Archive of Our Own

Aerith survived.

She shouldn’t have. Between the pooling blood and the punctured lung and the pinpricks washing over her left side and the pain yielding to numbness... she expected to die on that altar. A thousand different thoughts bombarded her as she stared skywards, as her friends fought off Sephiroth. After they transported her to Kalm for recovery, they headed north to finish what they started.

Four months later, Aerith sat in a wheelchair on the edge of what used to be Midgar.

Holy came, but it wasn’t enough. Or so the others claimed. Aerith scanned the perimeter—the demolished foundations, the crying refugees, the unrecognizable streets she once walked—and frowned. Maybe it wasn’t that Holy failed. Maybe it deemed humanity the deadlier threat. Maybe this was the better outcome.

And maybe....

Dread hollowed out her stomach. Aerith rested a hand below her breasts, where a scar resided beneath her clothes.

Maybe everything happened for a reason, she mused for the millionth time.

Because it could have been worse. She could have lost a limb, could have been crushed under a sector plate. Could have lost her home, her family. Anything and everything.

But.

She already had, in a sense. A long time ago. So why wallow now? Why be selfish when others had it worse? Why believe she could possibly do something by coming back when—

“Aerith?”

Tifa stood beside her, concern wrinkling her brow. She stayed when the others dispersed—returned home, really. That made sense. All she had left was Midgar. And Tifa was determined to help, to salvage what they could, to rebuild anew. But would it be the same? Would it be worth it?

Was... Aerith worth it?

“You holding up alright?” she asked.

Aerith forced a smile. “A bit tired, but I’m good.”

What a terrible lie. She was exhausted, yet restless. Teetering between agony and apathy. But at least Tifa smiled. She... she looked lovely when she smiled, actually.

“If you need anything,” Tifa added, “let me know, alright?”

But what she needed? What she truly required the most?

“I will.”

No amount of technological advancements or specialized materia or prayers to the Planet could return what was lost.

The first doctor who examined her—shortly after the incident in the Forgotten City—said it was a miracle she survived. He also rambled about her symptoms, but Aerith fell asleep. Too many scientific names. Every single doctor she saw had the same song and dance.

But she remembered one thing.

They called her injury incomplete. And that was a good thing; it meant her chances of recovery were higher. Definitely more ideal than a complete spinal cord injury. But that was before Meteor crashed into Midgar, before all the rehabilitation centers vanished, before the doctors she consulted died, before everything transformed into a crisis clinic, before she was forgotten and put on indefinite hold for those who had emergencies.

Maybe if she had sustained graver injuries, it would’ve been different. But no. She wasn’t sick enough, wasn’t damaged enough. She also wasn’t healthy enough or strong enough. The proof was in her numbness, ebbing and flowing at a moment’s notice. But a little daily movement was better than nothing.

Still. She focused on that word. Incomplete. How fitting. Like her muddied Cetra blood. Not a true one, pure and whole. Just someone pretending.

Someone who wasn’t enough.

“Hey, you ready to go?”

Tifa packed their belongings for the day. After weeks of scouring Midgar for survivors, she shifted gears to clean up debris. The plan was to rebuild along the ruin’s outskirts. If they stayed on track, folks would have homes by wintertime. It was either that or fight for the overbooked and overpriced lodgings in Kalm. But she and Tifa had that, at least. Be grateful. Things could’ve been worse.

“Ready whenever you are,” Aerith said.

A bus ferried people to and from Midgar, both volunteers and refugees. Aerith cowered as multiple eyes lingered on her, as the bus’ departure was delayed to accommodate her and her wheelchair, as she simply sat in silence while staring out the window. Nothing new, to be honest. Once an outcast, always an outcast.

Not Tifa, though. She remained warm. Said she wanted to aid Aerith throughout her recovery, for she had been alone years ago after the Nibelheim Incident. But Tifa also wanted to help others—everyone, if possible. And she also wanted to build a new tavern, to serve drinks again, to be a part of a community she lost to Shinra again and again. How exactly Aerith fit into that equation... she didn’t know.

