Categories > Games > Final Fantasy 7
Mistletoe
The room was silent when Elena walked it, a cold, sterile silent broken occasionally by the soft 'beep' of the machines. She closed the door with a thud, a momentary break in the monotony as she walked towards the bed, sitting down gingerly on the chair beside it. A soft smile graced her lips for a moment as she stared at the figure on the bed, deep in thought.
The bed was white, a sterile, hospital white that Elena had hated ever since she could remember. The only spot of colour was the black of the patient's hair, spilled haphazardly across the pillow. It was almost like ink spilled across pristine white paper. Except paper don't have the antiseptic, medicinal smell of hospitals.
Elena noticed that Tseng was wearing a white, hospital-issued cotton shift. It was odd, in a way, to see him not wearing his customary navy blue suits, but Elena had long gotten used to it. Tseng had been in coma for almost over a year, and he hadn't been wearing his blue suit since that day they brought him here, bleeding, half-dead, skin colder than ice and whiter than paper. He had looked worse than dead then, but his ragged breathing had told Elena, had told them all, that he was still living. It was then that Elena knew that her idol, her childish crush, was not invincible. However, despite all that logic told her, she still couldn't dispel the belief that Tseng was immortal. Who else could survive such an injury?
'Well,' she told herself, trying to keep the bitterness from her thoughts, 'the President could.' Her smile, which had been present ever since she entered the room, twisted into a bitter smirk even as she stood, mindlessly pulling at the blankets around the comatose man, shifting it around even though she knew that Tseng would not feel it. 'The President could, because he is the President, and Tseng was devoted to him.'
She had asked Reno once, about just why did Rufus inspire so much loyalty in their Leader, so much that his last request before fainting was for them to protect him? Reno had shook his head, a knowing glint in his eyes even as he turned away, and told her she didn't need to know.
That, in itself, was all the answer she needed.
Perhaps she had misunderstood Reno; perhaps she might still have a chance with Tseng. Sometimes, she wondered if Reno was lying before shaking her head. Even if he was, it wasn't important anyway. Elena knew, somehow, that her crush was hopeless. For Tseng devoted more to his work, and the President, maybe, than he would ever on her. Oddly enough, Elena didn't feel bitter about it.
She had thought that she would, that she would spend days crying and cursing Tseng for not loving her. But she wasn't naïve any more. She wasn't the big-mouthed, almost-innocent rookie that had been half-hoping for fame and glory when she first joined the Turks. She wasn't a rookie now; she was a full-fledged Turk who saw her world disappeared under Meteor and Weapon's assaults and had survived the experience. Her innocence had been ripped away and torn into shreds. It was a good thing she supposed, for innocence had no use in the Turks, for innocence might just get her killed and she didn't survive this long just to die now.
Elena shook her head, smiling at her self for drifting off. It seemed that she tend to do that around Tseng, unconscious or not. Turning towards the window, she smiled at the snow that covered almost the whole of Kalm, where they had moved Tseng to when Midgar and Mideel both disappeared after the Crisis. The snow weren't white, weren't fluffy and powdery. It had none of the properties that romance novels bragged of. The snow was wet, heavy and cold, greyish with ash and smoke and pollution that remained even when Meteor was long gone. Kalm looked nothing like a picturesque town that glossy postcards had boasted of.
But it was snow.
Elena heard coughing at the next room, and a soft voice before the coughs grew less frequent and eventually died. She smiled briefly, thoughts returning back to the hospital room. Who would've known that Reno, bad patient as he was, would be patient enough to take care of the President?
She shook her head, turning her thoughts back towards the figure on the bed. Taking a deep breath, grey eyes locked towards Tseng's blankets, not his face where it was clear that he was not simply sleeping, and spoke. Her voice was soft, almost not daring to break the oppressive silence,
"It's Yule, sir, and it's snowing... I haven't seen snow ever since we came back from Icicle Inn, but we didn't exactly have time to sightsee, then," She laughed slightly, hands tightening around the cotton blankets, "The snow is grey and cold, but there's children playing in it. They haven't forgotten about Meteor, but they had moved on and are rebuilding..."
