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The lights are dimmed, the only illumination shown between the hotel’s drab walls being the slight glow of the ceiling lights, the stars shining through the window, and Aerith’s smile.
Giggles fill the hall.
Yet, Cloud could care less about the depressing appearance of the room around them, the flickering light outside their room, or the fact that this hotel hall feels never-ending. Her gaze distracts him, her smile enchants him, her laugh fills him and empties and fills again.
And not music, but giggles fill the hall, and Cloud still follows his dancing girlfriend.
“Aerith—“ its breathy, and sweet, and lost to the laughter that bulldozes him when she twirls herself halfway down the hallway.
It’s light, and fluffy, like the curls of her hair. Bright and happy, like how her eyes shine despite the lack of sunlight. It’s gentle and kind, like how he’s never asked her to be, but he’s always needed.
“Aerith.” His voice finally holds some strength, forcing itself past his giddy smile.
His dream girl turns around, “Hm?”, and he can’t remember what he was going to say. His words fall short, snatched away by the depth of her eyes, but he doesn’t attempt to catch them, as they’d simply slip between his fingers at her second glance. At least until he reaches for the tangible, their room key.
“Our room.. it was—“
“Three rooms ago? I knew it! I knew it..” Through slight stumbles and tipsy giggles, the florist finds her way back to her favorite place.
“You’re too much.”
“You love me.”
“Mmmhm.” No denying that.
In his arms, her breath is warm against his chest. And with her hands flush against his face, rubbing against his pink-toned cheeks, she won’t let him forget about the lingering kiss marks on his face from her strawberry lip gloss. Strawberry lips. One more taste and he’d be a goner.
She smells like alcohol and strawberries. Her scent wafts like it’s begging for him to kiss her again— or maybe that’s the alcohol on his breath, seeping into his blood, hampering his judgment.
Who is he kidding? He’d kiss her this much sober.
Regardless of how much they’ve drank, kissed, danced, the two must retreat to their room before they find themselves wandering further than 3 rooms past room 129.
Cloud’s arms are laden with the weight of another, strewn across his body. She’s put all her weight into him, all her trust, and as she links her arms around his shoulders, Cloud can pull her in with no hesitation. The door opens, the couple follows, the bed is made, the couple smiles, the light turns on, and the girlfriend grimaces.
“Is it really over?” She mumbles, her weight no longer hung against Cloud’s back, in fact, her warmth completely leaves him before the door can even close, the bathroom already finding itself full upon her arrival.
“Hm?” And he can’t yet assume what ‘it’ is, because his first thought brings him back to their embrace, their kisses, shared moments between one another because he’s thinking the same thing. Is it really over?
Her breathy voice breaks his focus, “The wedding…”
So close—
“You wanna go back?” His voice rings through the empty bedroom followed by the flop of his body on the creaky mattress. He’s still dressed in his tux, his tie that she had picked out, his shoes, nothing matters but Aerith and the sweet escape of sleep.
“No, I’m not sure. The whole thing was beautiful,” Her voice follows from the gentle echo of the bathroom, soft, slightly scratchy, a reminder of all the singing and dancing she’s done tonight. She sniffles, “but it can’t last forever…”
And there she goes again, that dramatic sigh that she does.
“Just like how you can’t stay in those clothes forever, mister!”
There she is.
He’d usually groan, flop over, wait for her attention to be 100% placed on him, wait for her sweetness, her warmth. Sometimes he’d selfishly pout because it meant she’d be gentle with him, be patient, but tonight there’s something different in the air, and it’s not the traces of alcohol in their blood, nor is it the faint smell of strawberry that follows her elegantly. It has to be something more, a familiarity. Like her kisses lingering on his lips, her smile existing in his mind, he’s kept it and held it so. So when it comes around again he knows the mold that it fits into against his heart.
“You sure?” He mumbles.
“I’m sure.” Cloud Strife will never get over the sight of an angel in his doorway, but he could try.
Her hair has tumbled down her shoulders by now, gentle waves crashing against her porcelain skin and the bare arms left by her dress, the same dress whose straps have fallen halfway down her arms.
