Archive of Our Own ^beta

People liked to say that Seventh Heaven was a hidden gem in the slums, a secret paradise that couldn’t be found unless you already knew where it was. They said that it was the place to visit for the best Cosmo Canyons in West Midgar, that even SOLDIERS sang its praises, that if you shared a drink with a stranger in the dim lights of Seventh Heaven you would be bound for life.

Aerith and Tifa liked to make fun of those rumours over closing-time bottom-shelf drinks.

What Seventh Heaven was was a small bar tucked away in a quiet part of the Sector 7 slums, unremarkable save for the fact that, in all fairness, the owner had scored an absolute magician for a bartender. That was the only rumour that was actually true: Tifa was nothing short of prodigious behind the counter, and even the patrons who’d meant to only come in once to gawk at her were inevitably drawn back again and again after a taste of her drinks. She had a knack for instantly knowing what any patron would like and, even if they were sceptical at first, she was never wrong.

When she was feeling particularly dramatic, Aerith often lamented the fact that she didn’t get to try her drinks nearly often enough, but Tifa would only laugh and remind her that if she wasn’t allowed to drink on the job, neither was Aerith. Then Aerith would stick her tongue out at her and wander back to the microphone for her next set.

All in all, Aerith liked the gig. Compared to other bars in the undercity, Seventh Heaven was practically high-end, the owner was nice enough, and she’d made a great friend in Tifa.

After just a couple of weeks at the job, she’d found a routine that worked for everyone. Every night, she’d sing her normal set for about two hours and a half, aided by the crackling backing tracks coming from the bar’s old beat-up jukebox. She’d shuffle the songs around, mixing genres and styles to keep it fresh. Then, as the night went on, she’d start taking requests.

Those were her favourite parts of the job. For a small tip, patrons could request any song during the last couple of hours of Aerith’s shifts. They could put their notes in the small wooden box at the bar, or leave them with a staff member. Requests came in many different shapes and forms: song titles, just a particular genre or author, sometimes she’d get a slip of paper that said something to the tune of “The song that goes da-da-daaaa da-da-daaaa da-da-da-da-da-da-daa-daaaa...” Aerith would laugh then, and turn to the crowd to try and figure out what song they meant. People tended to listen more closely to her during Request Hour, rather than keeping her as background ambiance, and it made her feel appreciated, cherished even.

The Seventh Heaven patrons and their beloved lounge singer.

It was a good routine: go to Seventh Heaven early, chat with Tifa, sing for a bit, then reach for the request box and improvise some a capella renditions of the patrons’ favourites. The gig didn’t pay terribly well, but together with selling flowers during the day, Aerith kept herself afloat.

It was a warm September evening, two years since she’d started at Seventh Heaven, when she got one particular request, scrawled in messy and sharp handwriting, as if whoever had written it had done so quickly and almost sheepishly.

Your favourite song.

“Huh,” said Aerith into the microphone as she twirled the slip of paper in her hand. “That’s... really sweet, actually.” She smiled. “Okay, let me think about that for a second. You can’t just ask a singer their favourite song, it’s like asking a florist their favourite flower—and I should know!” A rumble of a chuckle rippled through the small crowd. She tapped her lips for a second. “My favourite song, my favourite song... Well, there is one, I guess. You know, you’d think I’d have a backing track for this, but nope. It’s not part of the set, so, well, we’re improvising as usual.”

Someone in the crowd whooped, and Aerith laughed as she set the microphone. “Alright, alright, settle down, you’re not gonna match the vibe of the song. Okay, so, I don’t actually know if it has a name. It’s a song that my mom used to sing a lot when I was a kid. I kinda picked it up as I listened to her. But I like it, and I hope you will too. Ready?” The crowd murmured their readiness. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Here goes.”

She hadn’t sung her mother’s lullaby in ages, not since the months after her death. She didn’t know why—maybe she hadn’t needed it as much. But when she’d read the request, she’d known there really was no other song that fit.

Aerith swayed gently to the rhythm of the lullaby, smiling as the notes fell easily from her lips. It was gentle and soothing, with lyrics that spoke of the ancient world of the Cetra that was no more. Of sparkling rivers, of brilliant flowers, of soft clouds. That world was gone, replaced by polluted skies and waters and dull leaves but, in song, it persisted.

And her mother did too, smiling sweetly in Aerith’s memories.

She almost didn’t notice it when she finished the song, drawing out one last note in the silence of Seventh Heaven. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked at the crowd, which gave a short burst of applause after a moment. Aerith smiled, suddenly shy, and waved a bit at the crowd. “Thanks, everyone,” she said into the microphone. “Appreciate it.”

She giggled, then got up and wandered back to the bar for the next song request.

“That’s a nice one,” said Tifa, setting a half-done Cosmo Canyon aside to lean over the counter. “How do you feel about adding it to the set? I could figure out an accompaniment on the piano and record it.”

Aerith hummed, popping open the box. “Let’s hold off on that, maybe? Best to keep it a one-off.” She didn’t want to cheapen her mother’s song.

Tifa nodded and pushed herself back up. “Your call. Well, better get back to it. Oh, come see me at closing—an old friend of mine just moved to Midgar, I wanna introduce you. Should be here already, actually.” She got on her tiptoes to scan the crowd for a moment.

“Sure, I’d love to meet ‘em,” said Aerith, fishing out a request slip. The Stamp theme song!! Easy enough. “Right, I’ll see you later then!”

Tifa waved as she returned to the cocktail and Aerith made a beeline for the microphone again.

The rest of the night flew by between requests and laughs. The crowd eventually started to dwindle around midnight, and Aerith took her last slip of paper from the box—a chill jazzy tune to end things on.

From her microphone, she watched the patrons slowly file out of the bar, with one last wave, one last whoop, or one last declaration of undying love for Tifa.

As she drew out the last note, only a couple of people remained, and Aerith curtsied politely for them with a small smile. “Thanks, everyone,” she said in the microphone. “It’s been lovely as usual.”

“See ya tomorrow!” called a regular, standing up on unsteady legs. “Rap night, y’hear? Gon’ be one to remember!”

Aerith giggled and waved at her. “Oh, it’ll be one alright. Just remember you guys asked for it.”

The regular fist-bumped the air, then turned around—too fast, she had to prop herself up on another table to stay upright—and strolled out of Seventh Heaven.

Aerith waved at her retreating back, then switched the microphone off with a small sigh. Another night.

Tifa was still at the bar, wiping it down with an irritated look on her face. Aerith wandered over to her and drummed her fingers on the counter. “Rough night?”

Tifa turned with a huff, tossing her towel over her shoulder. “Seen worse. Nah, my friend bailed on us. I think he left around the last request.”

“Aww,” said Aerith, climbing on a stool. “Too bad. Next time, right?”

Tifa hummed, grabbing two glasses—the chipped ones they kept from customers—and a bottle of their bottomest shelf gin. “Next time for sure. That guy desperately needs some more friends.”

Aerith giggled and raised her glass once Tifa was done pouring the liquor. “Cheers to that.”

Rap night was sort of a disaster. Luckily it was a random Wednesday night, and the crowd was made up of almost entirely regulars who’d flocked to the bar to hear Aerith make a fool of herself. She just couldn’t figure out how to speak-sing that fast, but the patrons had been hounding her for a while about it. The girl from the night before knew all the songs and was frankly a much better rapper than Aerith, but it was her gig and she would see the night through.

As she stumbled to the end of the last song in the set, she sighed in relief.

“Finally,” she said before the recording on the jukebox was even over. “I hope you enjoyed that, because I am not doing it again. Just think how much I must love you guys to get talked into rapping for two hours straight!” The small crowd chuckled. “Right, I’m gonna take a break to re-spool my tongue, and you guys are gonna be nice to me with the requests. See you in five!”

Tifa was laughing at her by the time she got to the counter, but she had a glass of water ready for her. “Toin a coss in the air?” she said, crossing her arms. “I’m gonna have that framed on the wall.”

Aerith stuck her tongue out at her. “You wouldn’t dare. I’d like to see you try that song—I have never once sung it and not gotten my words mixed up. The original recording has to be doctored.”

“I wonder.”

“I’m serious! Ever seen—whatshisface—Crazy Chocobo sing it live? No! He never does! Because nobody can.”

Tifa giggled again. “I bet I can find someone who knows him in real life and book him for a private show. Just to prove you wrong.”

Aerith rolled her eyes. “Right, how could I forget. You’re never more than two degrees of separation away from literally anyone in the world.”

“Hey, just because I know a friend of a friend of Rufus Shinra—”

They both laughed.

“By the way,” started Tifa, nodding towards the crowd, “got my friend to come back.”

“Oh,” said Aerith, turning around. “Which one is he?”

Tifa pointed towards the back of the room. “Blondie in the corner nursing a glass of Cosmo Canyon. I don’t think he’s had a single sip.”

Aerith followed her gesture to a table where only one man sat. He had messy blonde hair and was dressed in all black, but Aerith could make out nothing else about him from a distance. He had his arms crossed on the table in front of a full glass of reddish liquor, and was staring at it intently. “All alone?” she asked, turning back to Tifa.

She sighed. “For now. As soon as I manage to coordinate with Jessie and the others I’m introducing him to them too. But they’re always busy, so it’s tricky.”

Aerith hummed. “I’ll make sure to tackle him before closing so he doesn’t escape.”

Tifa giggled. “Much appreciated. You better get back to it now, you got a lot of requests already.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Aerith reached for the box and pulled out a few pieces of paper. Then, she stood up and waved. “See ya later.”

A few cheers welcomed her back to the microphone. “Heya, everyone. I think I’ve recovered enough to get back to it. Now let’s see—” she unfolded the first request and paused for a second to read it. Written in a vaguely familiar messy scrawl was Something easy to sing. Aerith giggled as she read it out loud. “Well, whaddya know, someone was nice to me after all.”

“You sure it ain’t rigged?” piped up someone from the crowd.

Aerith put a hand on her heart. “I wouldn’t dare, but I do appreciate whoever wrote this very much.” She tapped her lips for a second. “How about some Midgar Blues? Something chill and easy for now.”

She wasn’t really looking for a response, but the patrons hummed approvingly as she turned to set the jukebox.

It was a simple song, one that Aerith had sung so many times that she didn’t need to focus much on the lyrics. And neither did the patrons; it was the perfect lounge song, meant to fill the background of their own conversations for a while. So, Aerith let her mind and gaze wander over Seventh Heaven

Tifa was at the counter as usual, busy mixing up some bright green cocktails for a sceptical-looking couple. She caught Aerith’s eye and waved slightly before returning to her task. The owner of the bar was standing by the door, arms crossed as best as he could manage with his prosthetics as he looked over the small crowd. Aerith didn’t know him well: he barely ever came around to Seventh Heaven during her shifts, and when he did he tended to not stick around for long. She knew his name—Barret Wallace—and that he had a young daughter, and that was it.

The patrons were scattered at the tables in front of her little stage, chatting amongst themselves and creating a pleasant hum to complement the music. A couple of people were tapping their feet along to her song, some were bobbing their heads, others seemed to barely be aware of it.

No one was looking at Aerith. It happened from time to time, and it was always an odd feeling that mixed freedom and loneliness. She could do whatever she wanted up on the stage, and no one would know. No one would care.

But then her gaze drifted to the back of the bar and met someone else’s.

Tifa’s friend, still sitting alone with his untouched drink, was looking right at her, focused as if he were trying to memorise the song. She was a little closer to him from the stage than she had been from the counter, so she could make out his startlingly bright blue eyes and sharp, angular features. He was frowning a little, though Aerith wondered whether it was just the way his face relaxed. Even from a distance, she could tell how handsome he was, and she vaguely thought that Jessie would be all over him when they eventually met. She hoped he could handle her.

