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Tifa couldn’t sleep.
The Gainsborough house was a picturesque cottage inside and out, but to Tifa it was an unfamiliar assortment of creaks, groans, and strange, earthy smells. The disquieting reality of not being home had been grating at her long after everyone else had settled in for the night, keeping her awake and on edge. Her mind had found little else to do but think about what remained of Sector 7, her life buried under the rubble, all the things she could’ve done differently, all the people she might’ve been able to save.
Maybe some fresh air would help.
She put on her boots and left her gloves on the bedside table. Sneaking downstairs was as easy as using Barrett’s thunderous snoring as cover. She slipped through the front door, closing it as quietly as possible behind her.
Outside felt better. It was quiet and calm, abundant with flowers and the sound of rushing water. When was the last time she’d enjoyed either? It was hard to believe such a wondrous place existed within Midgar.
Tifa set out before her mind took her back to less than pleasant places. She knew the signs, knew the rage and heartbreak that simmered just below the surface, knew how her brain liked to pick apart the past like a vulture to a carcass. Others might have caused the wounds, but she was the expert at smearing salt on them.
She wandered for a while, kept her eyes on the ground. When she stopped, she found herself on a small hill right in the middle of the property. The house sat a little ways off, the windows dark.
Her eyes trailed up towards the plate.
Except--there was no plate, only a dark indigo sky and streams of glowing green light.
“Heya.”
Tifa jumped. She twisted, fists raised.
“Oh,” said Tifa, when she saw who it was. She relaxed her posture, her cheeks warm after being caught so unaware. “Hey, Aerith.”
Wait.
“Aerith?” You’re--you--is this real?”
“Does it look real?” Aerith said playfully. She stepped up beside Tifa and took her hand, laced their fingers together. “Does it feel real?”
Tifa’s reply was caught in her throat. She felt a little lightheaded. Aerith’s hand was warm and solid in her grip, there’s no way she was some kind of hallucination. Maybe a dream?
“What’s wrong, Tifa?” Aerith smiled like nothing was wrong in the world. She bent down and picked a flower, holding it up for Tifa to take. “Flower for your thoughts?
This feels , Tifa thought, so familiar. She took the flower. Stared at it. Vaguely recognized it. In her chest was an Aerith-sized hole, but she lacked the ability to understand why. They didn’t know each other, had barely spent a full day together, but something inside Tifa was howling at the knowledge that Aerith was gone and might not return. Perhaps it originated from the deepest part of her, the particles of the Lifestream that had given shape to her existence, so deep was the terror (the grief).
It had Tifa’s head pounding. “Cloud gave me a flower just like this one. I thought it was weird at first. He’s just not the type.” She was at the edge of something, but she wasn't sure if she could make the jump. “This makes more sense.”
“I’m glad the flower ended up with you. I had to force it onto Cloud--the dummy. At least now I know it found its way into good hands.”
“I tried to keep it alive as long as I could,” Tifa had to turn her head away, so Aerith couldn’t see her expression crumble, “but it’s dead and buried now.”
Was that all it took to break her? A flower and Aerith’s deep, sympathetic green eyes? Suppose when the dam’s fractured enough, even a stone’s throw could have it all breaking apart.
“Just like my bar,” Tifa continued. The grief was thickening in her throat. “Just like my home and everything else. They took everything from me. Again.” She locked her jaw to stop a sob from escaping, refused to blink to keep the tears from falling; despite her efforts, the tears fell. One after another, hot and shameful down her face.
Aerith tugged at Tifa’s hand.
Tifa didn’t move, didn’t say a word. If she did, she’d break completely. She didn’t want Aerith to see her like that. The flower slipped from her hand, but she hardly noticed.
“Hey, look at me,” Aerith said gently. She stepped in front of Tifa and touched onto her forearms. “And stop blaming--I can see you blaming yourself.”
“No,” Tifa replied, squeezing her eyes shut. Another set of tears leaked out. “And m’not.”
“Let me help.” Aerith squeezed Tifa’s arms. “Also, you are a terrible liar.”
Tifa laughed in spite of herself, though the sound was half-drowned by mucus. “It’s stupid,” she said, opening her eyes, “crying.”
“I don’t remember asking.” Aerith used her thumbs to wipe at Tifa’s wet cheeks. When she happened to touch the corner of Tifa’s mouth, she lingered there for a moment. The touch drew Tifa’s attention to Aerith, and she found Aerith gazing at her intently. “How do you make stubbornness so charming?” she asked softly.
Something stuck inside Tifa’s chest.
Aerith’s smile faded into something wistful. She took a step backwards and linked her hands behind her back. “I used to live at Shinra building, back when I was really little. So it’s kinda like I’ve gone back to my childhood home, you know?”
Tifa gave her a sharp, startled look. “It’s Shinra, Aerith.”
“Honestly?” Aerith said, tilting her head towards the sky. “ It’s not that bad.”
“Your mom is worried,” Tifa replied. A pause. “We are worried.”
Aerith grinned. “Does that ‘we’ include you?
“Of course it does!" You’re my friend , she thought but didn’t say, because it’s hard for her to bridge the gap between Aerith and friend . Aerith was more than a friend, she was--
She was--
The headache was back, pounding away at her thoughts, making sure she didn't think too long or too deeply. Whatever tangent she'd had, it was gone.
“I’m sorry about worrying you,” said Aerith. “But, you know, everyone dies eventually.”
‘Eventually’ always comes too soon, something whispered. Numbness crept down Tifa's arms, up her neck, in her chest. The pain in her head was drowned out by Aerith's voice:
“So we need to make the most of the time we have--to live our lives the way we wanna live. Every minute, every moment, matters.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Tifa said slowly. She clenched and unclenched her fists, breathed deeply.
“I’m glad I met you, Tifa. I really am. I’m grateful for all the words we’ve shared. For all the moments and memories. You’ve made me more happy than you know. Especially when you blush like that.”
“Aerith.”
“I’ll always cherish what you’ve given me, but whatever happens, don’t forget this moment. Don’t you dare forget any of these moments.”
“You’re acting like we’re never going to see each other again,” Tifa said, reaching for Aerith. Her fingers passed through Aerith’s wrist, specks of green light bursting and fading, as if Aerith was made of them. Tifa's stomach twisted. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s almost time to go. Morning’s almost here.”
Tifa stepped in front of Aerith. “I’m not leaving you, okay?” she promised. “I’m going to come find you.” No matter how many tries it takes.
“If that’s what you want," Aerith replied. Her voice wavered. "Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Just. Wait for me. No more talking about death or fleeting moments or any of that. I--I’m going to save you.”
Aerith smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. She leaned towards Tifa with a small, shuddering breath, like she was a few moments away from falling apart.
The kiss lasted as long as it took Tifa to realize it was happening.