She stopped, not knowing how to continue. She didn't want to speak of how Midgar was completely deserted and destroyed, a wasteland in place of a bustling city. She didn't want to speak of the monsters swarming in the area, chasing even more people away even if they tried to live there. Most of all, she didn't want to speak of Geostigma, of how many people who had died and how many who were still sick and of how the President himself was affected. She didn't want to speak of those, for she thought, childishly, that if she ignored it, it would go away.
That was impossible to do, however, for she saw the evidence of that everyday, in the bedraggled people who were still streaming from Midgar, torn and bloody from monster attacks. She saw the evidence of Geostigma everyday in a body that used to be strong but was almost skeletal now, but bright blue eyes still burn with life everyday. She saw the evidence everyday when she went to see the President, feeling unexpected guilt for she knew Tseng would blame himself for the illness, no matter how hard she tried to convince him that it wasn't his fault.
"It's Yule today, sir..." Elena trailed off, lifting a small branch of mistletoe from her pocket, lifting it towards her eyes, pondering. The berries were waxy white, the leaves oval and glossy and the branch itself was still a healthy brown-red. She had searched for a long time for them, and now she was trying to back out. She shook her head, laughing at herself.
"Mistletoe, Phoradendron leucarpum, a plant of the Santalaceae Families. The berries are poisonous, but the leaves and young twigs are used in medicine. Ironic, isn't it, sir?" Elena smiled, holding the mistletoe idly, avoiding contact with the berries as much as she could. Her voice lowered to barely above a whisper as she continued; "There is also the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe during Yule, sir."
Impulsively, before she could lose her nerve, Elena held the mistletoe above Tseng's eyes, standing up and leaning over to kiss him. His lips were soft and cold, unyielding under hers but she hadn't expected a response anyway. She kissed him as long as she could, pressing her lips above his before she pulled away, smiling wistfully.
"I hope you won't mind that. I guess it's the most that I would get anyway..." Turning, Elena placed the mistletoe back into her pocket, a silent memento, as she walked towards the door without looking back. She didn't want Tseng to see the tears in her eyes, shed due to broken dreams and unspoken crushes. Closing the door behind her silently, she wiped her tears away before striding down towards the President's room purposefully.
Behind the closed door, Tseng's eyelids twitched ever so slightly.
End
The room was silent when Elena walked it, a cold, sterile silent broken occasionally by the soft 'beep' of the machines. She closed the door with a thud, a momentary break in the monotony as she walked towards the bed, sitting down gingerly on the chair beside it. A soft smile graced her lips for a moment as she stared at the figure on the bed, deep in thought.
The bed was white, a sterile, hospital white that Elena had hated ever since she could remember. The only spot of colour was the black of the patient's hair, spilled haphazardly across the pillow. It was almost like ink spilled across pristine white paper. Except paper don't have the antiseptic, medicinal smell of hospitals.
Elena noticed that Tseng was wearing a white, hospital-issued cotton shift. It was odd, in a way, to see him not wearing his customary navy blue suits, but Elena had long gotten used to it. Tseng had been in coma for almost over a year, and he hadn't been wearing his blue suit since that day they brought him here, bleeding, half-dead, skin colder than ice and whiter than paper. He had looked worse than dead then, but his ragged breathing had told Elena, had told them all, that he was still living. It was then that Elena knew that her idol, her childish crush, was not invincible. However, despite all that logic told her, she still couldn't dispel the belief that Tseng was immortal. Who else could survive such an injury?
'Well,' she told herself, trying to keep the bitterness from her thoughts, 'the President could.' Her smile, which had been present ever since she entered the room, twisted into a bitter smirk even as she stood, mindlessly pulling at the blankets around the comatose man, shifting it around even though she knew that Tseng would not feel it. 'The President could, because he is the President, and Tseng was devoted to him.'
She had asked Reno once, about just why did Rufus inspire so much loyalty in their Leader, so much that his last request before fainting was for them to protect him? Reno had shook his head, a knowing glint in his eyes even as he turned away, and told her she didn't need to know.
That, in itself, was all the answer she needed.
Perhaps she had misunderstood Reno; perhaps she might still have a chance with Tseng. Sometimes, she wondered if Reno was lying before shaking her head. Even if he was, it wasn't important anyway. Elena knew, somehow, that her crush was hopeless. For Tseng devoted more to his work, and the President, maybe, than he would ever on her. Oddly enough, Elena didn't feel bitter about it.