She gave him a little wink when their gazes met, and he shook his head and hurried to break eye contact, as if she’d caught him looking at something he shouldn’t. Quickly, he turned to his glass and downed it in one gulp, immediately wincing at the alcohol. Aerith managed to hold in a giggle, even though her next line came out a little wobbly and breathy, and looked away from him. She’d have time to get to know him when Tifa introduced them.

She almost didn’t notice when the song came to an end. A polite applause shook her out of her reverie, and she smiled, reaching for another piece of paper. “Thanks. Um, right, let’s see what’s next.” She unfolded the paper: The aria from Maria and Draco. “Oh, son of a—”

The night went on and Aerith kept singing, occasionally tossing a glance towards Tifa’s friend. And that was how she saw him leave, this time. Once she announced her last song, the man stood up and casually walked out the door, abandoning his empty glass and the emptying bar.

“Say,” she started, climbing her stool at the counter after closing, “does your friend, like... want to meet new people?”

Tifa laughed. “He most definitely does not. But I’ve taken that decision out of his hands. He can’t just go from work to bed and back to work.”

Aerith giggled, running a finger over the rim of her glass. “Well, we might need to try harder, then.”

“Any ideas? Just telling you right now that if you call him out from the stage he will walk outta here and never return.”

She hummed. “Noted.”

Tifa’s friend—Aerith kept forgetting to ask her his name, damnit—didn’t come back to Seventh Heaven for a week after rap night. Aerith joked that she’d scared him off with her abysmal performance, but she was a little bummed as well. Tifa had all but spelled it out: he didn’t have many, if any friends outside of her, and Aerith wanted to change that. But she couldn’t do it if he didn’t show up to the bar.

When he did finally appear again, Aerith was in the middle of her set. She noticed the door swinging open and the tell-tale head of spiky blond hair walking in with his eyes fixed on the ground. Aerith followed him with her gaze as he wandered to the counter. Tifa spotted him and waved, then put her hands on her hips and said something. He just shrugged. Tifa motioned for Aerith, but her friend didn’t look at her. If anything, he turned a little further away from her, and Tifa giggled.

Aerith felt a smile tug at her lips. That night was going to be the night.

She didn’t search for him during the rest of her set. She had songs to sing, after all, and it wouldn’t do to forget her lyrics because she was too busy studying a cute stranger from afar. She did, however, accidentally meet his gaze a couple of times. He sat at the same table as the week before, nursing the same full glass of Cosmo Canyon, and looking at her with the same focused eyes. Every time her gaze wandered over to him, he looked away, retreating into his shoulders a little bit.

Aerith pondered her strategy over the last song of her set. If she wanted to befriend him, or at least introduce herself, she would have to take him by surprise. So, when she reached the end of the song and hopped off the stage for her break, she only waved at Tifa instead of joining her at the counter. She walked around the tables, smiling and saying hello to the regulars when she passed by them, but she had a destination in mind.

“This seat taken?” she asked, stopping in front of Tifa’s friend.

He’d been scribbling something in a notepad, but he snapped to attention with an almost startled jump. “Huh?”

Aerith linked her hands behind her back and smiled. “This seat taken?” she repeated.

He looked at the other chair at his table as if only just noticing it, then he shook his head. “Uh, no.”

“Great!” exclaimed Aerith, sitting down with a theatrical flourish. She smoothed her skirt down and smiled at the stranger. “Mind if I take my break here? Tifa’s busy tonight, I don’t wanna bother her.”

The stranger glanced at the bar, no busier than usual, over Aerith’s shoulder and raised an eyebrow. She laced her fingers under her chin, daring him to call her on her obvious lie.

But he didn’t. He looked back at her and just shrugged silently.

Aerith hummed, pleased, as he turned his attention back to his notepad, tucked behind his arm as if he wanted to hide its contents. She didn’t pry. After a beat of silence, she drummed her fingers over the table to get his attention.

“I’m Aerith, by the way,” she said with a smile.

The stranger blinked twice at her. “Uh... Yeah. I know.”

Aerith nodded and looked at him expectantly. He held her gaze for a moment, then shook his head. “Cloud. Cloud Strife.” He had a nice voice: quiet, boyish, and a little bit raspy.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Cloud Strife.” She smiled. “Finally, right?”

He furrowed his brows. “Finally...?” He tossed a glance towards the bar again, and a flash of understanding passed over his face, followed by a frown. “Tifa put you up to this, didn’t she?”

Aerith shrugged. “Yes and no. She did want to introduce me to you, but you kept running off before closing.”

Cloud’s frown deepened. “I didn’t run off.”

“Well, you were here and then you weren’t,” said Aerith, waving a hand in the air. “And she got me curious, so I decided to come say hi myself. So, hi!” She grinned.

He blinked at her. Once. Twice. “Uh, hi,” he said then. He grimaced a little and averted his gaze. “Sorry. Don’t really know what to talk about.”

Aerith shrugged. “That’s okay. My break’s over soon, anyway. Say, any chance you might stick around after my shift ends?” She smiled.

He hesitated a little. “Got work in the morning. Sorry.”

“Oh.” Aerith leaned back in her seat, hoping the disappointment wouldn’t show too much on her face. “Okay. What do you do?”

“Deliveries. And, uh, odd jobs.”

Aerith cocked her head to the side. “Odd jobs?”

Cloud shrugged. “Whatever needs doing. One job isn’t enough to live in Midgar.”

She sighed. “Cheers to that.” He hummed. Aerith took it as a cue to continue. “Florist in the day, lounge singer at night.”

“Florist?”

Aerith nodded enthusiastically. “Best in the undercity!”

Cloud furrowed his brows. “But I thought nothing grew in Midgar. Where’re you getting the flowers from?”

“Oh, I have my ways,” she said with a wink.

“Is ‘your ways’ code for ‘you steal them’ or something?” He shot her a quizzical look.

She tutted. “A girl never reveals all her secrets on a first date. Oh, well,” she said, standing up, “it’ll have to wait for another time. Gotta go back to the mic.”

Cloud stared at her for a moment. She couldn’t be sure in the dim lights of Seventh Heaven, but she thought he might be blushing a bit. “Uh, right. Good luck, I guess?”

“Thanks! Hey, make sure to send in a request if there’s something you wanna hear, ‘kay?” She winked before turning around and waving over her shoulder. “See ya!”

If Cloud answered her, she didn’t hear him. Aerith deftly made her way back to the counter, and reached into the request box.

“Well, well,” said Tifa, shooting her a glance as she popped open the lid on the mixer. “Look who finally decided to show. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Aerith giggled. “Alas, I’m not here to stay.”

Tifa sighed theatrically. “Figures. Abandoning me for some guy.” She handed the drink to her customer and turned back to her. “So, how’d it go? Did Cloud make nice?”

“I think so? He didn’t run off, at least. He looked more confused than anything else.”

Tifa giggled and shot a glance in Cloud’s direction. “Right, I bet.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t worry about it. Is he gonna stay after closing?”

Aerith huffed, fishing out a few request slips from the box. “Got work in the morning.”

“Oh, does he now.” Tifa put her hands on her hips. “Well, at least we’ve made some progress.”

Aerith giggled. “Is he always that awkward?”

Tifa didn’t reply right away. She glanced at Cloud again, then shook her head. “He’ll loosen up. You took him by surprise.”

“Makes sense,” said Aerith. “Well, gotta run. Got songs to sing.”

“Knock ‘em dead,” said Tifa, shooting finger guns at her.

Aerith winked and waved, making her way back to the mic. She flicked through her request slips. The one that caught her eye was one written in familiar handwriting: Your favourite love song.

She bit her lip to suppress a small smile.

“Hey, looks like our mystery sweet requester is back,” she said into the mic. “My favourite love song, huh? Cute!” Aerith grinned. “Well, whoever you are, if you’re here with a special someone, this one’s for the both of you. Hope you don’t mind some musical theatre—I just really like I Want To Be Your Canary.”

Luckily, she had the backing track for Melodies of Life on tape—she’d pestered Tifa about it after they’d gone to see the show together. She didn’t get to sing it all that often, though, so she was grateful for the opportunity.

As she sang, she let her gaze wander over the room. A corner of the bar had turned into a drunk sing-along club of swaying shoulders and sloshing drinks. Aerith hid her smile in the first chorus of the song. At the counter, Tifa was mouthing a passionate rendition of the song with her mixer as a microphone. Aerith winked at her when their eyes met, and Tifa blew her a kiss. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the owner of the bar had made an appearance as well, and he was standing by the door with his little daughter perched on his shoulder, waving her hands and trying to sing along.

Finally, Aerith found Cloud again. He hadn’t moved from his table, but his notepad was out again. Both it and the pencil lay abandoned and forgotten, though, as Cloud’s attention was entirely focused on her. He wasn’t singing along or even keeping the tempo by tapping his foot or fingers or nodding his head. When their eyes met, Aerith cocked her head to the side and smiled. Cloud looked startled for a moment and averted his gaze, then turned back and gave her a small nod.

Satisfied, Aerith pulled her attention back to the song as she belted the last chorus. As promised, Cloud slipped out of the bar before the end of her very last song, under Tifa’s annoyed glare. If he noticed it, he didn’t turn around, though he did shoot one final glance Aerith’s way, not long enough to do more than lock eyes for a moment as he ducked out of the door. Aerith ignored the little sting of disappointment and looked back into the crowd.

Cloud didn’t come back for a couple of nights but, when he did, Aerith didn’t waste any time in joining him again on her break.

“Heya!” she greeted him cheerfully, sliding into the free chair in front of him. “Long time no see.”

He thought for a moment. “Hasn’t been that long.”

Aerith waved her hand in the air. “Details, details. So, how are you?”

Cloud shrugged and hummed noncommittally, without meeting her eye. He looked down at his notepad, drawing Aerith’s attention to it as well. He hurried to cover it, but she caught a glimpse of... something drawn on it, something that didn’t look like words.

She held her hands up. “I promise I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” she said. “But I gotta ask—are you an artist?”

Cloud snorted. “Nope. Not at all. Just, uh, taking some notes. For work.”

Aerith let the lie slide. “Gotcha. Hey, do you want something to drink? Tifa’s demo-ing a new mix tonight.”

He shot a worried look towards the counter, then back to Aerith. “Thought you weren’t allowed to drink on the clock,” he said.

“I’m not.” She smiled. “But I don’t think I’ve told you that.”

A flash of alarm passed over his face. “I, uh—”

She giggled. “I’m just teasing, don’t worry. My break’s not actually long enough for a drink, anyway. Unless you wanna shoot it, which I don’t. But do you want to try the demo?”

Cloud shrugged. “Uh, sure.”

“I’ll be right back, then. Hold tight,” said Aerith with a smile.

She sauntered up to the counter and waved Tifa over. “Bartender! I’d like your finest probably-not-poison, please.”

Tifa laughed, nearly spilling some of the liquor she was currently pouring into a shot glass. “I take offence to that.”

Aerith stuck her tongue out at her and waited patiently as she finished serving her actual customers. Then, as Tifa wiped her hands on her apron, she turned to Aerith. “The demo? Aren’t you almost done with your break?”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” said Aerith, waving a hand in the air.

Tifa raised an eyebrow. “You’re giving Jessie a run for her money in the shameless flirt department.”

“I’m not flirting!” exclaimed Aerith, faux-offended. “Well, okay, maybe I am a little bit, but—” She cut herself off with a frown and her eyes shot open. “Wait, do you like him? Oh, gosh, Tifa, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Tifa burst out laughing and waved her hands in front of her. “Oh, Aerith, babe, no. Super don’t. Just a good friend who needs to get out more.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “I think maybe I had a crush on him when I was thirteen, but he’s really not my type. And I don’t think I’m his.”

