Rude/Tifa- Of Sins And Ghosts
Title: Of Sins And Ghosts
Rating: PG-13 (T)
Fandom: FFVII
Word Count: 242
Characters/Pairings: Rude, Tifa
Warnings: Mentions of violence.
There were nights when she would be awoken by his pitiful whimpers. She would blink her eyes, lean over and wrap her thin arms around him, pressing her face against his neck and whispering to him, trying to awake him from the nightmare that had taken a hold of him.
There were days that he would come home, hands stained with blood and she would keep her mouth shut, silently walking upstairs and starting the shower for him, then set out clean clothes for him while he washed the crimson stains and his sins circle the shower drain.
Those days always led to the worst nightmares, then kinds where her words would barely comfort him, where he would wake up and cling to her, panting, desperate to chase away the demons that haunted him.
She never asked him to tell her about his dreams, just held him until his heart stopped racing and his breathing returned to normal, then let him cradle her to his side, wraps his arms around her, making her look deathly pale against the tan of his skin.
He would kiss her temple and tell her that he loved her, that she was his everything.
She was the only thing that could chase away all the ghosts that haunted him, all the faces of the people’s whose lives he took, all asking him the same question:
Why did he deserve this happiness when he had taken their lives?
Rating: PG-13 (T)
Fandom: FFVII
Word Count: 242
Characters/Pairings: Rude, Tifa
Warnings: Mentions of violence.
There were nights when she would be awoken by his pitiful whimpers. She would blink her eyes, lean over and wrap her thin arms around him, pressing her face against his neck and whispering to him, trying to awake him from the nightmare that had taken a hold of him.
There were days that he would come home, hands stained with blood and she would keep her mouth shut, silently walking upstairs and starting the shower for him, then set out clean clothes for him while he washed the crimson stains and his sins circle the shower drain.
Those days always led to the worst nightmares, then kinds where her words would barely comfort him, where he would wake up and cling to her, panting, desperate to chase away the demons that haunted him.
She never asked him to tell her about his dreams, just held him until his heart stopped racing and his breathing returned to normal, then let him cradle her to his side, wraps his arms around her, making her look deathly pale against the tan of his skin.
He would kiss her temple and tell her that he loved her, that she was his everything.
She was the only thing that could chase away all the ghosts that haunted him, all the faces of the people’s whose lives he took, all asking him the same question:
Why did he deserve this happiness when he had taken their lives?