floraheart

RORY.  THEY/THEM.  PST. carrd <3 

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It didn’t matter who else was there, mako hues refused to shift. Glued to her figure. Like an angel, she seems to appear before him once more, all light && shinning in the current dark. But any hope, relief, joy that might come with seeing her again is halted. Jaw clenches, he can’t he doesn’t want to see her here, as much as h’s missing her, seeing her here can only mean one thing. ShinRa’s got her && with that thought hammering him his mind, heart drops.  ❝    Aerith ?  ❞    Why was she here ? 

@floraheart​

               it’s like something out of a dream - the sort of thing only a mind in the throws of a horrific nightmare could dream up.  cold steel reflects in emerald eyes, gazed fixed on the ghost standing in front of her.  a trick?  no.  the state he’s in-  it’s too cruel.  ineffective as a trap, good for nothing but eliciting emotion.  exactly the kind of torment she’s been subjected to since arriving.  she half expects him to drop dead on the spot, but the minutes tick by and nothing happens.  nothing but steady breathing and tears clawing at the edges of her eyes. 

               like so many times before, his words stop her in her tracks, leaving her off balance and defenseless as she stares up at him.  the ease with which he throws the very sort of seriousness she’s spent most of her life avoiding back in her face is both fascinating and mortifying, something that simultaneously draws her in and pushes her away in a maddening dance.  green eyes sweep over his features, studying each line and curve as if looking for the evidence needed to prove he’s lying, playing, just trying to get a rise out of her.  it has to be there.  no one is ever so sincere without an ulterior motive.  no one, except...

              we don’t get to choose who we love and who loves us back. 

              he’s right.  she’s never once chosen who she’s fallen in love with.  it’s always happened by some spectacular accident.  a hole in her roof and a couple of dead flowers.  helloooo?  those eyes.  the same eyes.  that shade of blue, like pockets of the sky glimpsed through the steel hanging above her head, glowing - literally glowing with stolen life.  one date turns into three or four, none of them labeled for fear that the one that’s named might be the last.  her teeth sink into her lip.  i want to spend more time with you.  a little bit more time.  this isn’t what she had in mind. 

              a duplicate, drained of color.  the same sword.  the same eyes.  the same history - just not with her.  he’s quieter, somewhat surly and a little broody.  the perfect thing to bounce her newfound energy off of.  a mirror, reflecting stolen traits back at her.  the similarities are sometimes so overwhelming that she can’t see the differences.  the changes in her balance the changes in him.  it could’ve been this way.  it might’ve been this way.  that isn’t fair.  they’re not the same people.  he’s not the same person.  zack’s never coming back. 

              if she could choose who loved her?  in all honestly, she’s lucky she isn’t the one deciding who loves her - she wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

              ❝ why’re you so stubborn? ❞  she laughs, but it’s an empty sound choked by tears.  her palms push at the corner of her eyes, but though the sound stranges her words nothing ever seems to come.  ❝ you’re better off-- ❞  a deep breath, grasping at anything that could change the subject.  derail it before she admits something that she can’t take back.  she loves him.  she loves him, but she doesn’t know why.  better.  he deserves better.  he deserves-  ❝ tifa.  she’d be heartbroken, hearing you say stuff like that. ❞

              but... that’s sort of the point of what he’s saying, isn’t it?  that they aren’t in control of who they love or who’s fallen in love with them?  her fingers fold together behind her back, curling about each other so tightly that her fingertips tingle.  she’s trying to protect him.  she just wants to protect him.  because there’s no guarantee that what’s between them is real.  there’s no guarantee that it will last.  and if something happens to her... she wants him to be happy.  

you may ask how evil am i ? well just ask @floraheart

Having her this close again, hearing her rapid heartbeat keep in time with his own, each thump thump thump, just cement that need to hold her close. && soon the lines between showmanship && reality blur. He wants to press his lips to her own, to leave her as breathless as he feels, but at the same time, he doesn't dare. It's too intimate, too private, its theirs && theirs alone. To share it now... No not here, not now.

Instead, placing her back on the ground, fingertips intertwined with her own, as he brings their jointly clasped hands to his lips before raising them into the air. A SIGN OF VICTORY.

               𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝙻𝙴𝙵𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝙻𝚄𝚂𝙷𝙴𝙳 and gasping for a proper breath of air, heart hammering in her chest like a bird beating it’s wings against a cage.  the dirt beneath her feet is marked in elaborate haphazard patterns - footsteps and drag marks and blood spatters entwining to create what might be a masterpiece if observed from a distance.  on the ground, she’s too close to make any sense of it, lungs too full of dust and eyes too focused on her companion to wax poetic about the ground. 

              a squeal of laughter peals from her lips as he lifts her into the air and spins her around.  the world around them blurs, nothing but shapes and shadows and bits of color, the only thing in focus his face.  his smile.  those eyes like the sky but a thousand times safer.  she’s never letting those eyes out of her sight again.  her grip on him tightens, her toes pressing back against the earth.  she can feel it too - the need to disappear into him.  

              not now. 

              later though.  after they’ve left the arena.  after they’ve been lavished with their winnings.  in a quiet room with the door locked behind them.  she lingers close to him even then, banter exchanged easily.  laughter and smiles and cheeky compliments.  there’s a rip in his shirt, a gash so big his stomach is half exposed.  she’d already healed the skin beneath.  ❝ let me- ❞  the rest dies on her lips, but her hands are already in action. 

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆...

private & selective aerith gainsborough of ffvii sung by rory.  like or reblog if interested in interacting!