Aerith shot her a bemused look. “You? Not someone’s type? Sweet, kind, and beautiful as hell? Get outta here.”

Tifa tutted as she turned to grab the ingredients for her new drink. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“She says, while mixing me a drink for free.”

“Watch it. Might just give you the friends-n-family discount.”

Five minutes later, Aerith was making her way back to Cloud’s table with his drink in hand, a white and pinkish concoction with little edible flowers gently placed on top.

“Here you go!” she said, presenting the drink to Cloud with a flourish. The flowers lightly bobbed over the surface. “One mystery drink for our most discerning customers.”

Cloud, scrambling to hide his notepad again, eyed it with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “Mystery drink? What’s in it?”

Aerith shrugged, sliding back into her seat. “No idea. Tifa says it’s a secret unless you have allergies. In which case, you go ask her if the thing you’re allergic to is in it and she’ll tell you that and nothing else.”

Cloud snorted out a laugh. “No allergies. Alright, then. Here goes nothing.”

He flicked one of the metal straws over to his side of the glass, and that was when Aerith noticed there were two of them. She shot a glance at Tifa back over her shoulder, meeting her eye just as she was clearly going to sneak a peek at her handiwork. Tifa gave her an encouraging grin; Aerith stuck her tongue out at her.

Cloud hummed, having apparently missed the small exchange entirely. “Not bad.”

“Is it?” asked Aerith, returning her attention to him. “What’s it taste like?”

He furrowed his brows. “Uh… Mysterious…?” he mumbled, wincing as if realising halfway through his sentence how nonsensical that was.

Aerith burst out laughing. “What’s that supposed to mean!?”

He crossed his arms and looked away defensively. “Hey, I dunno! It’s nice, but I can’t tell what’s in it.” He was blushing a little.

She giggled. “Okay, then, let me try it.”

Before he could protest, Aerith leaned over the table and caught the other straw. She took a small sip, made an appreciative hum, then leaned back into her seat to consider the flavour. It wasn’t a very strong drink, which was fine with her. It had a distinct floral taste, with a hint of spice as well, but…

“Yeah, I got nothin’,” she said, smiling sheepishly. “Guess we’re not quite drink connoisseurs, huh?”

Cloud gave a smugly triumphant half laugh. “Guess not. This is nice, though.” He paused for a second, then looked away. “Want some more?”

Aerith waved a hand in the air. “Can’t. Alcohol dries up my throat. Can’t have that as a singer.”

“Can’t have that,” repeated Cloud with a small smile and nod. “Going back?”

“Alas,” said Aerith, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “Will you stay after closing?”

Cloud shook his head. “Early shift. Sorry.”

She frowned a little. “Oh. Okay. Next time?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged noncommittally.

Aerith stuck her tongue out at him. “I’ll get you to stay one of these days, just you wait.”

He blinked twice at her. “Why?”

Aerith cocked her head to the side with an amused smile. “Because.” With that, she rose to her feet and spun around. “See ya!”

Cloud muttered something that sounded like parting words, and she giggled to herself as she made her way back to the request box.

So what if she was flirting? It was fun, and Cloud was cute.

And then, as if her mood couldn’t get any better, the third song request was written in the now-familiar messy scrawl: A song that makes you smile.

And smile she did, at the microphone when she read the request. She cranked up the volume on the jukebox’s instrumental of Stand Up and grinned until the song was over, with the whole bar singing with her.

“Who’s got two thumbs and finally got a night off? This girl!” proclaimed Jessie, throwing open the door to Seventh Heaven and nearly knocking another customer over.

Wedge, coming up behind her, rushed to help them up, shaking his head apologetically, while Biggs followed a good distance away, as if to not be seen with her. Tifa, from the counter, put her hands on her hips, and Jessie waved excitedly and weaved through the tables to get to her, only spilling two customers’ drinks on the way. Tifa leaned over the counter and shouted something about refills being on the house. Cloud, who had gotten to Seventh Heaven only ten minutes before, seemed to notice the commotion and to connect some dots in his mind, slinking even further back in his corner.

Aerith was enough of a professional to not start laughing in the middle of a song, but just barely. Over the course of the rest of the set, she watched the scene unfold in front of her.

Jessie shouldered her way through tables and customers, with Biggs and Wedge walking in her wake and apologising to people. Once they got to the counter, Tifa greeted them warmly and pointed to the stage. The three of them turned to wave at Aerith, and she returned it without missing a beat in the song. And then, the real show began. Jessie slammed her hands down on the counter like she meant business, and a very giggly Tifa pointed at Cloud’s table. He had clearly been following the exchange with no small dose of apprehension, and when he found himself suddenly the focus of the group’s attention, he made to take his coat as discreetly as possible. However, as he turned, he met Aerith’s eyes from her post at the mic. She raised an eyebrow, Don’t you dare, mister.

Cloud looked like he was floundering for a moment, but that moment was more than enough time for Wedge to appear at the table, grabbing Cloud’s hand with all the enthusiasm Aerith found so endearing about him. Jessie and Biggs were not far behind, also eager to finally meet Tifa’s mystery friend, who was looking very much like a Chocobo in headlights at the moment.

He shot Aerith a look as he reluctantly sat back down.

She shrugged—What do you want me to do?—and tapped her wrist—Hang in there. Just a little longer ‘til my break.

He looked a little relieved, but then Biggs playfully slapped his shoulder and forced his attention back to the immediate social interaction.

From the looks of it, Cloud would have much preferred to be in a knife fight rather than a group conversation. From what Aerith could glean, Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge weren’t hounding him with questions or anything like that, but they never let him go for more than a minute without saying anything. His replies were short and clipped but, compared to how he’d acted when Aerith had ambushed him in exactly the same way, he came off as more guarded than awkward. Aerith recalled how Tifa had also seemed surprised when Cloud’s reaction to her had been awkwardness. However, she didn’t linger on it too much. She didn’t know him well enough to psychoanalyse him.

Once her set was finally up, Aerith hopped down from her stage and joined Tifa at the counter. She shot her an odd look. “What’re you doing here?”

Aerith frowned a little at her. “Hello to you too?”

Tifa chuckled. “Sorry, that came out wrong. C’mon, go join the gang. I’ll be fine over here.”

“I know you will,” said Aerith, putting her hands on her hips. “I just feel bad.”

Tifa waved a hand in the air. “Well, don’t. Go catch up, I know you haven’t seen those guys in a while. Besides, I’ll make up for lost time after closing. Everyone’s staying, even Cloud!”

Aerith raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Positive. I asked him about his weekly schedule the other day—totally inconspicuously if I say so myself—and he’s got nothing goin’ on tomorrow morning. And, just in case he tries to make a run for it anyway, I’m posting Biggs and Wedge at the door.” She smiled innocently.

“Damn,” laughed Aerith. “You do not play around.”

Tifa smugly puffed out her chest. “Nope. I wanna have a fun, chill night with all of my friends and that grump is not gonna spoil it.”

Aerith giggled. “I’m all for that plan.”

“Well, you would,” said Tifa, shooting a glance towards their friends’ table.

Aerith put her hands on her hips. “And what are you implying, young lady?”

Tifa shrugged and playfully swatted at her with a rag. “That you’re holdin’ up the line. Off with you.”

“Alright, alright, I’m goin’!” laughed Aerith, holding her hands up.

She spun around and immediately found herself on the receiving end of four pairs of eyes—five, including Jessie’s glasses. Aerith had never quite figured out if she needed those or if they were just a fashion statement.

“Final-ly!” exclaimed Biggs, waving her over. “What, too much of a celebrity to come hang out with us?”

Aerith laughed, settling in the empty seat between him and Wedge. “You know how precious my time is. You gotta book me weeks in advance to get more than five minutes. And Tifa always calls dibs.”

“Well, that’s just unfair,” said Jessie, crossing her arms. “Just wait until I finally get my break at the Gold Saucer. There’ll be a line to say hi to me!”

“You keep me posted,” said Biggs. “I’ll put up flyers to avoid you everywhere.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Oh, boo, you spoilsport.”

Aerith giggled again. “So? What’s new with you guys?”

“New friend!” exclaimed Wedge, slamming a hand over Cloud’s shoulders so that he almost faceplanted into his drink. “Right, bro?”

“Bro!?” he sputtered, straightening up. “I’m not—”

“We’re all bros, dude,” said Biggs. He raised his pint of beer. “Better get used to it. No choice, actually.”

Cloud pulled a face, and Aerith bit her lip to keep herself from laughing again. He caught her eye, and frowned a little bit in betrayal. She just winked.

Jessie leaned back in her chair. “Same old, same old. That stupid Canary backdrop got caught in the pulley again last night, that was fun. Honestly, I come here to take my mind off work. Preferably with alcohol.” She motioned for her empty shot glass.

“Well,” said Aerith, nodding towards the counter, “you know where to find more.”

Jessie straightened up. “Know what? I do know where to find more. Anyone want refills?” Cloud and Biggs shook their heads, while Wedge pushed his empty cocktail glass towards her. “Good, great. Hey, tell ya what, lemme just—” She pulled a few pieces of paper from the small stack on a shelf and grabbed a pen. She scribbled something on one, then passed the pen to Wedge. “C’mon, gimme something for the request box.”

Wedge grabbed a slip as well. “Ooh, yes! Hang on, lemme think.”

Aerith held out her hands. “There’s really no need to—”

“Nope, nuh-huh,” exclaimed Jessie, wagging a finger in her face. “It’s your job-given duty to entertain us. Isn’t your break almost up, anyway? Shoo.”

“Still got two minutes on it! Enough to put a stop to your mischief!”

“Anyway,” continued Jessie, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Now that Aerith has left us—”

“I’ll tell Tifa to put an onion in your drink,” said Aerith casually.

Jessie covered Aerith’s mouth with her hand. “Now that Aerith has left us,” repeated Jessie, “does anyone have a song request?”

“Oh, me-me-me!” exclaimed Wedge, waving his slip of paper in the air. “I love this one.”

Biggs swiped the pen from his hand. “Got something too, hang on.”

Jessie hummed approvingly, then turned to Cloud. “What about you, Mr Broody?”

Cloud hesitated for a moment, flicking his gaze over to Aerith and then to the small stack of paper. “Uh, I’m good.”

Biggs elbowed him. “C’mon, just the first song that comes to mind.”

Cloud shrugged. “Don’t listen to a lot of music. Not a lot of free time.”

Wedge put a hand on his heart. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Aerith put her hand on her chin. “Weird,” she said, and Cloud raised an eyebrow at her.

“Weird?”

“Yeah, I mean—You’re here a lot, aren’t you? What I do up there—” She motioned for her little stage— “is music.”

He huffed. “That doesn’t count. It’s you.”

She gasped, faux-offended. “How dare you, mister?”

His eyes went wide. “I, uh, I didn’t mean—”

Aerith crossed her arms. “That’s it, no more free drinks for you.”

Catching onto her tone, he snorted out a half laugh and hid it in his glass, untouched until then. Aerith didn’t think his lips even touched the drink.

Jessie pointed her pen at him. “C’mon, Spiky, give us somethin’! You don’t wanna see that pretty face all sad ‘cause you won’t give her a song, right?” she wiggled her eyebrows and nodded towards Aerith, who pouted right on cue.

Cloud took another fake sip and swatted the pen away. “Lay off.”

Wedge leaned over the table towards him. “C’mon, bro. Just one song. Like, uh, your favourite! What’s your favourite song?” He lifted up the pen expectantly, tapping on a request slip.

Cloud groaned. “Fine.” He paused to think. “Gimme a sec.”