Regardless, it was nice to daydream about it—about helping Tifa rebuild a second Seventh Heaven, to wait tables while she mixed drinks, to go shopping for decorations, to laugh when they sampled a little too much of a local lager, to savor the brush of her fingers while they passed trays and glasses, to enjoy every mundane pleasure in her company.

Aerith dwelled on that when Tifa waved farewell and jogged to a cleaning site. She stayed behind at the meal station, handing out freshly-made wraps and ladling soup into bowls. A simple task. Something even she could manage.

But Aerith wasn’t as fast as her peers. She shook when fumbling someone’s ration ticket, then chanted an apology when her left hand went lax and dropped her ladle and wasted a serving of soup. More eyes darted to her, glued to her. Aerith steadied her breaths, but never her hands. Damn it, now her right one acted up. And her left had been feeling good that morning. She extended her left leg, too! Not for long, but still. Bit by bit. A day at a time.

All that progress fell apart because she failed to hold a ladle, of all things.

A volunteer lead suggested a break. No, insisted. They moved her before she could reply or process what occurred. For the remainder of lunch, Aerith sat in the sweep distance, watching those who had it worse off receiving help. That alone boiled her blood.

But her indignation simmered when Tifa arrived. She worked up a sweat, glistening in the sunlight. Fabric clung to her body, accentuating each curve. Aerith swore her nipples strained against her tank top. A new daydream added to the collection—one where she helped Tifa peel off her clothes and joined her in the shower. Definitely more appealing than the visiting nurse who still assisted Aerith in the mornings and evenings.

If only that spark of lust penetrated the numb void plaguing her.

“What’s up?” Tifa asked. “Were you able to help out?”

Aerith watched her gulp water from a bottle. The sight alone brought a skip in her chest. At least she could still feel that.

“Oh, yeah,” she replied. “I did. For a bit, anyways.”

Tifa licked her lips. “A bit?”

“Yup! Got kind of tired after a while.” Of myself. Everyone else did, too.

“Well... I know you’re excited to help, but don’t push yourself, Aerith. Take it at your own pace.”

But what was she to do when her pace varied day to day? What if everyone she knew left her behind, never bothering to slow down to stay with her? What if—

“Here.” Tifa extended her water bottle, smiling. “You must be thirsty, yeah?”

Blush blistered across her face. She stared at the bottle’s opening, where Tifa’s lips had touched. Now wasn’t the time to bask in pre-teen delusions. Tifa was being nice, per usual. So Aerith accepted the bottle as best she could and drained it. She tried not to think about that indirect kiss or pretend she was closing her mouth over Tifa’s breast instead.

Just as she tried not to despair over her circumstances.

It was a good day, all things considered.

Aerith managed to dress herself solo. She even wore a new sundress with a matching bandana in her hair. Just in time for the summer solstice. Sadly not conducive to training with metal arm crutches, but Aerith persisted. Anything to savor some freedom. Short-lived, sure, but Tifa hauled a collapsible wheelchair for when Aerith eventually tired. Maybe same time next year, she wouldn’t need the wheelchair. The one after that? No crutches, either.

She couldn’t fathom two minutes into the future, however, when Tifa dropped a two-by-four.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!”

Aerith was in the middle of chatting with landscapers—she organized a garden for the orphanage’s perimeter—when it happened. Peering through the skeleton of a building, she found Tifa on the other end approaching someone. The way her white-knuckled fists shook, even from afar....

No no no no.

Her wheelchair. Where was her—

Wait, no. Tifa had it. So then... crutches? Where did she—

Stop. Breathe.

Ah, right in front of her.

Don’t rush it. Don’t—

“You expect me to believe that?!”

Tifa’s scream made Aerith flinch. Others abandoned their work to gawk. No one intervened. At least no one quick on their feet.

Aerith secured her arm crutches, sipped in air, and forced herself upright. A fumble, followed by a curse.

Come on, you can do this. You can—

Another misstep, another mistake.

You just did this in the morning no problem! What is wrong with you?!