In one life he’s lived, he wouldn’t have these thoughts, especially without shame, but there’s something so special about knowing that she won’t stop him if he goes through with it.
I should help her change.
Not because he believes she can’t do it on her own, even if she’s drunk, but because she’s beautiful, she’s his, he can and he wants to.
“C’mere then.” He mumbles, having rolled back over onto his back, reluctantly allowing her to win, even for a moment.
“Perfect.”
Her gentle fingers work his buttons swiftly, just the same as when she was buttoning him in earlier.
One at a time, fire follows her fingertips as they brush past his skin. And just like that, this girl has him melting again. Melting enough that when his eyes lid and he’s fighting sleep, the only thing he can see is her.
He reaches up to touch her, make sure she’s real.
As his fingers brush the loose strands of hair from her face, her eyes briefly flick back up to meet his.
She’s real.
Cloud’s voice nearly comes out as a whisper, “Can I help?”
Hers responds the same, “Yes.”
His calloused, scarred hands can still love gently, the knuckles of his fingers brushing against her shoulders, following the swooping pattern that her dress straps make as they fall down her skin.
How lucky is he that he gets to move with her like this?
And as gently as her straps held their shape against her arms, they fall past her wrists, down her waist, across her hips as her dress hits the floor.
The same thought graces his mind that always seems to do so when he removes her jacket, a bow from her hair, the shoes off of her feet. He has unveiled a masterpiece, like his prized possession at an art show. But he’d like to keep this picture for himself, he thinks, and he nearly says it out loud, but even a drunk Cloud Strife knows when to stop himself, just barely.
Before he knows it, the callouses of her fingers have left his shirt, and he’s left to untuck it from his pants with what little energy he has left.
As he continues the chore and the florist leaves his unwavering gaze, her voice calls out for him, “Which shirt do you want, love? Black tank top? Or the shirt from Amor del Sol last year?”
Despite the giggle in her voice at the second option, he’s already decided. “Both.”
“Oh? Is it gonna be cold tonight?”
“Something like that.”
The pattering of her socks against the wood floor tells him exactly when she’s approaching him, exactly when he should flop over on his side, swing his arm out off of the bed, and capture her bare waist in his embrace.
Her touch is like home, her face like family, her beauty like a song that only he knows the words to. With the warmth of her skin pressed so gently to his face, he has no choice but to press gentle kisses to her stomach, waist, her abdomen. He has no other option but to pull her up to him, pressed against the side of the bed, with nothing to do but let it happen.
Her breath leaves her lungs when his other arm comes around her waist, he can feel her silent laughter through her stomach, no sounds but the quiet chirping of crickets from outside.
This is how things should be, he thinks, this is what I was made to do.
Why else would his arms fit so perfectly around her waist? Why else would her eyes sparkle when he finally tears his lips from planting kisses up her stomach? Why else would he be here if not to love and respect and care for her? Who else would be her bodyguard when she needs one?
Nobody, he’s decided, nobody else.
When his girlfriend’s eyes squint to his, he recognizes it as a grimace but knows in his heart she has nothing but love.
Her hands knit themselves in his hair, but he doesn’t let up. If anything, he wraps his hands tighter around her waist, scooting himself impossibly closer to her. “What has gotten into you, mister?”
He might as well be honest, “Alcohol.”
“Well, I know that, silly…”
Maybe she does know, but there’s so much that she doesn’t.
So as she attempts to pull herself from Cloud’s grasp, she can’t, he won’t let her. He’s too tired, too needy, too tipsy to want anything else than the feeling of her skin upon his, his lips melting with hers, her hair spilling across them both just so he can play with it.
“Oh? So you let me take off everything but my underwear and jewelry? I suspect that would be kinda uncomfortable to cuddle with!”
“Don’t care.” His tone is warm, voice muffled against her bare stomach.
“I can’t with you.”
And this time, it’s her who is called out.
“You love me.” His smirk can be heard through his words.
But Aerith Gainsborough is not one to be left speechless.