Aerith smiled. “Take your time. I gotta go back to the mic—Guess I’ll find out later.”

“Aww, already?” said Wedge. “We barely got to talk!”

She patted his arm as she got up. “Them’s the breaks. Don’t worry, though, we can all hang out after closing.” She shot a meaningful look Cloud’s way. He looked puzzled for a second, then alarmed.

She winked at him, and he rolled his eyes, averting them at the same time.

With one last wave, she slid out of her chair and made her way back to the stage.

Her friends’ requests came in a little while later, compiled in Wedge’s neat handwriting and Jessie’s blocky one. Biggs requested a classic rock song, Jessie a ballad from a musical she’d starred in, Wedge a fun sing-along that had the entire bar doing call-and-response verses with her. Cloud’s request was the one she was most curious about. What did that fun little puzzle of a man want to listen to?

Eventually, another note in Wedge’s handwriting came in, saying Hollow, by Yosh (this is Cloud’s favourite!!!!!).

Smiling at the string of excited exclamation marks, Aerith leaned towards the microphone. “Ooh, moody! But good taste—I like this one a lot too.” She had the backing track on her jukebox, so she quickly put it on and waved at her friends’ table as the melancholy guitar started coming out of the speakers. Cloud, who had been leaning back in his chair as if he could physically dodge questions and conversations, sat up a bit straighter as he recognised the song. He was paying attention. She locked eyes with him and smiled, then took a deep breath before the first verse.

Even when she knew who had sent each request in, she usually didn’t like to look at them too much. But, for some reason, this time she did, keeping her eyes on Cloud for the duration of his favourite song. He, for his part, kept flicking his gaze between her and his still-full drink, seeming surprised every time he met her eyes again.

Only once, during the climax of the song, did he hold her gaze, and he looked as focused and intense as when she’d first noticed him, as if he were trying to memorise the song, or Aerith herself. It was enough to make her stumble right at the end:

“But I, I will go on. Howling and—and hollow…” she sang, rushing the last word out to catch up to her missed cue. Luckily, the crowd didn’t seem to notice, and the room filled with a short round of applause before the backing track was even over. Aerith bent her head and smiled at the patrons, looking away from Cloud for the first time since starting his song.

The rest of Request Hour went by without any more hitches—in the performance or in her breath—although Aerith was just a little sad not to see any notes from Sweet Mystery Requester, as she had fondly dubbed the regular in her mind.

When it came time for closing, Aerith thanked the crowd with a giggle in her voice as she watched Biggs and Wedge make a run for the door. They each took to one side of it, planting their feet wide and crossing their arms. Back at the table, Cloud seemed quietly resigned to his fate, as Jessie kept chattering away and he kept flicking his eyes between her, Aerith, and the door, as if planning his escape route.

Aerith hopped down from her raised platform and waltzed over to the table, sitting down next to him with a flourish and a grin.

Cloud scowled at her. “You don’t need to look so smug.”

“Oh, yes,” said Aerith. “I really do. What, no work tomorrow?”

His frown deepened. “This is a trap and I’m not falling for it. I know you talked to Tifa.”

She winked. “Maybe. So! Excited to discover the exciting Seventh Heaven Afterparty Atmosphere?”

“Thrilled.”

Jessie laughed. “Ah, yes. Nothing more exciting than a small group of friends having a drink and a laugh.”

Aerith waved her hand in the air. “I know you’re making fun of me, but I’d much rather do this than go out to a club to get plastered,” she said.

“I’d love to see you get plastered, though,” said Wedge as he returned to the table, evidently sure that Cloud wasn’t going to make a run for it at that point. “It sounds like fun.”

“Well, we can get it started right now,” came Tifa’s voice from behind them. She yanked off her apron with a sigh of relief and put her hands on her hips. “So? What’ll it be?”

“Oh, shit, she has legs!?” exclaimed Biggs, pulling an exaggerated shocked face that made Aerith snort.

“Damn right she does!” hooted Jessie, adding a wolf whistle for good measure.

Tifa huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes. “You do this every time.”

Jessie shrugged. “It’s funny every time. But let’s get down to business—what’s this I hear about alcohol? And getting Aerith plastered?”

“Well, it is a bar,” said Tifa. “How ‘bout my new demo drink to get started?”

Wedge clapped his hands together. “Ooh, exciting! I’ll take that!”

Aerith hummed. “It’s pretty good,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Right, Cloud?”

Cloud, who looked a little taken aback at being called on, blinked twice at her before clearing his throat and shrugging. “Yeah,” he said. “Not bad.”

Tifa grinned—half smug, half mischievous. “Great,” she said. “Six Aeriths comin’ right up.”

“Six what!?” sputtered Aerith, straightening up and in tandem with Cloud. “Tifa!”

She giggled. “It’s a good name for it! I’m sure they’ll agree.” She motioned for Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge.

Jessie linked her hands under her chin. “I’m sure we will. Bring ‘em out!”

Aerith groaned and crossed her arms with a pout. “I never agreed to this. I’m being used! For marketing!”

Somewhere beside her, Cloud snorted—the traitor. Tifa—the bigger traitor—just winked and hurried back to the counter. Aerith huffed out a half laugh then, and turned back to the others.

“By the way,” said Wedge, drumming his fingers on the table, “you were really good up there.”

“Yeah,” said Jessie. “Why won’t you take me up on that job offer at the theatre? You’d kill it!”

Aerith giggled and waved a hand in the air. “Oh, I dunno about that. It’s a whole different scene, y’know?” At Seventh Heaven, she wasn’t really supposed to be the centre of attention.

Cloud hummed. Aerith turned to him. “Something to share with the class, mister?”

He shrugged. “I’ve heard you sing stuff from musicals. Other than tonight, I mean.”

“Really?” She furrowed her brows and thought for a second. “Oh, that Canary song a while back? Wow, you remembered!” She grinned. “That’s sweet.”

Cloud shrugged again, but averted his gaze. The tips of his ears had gone slightly pink.

“See? See?” Jessie leaned over the table, propped on her elbows. “I know you could do it!”

Aerith laughed. “Alright, alright, lay off. Just because I sing that stuff sometimes doesn’t mean I wanna do it for a living. And I’m not an actress, anyway. I like it here!” She motioned for the empty bar. “I get to sing whatever I want, the patrons are nice…” Tifa cleared her throat from the counter. “Oh, and of course, I get to hang out with my best friend who is the greatest bartender this side of Midgar!” she added.

“Nice save,” called Tifa. “Alright, here I come.”

Aerith scooted over with her chair to let her place the tray on the table. Biggs grabbed the glass closest to him and swished the drink around for a second. “An Aerith, huh? Yeah, I see it.”

The real Aerith crossed her arms. “What, because it’s pink? I don’t always—” Cloud cleared his throat next to her. She glanced at him, then down at herself.

She was wearing a pink dress.

Wordlessly, she took her own glass and took a long sip through the straw while the others laughed at her like the bad friends they were.

She loved them so much.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to show her face around here again.”

Aerith laughed at Tifa as she shrugged off her coat. “Jeez, can’t a girl have a day off?”

“Not if the girl brings in customers,” replied Tifa, kneeling down behind the counter to grab a fresh bottle of cider. “That means both of us, for the record.”

Aerith stuck her tongue out at her. “Oh, c’mon. I don’t bring in anyone. I’m a side attraction.”

Tifa giggled and wagged her finger in the air. “That depends on the customer,” she said in a sing-songy voice.

“Something to share with the class, Lockhart?” asked Aerith, putting her hands on her hips.

She shrugged. “Let’s just say that someone showed up yesterday, took a peek inside, realised you weren’t there, and immediately turned tail and left.”

Aerith snorted. “And you know it’s got anything to do with me because you can read minds?”

“No,” said Tifa. “It’s because I can read Cloud.”

“Cloud?” Aerith slid into one of the stools at the counter. “Cloud did that?”

“You betcha. He didn’t even really come into the bar—just looked for you and then walked out.”

She waved a hand in the air, feeling her cheeks heat up a bit. “Oh, c’mon. I’m sure he—”

Tifa stuck a finger in her face. “Oh, no, I am not playing this game. I’ve known Cloud since we were kids. And I know a big, fat crush when I see one.”

Aerith giggled. “Alright, fine, if you say so.”

“So?” Tifa leaned with her elbows on the counter, smiling expectantly.

“So what?” asked Aerith.

Tifa rolled her eyes. “You like him too, right?”

“I mean, I guess? A little?” Aerith crossed her arms.

“Only a little?”

“Hey, I don’t know him that well.”

“You don’t need to know him to think he’s cute.”

Aerith laughed. “Oh, definitely not. He’s super cute.”

Tifa shrugged. “Just sayin’. Give it a shot!”

“Weren’t you just on my case for flirting the other day?”

“I wasn’t on your case, I just made an observation.” She straightened up. “You know, either way, it’s nice to see Cloud actually talk to people outside of work. He’d never admit it, but it does him a lot of good.”

Aerith hummed. “Yeah, I can tell.” When they’d first met, he’d reminded her of a startled stray cat, unaccustomed to being approached and on the defensive from the get-go. She was glad that he seemed to be warming up to her.

…According to Tifa, enough to have a crush on her.

She shook that thought out of her head. She wasn’t sure Tifa wasn’t just matchmaking for the hell of it. If something came of it, fine—if nothing did, also fine.

Aerith tossed a glance at the door. The earliest patrons—the ones just stopping by for a quick drink after work—were already starting to come in. Cloud usually showed up a little later, with a bigger crowd around him to more easily blend in, as if the spiky hair didn’t set him apart like a particularly tall poppy. The mental image made her smile.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t show at all, today,” said Tifa, with a tone halfway between annoyed and bemused. “To throw me off his tracks.”

Aerith turned back with a quirk of her brow. “Seriously?”

Tifa shrugged. “Unfortunately for him, I know him a little too well. Last night was just the cherry on top of an obvious sundae. With a dash of whipped cream.”

She burst out laughing. “Tifa!”

“What? I’m right!”

She swatted at her arm as she stood up. “Alright, I’m gonna get away from you and your matchmaking. I have a job to do and so do you.”

Tifa giggled. “Alright, alright. I’ll make sure to tell Cloud you said hi—that’ll make his night.”

“I can go say hi myself, thank you very much.”

With that, Aerith turned around and made her way to her little stage, stopping a couple of times to greet some regulars. Then, she sat on her chair and flicked through the tapes at the jukebox, lazily wondering which to choose for the night. She hovered for a moment over Hollow, then put it in near the end of the set. Just in case, and she’d be able to take it out during her break if Cloud didn’t show after all. She’d never hear the end of it from Tifa, though.

As the stream of customers started getting steadier and Seventh Heaven started to fill up, Aerith busied herself with warm-up exercises with her microphone off. But she kept glancing at the door.

Damnit. She really wished Tifa hadn’t said anything. Was she going to second-guess everything Cloud said to her, now? Would she look for hidden meanings everywhere?

She sighed.

Focus, she thought. Nothing had to come of it.

But, just then, the bell at the door rang again and Cloud walked in, cheeks flushed from the cold and running his hand through his hair as though to brush the wind out. Like clockwork, he looked at the stage, and locked eyes with Aerith. Immediately, he straightened up and gave her a small nod, only to look away a moment later and hurry to his usual table in the back.

Aerith could feel Tifa’s smug gaze burn the back of her head, as well as the Hollow record burn through the jukebox and her own blush burn her cheeks.

Maybe she did like him more than a little.

Still, she cleared her throat and turned on the mic, facing the crowd and trying to ignore Cloud at the back of it. She had a job to do.