Shallow breaths seized her lungs. Every step felt like navigating a frozen lake, fracturing beneath her weight. The tingling in her left side swelled and she prayed—no, begged—to the Planet, to herself, to anyone who gave a shit to just... let her hold on. For a bit more. To reach Tifa and stop her from—

A wooden crate smashed into the ground. Fresh produce and toys for children scattered there. And Reno held his hands up to Tifa while Rude dragged him away.

“Look,” Reno said, jaded annoyance coating his tongue, “we’re not here to cause trouble—”

“Bullshit!” Tifa snapped.

He rolled his eyes. “Just here to help, as I said.”

“I don’t need your help. Nor do I want it.”

“Tch, the toys weren’t for you—”

“Do you know how many children you killed then?! How many families and homes you destroyed in Sector 7?! Do you?!”

Reno’s mouth hung open, but only a sigh emerged. “Tifa, that was a long time a—”

“And now you show up to... to what?!”

“To rebuild,” Rude answered.

Tifa cocked her head, then scoffed. “Neither of you are welcome here. You’ve done your part already.”

“It was a job,” Reno muttered.

“And you and everyone in Shinra—”

“They’re gone—”

“—profited from every single death—”

“I know—”

“—and now you want to forget that happened, so you can—”

“What else are we to do?!” Reno’s voice cracked. “You think you were the only one scarred by that, huh?! We can’t forget, even if we tried! Just... fuck!”

He threw up his hands and pivoted to leave, then froze. Aerith panted as they locked stares. Whatever rage flared in his eyes fizzled out.

“Aerith?” he uttered. “You’re... shit, I didn’t know you....” Reno ambled towards her. “H-hey, how are you do—”

“Don’t you dare touch her.”

Tifa slid in between them, blocking off Reno. Aerith collided into her, unable to slow down in time. Another day—another life, really—she would’ve blushed at being crushed against her. Despite her muscles, Tifa was remarkably soft. But Aerith couldn’t indulge in that. Not when Tifa and Reno exchanged more words, more threats.

Thankfully, Rude reeled back Reno—even glanced at Aerith and apologized—then retreated. Folks around them resumed their work, and... yeah. Not the best reunion, but no blood was spilled. Just some veggies and cute plushies.

Right. We need to pick those up and clean them off. “Hey, can you—” Aerith still needed to catch her breath. “Can you give me... a hand with—”

But Tifa stormed off.

“T-Tifa? Hey, where are—” Her energy faded fast. Never mind the stuff on the ground; she needed to sit before she fell. “Tifa? Tifa, come back! Please, I need—”

Aerith didn’t finish her train of thought, but it thrummed in every fiber of her being, almost penetrating that numbness.

I need you.

With her remaining strength, Aerith shuffled to a tree stump. Right on time for her legs to give out and her crutches to clatter on the dirt.

I can’t do this without you.

Someone was kind enough to fetch Aerith her wheelchair. Another brought over water and sliced melon. She didn’t have the heart to tell them she lost her appetite a while ago.

I can’t....

Aerith watched the clouds float by. A flock of birds soared past them. She watched people construct one of the many buildings for their community. The breeze changed directions, teasing the wisps of hair fallen from her bandana. She watched it all while blinking back tears.

I can’t do anything, can I?

With her left arm submerged in icy nothingness, Aerith failed to maneuver her wheelchair. So she waited until Tifa returned. The sun descended into the horizon when she finally did.

“Hey,” Aerith called out. “You doing okay?”

Pink rimmed her eyes. “Been worse, I guess.”

Aerith sank into her wheelchair. They didn’t say more until they reached their lodging in Kalm, right before bed.

“I don’t understand why they thought it was a good idea,” Tifa blurted out.

Aerith lounged in bed—there was only one and Tifa insisted Aerith take it; she could sleep on the living room couch. “How so?”

“They killed so many innocents and now they... waltz on over? And expect us to cooperate?”

“I mean, that’s better than them sabotaging the construction, yeah?”

Nothing prepared her for that livid stare challenging her.

“How can you say that?” Tifa asked, beyond incredulous. “After everything they did to you—”

“Reno and Rude never—”

“They’re still Shinra.”

“Were,” she corrected Tifa. “Shinra is gone.”

Tifa scoffed. “And if Hojo showed up, offering his help? You’d be fine with that?”