“I love you.”
Smitten must be the right word, for she wiggles herself out of his grasp and Cloud simply lets her, the goofiest smile plastered upon his pink-tinged face.
The faucet runs about as fast as his heart beats in his chest, the lights in the bedroom dim while the halo glow shines from the bathroom where she stands, and the silhouette shadow she makes is cast across the floor.
He can’t even see her, let alone discern the words that she is silently humming to herself, but regardless, Cloud has to hold his smile back, tame his restless blush, and wipe his sweating forehead to calm his flustered demeanor.
This girl has claimed his heart and soul. He forces himself up off of the comfort of his bed, too enamored to fall asleep. Maybe he should change, maybe he could listen to his girlfriend.
Of course, he should listen to her.
As Cloud stands there, “Amor del Sol” shirt in his left hand, watching Aerith hum softly to herself in the bathroom, a certain warmth wells up inside him, threatening to overflow like a river breaking its banks. It's not just the physical attraction, the way the lace that lay underneath her dress had been just as beautiful as the dress itself this whole time, though that's certainly part of it. It's the way she fills his every thought, the way her presence brings light to even the darkest corners of his mind.
He remembers the times he’d come home from late-night deliveries, an endless field of things on his mind, only to find little trinkets in the windows of certain shops that reminded him of her, things he couldn't resist buying because he knew they would make her smile. It's the way he takes the long way home with her, not because he needs to, but because he craves those extra moments in her company. Before Aerith, he never had time to stop and smell the flowers, but now, every flower beckons him forward, pulling him in with the promise of her name, whispering it in his ear, urging him to slow down and appreciate the beauty around him.
She's like a melody that plays in his mind, a sweet refrain that he can't get enough of. Her laughter is the soundtrack to his life, her smile a beacon of warmth in a world that can often feel cold and harsh. And when he looks at her, really looks at her, he sees the depth of her soul, the kindness in her eyes, and certain thoughts, thoughts that scare him, cloud his brain.
Scarily enough, there is a world in which Cloud does not spend the rest of his life with Aerith Gainsborough.
He thanks every star that it isn’t this one.
But as Aerith hums softly in the bathroom, Cloud knows he can't linger in his lovesick trance forever. With a sigh, he shakes himself out of his reverie and begins to change out of his clothes. He removes his button-up shirt and replaces it with the black tank top she grabbed for him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he thinks of her picking it out for him.
Cloud quietly slips into the bathroom, his steps light as he approaches Aerith. She's standing by the sink, lost in her own little world as she washes her face, humming a soft melody that fills the room.
As Aerith continues her routine, Cloud sneaks up behind her, the long-sleeved, pink "Amor del Sol" shirt dangling from his hand. He drapes the shirt over her shoulders, letting it fall gently over her frame. Aerith gasps in surprise, her movements momentarily faltering before she turns to look at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Cloud!" she exclaims, a giggle escaping her lips as she takes in the sight of herself in the mirror, clad in his shirt.
He simply shrugs, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. "Just thought you might be cold,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck.
Aerith laughs softly, leaning back into his embrace. "Well, thank you," she says, her voice warm with affection. "But you know I have my own clothes, right?"
Cloud chuckles, tightening his hold on her. "I know," he replies.
Cloud's heart swells, his fingers tangling in her hair as he leans in to kiss her again. His lips mold perfectly against hers, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. There's a softness to the touch, a warmth that spreads from their lips to every corner of Cloud's being.
Aerith giggles softly as they pull away, her eyes sparkling with affection as she finishes her routine. But as she looks at Cloud's face, her gaze lingers on the faint kiss marks left behind by her strawberry lip gloss. A mischievous smile plays on her lips as she reaches for a washcloth, her fingers trailing over his cheek.
"You've got a little something on your face, Cloud," she says teasingly, her voice filled with amusement.
"I don't mind," he replies softly, his eyes never leaving hers.
With a gentle touch, Aerith begins to wipe away the traces of her lip gloss from Cloud's face, her movements slow and deliberate. But as she leans in closer, her breath warm against his skin, Cloud finds himself getting lost in her gaze once again.
