He was prettier than she was. It wasn't a put off, but something like a sweet taste in her mouth whenever she caught sight of him. Okay, maybe it was bitter. None of the boys that hung around her and her gaggle of friends were like him. She remembered when he'd finally come over to her after spending so long staring from across the room. She'd honestly been a bit creeped out, even as a child he'd been intense. That day and waded through the tight lipped, rosy cheeked group of girls. Tifa couldn't remember the last time she was alone. He always was. He stood in front of her, almost completely seized up and she wondered if he used makeup. No ones eyelashes were that long, or that thick.
"Is that natural?" She said, eyes glued to that unusual hair, those eerily bright eyes and the lashes framing them. She had never seen a boy looking as unreal as he. But what had been a serious question slipped out, but the uproar of laughter behind her made it into a joke. His eyes got all soft and his footsteps were even softer as he removed himself. She wanted to tell him that she hadn't said it to be mean. But it was a thoughtless thing to say and there was no going back. Especially when the tiny bright smiles among her applauded her. When she was old enough to walk to school herself, they ran into each other again. Somehow she got to that thoughtless place again.
"You're so pretty." He was silent, eyes icy and white teeth gritted. He left again. There were alot of stupid boundaries between them, but her mouth was among the biggest and most stupid. When she was a teenager, she apologized to her mirror quite a bit. But the real thing had her mouth going off again.
"You'd make a really convincing girl, I mean..." Damn it. But thinking about that particular comment now had her laughing. Pink was totally his color. Her apology and his promise came to soon together to separate. It's only years later when he's like carved rock underneath her covers that she really sees and understands that he is no girl. After all they've been through and it's the sex that finally brings it home. His arms are so taut above her, her fingers confuse them for bone. Her nails dig into the hard muscle of his back, adding more to old hardships that have made their homes there. An angular jaw clenches as she clenches everywhere, and his name is such a desperate litany she could fill the whole sky with it. And when it's over and their breathing is warm and moist in the air, the mouth strikes back.
"I still think you're pretty." a thought, not meant to be articulated. He raises an eyebrow and chuckles in that deep reserved way that almost always ends with her underclothes either scattered, lost or torn.
(Author's notes: It feels a little disjointed, but I feel it's finished. I thought Cloud having the last line would work pretty well. This is me attempting a drabble. So yeah...oneshot. Reviews are awesome. Thanks for reading.)