Chapter Text
The quiet of the hotel room should have felt a little eerie after hours of standing on stage, singing to a crowd of thousands and thousands as they chanted her own lyrics back to her—and yet, Tifa found comfort in that stillness. The continent and the cities and the venues always changed, but Tifa knew that she could count on the reprieve of having a quiet hotel room to herself to catch her breath. Just like she could count on those two bright, green eyes to be there greeting her at the door, gaze curious and sometimes even a little disgruntled about her absence.
“I know, I know,” Tifa murmured as she plucked Fluffy up from the floor, the cat’s tail twitching in contentment even as she meowed in protest. “Tonight’s show ran a little bit longer, but it really couldn’t be helped. How could I say no to an encore?”
Fluffy meowed again, sounding unconvinced, and Tifa breathed out a laugh as she set her down atop the bathroom counter. Fluffy had adopted a bad habit of trying to play with the water as soon as she heard the sink running, but Tifa didn’t have the heart to shut her out of the bathroom, even if it took twice as long to wash the rest of the day away from her face. Fluffy had been the one constant in her life, through all the moves and tours and critics and awards, and these mundane moments with her made every hotel room feel a little bit like home.
Once Tifa was finally refreshed, she shut the water off and Fluffy hopped onto the floor, leading the way back to the room. Tifa climbed into bed but reached for her phone, not even bothering to switch the light off just yet. The adrenaline of performing has long since slipped away, but it would still be a few more hours before she was settled enough to think of sleeping.
Not that Tifa minded it much. These moments were often the only ones she really had for herself, all to herself, and she always tried to stretch them out just a little bit longer before she was up and onto the next venue.
She paused at this. The next leg of the tour would take her to the Eastern continent, and the very next set of shows would be in Midgar. Her lips pulled into a smile at the realization before she could quite help it.
Midgar.
Biting her lower lip as if it could contain her growing smile, Tifa tapped back to her home screen and opened the icon she kept front and center, even if she liked to pretend that was only a coincidence. Her fans would have a field day with questions and speculation if they knew one of her most frequented apps was one dedicated to updates for teams and scores for a sport she wasn’t even associated with, maybe other than the concerts she put on at their stadiums during the off season.
She did have one association, though, however thin the thread between them may have frayed over the years. But she downloaded this app and subscribed to his player notifications, anyway, because she cherished that invisible string more than she was willing to admit to herself, let alone out loud.
Player Update: Midgar Manta Rays’ Zack Fair talks reunion with college teammate Cloud Strife, preparing for upcoming season
The headline that greeted her at the top of her feed was followed by a photo taken in the midst of what looked like a practice, and Tifa’s gaze snagged on that oh so familiar head of blonde hair. It half-covered his blue eyes with the way it fell across his forehead, and his head was mostly turned away from the camera, yet Tifa’s breath hitched in her chest as if he was staring right at her.
Cloud Strife.
To the world, he was an athlete who’d accomplished so much so early into his career, breaking records and defying odds—but to Tifa, he’d always be the boy next door.
In her heart, she believed they were close. Cloud always seemed content to ignore the rest of the kids on their block, the very same kids that Tifa played with every day, but that cold shoulder always thawed a little bit just for her. He never said much, sometimes he didn’t even look her in the eye, but he was there to listen to her fumble with the keys of her piano with infinite patience. He didn’t mind sitting in his windowsill as she clumsily composed and scribbled lyrics down on every scrap of paper or spare napkin she had within reach, largely ignored as she worked yet always willing to stay, to offer silent encouragement and soft praises when she paused long enough to look out her own window to him.
The other boys seemed amused by her passion, enjoying her talent but only ever on the surface, but Cloud cared. He didn’t seem to care about anything other than his mother, but he cared about her and her music when everyone else brushed it off as a hobby.
She wished she’d seen what that meant. She wished she could go back and tell herself how rare that was to find, so she knew better than to go and lose it the moment he was no longer sitting in the window across from hers.
Maybe that’s why she took whatever pieces of him she could get these days, even if it was like this. Even if it was from afar.
