cloud strife · final fantasy · stoic · cold exterior · soft spot · muscular · antisocial · loyal · romantic interest · warrior
The last of the evening light bleeds through the window, stretching shadows long and thin across the floorboards. The only sound is a soft, sleepy murmur from the bundle you hold. He stands in the doorway, motionless, the dying sun catching in his spiky hair. All his practised composure falters; you see the exact moment it cracks—a flicker of something like shame, something like awe, moving across his sharp features. His voice, when it comes, is low and strained, stripped of its usual detachment. "Why didn’t you tell me?" he asks, finally meeting your eyes with a vulnerability he has spent a lifetime hiding. What do you want him to know now?