When it was time for her break, Aerith could choose to stop by Tifa and get teased, or to go straight to Cloud, and then get teased at closing. Which Tifa was going to do either way. She decided she didn’t feel like getting teased twice, so Cloud it was.

He closed his notepad when he heard her approaching, and greeted her with a half smile as she slumped in the chair in front of him. “Rough night?”

Aerith shook her head. “Nah. Just been on my feet all of today, and I still have three hours of this.”

Cloud pulled a sympathetic grimace. “Sucks.”

“Hmm. You? Been up to much?”

He shrugged. “The usual. Deliveries, some home repairs. Cat rescue.” He wrinkled his nose. “That wasn’t fun.”

“Not a fan of cats?”

“They’re not fans of me,” he said. “Got the scratches to prove it.” He rolled up his sleeve a little to reveal a criss-cross pattern of angry red lines.

“Yikes,” said Aerith. “They hurt?” she asked, raising a hand to trace them delicately.

Cloud shook his head, but shivered slightly under her touch. “I’ll live.”

She giggled, retracting her hand. “But what a life—one where cats hate you!”

“The only one I got,” he replied, shrugging again.

“Unlike them, right?” Aerith chuckled, then crossed her arms on the table. “Just one life, huh?” she mused.

Cloud cocked his head to the side, perplexed at her sudden shift in mood. “Unless you know something I don’t?”

She giggled. “Just thinking. We only get one life, so we gotta make it count, right?” He nodded. “Right. Hey, if you could do anything with your life—starting right now, no negative consequences—what would you do?”

“Work fewer jobs,” he replied immediately.

Aerith burst out laughing. “That’s fair. Oh, Cloud, good on keeping me humble.”

Cloud gave her a bemused half smile. “You?”

“Me? Hmm…” She linked her hands, tapping her index fingers together. “I think… I’d try to make it as a singer.”

He straightened up a little. “But you are a singer.”

Aerith shook her head. “Not a real one, you know? I love this place, don’t get me wrong—and Tifa! Love her a whole lot. But sometimes I think it’d be nice to do real concerts and sing my own songs.”

“Your own songs? You write?”

She leaned back in her chair, suddenly sheepish. “Sometimes. Just for fun.”

Cloud nodded. “Can’t you put ‘em in your sets?”

“Oh, no.” She giggled a little breathily. “They’re definitely not good enough. Besides, there’s no backing track or anything recorded.”

“Tifa plays the piano,” said Cloud. “You could ask her. I’m sure she’d be down.”

Aerith leaned forward on the table. “I know she would. It’s just—I dunno. No one even knows I write.” His eyes widened slightly. “I just don’t think they’re any good.”

Cloud looked like he was going to argue again, but pressed his lips together for a long moment and lowered his gaze. Aerith sat back in her chair and glanced at the clock on the wall. Her break was almost up.

She sighed. “Sorry for being a downer. I should…” Instead of finishing her sentence, she made to stand up.

But, before she was out of her seat, Cloud called, “Hey, um…” He scratched the back of his neck and averted his eyes again. Aerith sat back down and waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. After a moment of internal debate, he slowly pushed his notepad towards her.

She stared at it, then him. “Huh?”

Cloud, still without looking at her, gave it another nudge. “Go on.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Aerith. “You sure? You don’t mind?”

He gave a shrug that was a little too stiff, but then he leaned back into his seat and crossed his arms. “Go for it.”

Aerith nodded, then gingerly reached for the book—half expecting him to snatch it away again at the last second. She saw his hand twitch slightly, but he stayed put, even though he was still refusing to make eye contact.

She slowly pried it open.

The first page was a crude sketch of the exterior of Seventh Heaven, only identifiable because of the sign. Wobbly squares represented the buildings around it, while the indistinct shapes in the front looked a little like a crowd of passers-by. Right at the top of the drawing, there was an arrow pointing down, with a simple doodle of a sun next to it.

Aerith flicked over to the next page. A view of a narrow topside street, with blocky buildings reaching for the sky. The sun was a simple scrawl in the middle of the page, framed by the taller buildings.

Next page: a diagram of Seventh Heaven’s floor plan, complete with tables, the counter, and Aerith’s stage. Every single lamp in the bar was marked as well.

Another crude sketch, this time of what looked like a full Seventh Heaven from the point of view of Cloud’s usual spot. There were patrons at the tables, a blob of a figure behind the counter, and another on stage.

A close-up of the stage, with a stick figure representing Aerith—she noticed with some amusement that he’d drawn her long braid as well. She was framed like under a spotlight, with quick pencil lines representing darkness around her.

Aerith made to flick to the next page, but that was when Cloud suddenly did snatch his notepad back from her. “These are just, uh, sketches. For composition.” He was blushing. Cute.

She smiled, cocking her head to the side. “You said you weren’t an artist,” she said.

He shook his head. “I’m not. Not that kind, anyway.”

Aerith looked at him expectantly. He averted his gaze again. Then, after a long pause, he muttered, “Photographer.”

She perked up. “Really? That’s so cool!”

Cloud scratched the back of his neck again. “It’s just a hobby.”

“Doesn’t make it any less cool.” She shrugged. “This a new thing? Tifa never mentioned.”

He shot her an odd look. “Just how much does she tell you about me?”

I’ve known Cloud since we were kids. And I know a big, fat crush when I see one.

Aerith waved a hand in the air. “Oh, don’t worry. Not much.”

“Uh-huh.” He sounded sceptical—with good reason, she supposed. “Anyway. She, uh, she doesn’t know.”

Aerith furrowed her brows. “She doesn’t?”

“…No one does.”

That made her pause. He’d left his words hang in the air just enough to make them feel heavy. The rest of his sentence was loud and clear: no one does except for you.

“…Oh,” she said. She felt her cheeks heat up a bit. “Um, thank you, then. For sharing.”

Cloud shrugged again. He was drumming his fingers over his arm and shooting her intermittent side glances. “You shared first,” he mumbled.

Aerith blinked at him for a moment, then she realised. No one even knows I write. She smiled. “I suppose so. Well, thanks anyway.”

He hummed. Aerith leaned back in her chair and linked her hands together. “So, you said those are composition sketches?”

“Yeah.” He straightened up a bit. “I use ‘em to figure out what I’d want a shot to look like. Blocking, lights, angle…” He stilled, then shrugged. “It’s boring.”

Aerith frowned. “It’s not boring. I just don’t know a thing about photography.” She pointed at the notepad again. “Some of those are of this place, right? You planning a photo shoot?”

Cloud made a non-committal noise. “Dunno. It’s mostly practice.”

She hummed, then bit her lip. She made to speak, but then someone tapped her mic, drawing her attention back to it.

“Paging our lounge singer,” called Tifa. “Sorry to interrupt, but we kinda need you back here.”

Aerith winced. “Sorry! Be right there!” she called. Then, she turned to Cloud. “Sorry, gotta split. Will you still be here after closing?”

He thought for a moment, seemingly torn. “…Yeah,” he settled on in the end.

She beamed. “Great! See you later, then!”

With that, she skipped back to the stage, shooting an apologetic smile at Tifa on her way there. She huffed and put her hands on her hips. “What was that about not liking Cloud?” she asked.

Aerith stuck her tongue out at her. “I never said that.”

“Right. Well, that’s enough flirting for tonight. Back to work with you.” She playfully whacked her with a dishrag, making Aerith yelp.

“Okay, okay!” She stepped up to her mic again. “Sorry about that, guys! Must’ve lost track of time.” She found Cloud at the back of the crowd, and he gave her an apologetic grimace. She giggled. “Alright, where were we?”

Luckily, the patrons didn’t seem to mind her tardiness too much. She breezed through the second half of her set, occasionally glancing over to Cloud. He had his notepad out again, and was lazily scribbling something in it. Occasionally, he’d meet her eyes again, and hold her gaze for a moment before returning to his sketches. Aerith itched to see them, and to pick back up their conversation where they’d left off.

But her set was still going, and she also had Request Hour to get through. Time had slowed to a crawl, it seemed. It was fine. She could wait a little longer. In the meantime, she’d put Cloud out of her thoughts.

Which proved difficult when the melancholy opening chords to Hollow came through the jukebox. Aerith winced slightly. She saw Tifa quickly duck out of sight behind the counter to hide a fit of laughter. Cloud, at his table, stopped sketching and looked up at her. His expression was unreadable. What was he thinking?

Aerith did the only thing she could think of. She winked at him.

Cloud immediately averted his gaze, slinking further into his shoulders like a turtle wanting to retreat into his shell. Aerith wanted to giggle, but she had to start singing. For the duration of the song, whenever she glanced at Cloud, she found his eyes on her.

She was never going to hear the end of it from Tifa.

A couple of songs later, she transitioned into Request Hour. It was a slow night, it seemed, and the box was almost empty every time she went to pick up new songs. The third time she did, there was a note from Sweet Mystery Requester. Aerith instantly perked up and she rushed back to the mic to read it out loud. “A-hem,” she started. “This one says, A slow song, something you’d dance with someone to. Aww,” she cooed. “Mystery Requester, you’re gonna make me melt! Alright, I’ve got it.” Aerith turned to the jukebox and pulled out the instrumental to Isn’t it Wonderful? “I love this one!” she exclaimed as the opening notes started playing.

By the second verse, a group of people had moved a few tables to the side, creating a makeshift dance floor. Three or four couples were swaying to the music as a small circle of people gathered around them. It was fairly close to Cloud’s table—which had been left untouched presumably due to his unapproachable vibes—and Aerith noticed him with his notepad out again. Maybe he was sketching out the people dancing. Aerith smiled.

When the song drew to a close, she sighed theatrically into the mic. “Man,” she said. “Gotta say, I’m kinda jealous. Next time, someone else can sing and I’ll dance, how’s that sound?”

A low rumble of laughter swept through the room as she hopped down from her stage.

“Gonna dance with your mystery admirer?” asked Tifa when she reached for the request box again.

Aerith laughed. “Who, Cloud? Somehow, I don’t think he’d be up for that.”

Tifa scoffed. “Cloud isn’t a mystery admirer. He’s the most obvious one you could’ve gotten.” She gestured to the box. “I mean whoever it is who keeps leaving sweet request notes. And paying you for ‘em.”

“How come you don’t know who it is?” said Aerith, rubbing the last two pieces of paper together. “The box is right here. You’ve got to know who the regulars are.” Although it wouldn’t have been that hard to sneak a slip of paper into the box when ordering a drink, while Tifa’s back was turned.

“The mystery is for you, not for me.” Tifa shrugged. “My lips are sealed.”

“You’re impossible,” said Aerith, rolling her eyes. “Which is it? Are you matchmaking me with Cloud or with someone I don’t know at all? Who isn’t even into me as far as we know.”

Tifa made a non-committal noise. “I’m stuck here making drinks all night, every night. I need entertainment. So I’m matchmaking you with both because it’s fun.”

Aerith stuck her tongue out at her. “We need to get you a love life of your own.”

“Oh, my love life’s just fine,” said Tifa with a wink. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it one of these days.”

“What? Tifa!” Aerith put her hands on her hips. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are. That’s why I’m teasing you.”

Aerith laughed, then stuck her tongue out at her again. “Alright, alright, you pest. I’m going back to the mic. Just enough time for a couple of songs, right?”

Tifa nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna call last orders in a sec. See you later?”

“Yep.” Cloud too, she added mentally. She didn’t need to give Tifa more ammo.

Just over fifteen minutes later, Aerith thanked everyone for coming and finally stepped down from her stage. She stopped by the request box to collect her tips, then made her way to Cloud’s table as Tifa finished clearing the counters. She never wanted any help with that—said she knew exactly where everything was and didn’t need Aerith’s messy self to scramble it up for her. Tonight, it meant that Aerith had a couple of minutes to talk to Cloud without her overhearing.