Despite the fact that it was only the preseason, there was a palpable buzz to the locker room that had Cloud rolling his shoulders and shaking his hands out to try and dispel some of the tension under his skin. No matter how many games he played in, no matter how many snaps he started, the nerves always came like he was sixteen all over again, wiping sweat off of his hands between huddles.
Not that he’d played much back in high school. Back then, he’d ridden the bench as the backup quarterback and only got in minutes during garbage time once the game was tucked away. He’d played even less as a freshman in college as Zack’s backup, until Zack convinced him to switch courses. He felt so sure that Cloud had what it took to make a name for himself elsewhere on the field, even though Cloud barely had anything to show for the years he spent as second string, but whatever Zack had seen during practices had been enough for him to put his own ass on the line by proposing the idea to their coach.
Now, four years after the draft, they were finally back on the same side of the field together.
Cloud wouldn’t have been surprised if Zack had something to do with that , too.
Shaking his hands out again, he drops into the chair in front of his locker and pulls his headphones over his ears. In truth, he didn’t mind the energy that buzzed through his teammates, nor did he have a problem with the chatter and enthused chants around the locker room as everyone suited up. He’d roomed with Zack for all four years in college, and the guy never seemed capable of burning off the entirety of his energy, win or lose.
But for Cloud, there was only ever one thing—one person—who drowned out the noise.
He skipped over his playlist and tapped on an album instead, needing a little extra dose of calm against the nerves of the preseason opener, and slid the volume up higher as the upbeat keys of a piano drifted through his headphones. His eyes fell closed against the wave of nostalgia that always hit whenever he heard those first few notes, but nothing ever compared to the utter quiet he felt all the way down to his bones the moment he heard her voice.
Dozens of teammates over the years have given him shit for his pregame ritual, some ribbing less good-natured than others, but there was always an understanding in locker rooms that as long as it worked, they’d let each other do whatever they needed to get locked in. As much as they didn’t understand why Cloud listened to the most beloved country-turned-pop princess across the continents, he put up the numbers they needed, game after game, and that’s all they really cared about.
Cloud sat back, letting head fall against his locker, and let out a slow exhale as Tifa’s lyrics floated through him.
Tifa .
Her first album had always been his favorite, maybe because the sounds of the piano reminded him of home and sharing the window across from hers, listening to her composing late into the night. Maybe because the country lilt in her voice made it easier to remember how she looked at fifteen, her red eyes sparkling as she declared that she wanted to share her music with the world. Or maybe because he knew how many hours she spent pouring her heart into every song, and how much it meant for her to be able to put it out into the world, whether ten or ten thousand people listened to it.
He didn’t know whether it was a blessing or a curse that she’d risen above and beyond the fame he knew she deserved. He loved knowing that she was living out her dreams, but seeing her everywhere and not getting to really see her was a special sort of torture. He got the same glimpses of her that the rest of the world did, and she was far more comfortable with sharing her life online than he ever was—but when he’d grown up next door, those glimpses paled in comparison to having her within reach.
A sudden kick to the leg of his chair snapped Cloud of his thoughts, and, unsurprisingly, he found Zack standing over him with a wide grin.
“If you plan on playing today, you should probably hustle,” he greeted, snatching Cloud’s headphones off of his head, and Cloud rolled his eyes as his friend deposited them back into his locker. “You still listen to your girl to get your head in the game?”
“If it works, it works,” Cloud quipped, “and I’m gonna need all the help I can get to bail your lousy arm out again.”
Zack laughed, passing Cloud his helmet as he stood. “How about you just admit you missed me?”
Cloud’s lips tugged into a smirk. “You wish.”
Although not her hometown, coming back to Midgar held its own sort of comfort that Tifa looked forward to. She traveled a lot to the big city while recording her first and second albums with the Shinra Music Group before finally moving here, and even then, it was only because her dad insisted she didn’t need to stay in Nibelheim just for him.
This will always be your home, Tifa. Just because you leave, doesn’t mean you can’t ever come back , he’d promised after he’d gotten off the phone with President Shinra, who no doubt informed him of her refusal yet again to move to the city, despite the costs she knew it took to have her travel back and forth. And don’t you worry about me being ‘all alone.’ Your mom’s here with me. She never left, and she’ll never leave you. You know there’s nowhere you’d go where she couldn’t reach you.
