Work Text:
Cloud woke up suddenly, gasping for air, sucking in as much at once as possible. Lately, it wasn’t thoughts of Sephiroth or fire that had him distressed, but memories of floating in a tube of Mako for years. Always something.
Tifa brought her hand up slowly, rested her palm on his cheek. Creamy sheets shifted downward, away from his face.
“You’re with me,” she murmured, “That’s all over now.”
“Sorry,” Cloud sighed as he reached for a water glass on the nightstand. “Bad habit.”
“Cloud.... I think it’s only a habit if you can control it.”