Now she glared daggers at Tifa. “Don’t. That’s different and you know it.”

“Is it?”

Honestly? She didn’t want to talk about it. Or anything, really.

“And whatever happened to all those years the Turks spent hunting you down?” Tifa asked. “Does that not matter anymore?”

“I didn’t say that,” Aerith muttered.

“So you’re fine with them showing up? Like they’re old friends?”

“I just... don’t want to fight anymore, okay? Or be angry at things we can’t change.” I’m already angry at myself, as it is.

Tifa rolled her eyes, growled an insincere goodnight, and abandoned the room. At least she turned the lights off. Regardless, Aerith didn’t sleep well that night. Or the next.

They never spoke about the Turks again. Not when they crossed paths the next week during a meager attempt at a farmer’s market. Not when they attended a young couple’s wedding. Not when a massive shipment arrived at the bed and breakfast addressed to Aerith—a new wheelchair, built for dirt roads and uneven terrain, with a built-in flowerpot where the cup holder once was—and signed by R & R.

Maybe one day, Tifa would have a change of heart. But... what did Aerith know anymore?

Gardening wasn’t as complicated as most folks made it out to be. So long as one tended to the plants, they flourished. Simple enough. You got what you put in, after all.

Aerith imagined recovery would be similar. Or she had.

One day was good. The next, also good. Then a bad episode set her back a week. Another good day. Keep going, try again. Then a great day, followed by a week of misery. One step forward, two back. One more step, eight back. Sidesteps, staggers, pauses. Almost as if she had forgotten the basics, as if she needed to relearn day after day after day after fucking day.

She was sick of it. Of starting over, relying on others, asking for help, wearing a smile to comfort everyone instead of herself. Such circumstances would make even a stable person scream.

One day, she did exactly that.

What triggered the outburst didn’t matter. That fuse was lit months ago. Everyone flinched as Aerith knocked over a table with cooking utensils and a pot of stew. She didn’t want to sit there and serve meals for the millionth time. She wanted to help decorate the rooms in the finished buildings, wanted to go shopping in that boutique across the street, wanted to chase after the children playing tag, wanted to do anything to feel like she was worthwhile. For now, she forced herself to stand on her crutches, despite her body protesting, and stormed off.

Aerith traversed two blocks before her useless body gave out. Murmurs floated by her. Someone knelt to help her and Aerith snarled, smacking their hand away. Don’t touch me. I don’t need your pity or charity.

Tears blurred her vision.

I can keep up. I need to try harder.

She no longer quaked out of rage; she did so out of despair.

What is wrong with me? Why can’t I—

“Aerith?!”

Tifa dropped to the pavement. Dread paled her lovely face while examining Aerith. She reached for her and Aerith swatted her away. Leave me alone, she wished to say. Let me be miserable.

Again, Tifa extended a hand. Aerith lacked the strength to protest. And as Tifa embraced her, caressing her the length of her incomplete spine and whispering into her hair—“I’m here, Aerith. I’m right here. It’s okay.”—Aerith’s defenses crumbled to ash.

She curled into Tifa and wailed on her shoulder. She wept silent tears when Tifa carried her back, telling the volunteer team they were leaving early. She clung to her when they boarded the bus to Kalm and begged her not to let go. She sniffled and used Tifa’s shoulder as a pillow, hating how she ruined the first chance to nuzzle into her like that. She memorized the rise and fall of her chest, the beat of her heart, the curve of her neck. She fell asleep before they returned home and dreamed of a life where they relied on each other equally. There was sunlight and warmth and giggles and dancing and running and laughter and running and Tifa’s blushing face, looking nowhere but to Aerith.

She didn’t want to wake up from that, but she did.

“Aerith?”

She cracked her eyes open. Autumn’s chill settled in. It reached most of her body. Not all of it. But she could cherish the stars, glimmering above on a clear night.

She also enjoyed the sight of Tifa leaning over her.

“You doing okay?”

Aerith shrugged.

“How long have you been out here?” A beat, then, “Like this?”

