her lying so still on the ground like this, how his heart seemed to stop, how he couldn't breathe— ]
no subject
Yet, regardless how terrifying it can be, he wouldn't change it. He had already lived most of his life with his heart sealed off and in isolation. Now he's able to live this life filled with love, joy, happiness—peace. That's everything Tifa and all his friends and connections have given him.
So when she lies back down, his hand over her chest, he can stare down with warm fondness, knowing what she's trying to do. Knowing she's trying to reassure him that she's still here safe, alive. How strong her heart beats beneath his hand—for him. How precious it is, how much he treasures it.
Leaning over a little closer to her, a soft gaze in his eyes, he reaches out with his other hand—the one that's now bare with his sleeve and glove still gone—to lightly caress her face, wanting to once more trace those beautiful lines and curves. Yet just as his fingertips brush against her skin, instead of warmth he feels a strange chill and the hand he sees is not his own but of that cursed claw that had once dug into her flesh. And Tifa...
It's all just a brief hallucination, like a series of static filtered memories that flash before his eyes before it corrects itself. There's no change to his hand, it's all in his mind. Even though he knows that Tifa is alive, in that moment he could only see her lying on the ground, cold, lifeless, bloody, torn apart—and eventually disappearing from his helpless grasp.
Immediately the air around them chills, the flowers that had started to bloom like they usually do around them slowly frosting over as he stares down at her wide-eyed, his breathing quickening as his fingers over her chest suddenly curl in, digging in as he tries to fight off that ripple of terror and anguish that threatens to overwhelm him. A part of him realizes what he's seeing isn't real, telling himself that he can feel her heart right there. But another part, that part still affected by the nightmare energy that still lingers around him is recalling that terrible moment and twists the sensation to it stopping cold. That moment he thought he found her lying so still on the ground like this, how his heart seemed to stop, how he couldn't breathe— ]