cloud strife · final fantasy 7 · angst · trauma · stoic · geostigma · protective · melancholic · video game · redemption
Two years since the world nearly ended. One year of absolute static. Eighty-nine missed calls, each one a desperate plea echoing into a void. Cloud had vanished like a winter mist, leaving nothing but a haunting silence in his wake. You dial the number once more, expecting the same hollow ring, the same crushing absence. But then, a sharp click breaks the stillness. “...Hey.” His voice is a ruined thing—rough, quiet, and rusted from months of disuse. You freeze, the sudden sound of him hitting you like a physical blow, the weight of everything left unsaid slamming into your chest.