Before he knows it, his fingers are reaching up to cup her cheeks, pulling her closer until their lips meet in another sweet kiss. It's meant to be brief, just a fleeting moment of affection, but somehow it lingers, the warmth of her lips against his a sweet temptation he can't resist. It isn’t his fault that the kiss lingers. Not his fault that when his lips meld against hers, he can’t pull away. Not his fault that she tastes like strawberry lip gloss and he can’t deny his earlier thoughts: one more taste and he’d be a goner.
When they finally pull away, Aerith's cheeks are flushed, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "Cloud," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper. Aerith pulls back with a playful glare, but he can see the hint of a smile dancing in her eyes.
He smiles, pressing another quick kiss to her lips before leaning back to admire the flush on her cheeks. "Sorry," he murmurs, his tone playful. “Couldn't help it.”
Aerith giggles, her eyes sparkling with affection as she reaches up to cup his cheek. "You're impossible," she says, her voice tinged with laughter.
Cloud grins, pressing a final kiss to her lips before pulling back to let her finish wiping away the lip gloss.
“If you keep kissing me," she says, her voice teasing, "I'm gonna have to keep wiping it off."
Aerith's laughter fills the room, her breath no longer smells of alcohol, her eyes dancing with mirth. "And if you keep wiping it off," he replies, his tone less serious, "I'm gonna have to keep kissing you."
And Cloud would keep kissing her, for the rest of his life, in fact, but their long day leaves weary gazes and lidded eyes.
“You’re tired, hm?”
When her yawn finally ends, she responds, “You could tell?”
Cloud can feel the weight of the day settling into his bones, the events of the wedding, the dancing, the laughter all adding to his weariness. He can see the same fatigue mirrored in Aerith's eyes, her usual sparkle dulled by the late hour.
Cloud and Aerith retreat to the comfort of their bed, their steps slow and deliberate. They move with a familiarity born of countless nights spent together, their movements fluid and synchronized.
Cloud can feel the exhaustion tugging at his limbs as he sinks into the soft mattress, his body yearning for the sweet embrace of sleep.
Like clockwork, the florist’s gentle eyes close as she flops herself next to her boyfriend, a long, drawn-out yawn escaping her lips.
Despite his weariness, there's a sense of contentment that fills him as he settles down next to Aerith.
Aerith's laughter still echoes in his ears, a sweet melody that lingers in the air around them. It's a sound that never fails to bring a smile to Cloud's lips, filling him with a sense of joy and contentment that he never knew was possible.
As they sink into the mattress, side by side, their fingers intertwine.
She fiddles with them, her eyes still not opening despite the smile gracing her lips. She twists his fingers between hers, gentle touches, warm touches, flatly against his palm, she exists in her own little world. Calloused, pale fingers, starkly delicate compared to his.
He regrets all the times he’s kept his gloves on, unable to truly feel her skin upon his.
The dim glow of the bedside lamp casts a soft, warm light across the room, illuminating the space with a gentle glow. Shadows dance along the walls, creating intricate patterns that seem to sway and shift with the rhythm of their breathing.
Cloud can't help but admire the way Aerith looks in the soft light, her features bathed in a gentle glow that accentuates her beauty. Her hair spills across the pillow in a cascade of curls, framing her face like a halo. The curve of her smile is like a work of art, a masterpiece that he could never tire of admiring.
As he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, Aerith's eyes flutter open, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She reaches for him, pulling him close until their bodies are pressed together in a warm embrace.
For a while, they lay in comfortable silence, content to simply be in each other's presence. Cloud traces patterns on Aerith's bare arm, his touch light and affectionate, while Aerith hums a soft melody under her breath, her fingers playing with the strands of Cloud's hair.
"Hey, Cloud?" Aerith's voice breaks the silence, her tone soft and inviting like it always is.
“Hm?” Cloud responds, turning to look at her with a small smile.
"Do you ever think about the future?" Aerith's gaze is earnest, her eyes searching his for an answer.