This was sprawled out on the balcony. Another month and the lease on their room would expire. Tifa planned to move into the space above her tavern—name still pending, of course. She invited Aerith to join her. And she said she would think about it.

“I didn’t fall,” Aerith deadpanned, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

“N-no, that wasn’t—” She sighed. “Sorry, I can... leave you be, if you’d like.”

Tifa headed back inside. Aerith shuddered and mustered the courage to speak.

“Wait.”

She paused, tilting her head.

“You can stay,” Aerith said. “If you want.”

And she did, reclining on the concrete beside Aerith, like they were up late at another inn during their travels, trading whispers of worries and reassurance.

“Wow, the sky looks incredible,” Tifa said.

Aerith gazed at her. “Yeah. It does.”

“Reminds me of being a kid. I loved sneaking out to the water tower to stargaze.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Mmm.” A quiet lull came and went. “I’m glad everyone can enjoy it, without the plates blocking it.”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

Tifa rolled to face her. “You know, I...”

“Tifa?”

“Sorry, I—” She chewed on her lip, avoiding eye contact. “I think about how much I took for granted. As a kid in Nibelheim. As a refugee in Midgar.” Another pause, longer than before. “Even now, I guess.”

We’re not so different, you know.

“I know things haven’t been easy,” Tifa whispered, “since the Forgotten City.”

Her heart skipped, then ricocheted in her ribcage. “Tifa, it’s—”

“But I wouldn’t change a damn thing, if it meant you could be here.”

Whatever she wished to say simply died in her throat, nothing but half-formed sounds cracking on her tongue.

Tifa coughed up a bitter laugh. “Sorry, that’s... really selfish of me, but I want to do more than help you out, Aerith. I—” She sniffled, rubbing a loose fist under her nose. “I want to make you happy, to feel safe.” Her lips twitched up. “To enjoy this second shot at life. Together.”

Aerith’s eyes flitted about, as if searching for a crack in her statement. No such lies greeted her. Just a stunning face—admiring her, as well.

“I don’t want to hold you back,” Aerith said. “Or disappoint you.”

Tifa shook her head. “You don’t. You can’t.”

“But... what if I don’t get better? What if this is as good as it gets?”

“Then we’ll take it a day at a time. At your pace.”

“And when I weigh you down—”

“Then I’ll double my workouts and get stronger for you.”

Pinpricks skittered behind her eyelids. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Any of this. For me.” She sniffled, too. “I... I haven’t done anything for you. I can’t.”

She forgot to breathe when that tender hand cupped her cheek.

“But you do, Aerith,” she cooed. “Every single day.” Her thumb brushed the edge of her mouth. “If you weren’t here... I don’t think I would’ve made it this far.”

Aerith’s mind went blank. That should’ve alarmed her; a similar numbness plagued her left side, after all. But she basked in the silence, in Tifa’s warm touch. Just a little longer.

She didn’t want the night to end, but her yawns said otherwise. Tifa giggled and promised to bring her to bed. No need to worry about the crutches. They could grab them in the morning. And when Tifa tucked her in, Aerith clung to her shirt.

“Can you... stay? Please?” Let me be selfish, too.

Carefully, Tifa maneuvered under the covers with her. Slowly, the space between them shrank to a mere sliver. Quietly, Aerith gazed at her, inches away, yet beyond her reach. Eventually, she dozed off, serenaded by the rhythmic breaths of the lovely lady beside her.

And miraculously, she woke up to Tifa—still there, still beautiful as the day they met—and wished it wasn’t the only time she saw that, but the first of many.

“You ready?”

Aerith gulped the last of her spiked hot cocoa, complete with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. “You bet!”

Tifa grinned from behind the bar. They spent the better half of the weekend on the finishing touches. Same time tomorrow night, she’d have her grand opening. Right on schedule for the winter solstice, too. For now, they had their own celebration. Both dressed up for the night; Aerith even decorated her wheelchair and crutches with tinsel and ornaments.

And Tifa jogged across the dining area—and damn, she looked good in that sweater and mini skirt combo—to turn off the overhead lights... then flipped another switch.

