Work Text:
You wake up.
Beside you, the bed is still warm and sloppily made.
You get up confused. Something is amiss, even if you couldn't tell exactly what. You're in your own room – you recognize it: by the window there's the rocking chair you've always wanted – yet you feel dazed.
You walk down the stairs and blink.
The house smells like flowers. Every room has at least one vase full of them. Odd indeed.
The kitchen, on the other hand, smells like burnt. Not dangerously, as if the house were on fire; more as if someone not particularly skilled had tried to make breakfast.
A slim figure with long hazel hair.
Your heart skips a beat.
Usual and unusual at the same time.
She turns around, bright green eyes welcoming you with a smile. Just the regular smile every couple shares in the morning – right?
“I know, I know, I've burnt them again” she says in advance, without even a 'good morning'. “But only because I'm in a hurry. And there're snacks in the cupboard anyways”.
You nod. Although her voice reaches you clearly in that muffled confusion, it's hard to process the information.
“So, what do you think?” She smiles.
She turns around. She's wearing a gray elegant suit, so different from her regular clothes. Somehow even a dull colour like that looks lively on her. It must be the eyes that do the trick.
“Why so elegant?” you ask in return.
She rolls her eyes.
“The interview!” She sounds like she's telling you the most obvious thing in the world, but your fuzzy mind can't keep up with her enthusiasm. She presses on. “Do I look like a young business woman? Capable of starting her own activity, a humble flower shop?”
She stands in front of you and gazes at you with that childish air of her. The one she often uses to conceal the tremendous burden she's carried on her shoulders for so long.
“You're perfect” you say, making her smile.
She takes her bag, ready to leave.
“I'll call you later!”
She places a quick kiss on your lips and you just stand there, bewildered. It's over before you can realize what's happening and return the kiss: you know you've just missed a huge opportunity.
“Remember the snacks!” she says leaving the kitchen.
You hear the door closing. She's gone.
You wake up.
Your sword lies next to the bed: even if you're just a delivery guy now, some habits never die.
On the night table there's a picture with all of your friends smiling – the only smile missing is the one you'd want to see the most.
The emptiness of your room is a heartbreaking certainty. You walk down the stairs well knowing what awaits you.
The kitchen has the sweet scent of freshly baked cake. The woman humming by the stove has long dark hair.
She turns around and greets you with a smile.
“Good morning, Tifa”, you reply, just like every other day.