Cloud is caught where he stands, grabbed by the heart, and stopped in his tracks. The truth is, he does, of course, but not nearly as much as the past. No one will ever know how his feet stick in the ground of Nibleheim village like they’re stuck in wet cement. “All the time," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.
Aerith's fingers trace lazy circles on Cloud's chest, her touch sending shivers down his spine. "What do you see?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.
Cloud takes a moment to consider her question without worry, his mind drifting to images of a future filled with love and laughter, with Aerith by his side every step of the way. "I see us," he finally says, his voice filled with conviction.
"Me too," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of his heart thudding in his ears.
As Aerith's fingers continue to trace gentle patterns on Cloud's chest, he can't help but let his mind wander to the wedding… Not theirs, not yet.
"Aerith," Cloud begins, his voice soft as he turns to look at her, "that wedding was really something, wasn't it?"
Something is definitely the right word to describe it. Johnny and Jenny, match made in heaven. And luckily enough, the venue wasn’t at Johnny’s Seaside Inn
He continues, “makes me think…”
Aerith's eyes light up at his words, her smile widening as she leans in closer to him. "Me too," she whispers, her breath warm against his skin. "I've always dreamed of a wedding like that."
Cloud's heart skips a beat at her words, a rush of warmth flooding through him at the thought of her clad in white, a bouquet of her own flowers in her hand, walking down the aisle at her wedding. He can’t help but wonder who she could be smiling for, who she’ll exchange vows with.
He doesn’t like admitting it, but Cloud Strife is a jealous man, unable to hide it. His stoic demeanor cracking at the thought of letting her slip through his fingers, letting another man slide a ring on her hand and kiss the lips that he’s claimed countless times before.
But as he begins to imagine his own wedding, he can feel a nervous fluttering in his stomach.
He doesn’t need to imagine a blank space where the bride would stand. She’s there, dressed in white. He can’t imagine it any other way. Nobody else feels right, nobody walking down that aisle but her.
He's never been one to dwell on the future, but now, as he thinks about standing at the altar with Aerith by his side, exchanging vows and promising to love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives, his skin grows hot, face going red, heart beating impossibly faster. Is this love, or a heart attack?
And to his despair, he hasn’t even proposed, she hasn’t even said yes yet.
"When would you want to get married?" The words slip out before he can stop them, his voice only a sliver of the volume that it usually is.
Aerith's eyes meet his. "Whenever you're ready," she replies, her voice filled with warmth.
Oh.
That’s what he needs, badly, a sense of clarity settling over him like a comforting embrace. He knows now, without a doubt, that he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with Aerith by his side.
And she does too.
Oh.
If his heart had beat any harder, he swore she would have felt it against the bed.
A lump forms in Cloud’s throat, a sense of panic washing over him. He's never felt this way before, never wanted to be closer to someone, to commit his life to them in such a profound way. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
He turns to face Aerith fully, his eyes searching hers for any hint of doubt or hesitation. But all he finds is love and unwavering support, a comforting presence that fills him with a sense of calm.
He’s sure, oh gods, he’s sure. That’s the scary part. When Aerith gives Cloud the go-ahead, he no longer holds back, he has absolutely no reason to, none in the world.
So, it comes out.
"I want to marry you, Aerith," he blurts out, his gaze locked on hers with an intensity that belies his anxiety, “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life."
Aerith blinks, her expression caught between surprise and amusement. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in his words, a playful lilt to her voice as she responds. "You want to marry me?" she asks, a playful lilt to her voice, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Cloud catches it in his dreamcatcher of a gaze, his hands drifting from her waist to her face as if drawn by an invisible force. Taking a deep breath, Cloud reaches out to cup her cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing gently against her skin. Her eyes flutter closed at his touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she leans into his hand, still smiling, still jesting.
God—
whatanidiotwhydidIdothisIshould’vewaitedforustodiscussthisIdon’tevenhavearingoranythingjustmywordsandwhywouldsheevensayyesanyway—
God, she’s beautiful.