A myriad of fairy lights twinkled above, lining the rafters and support beams. It gave the rustic interior a festive glow. So did the wood fireplace—a welcomed respite from the snow falling outside. Of course Tifa’s charming self also added to the cozy vibes.

“So?” She sauntered towards her, the sway of her hips beyond tantalizing. “What do you think?”

Aerith inhaled the burning oak and that hint of nutmeg from Tifa’s homemade eggnog. “I think it’s perfect.”

Tifa fidgeted, beyond coy. “Really?”

“Really.” Aerith held up a finger. “Promise it’s not the booze talking, either.”

They giggled in unison, cheeks bright pink from said alcohol. But that was fine. She didn’t mind if it meant being with Tifa.

“I, um....” Tifa clasped her hands behind her back, kicking at the floorboards. “I know it’s early, but I... got something for you. A yuletide present.”

Aerith’s smile grew. “You did?”

Tifa nodded, then scurried behind the bar. When she returned, she presented a small, gift-wrapped present to her. Of course Aerith tore that pretty paper apart. Vibrant shreds floated to the ground, revealing a velvet box. She popped it open, then gasped.

“So....” Tifa inched closer. “You probably don’t remember this, but... Cloud gave me a flower after his first mission with AVALANCHE. I didn’t realize it until, I don’t know, when we were in Gongaga? That it was from you.”

Aerith’s jaw hung open as she lifted the necklace. A resin charm dangled from the chain, containing a terrarium with a yellow lily in the center.

“I had never seen a real flower in the slums before,” Tifa continued, “but you grew them, despite that. And I guess... well, I wanted you to always remember how much that single flower meant to me—how much you mean to me.”

Tears trickled down her face. “This is... Tifa, you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” She knelt before her, holding Aerith’s hands to her chest. “It’s the least I can do.”

Aerith breathed out a laugh. “Thank you. I... I love it.” I love you.

“Want me to put it on for you?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

And she did, gently sweeping wavy locks aside to latch the clasp. Aerith traced the charm resting at her sternum. She couldn’t garden like she used to, but she could carry a bit of nature with her wherever she went.

Then she cracked a smile. “I’ve got something for you, too.”

Tifa tilted her head. “Is that so?”

“Yup.” She glanced past her. “Remember my orders over there?”

On the other side, a stack of crates blocked off a window. Aerith had claimed it was a Junon shipment, full of bits and bobs to furnish their apartment above. But they had been busy and Aerith couldn’t properly carry hefty boxes upstairs, so why not tuck them aside until the new year? Tifa agreed, albeit annoyed. 

And Aerith resisted the urge to cackle over her best-kept secret.

“Think you can move them a little to the left?” Aerith asked in a sing-song tone.

Tifa raised an eyebrow, then approached the cluster of crates. She lifted them with ease, because nothing was inside them. Just a stack of empty boxes to conceal her actual gift. And when Tifa tugged off the massive blanket in lieu of wrapping paper?

“You... where did you....” Tears pooled in her wide eyes. “How did you get this?”

Aerith wheeled herself over to Tifa—to a piano. Her piano. Nothing new or fancy, but used and in decent condition. She remembered spotting it in an antique shop a month ago. From there, Aerith plotted to buy that bad boy for Tifa’s tavern. Good thing for her, she stumbled upon some muscle to do the heavy lifting. And when Tifa slept one evening, Aerith snuck out with Reno and Rude to haul a piano into the main dining hall. They owed her, after all. And they were still hung up on making amends with Tifa, even if she refused. Plus, Aerith had a blast sitting back, sipping tea, and bossing those boys around.

“I have my ways,” Aerith said, smirking like a cat who caught some cream.

Tifa chuckled, drying her eyes. “This is... wow. I can’t believe you remembered I played.”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

That lovely smile faded. “I wish I remembered how to play, though. It’s been too long.”

“But it’s not lost.” Aerith gazed at her hands smoothing over one another, at her weak legs, at the potted poinsettia on the wheelchair’s side, at the necklace Tifa bestowed her. “Maybe it’ll take some time, but... it’ll come back to you.”

“Maybe.” Tifa tucked loose hair behind her ear. “I hope so.”

“Me too. I’d love to hear you play.”

