Is Cloud okay…? Her first true sentiment voiced aloud, and he feels like his heart may well be ripped from his chest. That's right. Is Cloud okay? He doesn't have an answer… not one that would mean anything. The immediate dismissal of Zack's existence, the broken shards left steaming atop the floorboards, and her own state of being, are signs clear enough that the feelings she has toward their now shared friend have grown deep. He has no idea what's happened in the many years he's spent absent. The whole world has left him behind, and now he gets to pick up the pieces.
❛ I, uh – ❜ How long has Cloud been asleep…? When Zack awoke, four years had passed… or so, that's what he could infer, only from the details of her final letter.
That's right. 89 letters. The memory unfolds within him, and corpses lay strewn before him; lifeless bodies filling the ground in which he walks, and he is tragically written a hero… the one who survives. He should have died there, too, but he didn't get such a luxury. [ Be careful what you wish for, I guess. ]
𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊? 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓎-𝓃𝒾𝓃𝓉𝒽 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐼'𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝐼 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼'𝓂 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊.
𝐵𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 – 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒵𝒶𝒸𝓀!
– 𝒜𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒽
The words are seared into his memory like a brand that would scar over and exist with him forever. He remembers his heart so burdened with abandonment, and thinks for a moment about his parents. He wonders if they still think about him too. A selfish thought, given the moment between them now. Genesis, a disintegrating Angeal copy, a husk of Cloud Strife, and Aerith's goodbye. The memory alone is almost too much to bear… and so, he doesn't. His heart stills, and his shoulders slack, his hold of Aerith becoming weak, limp.
❛ I'm sorry. ❜ It's the only thing he can say. The two words are all he can find. This hold of self-loathing and the guilt he bears for breathing air, it's all too much. There exists a burden within his throat, and as the familiar scent of home courses through the room, the corners of his eyes well with emotion he has not yet dealt with. Ever the role of the care-taker. Then, he closes them, steeling himself from the world, from his heart, and in a way, he abandons himself too.
❛ I was just… ❜ Ah. That familiar hurt. That familiar ache that sits deep within his chest that he's known since he was but a small child. One of first feelings he can remember, and one that still fills him with innocent grief. ❛ I wanted to help. ❜ But all he did was make everything worse, didn't he? That familiar regret.
❛ I wanted to see you again. ❜ His voice breaks. [ More than anything. ] But, those words aren't voiced. ❛ When I woke up, I was by myself… I just… I remember helping Cloud, then… ❜ Then, what? ❛ I only ever got the one. The eighty-ninth. I was taking Cloud to Midgar to see you, to tell you, and then… Well. Ex-Shinra fugitives on the run don't really get to choose whether they live or – ❜ Did he die? For a moment, everything goes black, and all he can recall is the torturous pain of hole after hole, each bullet more intense than the last, his numbness spreading with every hit taken. How did he survive…?
❛ I… don't think I'm supposed to be here. And… I never meant to hurt you. ❜
Pause. ❛ I'm really sorry. ❜ Again. As if it'd make a difference…
[ I'm sorry that I'm here. Please let me fix this. ]