She grinned as she slipped back in her seat in front of him. “Heya!” she exclaimed. “You’re still here.”

Cloud gave a light scoff. “Said I would be, didn’t I?”

“You did. I guess I’m just used to you bolting off the second my shift ends.” She drummed her fingers on the table between them. “I’ll get Tifa to make you something nice as thanks.”

“You, uh, you don’t need to,” he said, shrugging a little awkwardly.

Aerith shot a look towards the counter, making sure Tifa was still there. Then, she leaned over the table, propped up on her elbows. “You don’t actually like alcohol all that much, do you?” she whispered conspiratorially.

Cloud copied her side glance at the counter, then leaned a little closer as well. “Don’t tell Tifa. She’ll have my head.”

She laughed. “For what, making her waste her time and energy mixing drinks you don’t like? No, why would she?” She winked. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Cloud huffed out a half laugh. “Thanks.”

Aerith leaned back in her seat and folded her hands in her lap. “Actually,” she started, fiddling with her thumbs, “there was something I wanted to ask you.”

He made a questioning noise.

“Your composition sketches. There was one of… me, right?” she asked. Her tone was light, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

“…Yeah,” said Cloud, a little warily, after a pause.

Aerith hummed. “Right. Well, I was wondering… Would you be willing to take those pictures for real? I’d pay you, of course!” she added quickly. “It’s just—I’m curious. I’d love to see your work, and—”

“Okay,” he cut her off, surprising her. By the look of his face, surprising himself as well. “I mean, uh… Okay.”

She lit up. “Really?”

Cloud gave a rehearsed-looking shrug. “Yeah. I mean, I made those sketches, right? Means that, um…” He scratched the back of his neck. “Well, the lighting in the bar is really interesting, and the stage is in a good spot for it, and—and when you wear those long, flowy dresses they create cool patterns of shadows and—” He cut himself off and averted his gaze, blushing a little. “Anyway.”

Aerith giggled. “Anyway,” she repeated, leaning forward again. “Shall we do sometime next week? In the morning, when no one’s here.”

He thought for a moment. “Wednesday?”

She grinned. “It’s a date!”

“You sure we won’t get in trouble?”

Aerith shushed him as she pushed open the door of the side entrance to Seventh Heaven. “I have the keys, don’t I? That means it’s fine for me to come and go.”

She heard him snort lightly behind her. “Yeah, when you’re working.”

“May-ko, Mah-ko,” she replied. “It’ll be fine.”

Cloud’s sceptical hum told her he didn’t believe her, but she ignored it.

“Ta-da!” she exclaimed, skipping ahead of him in the empty bar. “We’re in!”

He nodded. He was standing a little awkwardly a few steps away from her, holding the strap of a bulky camera case that was slung across his chest.

Aerith turned to him with her hands on her hips. “Alright! You can put your things down wherever. Need me to help you set up?”

Cloud shook his head. “Nah, I’ve got it. I’ll need you in place to figure out light placements.”

She nodded, and wandered off to the counter to drop off her coat. She smoothed down her light yellow dress and did an experimental twirl. She loved this skirt—it came down to about her knees, and was just wide and light enough to swish prettily as she moved. Aerith smiled to herself, then she walked to the stage as she ran her hand through her bangs to brush out some tangles. “Ready when you are,” she chirped, sitting down on her chair by the mic.

Cloud hummed. In the three seconds that she’d averted her eyes from him, he’d somehow produced a professional-looking tripod, two white screen things, and a lens case out of his bag—and still no camera.

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to have my childhood bike in there, wouldja?” giggled Aerith.

He snorted out a laugh. “Can’t recall. Remind me to look for it later.” He set the tripod up a short distance from Aerith, and finally pulled out a camera as well. He secured it to the tripod, then went back for the screens.

“What’re those for?” she asked.

“Lighting,” he replied, putting one down by the tripod.

Aerith cocked her head to the side. “But I thought you said the light in the bar was already interesting.”

Cloud shrugged. “I did. Doesn’t mean it can’t be even better. These are here so we don’t get weird reflections and stuff.”

She hummed. She didn’t entirely know what he was talking about, so she just took to watching him work in silence. It was like he was a different person than the one who showed up at Seventh Heaven at night. He crouched by one of the screens to adjust its height; he dragged a table next to the tripod so he could lay out his collection of lenses from largest to smallest; he slotted a roll of film into the camera before bending down to its level to take a look at her.

Aerith could have watched him for hours: he moved more sharply, less warily, with the laser precision of someone who knew exactly what to do and when to do it. A far cry from the Cloud who felt the need to double check his surroundings before taking a fake sip of his drink to appease Tifa.

“What’re you singing?” he asked, emerging from behind the camera to move one of his screens slightly to the left.

“Hm?” Aerith hadn’t realised she was singing softly under her breath, not until his voice interrupted her halfway through the line, You’ll fight your battles far from me, far too easily. “Oh,” she said a little sheepishly. “A new song from my favourite singer.”

Cloud hummed encouragingly.

She continued, “Yuna. She’s an up-n-comer, but she just released this collab with Lenne, and it’s great.”

“Never heard of Yuna. Lenne rings a bell, though. Tifa’s a fan, right?”

Aerith grinned. “She is. We’ve been recording the track for the bar, and I can’t wait ‘til it’s ready.”

“Sounded nice,” he said, finally walking back to the tripod and dragging a chair up to it. “Alright, you ready?”

Aerith nodded enthusiastically and straightened up. “Mhm! What should I do?”

Cloud pointed to his left as he propped one knee up on the chair. “Look over there for a sec—No, turn your head. Right, like that.”

“Want me to smile?” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

He thought for a moment. “…Yeah,” he said quietly, then he ducked back behind the camera. Click.

Cloud was… particular as a director, knowing exactly what he wanted each shot to look like and how to get Aerith to pose for it. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised. At first, he had her sitting down on her stool, mainly changing where she was looking and the expression on her face.

“Can you give me a glare?”

Aerith cocked her head to the side. “A glare?”

“Yeah.” Cloud furrowed his brows for a moment. “Straight at the camera, like you wanna murder it.”

“Should I take cues from you?” She grinned at his confused expression.

“Come again?”

Aerith crossed her arms and put on an exaggerated scowl. “Yeah! You always look like you wanna murder someone.”

Cloud frowned. “I don’t—” She raised an eyebrow and pointed at him. He looked down, paused, and quickly uncrossed his arms and schooled his features. “Whatever.”

He looked a little red in the face, and Aerith burst out laughing.

Click.

“H-hey!” she called through the laughter. “Not fair!”

Cloud shrugged. “I’m calling the shots here.” He tapped on the camera. “Literally.” Click.

Still giggling, Aerith put her hands on her hips. “Very funny.”

He cracked a smile too—a small one, but it made Aerith’s grin widen.

Once her fit of laughter subsided, Cloud set her microphone stand in front of her. “Gonna take some more candid shots,” he said. “Sing something?”

“Sure.” Aerith turned to the jukebox. “Any requests?”

He shrugged. “Your pick.”

She hummed. She randomly pulled a couple of tapes out of the cabinet—Dragonsong and Real Emotion. “Two very different sounds,” she commented.

“More variety in expressions and poses,” said Cloud.

Aerith nodded. “Yeah. Lemme just—” She reached into the cabinet again and, after searching for a moment, took out Hollow. She sent a wink to Cloud over her shoulder. “My pick, right?”

He just blinked at her for a moment, then averted his gaze. “Uh, right. Let’s get to it.”

She giggled. This was fun. Maybe Tifa was onto something. She popped Real Emotion into the jukebox and wondered back to the mic without bothering to plug it in. After all, it was just her and Cloud.

The song wasn’t a favourite of hers, but she always had fun singing it. At Cloud’s insistence, she tried to ignore him and the camera, even when he picked it up from the tripod and began taking pictures from different angles. Instead of following him, she kept her gaze trained forward and imagined the audience in front of her. Real Emotion always made her feel like an actual singer, performing in front of a huge crowd. As she clutched the mic stand tight during the refrain, she thought that it didn’t really make a difference. Whether it was in front of five or five thousand people, Aerith just loved to sing.

And she loved it even with an audience of one, as Cloud stood in front of her and slowly lowered his camera when she got to the end of the song. Maybe she loved it even more so.

“How was that?” she asked, a little out of breath.

Cloud let a beat of silence pass, then shook his head. “Good. Really good,” he said. He sounded a little hesitant, as though he wanted to say something more, but Aerith smiled nonetheless.

“Thanks,” she said. “Wanna move on to the next one?”

Cloud nodded, then furrowed his brows. “Hey, your hair—”

“Hm?” Aerith brought a hand up to it. “What about—Oh, no.”

That stupid song. She could never help herself—she just had to dance and jump and shake her head and ruin her hair, every single time. And usually it didn’t matter, but damnit. She wanted to look nice in those pictures. She sighed as she ran a hand over the frizzy strands escaping her tight braid. “Gimme a sec, I can fix this.” She hopped off the stage and walked up to her purse. “I know I have some bobby pins in here,” she said as she combed through her bangs to straighten them out.

Cloud just said, “Uh, right.”

Aerith rummaged inside her purse for a few seconds, her frown deepening as she blindly felt around. “Damnit. Could’ve sworn—”

“No dice?” asked Cloud, coming closer.

She turned with an apologetic wince. “Doesn’t seem like it. Sorry, I’ll just run to the bathroom and redo it.”

Cloud cleared his throat. “It’s okay,” he said. Aerith nodded and made to walk off, but then he spoke up again: “I mean, you don’t need to, uh… You don’t need to fix it.”

She glanced back at him and chuckled. “I really do, I can’t stand it when it’s like this. Just a few minutes.”

He grimaced slightly. “No, I mean—Why don’t you just let it down?”

Aerith paused. “Let it down?”

Cloud averted his gaze and crossed his arms. “You always have it in a braid. Why’s that?”

“Well,” said Aerith, straightening up and linking her hands at her back, “there’s a lot of it. It’s more practical this way.” She shook her head lightly, making her braid swing behind her.

“Right. Sorry.” He snuck a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. “Just thought it’d look nice. In the pictures,” he added quickly. Heat was rising to his cheeks, clear even in the dim lighting. Aerith sort of wanted to pinch them.

She smiled. “Alright.” She moved her braid in front of her shoulder and made to pull the elastic off, then paused. Biting her lip, she regarded Cloud for a moment, then grinned wider. “Care to do the honours?”

His gaze snapped back to her. “Hm?”

Aerith spun around. “Without a mirror, I won’t know if it looks okay. Help me out.”

Cloud paused for a long moment. She couldn’t see his face, but she thought he was eyeing the windows and the bathroom door. There were plenty of reflective surfaces if she wanted one.

But she didn’t.

She heard him draw a deep sigh, then take a slow step towards her. He caught the end of her braid in a gentle grip and held it for a moment, as though surprised by the weight.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” he said.

Aerith hummed as Cloud took the tie off. She held out a hand over her shoulder and he gave it over, then returned to her hair. He worked slowly, delicately undoing the tight twists and untangling the thick strands as the braid came undone. Aerith closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the way his fingers were carding through her hair. She considered leaning back into him but, before she could make up her mind, Cloud got to the ribbon at the top of the braid and paused. “How do you—”

Aerith giggled. “Like this.” She reached out and pulled a loose end from the ribbon. Her hair bounced against her shoulder as it came undone. She folded the ribbon as Cloud once again ran his hands through her hair to brush out the last tangles.

“You weren’t kiddin’,” he said. “There is a lot of it.”

She shrugged. “Told ya. But I like it this way.”