Because of course, her dad knew that was what bothered her most.
Despite her reluctance, Tifa had quickly fallen in love with her apartment in the Shinra Building and how central it was to everything in the city. When she was less recognizable, it was easy for her to walk down to her favorite shops and cafes when she needed a break from the studio, and the vast expanse of the city meant that she was never short of new places to see and things to do. She might have been a small town girl at heart, but she was fascinated with all of the cultures Midgar had brought in from far and wide across the continents, though it wasn’t nearly as easy for Tifa to take a stroll down the city streets to enjoy them.
“What do you think, Fluffy?” Tifa sighed, glancing at where the cat is perched atop a plush pillow on the other end of the couch, half-asleep under the summer sunlight streaming in through the windows. “Have I finally run out of stories to tell?”
The cat mewed softly, burrowing her head further into her pillow, and Tifa pressed her lips together as her gaze slid over the scraps of paper spread out across the couch between them. Her handwriting filled the pages, but there were more words scratched out than anything else and she hated how uncomfortable that made her. It was getting harder and harder for her to string a decent verse together, and—as horribly cliche as it sounded—she didn’t feel inspired anymore. Not by her own life or by fantastical stories that floated around in her head.
She was stuck and not even an intercontinental tour could distract her from the days that quietly but quickly added up from her last album release.
Huffing out a sigh, Tifa pushed her papers aside and snatched her phone off of the coffee table. There were a few dozen messages waiting for her, but she skipped over all of them, pulling up one of the handful of social media apps she owned yet rarely ever posted on, and her frustrated pout melted into a smile at what greeted her at the top of her feed.
The clip posted by the Midgar Manta Rays’ social media showed off the inside of the locker room, players filling the background, some still in their dirtied uniforms while others were already freshly showered. Front and center in the shot was Zack Fair, grinning widely-–and standing at his locker, half-hidden behind Zack’s shoulder, was Cloud. He’d swapped his uniform for dark wash jeans and a coal gray henley, the sleeves pushed up past his elbows, giving Tifa a glimpse of a small cut on his forearm that someone had cleaned but left uncovered. Tifa wouldn’t have been surprised if Cloud had dismissed the bandage himself; letting someone take a look at it was already too much of a fuss in his eyes. Tifa used to worry whenever she’d see him all banged up when they were younger, but even back then, when he was smaller and easier to shove around, he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.
He quietly yet firmly pleaded with Tifa not to tell anyone whenever she noticed a scrape or bruise that lingered a little too long. Not because he cared about what the other kids thought, but because he didn’t want to worry his mom.
Tifa didn’t have the heart to tell him that the people who loved you were always worried about you, but she did her best not to let him know that she was worried, too.
Sighing softly, Tifa was about to scroll past the video when Zack was laughing at something a reporter off camera had said. “Can’t say I have a pregame ritual that’s out of the ordinary, but this guy ,” Zack started, twisting around to face Cloud with a wide smile, and the motion caught Cloud’s attention, “definitely has one worth sharing.”
Cloud glanced at the camera before frowning at his teammate. “Zack,” he said, his name said in warning and reluctance all at once. Tifa’s heart fluttered. If it was a little bit pathetic that the sound of his voice still affected her after all these years, she didn’t want to know.
“What?” Zack’s grin widened. “I know you’re not ashamed of being a fanboy, so what’s the big deal?”
Cloud’s lips flattened, unamused, but he didn’t argue. Tifa felt herself sitting up straighter, her curiosity piqued. In all the interviews Cloud had given, they remained frank and a little blunt, entirely focused on the game and rarely revealing anything about himself off the field, no matter how much the media attempted to coax it out of him.
But this? This felt like something personal. Like Tifa was thirteen all over again, desperately trying to keep her cool when the boy next door gave her glimpses beyond his stoic facade, not wanting to spook him with how much she hung on his every word. She’d always been the kind of kid that wanted everyone to like her, but it was different with Cloud. It was always different with Cloud.
