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Aerith has never slept easy. There has always been noise clouding her mind or a tug pulling at her heart whenever she settled down at the end of the day. As a child it had been the sense of something around her, a presence she didn’t understand what was. Pleasant at times, ominous often. A sense of someone she couldn’t see. She was alone but not really. Until her mother tried to explain, their nature was to feel things like others couldn’t. Things related to life on the planet as well as beyond it.
Then came the loneliness. Not from those entities she couldn’t quite see, but something more real, closer. Lack of friends that could understand her, that could accept her. It made her wonder if there was something wrong with her. If the nature of her ancestry showed that much around others.
It kept her awake most nights. That sense of bizarre wrongness, like fate had punished her in some way with her birth.
She didn’t mind it, not sleeping. She came to enjoy the quiet bustling of the world as the night slowly turned into morning and with it the hopeful start of a new day.
But spending the night in her childhood home had been a different kind of newness.
Like she has woken up in another dimension. The cold is like nothing she has ever experienced, the kind that freezes the very breath in your lungs. Certainly of a pureness the recycled air of the slums had never been near of having.
The house feels foreign, outside everything is still and silent, so silent there isn’t a bird’s chirp or the last chant of a bug, and if it hadn’t been the familiarity of Cloud’s warm body laying against her she wouldn’t have been able to stay.
They had arrived the previous night, having driven through a blizzard, and exhaustion had prevented them from taking a closer look around.
But the morning light filtering through the curtains as she slowly sits upright on the bed is enough to finally allow her to see the remnants of the life her parents had lived in that house a long time ago.
There isn’t much, it had been forgotten, left to the memories and the dust and the occasional rays of sun that made it through the frosted window glass.
She doesn’t remember it, of course, how could she? Any of it. Her mother and her had left Icicle Village a lifetime away. There isn’t a single thing in that room that reminds her of it… except the low aching pulse of her heart as the reverberations of her past tumble around and the seconds of her future trace out in its wake.
Something catches her eye as her gaze travels around the room. On top of the chest of drawers next to her side of the bed lays a toy. Small and worn by time, she picks it up carefully. Dusts off its crocheted fabric and turns it around. The small figure’s arms limp down her hand, dressed in a red coat and slightly ragged pants, with a hood and black boots, a beard that once had been white is now of a deep gray. It’s supposed to mean something to her, she knows it, perhaps she had held it before as a child, snuggled against it as she slept. But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t remember ever having seen that specific Christmas doll before. She places it down where it had been put on, gently shaking her head at its unfamiliarity, and at the mysteries of her childhood shrouded in it.
Cloud shifts slowly next to her, he extends an arm in search for her and she gently slips into it to meet him.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” She asks, sliding back into the covers to embrace him. He wraps his arms around her as she nestles against him, a comfort that makes her briefly forget where they are.
“Yes.” He replies with a small smile on his lips. “Going to have to make up for it now.”
“Oh.” She blinks in surprise, but then smiles, pleased, chest filling with warmth that chases away the chill of memory. “I think I can do that.” She presses a kiss to his lips. “But first we need to do something to this cold, the house is freezing.”
He nods slowly, eyes fluttering languidly as he opens them and kisses her forehead.
“I'll go light the fire.” He climbs out of bed. She watches him get dressed quickly, blond hair ruffling with the pull of his shirt down his head.
She finds the motivation to get out of bed herself, feet touching the cold wooden floor, she gets dressed, knit sweater over a wool dress and thick socks to keep her warm, and heads over to the kitchen to start breakfast. She makes some coffee while he crouches over by the fireplace in the living room.
He places some logs in the hearth and strikes a match. The fire catches, the logs shooting up a heat that quickly cozies up the room. But he lingers, watching the flames, the light of the fire illuminates his broad shoulders, the V of his back, casting orange shadows on the blue of his sweater, like moving seas at dawn.
He remains still, bent in front of the fire.
There have been moments over the past year after they defeated Sephiroth, brief and fleeting, where his mind gets stuck on the past. It’s stronger than him, when his past, sealed and lodged on the back of his mind is still able to pull him in, so strongly and so persistently, it’s hard for him to resist it.
She knows the signs all to well, his body stiffens, his eyes glaze and she’s left watching him struggle to push the thoughts away, his breathing slow and long as he gathers himself again.
She lingers her gaze on him a moment, quietly. It takes time, it’s a long road, but together they had been able to settle slowly into a relatively normal life back on Edge. Two kinds of broken, mending together in the shelter of each other’s existence.
He smiles more often now. And she loves his smile, each boyish smirk of his, the unguarded easiness of his laughter and the comfortable conversations they came to have about the simplest everyday things.
Traveling had been his suggestion. Christmas away from Edge’s bustling.