She had thought that she would, that she would spend days crying and cursing Tseng for not loving her. But she wasn't naïve any more. She wasn't the big-mouthed, almost-innocent rookie that had been half-hoping for fame and glory when she first joined the Turks. She wasn't a rookie now; she was a full-fledged Turk who saw her world disappeared under Meteor and Weapon's assaults and had survived the experience. Her innocence had been ripped away and torn into shreds. It was a good thing she supposed, for innocence had no use in the Turks, for innocence might just get her killed and she didn't survive this long just to die now.
Elena shook her head, smiling at her self for drifting off. It seemed that she tend to do that around Tseng, unconscious or not. Turning towards the window, she smiled at the snow that covered almost the whole of Kalm, where they had moved Tseng to when Midgar and Mideel both disappeared after the Crisis. The snow weren't white, weren't fluffy and powdery. It had none of the properties that romance novels bragged of. The snow was wet, heavy and cold, greyish with ash and smoke and pollution that remained even when Meteor was long gone. Kalm looked nothing like a picturesque town that glossy postcards had boasted of.
But it was snow.
Elena heard coughing at the next room, and a soft voice before the coughs grew less frequent and eventually died. She smiled briefly, thoughts returning back to the hospital room. Who would've known that Reno, bad patient as he was, would be patient enough to take care of the President?
She shook her head, turning her thoughts back towards the figure on the bed. Taking a deep breath, grey eyes locked towards Tseng's blankets, not his face where it was clear that he was not simply sleeping, and spoke. Her voice was soft, almost not daring to break the oppressive silence,
"It's Yule, sir, and it's snowing... I haven't seen snow ever since we came back from Icicle Inn, but we didn't exactly have time to sightsee, then," She laughed slightly, hands tightening around the cotton blankets, "The snow is grey and cold, but there's children playing in it. They haven't forgotten about Meteor, but they had moved on and are rebuilding..."
She stopped, not knowing how to continue. She didn't want to speak of how Midgar was completely deserted and destroyed, a wasteland in place of a bustling city. She didn't want to speak of the monsters swarming in the area, chasing even more people away even if they tried to live there. Most of all, she didn't want to speak of Geostigma, of how many people who had died and how many who were still sick and of how the President himself was affected. She didn't want to speak of those, for she thought, childishly, that if she ignored it, it would go away.
That was impossible to do, however, for she saw the evidence of that everyday, in the bedraggled people who were still streaming from Midgar, torn and bloody from monster attacks. She saw the evidence of Geostigma everyday in a body that used to be strong but was almost skeletal now, but bright blue eyes still burn with life everyday. She saw the evidence everyday when she went to see the President, feeling unexpected guilt for she knew Tseng would blame himself for the illness, no matter how hard she tried to convince him that it wasn't his fault.
"It's Yule today, sir..." Elena trailed off, lifting a small branch of mistletoe from her pocket, lifting it towards her eyes, pondering. The berries were waxy white, the leaves oval and glossy and the branch itself was still a healthy brown-red. She had searched for a long time for them, and now she was trying to back out. She shook her head, laughing at herself.
"Mistletoe, Phoradendron leucarpum, a plant of the Santalaceae Families. The berries are poisonous, but the leaves and young twigs are used in medicine. Ironic, isn't it, sir?" Elena smiled, holding the mistletoe idly, avoiding contact with the berries as much as she could. Her voice lowered to barely above a whisper as she continued; "There is also the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe during Yule, sir."
Impulsively, before she could lose her nerve, Elena held the mistletoe above Tseng's eyes, standing up and leaning over to kiss him. His lips were soft and cold, unyielding under hers but she hadn't expected a response anyway. She kissed him as long as she could, pressing her lips above his before she pulled away, smiling wistfully.
"I hope you won't mind that. I guess it's the most that I would get anyway..." Turning, Elena placed the mistletoe back into her pocket, a silent memento, as she walked towards the door without looking back. She didn't want Tseng to see the tears in her eyes, shed due to broken dreams and unspoken crushes. Closing the door behind her silently, she wiped her tears away before striding down towards the President's room purposefully.
Behind the closed door, Tseng's eyelids twitched ever so slightly.
End
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