Something glinted in her eyes. She examined the piano, inhaled, then said, “Would you... want to hear something now? Even if it isn’t perfect?”

Damn it, and she thought she cried enough tears to last a lifetime. “Absolutely.”

Tifa sat on the piano bench and uncovered the keys. Aerith swiped her crutches, secured to her wheelchair, and joined Tifa. Sitting without back support was more arduous than she anticipated, but she made do. Besides, a year ago? That wouldn’t have been possible. And Aerith smiled at that small victory.

She also smiled when Tifa’s hands hovered over the keys, then played.

Soft notes filled the tavern, accompanying the crackling fire. Something gentle, something slow. Cautious, uncertain. A few missed chords, but still lovely. Then Tifa’s shoulders relaxed, followed by her hands. Her lips parted ajar, curling up. And she lost herself in a melody that harmonized with Aerith’s heartbeats.

She never noticed how a pianist stroked the keys instead of hitting them. She never noticed the way Tifa poked her tongue out while deep in focus. She never noticed how her eyes—shimmering like a kaleidoscope against the fairy lights—were more red than brown. She never noticed how much Tifa admired her, needed her, until it was too late.

Except no. Nothing was late. It was taking its time, right where it needed to be.

And when Tifa extended her arm to reach more keys, Aerith leaned into her. And when Tifa swept an arm around her waist, Aerith nuzzled into her cheek. And when Tifa stopped playing the piano to seize her neck and catch her lips, Aerith closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and drowned in those kisses.

One minute, they enjoyed a song. The next, they enjoyed each other. Aerith draped her legs over Tifa’s lap while clawing off her sweater to finally—finally—grope a breast. Tifa moaned against her and returned the favor. Over and over. Until they gasped, until they trembled, until Tifa’s hand eased into her leggings and under her panties and—

Aerith hitched her breath. A shiver came and went.

“Do you feel that?” Tifa asked.

“A bit,” she said. “It’s... hard to tell. Like it’s dampened.”

“Mmm.” Those same fingers stroking the piano keys now stroked her. That much she could sense. “Do you like that?”

“Y-yes.”

That sensation, while distant, still smoldered within.

“Do you know how wet you are?”

Aerith blushed hotter than the hearth. “No. I-I’m sorr—”

“Then let me tell you,” Tifa purred into her mouth.

And she did, all while ensuring her pleasure.

“You soaked through your panties.”

Aerith panted lightly. The pressure deepened, widened.

“You’re warm, too. Like you have a fever.”

Those fingers pumped into her, relentless and determined.

“And tight.” Tifa sucked on her lower lip. “Very tight.”

Aerith shook and clutched onto Tifa as she added another finger, as she ground the heel of her palm into her clit, as she watched Aerith unravel.

“If I had to guess?”

A spark set off in her core, desperate to catch aflame. Her nails dug in, daring the slice through that sweater. Limbs quivered alongside her lips.

“You’ve been wanting this—”

Another spark, another thrust, another step closer to that edge.

“—for a long time.”

Aerith lolled her head with a whimper, a gasp. Warmth pulsed in waves, ebbing and flowing with pleasure. Nothing intense, but something. Almost like she knocked back another one of those spiked hot cocoas, letting the spiced run warm her belly. Except it was Tifa doing exactly that. Tifa and her strong embrace, her tender eyes, her oh-so-fucking diligent fingers finishing the job. Chuckling, Tifa popped them out to suck clean.

“Guess I was right,” she teased before stealing a kiss.

She tasted like musk and peppermint schnapps and everything Aerith dreamed of—everything she thought was no longer attainable for someone like her. And as much as she wanted to drop to the floor to shove her face between Tifa’s thighs—because if there was one thing that definitely functioned well, it was her tongue—exhaustion riddled Aerith. Plus the booze didn’t help. And they had a busy day come morning.

So she let Tifa carry her upstairs, to their home. That night was the best sleep she had in a while. And when she woke up to the sight of Tifa beside her, bathing in sunlight? Aerith hoped they spent the rest of their years like that—in peace; in comfort; in each other’s company, no matter the odds.