Icicle village had been her first thought. She had been musing about that house for a long time. She knew she needed to come back one day as a way for her to face her insecurities, turn them into sparks of courage that could stream in her blood. The first time she visited, she had rushed out of there, leaving behind the traces of her childhood, buried deep in the snow. Now she would have enough time to finally find her peace.
“I think it’s done.” He says, lifting himself up to his feet and dusting off his hands.
“Remember when we would light up a fire on our camping nights saving the world?” She asks, joining him by the fireplace with a cup of coffee he accepts from her hands.
“Yeah…” he says. “We used to try different ways, just to keep it interesting…“
“We tried so many things!” She exclaims.
“Materia.”
“Stolen matchboxes Yuffie carried around.”
“Red’s tail.”
She laughs, choking a little on her sip of coffee. She had forgotten about that particular attempt. One of many, when it all seemed to be falling apart around them until they gathered sticks and set up the fire in the wild, watch it dance away the darkness of their mission.
“Those moments stuck, right?” She says, voice gentle. “Despite all the fighting… we were still able to have some fun.”
“Yeah…” he says, blue eyes glinting in the firelight, a faint smile curling his lips.
“Brought us close.” She bumps his shoulder.
“You mean, brought you closer, miss you-can’t-fall-in-love-with-me.” He says lightly, smirk growing wider with mischief.
“Hey.” She puffs her cheeks in mocking indignation. “The important thing is that it all went for the best.”
He only smiles, amusement twinkling in his gaze as he looks back at her. She sighs in contentment, leaning her head against his shoulder basking in the warmth of the fire and the earthy tones of his scent, gently woven into the soft fabric of his clothes.
“How are you?” He asks after a long pause where all they could hear was the quiet crackle of the fire at their feet. “It has been a while, since we’ve been here.”
“It doesn’t feel as gloomy as before that’s for sure.” She replies. The video footage she had watched in the house had haunted her for days after they left but they also answered many of her questions. They had placed the tapes in a box she had put away in the basement, stored there in case she would want to watch them again some day. The knot churning in her stomach at the thought of them slowly slid up to her throat, closing it. That had been the first time she had seen her father, heard his voice, seen him move and interact with her mother and with her as a baby. Every time she thought about it she felt a strange mix of emotions, sad and happy all at the same time.
He hums in understanding and shifts his body so that he can adjust her more comfortably against him.
“I’m glad we get to be here together, once again.” She says.
She remembers the day she watched them vividly, the images on the screen imprinted into her mind. She had replayed them in her head for days on end. She remembers staring at Cloud after the last one, the way he stood there silently close to her while her mind swirled and emotions roiled inside her. Just his presence had been enough to keep her grounded. Like if it hadn’t been for the tight grip of his hand around hers, she’d be swept away in the current of her own collapse.
“They didn’t get to be here long… my parents.” She says, chest feeling tight at the thought. “But I’m glad to know the little time they got was happy, and that the house preserved some of that bliss.”
There’s silence between them for a few seconds.
“Just let me know if you don’t want to stay here any longer.” He tells her, concern shading his expression.
She grins, reassuringly. He’s always been able to tell what goes on behind her smile.
“Enough reminiscing for now.” She straightens up, deviating the subject. “We came here to have fun, right? Want to go outside and see if it’s still snowing?”
He nods and takes her hand, pulling her towards the door. He gets her scarf, knitted pink and purple wool matching her gloves and finally her coat he helps her pull up around her. He gently winds on her scarf around her neck, eyes lingering on hers, a blue bright enough to cut through the darkness. She smiles, eyes catching his gaze before he nudges her out the door.
Outside, the landscape is shimmering in frost, pine boughs weighed down with snow that covers the length of their branches, the ground untouched, spread in a thick mat of white. They stand hand in hand in silence, watching the flakes spiral around them, feeling the cold sting their noses as they slowly look around their surroundings. She takes a deep breath, taking in the cold air and nostalgic memories.
From all around their backyard, the village twinkles in Christmas lights, hanging from each rooftop and window, aglow with soft yellows and bright reds and greens over the white. The last time they had been there it hadn’t been this beautiful or merry, or she just didn’t have the will to notice it properly.
“Did it ever snow in Nibelheim?” She asks.
“Not really.” He says. “The reactor heated up the temperature too much. Closest thing we ever got was a thin layer of ice that never lasted more than a couple of days.”
“So I’m guessing you never built a snowman before?” She asks, lilt on her voice.
He shakes his head.
“Always a first time for everything I say.” She pulls him further into the square of the backyard, where the snow is wispy and plumper and it crunches softly under their feet.
She kneels beside a puffy lump of snow, concentrating on getting the picture of how she wants to build it in her mind.