Cloud's heart skips a beat at the sound of her laughter, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment at his sudden outburst. "Yeah, but… but that’s saying you’d do it, and we’d have money, and our friends would all be free, and we would spend the first day of our lives together not thinking about the “what if” and instead just thinking about the “now”…”
He’s freaking out.
“And Aerith… there is a now. I’d do it now. Right now, with no money, no friends, and not a day of our lives without “what if”, because—“
“Hm…?” The wrinkles around her eyes start to disappear as her lips part and her eyes widen. She’s finally getting it.
“Because what if I asked you right now?”
“Asked me to—“
And Cloud has never felt more of a burning absence than on the second knuckle of his left ring finger.
“Asked you to let me hold you for the rest of our lives. Please.”
Aerith's fingers tremble slightly as she reaches out to touch Cloud's face, her touch gentle and tentative as if she's afraid he might disappear if she's too rough. "Cloud..." she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of their racing hearts. "Are you... are you asking me to marry you?"
Cloud meets her gaze, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that he's never shown to anyone else. "I know this isn’t the most traditional way of doing things," he says, his voice soft and hesitant. "But… you knocked me to the floor since the first moment I saw you.”
"You don't need a ring or grand gestures," she murmurs. “All I need is you." Aerith's breath catches in her throat. She’s beautiful, unreal, she’s a lovely thing that has graced the earth with her presence, and Cloud Strife is only lucky enough to receive a sliver of her time, let alone the rest of her life. "Cloud..." she murmurs. "You… you really mean it?"
Her delicate features are illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting gentle shadows across her face. Her lips, lips that he’s kissed so many times before, slightly parted in surprise, form a perfect cupid's bow, inviting and warm.
But now he’s nervous, it feels like he’s kissing her for the first time all over again. He’s reminded of the shivers down his spine, the surprise when the sudden urge to get closer to her shot through his body for the first time, he’s thought that he’d gotten over this nervousness around her, but nothing can truly tame the way she makes him feel. Nothing.
Aerith Gainsborough, the Cetra, the girl who cheated death, wants to marry Cloud. Him?
Yet nothing seems more right, like he’d rather never see anyone but her for the rest of his life. All his doubts melt away at the sight of her.
“Of course I do.”
He reaches out to her, his fingertips brushing against the soft skin of her cheek, tracing the curve of her jawline with a tenderness that belies his inner turmoil. He marvels at the way her eyelashes flutter against her skin, like delicate butterfly wings, and the way her breath hitches ever so slightly at his touch.
Cloud is acutely aware of the weight of his words, the gravity of his confession hanging in the air between them like a tangible thing. He can feel the pulse of his heart reverberating in his chest, a steady rhythm that matches the rhythm of his thoughts.
Aerith's gaze never wavers from his, her eyes searching his soul for the truth behind his words. In that moment, he can physically feel the effect that she has on him, how deeply she has become ingrained in the very fabric of his being.
Without a word, Cloud leans forward, his lips meeting hers in a tender kiss that speaks volumes more than any words ever could. It's a kiss filled with passion and longing, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance.
Cloud's fingers thread through Aerith's hair, tangling in the soft curls as he pulls her closer, deepening the kiss with a hunger that borders on desperation. Every touch, every caress, is filled with a raw intensity, a longing that burns deep within his soul.
Aerith responds in kind, her hands finding their way to Cloud's back, fingers tracing over the contours of his muscles with a feather-light touch. It's as if they're trying to memorize each other's bodies, to commit every curve and contour to memory, knowing that this moment may be burned into their souls, something sacred, something cherished.
As they finally pull away, their breath mingling in the air between them, Cloud's gaze meets Aerith's, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that words could never express. She is his reason for being.
Aerith's smile is radiant. It's as if she can see straight into his soul, understanding him in a way that no one else ever could.
Without a word, Cloud reaches out to take her hand in his, their fingers intertwining.
Is this right? Is she ready? Is she happy?
Three words seal his thoughts, the questions in his head all answered with her voice.
“I love you.”