Cloud hummed. There was an intake of breath, as though he was about to say something, but instead he just stepped away from her. “Think we’re good.”

Aerith nodded and spun around again. “Great!” She linked her hands behind her back again. “How’s it look?” she asked.

Cloud averted his gaze. “…Nice,” he muttered, before walking back to his tripod.

She giggled—so what if she was teasing him?—and took her own spot on the stage.

She picked up the Hollow tape and shot Cloud a grin. “Ready?”

He held up his camera. Click. “Ready,” he replied with a half smile.

Something from your favourite singer.

Aerith twirled the Sweet Mystery Requester note in her hand. “Lucky!” she exclaimed. “It just so happens that Tifa and I just finished recording the backing track for Yuna and Lenne’s A Thousand Words.” A light cheer emerged from the crowd. “I know, right? I’ve been a fan of Yuna’s since forever—it’s great to see her collab with someone as big as Lenne. Anyway, you’re not here to hear me gush. Here it goes!” She quickly found the tape—it was easy to spot, covered in blue marker hearts as it was—and slotted it into the jukebox.

As the opening notes played, Aerith added, “And by the way, remember that Tifa is a great pianist on top of being the best bartender this side of Midgar. Tips are a great way to show appreciation, people!”

“Aerith!” exclaimed Tifa from the counter, nearly spilling a drink.

Aerith laughed through the first line of the song, which didn’t vibe at all with the sombre tone.

I know that you’re hiding things, using gentle words to shelter me.

Yuna had written that, right? She wondered if it was about something that had happened in her life, or just a made-up story.

She always found it difficult to write about her own life. What was even there to talk about? She was just a normal girl, working two jobs to make a living in the Midgar slums. Not much to write home about—much less to write songs about.

Whenever she sat down to work on a song, she preferred to draw from old tales, Cetra myths her mother had told her as a child. ‘Aerith’ didn’t exist in song.

Her gaze brushed over Cloud, who was busy sketching in his notebook. He looked at ease in a way he rarely did, like he’d forgotten he was in a crowded bar. He glanced up at Aerith and met her eyes—just for a moment, and then quickly dipped his head again to focus on the page. Aerith smiled as a small flower of warmth bloomed in her chest. Maybe… Maybe all ‘Aerith’ needed to exist in a song was a focus, an emotion.

Denial wasn’t that cute after high school, and Aerith was enough of a big girl to admit—to herself, if not quite to Tifa yet—that she had feelings for Cloud. They’d crept up on her: he was just a cute acquaintance one day, the face she looked for in the crowd the next.

Maybe—

Oh, a thousand words…

The song trailed to an end almost without her noticing, and she smiled at the applause that followed it. She thanked the crowd and moved on to her next request, but the thought stayed in her mind for the rest of her shift.

When it was over, she turned off her gear, then hopped down the stage and swung by the counter to grab a glass of water that was already waiting for her.

“Good job,” said Tifa as she handed it to her. “The new song sounds great.”

Aerith grinned. “Of course it does. You recorded it.”

Tifa laughed and lightly swatted her arm. “You flirt. What do you want?”

“Nothing! Can’t a girl be honest with her best friend?”

“Not when she’s fishing for a favour. So, what is it?”

Aerith huffed theatrically. “Oh, fine. Will you please tell me who my Mystery Requester is? It’s been months!”

“Not on your life.” Tifa put her hands on her hips. “I thought you liked puzzles and mysteries. Figure it out!”

“But I’ve got no clues!” Aerith pouted. “I can’t very well ask every regular to write something in front of me so I can check the handwriting.”

Tifa shrugged. “Oh, you’ve got clues. You’re just not putting them together.”

Aerith glared at her. “It’s… It’s not you, right? Your handwriting looks nothing like that.”

“It’s not me and no it doesn’t,” said Tifa in a laugh. “Though I can see myself doing something like that for a crush.”

“Which, speaking of,” said Aerith, leaning forward on the counter, “will you tell me about your love life already? You’ve been cagey about it, which means you are seeing someone! Is it someone I know?”

Tifa shot her a sidelong glance through a blush. “I’m not dating Cloud, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Aerith felt herself flush as well. “I was not.”

“Uh-huh. My question now is: why aren’t you dating him?”

“Hey, you didn’t answer my question!”

Tifa made a dismissive motion with her hand. “And I’m not gonna. Go hang out with your not-boyfriend now, he looks like a lost baby Chocobo.”

Stifling her giggle to look over her shoulder, Aerith spotted Cloud at his usual table. He had his notepad out, but he kept sneaking glances at the two of them. “Right,” she said in a huff that sounded more strangled than she would have liked. She swivelled around on her stool and ignored Tifa’s own laugh as she quickly walked over to Cloud.

“Heya,” she said. “Sorry I kept you waiting.”

Cloud shrugged. “‘S fine. You, uh, good?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Hm? Course. Why?”

He pointed at her. “You’re a little red in the face. You’re not sick, are you?”

Aerith frowned and brought a hand to her scorching hot cheek. Goddamnit, Tifa. “I’m fine,” she muttered, rubbing at it as though to wipe the blush away. “Don’t mind me. How ‘bout you? How’re you doing?”

Cloud shrugged. “Same old. Had to break up a fight at the store today—two old ladies arguing over the last silver candlestick.”

Aerith laughed. The thought of Cloud working as a clerk at an antique store on weekends was an amusing mental image. Cloud, whose resting face had been lovingly described as ‘bitchy’ by Jessie and ‘murdery’ by Wedge, forced to stand behind a counter and sell vintage tea sets and ottomans. “Sounds fun.”

He snorted. “Riveting.” He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with his notepad, for a second. “You? All good?”

“Mhm.” Aerith leaned back in her chair and stretched. “Got to debut a new song.”

Cloud hummed as well. “The one you were singing at the photo shoot, right?”

“That’s the one! You like?”

He nodded. His eyes darted to his notepad again, but he didn’t say anything.

Aerith cocked her head to the side. “Something to share with the class, Cloud?”

He looked a bit startled, then he pressed his lips together and sighed. “Speaking of the photo shoot. I, uh… got the pictures developed?” He winced a bit, as though he wasn’t delivering great news.

Aerith sat up. “Really!? Do you have them?”

“Here.” He held up his notepad, and Aerith noticed there was a clear plastic sleeve sticking out of it. “They’re, uh…”

“Cloud? What’s wrong?”

He blinked at her twice, then shook his head. “Sorry, it’s nothing. I, uh, hope you like them.” He fished the sleeve out of the notepad and handed it to her but, when she made to open it, he covered her hand with his. “Could you… look at them at home?” He grimaced slightly.

Aerith frowned. “You don’t wanna see my reaction?”

He shrugged a little helplessly. “Never shown my photos to anyone. Not used to it.”

She giggled. “Oh, alright, you big baby. But I’m sure they’re all great.”

Cloud simply hummed and leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers nervously on the table. “Had a good subject,” he said quietly, sneaking a sidelong glance at her.

Aerith beamed at him, and he returned a small smile.

Later, in the privacy of her own small apartment, Aerith carefully opened the packet, letting the pictures slide over her counter.

Cloud was right: the lighting in Seventh Heaven was really flattering and interesting, and Aerith almost looked like a professional model in the first few photos, the ones where Cloud had had her pose in her chair. Wearing a yellow dress had been a great idea, as it stood out against the dark background of the shots without washing her out.

The next batch of pictures were the ones taken during the songs—with Aerith’s hair going from neatly braided to loose halfway through. Damn, another point to Cloud: it did look really nice that way. Maybe I should wear it down more often… she mused as she flicked through the photos. Cloud really had a knack for it. She knew—thanks to some candids taken by Jessie and Biggs which she hadn’t managed to destroy—that she could make some really goofy faces when she sang. But none of the pictures Cloud had taken were like that. She always looked poised, or passionate, or even angelic at times, but never goofy or awkward. Maybe he’d discarded those ones, but the fact that he’d even managed to get so many good shots of her was incredible.

She paused to admire the framing on one of them. She’d wandered a little from her mic during Hollow—something that Cloud had called her out on, after—but the camera hadn’t followed her, despite the fact that it hadn’t been affixed to the tripod at the time. So, Aerith stood at the side of the frame, singing to an empty space beside her. She thought it was fitting.

The last batch was made up of more casual shots he’d taken over the course of the morning, some of which Aerith hadn’t even noticed. A close up on her hands as she rummaged through her purse, her stretching before the last song, a shot of her walking away from the camera in the empty bar… They were simpler, not as carefully framed, but Aerith liked them all the same. She thumbed the edge of the single selfie she’d strong-armed him into taking, and pulled it away from the bunch to set on her nightstand. He was… almost smiling in it, and there was a faint blush colouring his cheekbones.

Aerith smiled. Cute.

She turned back to the last few photos, the ones from when Cloud had told her to glare and then she’d burst out laughing. There was one where Aerith held her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the giggles as she looked at the camera with mirth in her eye. As she flipped it over to see the next one, she spotted a note written on the back of it in careful lettering: This one’s my favourite.

Aerith stared at it for a long moment.

“Oh,” she said quietly to herself, then she set it down on her nightstand as well, with the note facing her.

Oh.

She pulled out a notepad and pen from a drawer and found a blank page. After taking a deep breath, she began to write.

Julia Heartilly’s Eyes on Me was the lounge song, in Aerith’s opinion.

Not too loud, not too difficult—but still a classic. The story behind the song was common knowledge: a missed connection between Julia and a mysterious man—one a pianist, the other a traveller. In interviews, Julia wistfully recalled the short time they’d spent together many years before, how he’d inspired her to start writing lyrics to her songs, and how one day he’d disappeared, never to return. But the connection was still important to her, as fleeting as it had been.

It was the closest Aerith ever came to singing about herself, but she hoped her life wouldn’t play out too much like Julia’s.

You’d always be there in the corner of this tiny little bar.

Her eyes fell on Cloud, sat at his usual table with his usual untouched drink. Their gazes met—just for a moment, just enough for him to offer a small smile and for Aerith’s breath to hitch.

It just kept happening.

Aerith would search for Cloud in the crowd and find him already looking at her. He’d avert his gaze, then, or she would avert hers, like magnets orbiting around each other.

For most of the Seventh Heaven patrons, she was nothing but background ambiance, especially before Request Hour. She was used to scanning the crowd, only to find no one looking at her, and that was okay. She was just doing her job, and she didn’t need people to watch her sing. But Cloud wasn’t like that. Aerith wasn’t sure what kept him coming back to the bar. It certainly wasn’t the alcohol or the company, as most nights he sat alone in a corner with an untouched drink. Maybe he really didn’t have anything better to do and it was a way to pass the time and appease Tifa. Whatever it was, every time Aerith found him in the crowd, he was looking at her. Like she was always meant to be the centre of attention instead of a glorified music box.

She smiled through her line: I kind of liked it your way, how you shyly placed your eyes on me.

Aerith kind of loved it.

Some nights, when Cloud would avert his gaze and blush like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Aerith even allowed herself to believe that she could be what kept him coming back to Seventh Heaven. That he was there to see her, hear her, chat with her during her break and at closing.

Most nights, it seemed almost impossible. Would he really choose to spend his limited free time and money at the bar just for her? Especially when she hadn’t even asked him out or told him how she felt?

She had never thought of herself as shy, but with Cloud she hesitated.

Did you ever know that I had mine on you?

It felt like there was a delicate balance between them, held up by things unsaid and unheard. Aerith loved being friends with him—loved teasing him, loved hearing about his day, loved his dry sarcasm and awkward bluntness. And if she loved him a little bit too, those things were even more precious and delicate. Aerith didn’t want to lose them if he didn’t feel the same.