She hums.
“We could use this for its main body, save us some arm work.” She says. “Work smarter, not harder, mom always says!”
He crouches down close to her, eyes widening in surprise, lingering on the shape of the snow she had started to form.
“I don’t know where to begin.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“Like this.” She takes his hands, feeling his stiff and clumsy fingers under the leather of his gloves.
He scratches the snow, focusing on the shape, just like how she had directed him. Slowly, inch by inch, the snowman starts to take shape a little lopsidedly. Her chest warms inside, despite the cold, as she watches him try it with innocent inexperience.
“Relax your hands.” She says, and guides them across the puffy snow beneath, demonstrating how each gentle pat causes a ripple in the lump and it grows into a rounder shape. “Perfect.” She smiles, and resumes to gathering more snow to add to the foundation.
“It’s your first snowman too, right?” He asks.
“Huh-uh!” She nods. “If you don’t really count the pile of scrap scarecrows Elmyra and I used to build back in the slums just for fun.”
“I don’t think those can qualify.”
“Right?” She laughs. “It’s not the same. But it can’t be too hard.”
A stray flake of snow falls gently on her eyelash as the snowman slowly rises to shape. She blinks, but before she can lift her hand to wipe it off her eye, his fingers gently curl on her cheek and his thumb swipes away the white dust from her lashes, so carefully it’s barely a caress.
She blinks again, not from the soft pressure of his finger but from his quick reaction.
He drops his hand down, flustered.
“S-sorry.” He looks away, cheeks slightly shading a soft pink. “Didn’t mean to hurt your eye.”
“You didn’t.” She says promptly. She cups her fingers around his chin and softy turns his face back at her. “Thank you.” She smiles.
His lips quirk up by one corner.
“I’m glad we came here, Cloud.” She says, starting to round up the head of the snowman. But the bite of cold soaking up her gloves starts to seep through the fabric numbing her fingers. She tucks her hands against her body for some warmth.
“You might have to finish it for me.” She says.
He lifts his eyes at her, and seeing how she had her hands curled up to her chest, he takes them in his, then wraps her small ones in his. The heat of his palms spreads through her sore fingers, enough to give them back some sensation.
She stares at him in silence as he rubs her hands between his and clearly noticing how quiet she has become just looking at him and the gentleness of his action, his gaze lifts to meet her.
“Bodyguard, right?” He asks knowingly, a small teasing smile on his lips. “Your well-being is my priority.”
She can only nod faintly. She could stare at him for hours, enjoying the warmth radiating from his hands, the warmth from his gaze, and that light playful smile on his face.
After he’s satisfied with how much he’s been able to warm her, his hands travel back to the snowman in between them.
He forms the head, rounder than what he had been able to do with the snowman’s body.
“All set, I think.” He says after a few moments of concentration.
“I think it looks good.” She agrees. He had managed to attach its head firmly to the rest of the body. Fast learner, she couldn’t be more proud. “But we need to color it up a bit. It’s looking rather pale.”
She lifts to her feet, searches the backyard thoroughly before returning with a few stones, a few stray leaves and a couple of grasses in tow.
“The leaves go up here.” She places some on top of its head. “For the hair.” She nods, happy that the leaves stick as expected, even though messily. “We can use these stones for the eyes.” She places two of the bundle in her hands in place for his face and then a curvy row of the rest of the stones for its mouth.
“Do we give him a piece of clothing?” Cloud asks.
“Of course! Or he’ll be cold!” She says, taking another look around.
“Cold?” He chuckles, eyes flitting from the snowman to her. “I think he’s supposed to like the cold.”
“That’s what everybody thinks!” She laughs. “But I’d like ours to be cozy out here.”
“In that case…” he unknots his scarf from around his neck and winds it up around the snowman. The bright blue of the scarf contrasts stunningly with the white snow and its own glittering eyes. “Better?”
“Perfect!” She says as she steps back to admire their work. But I don’t want you to be cold either, so…” she pulls her scarf from her neck. “It’s long enough for both.” She wraps the other end over Cloud’s neck, folding it nicely to fit both of them together.
He looks at her, blue eyes soft and lips parted for a moment before he closes his mouth and draws closer to her.
“Merry Christmas.” He whispers, forehead leaning against hers.
“Merry Christmas Cloud.” She says, voice low and gentle. She kisses him wispy, gentle and sweet, and then gradually more passionate, more urgently, his lips, his cheeks, his face from east to west and back, until they part, lips still close and foreheads still resting against one another.
She has never slept easy her entire life, until the day he crashed into her flower bed, bringing with him the comfort of knowing she’s no longer alone.
And the fate she once hated for having denied her everything, she no longer sees as a barrier between the world and herself, but rather a promise of loving and living altogether.