Work Text:
He watches her, a smile hinting at the corner of his lips. This is the fifth time this week that he's seen her in that very spot. The first time was mere coincidence, but after the third occurrence, he began to look for her.
“Zack, that’s what stalkers do.”
“Hey, man! No, it isn’t STALKING, I… she… I like watching her! Ah, okay yeah that sounds—”
“—like stalking…”
“Cloud, shut up!”
Like every other day, she's painting, or attempting to. Most of the time she simply stares at the canvas, the paintbrush in her left hand raised with a bright splotch of color soaking into the bristles. Every now and then, she places a tentative stroke on the canvas. Then she tilts her head, a line creasing between her brows.
It’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.
Periodically, her eyes flicker about in the same scanning pattern (left--where Zack sits--center, right) before returning to the easel. At his vantage point, he can't see the subject of her deliberation. He only sees her. Her chestnut hair is messily pinned with wisps creeping out along her hairline. A smudge of blue highlights the area underneath her chin and he can spot a dot of red along her temple. More color screams from her faded jeans. Fleetingly, he wonders how much paint can get all over her if she rarely moves when he's there.
“You could, I dunno… talk to her?”
“Yeah, you’re right…”
“…but?”
“I don’t want to interrupt her! It could be like, serious business.”
“…whatever, stalker.”
Another careful twist of the wrist.
She isn't flaunting her work. She doesn't try to broadcast her talent. In fact, she is sitting the farthest away in the studio, her back to a wall. The only way anyone would have seen the canvas was to approach her. To Zack, that's the best part of this short, peculiar adventure. Every time he passes by, she's working on the same easel, and by the time he must leave, she's putting away her tools. There are times where he does want to run and catch up to her, ask her about her work, maybe even invite her to grab coffee.
“I think you should!”
“Tifa, only you would think this is romantic.”
“Hush, Cloud. It is romantic. And Zack, ignore him. It took months before he could ask me out.”
“T-Tifa!”
But Zack never does, and he's never seen the image she pours all her attention into each afternoon.
The next week, he doesn't travel the same route, but instead cuts through the library. It's a hot day and the baseball cap propped on his scalp does nothing to relieve the heat. He takes it off, flicking a hand through the sweaty locks. To swipe his hair back, he tilts his head. And that's when he sees it. If not for that casual action, he would have completely missed it.
His own face stares at him from behind the thick display glass. The background is a mass of blurring lines, subtle shapes of the buildings and people walking by. He's the true focus. Gentle colors blend to create his sun-kissed skin, and then darken in messy strokes to emulate his black hair. A playful smile lightens his features and his cerulean eyes swirl with a mysterious sense of depth, which he's never seen himself whilst staring at his true reflection. For what feels like forever, Zack gets lost in the interpretation, dedication, and pure curiosity of it all.
At the bottom of the frame which houses his likeness is a picture of the artist. Someone he recognizes. When she isn't working, she looks mischievous, emerald-green eyes squinted above a knowing grin. In what he assumes to be her handwriting, the letters looping and twirling with the preciseness of a painter, is a simple phrase:
"I see you."
“H-hey… wait up! Um, my name is Zack, and I uh, well, I noticed you awhile ago, er, wait not like NOTICED, but saw you a few times in the studio across the quad—”
“Hi, Zack. I’m Aerith. I noticed you, too.”
“Aerith! Right, yeah, I see that you noticed. Or noticed I noticed you… jeez, this is not going how I wanted…”
“You don’t say. Sorry for laughing, you’re much cuter flustered than making puppy dog eyes at me from the balcony.”
“So, you think I’m cute, then?”
“Great take away, Zack. How about we go out on a date and I can tell you all about it.”
“It’s a deal, Aerith.”