[He did tell her, and she heard him then. She understood. Even as he says them know, she knows that he means them with all his heart and that she believes him with her entire being, but there is still that strange twinge of something else. Something uglier that always needles its way through her—that is likely the cause of all those images she created in her head. It nips at her every time his lips brush over her neck, or when he presses those tender kisses to her lips, or when he reminds her that he chose her.
It's that desperate need to be there at his side. To be the only person at his side. The only person he would ever have eyes for...
It's unnatural and inexplicable, and it makes her sick to her stomach. It's strange for her to feel and yet, with every touch of his fingertips on her skin, that feeling only ever grows, like a fire being stoked. It's not something she's ever truly faced—or even noticed—until the dream... or possibly even before, when she felt her place at his side had been in danger, and not just because of a gun, but because of him, too.
And his words... they only rekindle that feeling all over again.]
Enough about Flamek.
[She almost growls it against his lips. Stop saying it. She doesn't want to breathe any more life into the dream than she already has. It only makes her think of the woman on his lap, the woman in that beautiful white wedding gown that he kissed at the altar...
Tifa grits her teeth, and she pulls back, enough for him to see the sincerity in her eyes as it all comes spilling out of her before she can think to stop it.]
When my place next to you feels threatened, I... I don't like it...
[This was something he probably already knew, but not something she had ever said out loud before.]
I don't like that I wasn't there with you that day. That I couldn't protect you. ... Or heal you. [And before he can utter a single protest to that, she presses her finger to firmly to his lips. They are not going to get into it again. But her steady voice breaks as she goes on.] Sometimes I... I want it to be me. I want you to think of me...
[To be the sole object of his thoughts, his desires, and his heart is a selfish wish, but the deeper she falls, the harder it becomes to pull herself out.
And as she says those words, she realizes in that moment that she still isn't over it, and that this has nothing to do with Flamek. Rather, it was everything else at the time as she thinks back to his bandaged arm and hearing the news that he had been shot. To the things they had said to one another after. To Diaspora, and the lightning that pierced the skies as he pulled the trigger and destroyed it. And then, she thinks back to the girl in the weapons shop...
In the end, Flamek became the thing that she could blame for all these jealous feelings and her subconscious had recognized that. Twisted it into something that it could use against or.
Or, perhaps it was to wake her up and make her realize how stupid this all is, and that she has nothing to fear. To remind her that she really is in his heart where she wants to be.]
Eustace... [His name comes out firm. Steady. If only to pull herself free from those thoughts. And her voice carries the weight behind her question.] ... Do you love me?
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It's that desperate need to be there at his side. To be the only person at his side. The only person he would ever have eyes for...
It's unnatural and inexplicable, and it makes her sick to her stomach. It's strange for her to feel and yet, with every touch of his fingertips on her skin, that feeling only ever grows, like a fire being stoked. It's not something she's ever truly faced—or even noticed—until the dream... or possibly even before, when she felt her place at his side had been in danger, and not just because of a gun, but because of him, too.
And his words... they only rekindle that feeling all over again.]
Enough about Flamek.
[She almost growls it against his lips. Stop saying it. She doesn't want to breathe any more life into the dream than she already has. It only makes her think of the woman on his lap, the woman in that beautiful white wedding gown that he kissed at the altar...
Tifa grits her teeth, and she pulls back, enough for him to see the sincerity in her eyes as it all comes spilling out of her before she can think to stop it.]
When my place next to you feels threatened, I... I don't like it...
[This was something he probably already knew, but not something she had ever said out loud before.]
I don't like that I wasn't there with you that day. That I couldn't protect you. ... Or heal you. [And before he can utter a single protest to that, she presses her finger to firmly to his lips. They are not going to get into it again. But her steady voice breaks as she goes on.] Sometimes I... I want it to be me. I want you to think of me...
[To be the sole object of his thoughts, his desires, and his heart is a selfish wish, but the deeper she falls, the harder it becomes to pull herself out.
And as she says those words, she realizes in that moment that she still isn't over it, and that this has nothing to do with Flamek. Rather, it was everything else at the time as she thinks back to his bandaged arm and hearing the news that he had been shot. To the things they had said to one another after. To Diaspora, and the lightning that pierced the skies as he pulled the trigger and destroyed it. And then, she thinks back to the girl in the weapons shop...
In the end, Flamek became the thing that she could blame for all these jealous feelings and her subconscious had recognized that. Twisted it into something that it could use against or.
Or, perhaps it was to wake her up and make her realize how stupid this all is, and that she has nothing to fear. To remind her that she really is in his heart where she wants to be.]
Eustace... [His name comes out firm. Steady. If only to pull herself free from those thoughts. And her voice carries the weight behind her question.] ... Do you love me?