“I think it’s important,” Zack declared to the camera, clapping a hand over Cloud’s shoulder, “because I know better than anyone how loyal this guy is to the bone, and that includes his taste in music. There’s only one artist Cloud has ever had on his pregame playlist since the first game I played with him, and I think I’ve waited long enough to formally thank Tifa Lockhart for being the reason my boy is always locked in and bailing my ass out.”
“Tifa Lockhart?” someone practically shouted, drawing Zack and Cloud’s attention off-screen. In the background, more of their teammates have finished their own interviews and are not-so-subtly watching the scene unfold, especially after the outburst has drawn everyone’s attention.
“You don’t listen to Tifa Lockhart,” another voice scoffed.
Cloud straightened his back, annoyance flashing in his eyes. “Yes, I do,” he countered, sounding indignant at the thought that someone would doubt him.
Tifa held her breath.
“He’s her biggest fan,” Zack laughed, tapping his fist against Cloud’s arm before swinging that charming smile of his back at the camera. This time, Cloud’s attention followed, and Tifa’s heart thudded in her chest as his gaze found hers through the screen. “So wherever you are out there, Tifa, just know that this guy’s got his whole career to thank you for.” Zack pointed his thumb back at Cloud, and Tifa swore she saw the corner of his lips twitch into the ghost of a grin as he glanced away.
The video came to an end on that shot, looping back to replay from the beginning, and Tifa breathed out an incredulous laugh that made Fluffy’s ear twitch in her sleep.
Cloud listened to her music.
Cloud listened to her music before playing every game, and has been ever since college, when all she had was her debut album.
She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling her heart thrumming against her ribcage.
Maybe it shouldn’t have been a big deal. Maybe it didn’t mean as much to him as it did to her. He’d been there since the beginning and heard her compose every single song on that debut album right from his bedroom window. Maybe it was as simple as an old childhood friend supporting the dream he’d been there for the beginnings of.
But it didn’t feel simple at all. It felt a little bit like her heart was going to burst.
On her screen, Zack was clapping a hand against Cloud’s shoulder once more, saying her name, and she caught the way Cloud’s expression softened ever so slightly. She lifted her hand to her face, pressing her fingertips to her cheeks. She was flushed, unable to contain the smile tugging at the corner of her lips as Zack declared Cloud her biggest fan.
“You don’t listen to Tifa Lockhart,” the voice repeated off screen, and this time, Tifa noticed a flash of color over Cloud’s shoulder that caught her attention. Amongst the sea of indigo and black—the Manta Rays’ team colors—the bright red bandana wrapped around a head of disheveled dark hair struck at something in Tifa’s memory.
Then he turned around, and Tifa blinked rapidly as she realized she recognized who stood behind Cloud.
Biggs. Jessie’s Biggs.
Tifa’s circle didn’t cross over much into the film world, other than the occasional single she would write for the blockbuster of the summer, but Jessie had ended up in her path early on in her career and remained one of her dearest friends to this day. She was a few years older, already making a name for herself in the acting world, and perhaps the only one in Tifa’s life who could relate to the life of being on the road or being pulled toward the next big move in her career.
They couldn’t see each other often, but they stayed in touch, and when Jessie had promised she would make it to all four nights of Tifa’s shows in Midgar, Tifa hadn’t thought anything of it at the time.
But of course she would be in Midgar, because that’s where Biggs played. She’d asked if she could bring a guest, and Tifa was almost certain that meant Biggs would be coming with her.
Tifa bit her lip, her eyes drifting from Biggs and back to Cloud as an idea tugged at the back of her head. She knew there should probably be a conversation before she made this kind of move, but they were in Midgar, the hub of the Shinra Music Group, and the Midgar Manta Rays’ field was one of the biggest venues of the whole tour. If Tifa wanted to invite a few more guests—or even a few dozen guests—into her VIP section, they would certainly be able to accommodate it, especially if those guests were the players themselves.
She tried hard not to use her name in her favor too often, but would it really hurt this one time, on her own tour?
The video came to an end once more, this time pausing on the last shot of Zack’s wide grin and Cloud’s profile, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
Tifa’s heart fluttered anew, and she swiped out of the screen to pull up Jessie’s number.