Maybe she just liked the attention enough to read too much in everything he did and said. Maybe Tifa’s matchmaking had gotten to her. Maybe she was acting like a high schooler with a crush and projecting her feelings on him. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

A ‘maybe’ was a question unanswered, but she hesitated in asking it out loud.

If frown is shown, then I will know that you are no dreamer…

She blinked as she reached the end of the song—and of her usual set by extension.

“Thank you,” she said into the mic, a little dazed in the polite applause.

Seventh Heaven was fairly full that night, and Tifa didn’t have time to entertain her during her break. So, Aerith just swiped a glass of water from the counter before joining Cloud at his table.

“How’s my favourite loiterer doin’?” she asked in lieu of greeting, grinning when he rolled his eyes.

“I do not loiter.”

Aerith shrugged, slipping in the seat opposite of him. “Bar policy says that you can’t stay here past two hours with only one order to your name.” She eyed the full glass in front of him. “Even if you haven’t touched it.”

Cloud scoffed. “You made that up.”

“I did.” Aerith smiled when he shook his head. “Just messing with you. Even if I wasn’t, it’s not like there’s any security to kick you out.”

“You could start earning your keep.” He quickly took a fake sip of his drink to hide his chuckle as Aerith gave an exaggerated gasp.

“That’s mean!” she said, lightly swatting his shoulder. “I’d like to see you go up there and sing all night.”

Cloud held up his hands. “I don’t think you would. Can’t carry a tune to save my life.”

She stuck a finger in his face. “Oh, but you think I’m not earning my keep?”

“Alright, alright, fine. Just messing with you,” he said, shrugging.

“Yeah, yeah.” Aerith huffed good-naturedly as she leaned back in her seat. “Smartass.”

“Look who’s talkin’.”

She stuck her tongue out at him again, then smiled. “Anyway. It’s been a minute.” Well, kind of. It had been a few days since the night he’d given her the pictures from their photo shoot, but Cloud had found himself often too busy to come every day, let alone stay long after closing. And the few times he’d managed to show up, Aerith hadn’t been able to catch him alone because Wedge’d gotten some time off work and refused to let Cloud sulk on his own.

Aerith just missed him a little bit.

He blinked at her. “Oh. Yeah, guess so. Sorry.”

She shook her head. “No need to apologise. I wanted to tell you—I looked at the pictures!”

“Oh.” He stilled and dropped his gaze to his hands. “Did you…?”

“Love them?” Aerith grinned. “Yeah. You’re really good, has anyone ever told you that?”

Cloud shrugged and smiled a little sheepishly. “Like I said. You’re the only one who’s ever seen them. But, uh, thanks.”

“Right, right.” Aerith reached into her pocket. “But I think I’m gonna have to disagree with you on something.”

Cloud raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I think this is my favourite.” Aerith grinned as she produced their selfie.

He blinked at her as a blush rose to his cheeks. “I—”

“I kinda feel bad—having the only copy. It’s a really nice picture. You sure you don’t want it?”

Cloud went from blushing to looking like he wanted to run out of his skin. He muttered something barely intelligible under his breath. Aerith frowned. “What was that?”

He grimaced. “…It’s not the only copy.”

“Oh?” She cocked her head to the side as the smile came back to her face. “Do tell.”

“I, uh—” He scratched the back of his neck. “It’s like you said. It’s a nice picture. I made two copies.” He seemed to realise something. “Just of that one! I thought that since it was a photo of the both of us you wouldn’t mind—I don’t have extra copies of any of the other ones.”

Aerith shook her head. “Of course I don’t mind. I’d have done the same.” She carefully tucked the picture back in her pocket. “Anyway, I meant what I said. You’re really good at this. Could go pro if you wanted.”

“Thanks.” He shrugged. “It’s just a hobby for now, though.”

“A successful one.” Aerith leaned back in her chair and linked her hands over the table. “Speaking of hobbies,” she started, fiddling with her thumbs, “I did something this week.”

It was Cloud’s turn to tilt his head to the side curiously. “Hm?”

She dropped her eyes to her hands. “I wrote a new song.”

“Oh. Oh.” He sat up a little straighter in her peripheral vision. “Really?”

Aerith nodded. “Mhm. It’s… different from anything I’ve written before, but I like it.” I wrote it thinking of you. “It—”

“Can I hear?”

She looked up at him. “What?”

Cloud held up his hands. “Not right now, uh, obviously. Just—I’d like to hear it.”

Aerith giggled and waved a hand in the air. “I really don’t know how good it is. But if nothing else, it was fun to write.”

He frowned a little. “I’m sure it’s great.”

“Maybe.” She smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”

His frown didn’t ease but, before he could say anything else, Aerith glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh, no, my break’s over. Gotta run—see you at closing?”

Cloud blinked twice, then nodded. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

There was a strange note in his voice, but Aerith didn’t linger on it. Quickly, she made it back to her little stage to kick off Request Hour.

Most of her improv set went by almost unnoticed. Nothing new, nothing special. She sang old tunes, classic ones, but ones she’d sang a million times. They were classic for a reason, but they started to feel a bit… worn out after a while. Good as ambiance for everyone’s conversations and little else.

Then the last request slip came in.

Your song, written in that familiar messy scrawl.

Aerith paused as she held the piece of paper in front of her. “My…?”

What? My song? What song?

She scanned the crowd. Only a few people were looking at her, waiting for the next tune to start, while most were busy drinking or chatting. Tifa, at the counter, made a questioning face.

Aerith searched for Cloud at the back of the bar. He was looking right at her, sitting up straight as a rod, as though he was nervously waiting for something. When their eyes met, he pressed his lips together and averted his gaze for a moment. Then, he nodded encouragingly.

Your song.

Aerith sucked in a sharp breath, then let out a shaky giggle.

Oh.

She stepped back up to the mic. “Right, um… This one’s a little different,” she said, fiddling with the piece of paper in her hands. “It’s—Well, it’s a song I wrote myself.” A low chatter came from the crowd. Tifa set down her mixer to shoot her a surprised look. Cloud sat up even straighter. Aerith gulped down the knot in her throat. “It’s called No Promises To Keep and… And I hope you like it,” she finished, looking right at Cloud.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Then, she began to sing her new song, only a few days old.

For the first time since starting her gig at Seventh Heaven, it felt like she held the attention of the entire bar. Maybe it was curiosity about her songwriting skills, maybe there was something in her voice that drew their eyes and ears.

But Aerith didn’t care about any of that, because all she could see was Cloud.

Silly, she thought fondly when their eyes met. So silly…

He held her gaze, though, in a way he usually didn’t. Just like way back when she had first spotted him in the crowd, he looked like he was trying to memorise her, to bottle a moment and keep it with him forever. And Aerith felt the same—although there was a moment she was looking forward to even more. But that would have to wait.

Could it be chance?

Maybe. Maybe not. It didn’t matter, because even if them meeting had been a twist of fate, nothing else was. She’d chosen to get to know him, he’d chosen to keep coming back, they’d chosen to open up to each other.

And now, Aerith was choosing to take that chance. Take it with both hands, hold it tight, never let go. She could only hope he’d never let go either.

I want to believe in the chance that we’ll share a glance

She closed her eyes for a moment. When she looked again, he was still there. A small smile flashed over his face when he heard that line, and Aerith returned it. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Glances and looks, an infinite series of near misses and near wins, a delicate dance that had gone on for far too long. Their tempo was going to change, and Aerith couldn’t wait.

She felt jittery, excited, maybe a little nervous. She cursed herself for not writing a shorter song.

Eventually, it ended.

Still, I know someday you’ll come and find me…

She imagined the closing notes in her head as she shut her eyes in the silence that followed. After a beat, when everyone was sure the song was actually over, the entire bar burst into applause.

Aerith’s eyes fluttered open as she clutched the microphone. “Thank you,” she whispered, so quiet even the mic didn’t pick it up.

Blinking, she glanced at the counter. Tifa held her hands to her heart, and she was grinning ear to ear. She had customers waiting, but they didn’t seem to care either, busy as they were clapping.

Some people had gotten up from their seats, blocking her view of Cloud. It was okay, though. She’d see him soon enough.

“Thank you,” she repeated, smiling at the crowd.

The Seventh Heaven patrons and their beloved lounge singer.

The end of Request Hour heralded the closing of the bar. Usually, Aerith would turn off her gear and go say hi to Tifa, then meet up with Cloud. That night, she stayed glued to the stage as the customers slowly filed out of the door, waving politely to all those who paused by the exit to wave to her.

She didn’t need an audience for this.

As the crowd thinned, Aerith found Cloud again, sitting at his table. He wasn’t looking at her, though, as he had his notepad out and was sketching furiously. She smiled: Nervous, huh? No need to be.

Once the last non-Cloud patrons were out, Aerith finally let go of a deep breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Quickly, she shut everything off and marched towards the counter.

“You,” she started, stomping to a stop in front of Tifa, “are gonna pay.”

Tifa waved a hand in the air. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Aerith glared at her. “Sweet Mystery Requester. Cloud. You knew.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re dead to me.”

Tifa laughed. “You love me too much. But never mind that—Aerith, that song?” She leaned forward over the counter. “It was great! I never knew that! You never told me!”

Aerith took a half step back, suddenly sheepish. “Ah, well, y’know. I didn’t think I was any good at—”

Tifa groaned. “I’m telling Jessie. And I’m siccing her on you. And we’re recording a backing track on the piano.”

“I’d like that,” said Aerith. “Uh, the piano part. Not the Jessie part.”

“Non-negotiable.” Tifa shrugged as she fished a dishrag out of a box. “I’m telling her as soon as I get to her place tonight.”

Aerith furrowed her brows. “Why are you going to—Tifa!”

Tifa immediately flushed a shade of red Aerith had thought only visible to shrimp. “Hm!” she exclaimed, spinning around and reaching for a bottle on a high shelf. “So much to clean!”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Aerith tried to grab a hold of her shoulder over the counter, but was too far away. “Jessie!? And you didn’t tell me!?”

“You had other things on your mind!” Tifa tossed her a grimace. Then, she seemed to remember something and her colour faded back to a more human blush. “One of those things looks just about ready to explode.” She nodded towards the back of the bar. “Stop torturing him.”

Aerith giggled, feeling her own face grow a little hotter. She could almost feel his eyes drilling a hole in the back of her head. “He tortured me for months! The suspense was killing me.”

Tifa shrugged. “You big baby. Go put yourselves out of your misery.”

“You’re not off the hook, by the way. I just wanted to tell you I wouldn’t be sticking around, but you distracted me! And it looks like you got better places to be too.”

Tifa stuck her tongue out at her. “Get away from me. Go date Cloud.”

“Oh, I’m gonna.” She was through not dating Cloud.

With one last grin, Aerith pushed herself away from the counter and damn near skipped to Cloud’s table. He shot up as soon as she made eye contact with him, anxiety clear as day on his face.

She shot him a blinding smile, and he relaxed a little bit.

“Heya,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “Sorry I kept you waiting. Had to do some housekeeping.”

“Housekeeping?” asked Cloud, a little breathlessly. He glanced down at their joint hands, but didn’t say anything.

Aerith hummed. “Needed to let Tifa know we’re getting outta here, so she doesn’t worry.”

“Right.” He blinked, then he registered what she’d said. “You, uh, want to leave?”

She shook her head and smiled. “Yeah, with you. Wanna take a walk?”

Cloud gulped down a knot in his throat and nodded stiffly, and Aerith looped her arm through his as she pulled him towards the door.

“Have fun!” called Tifa.

Aerith shot her a playful glare over her shoulder. “Don’t have too much fun!”

Whatever indignant reply she got, she ignored as she and Cloud stepped out into the night. It was fairly chilly, but Aerith didn’t feel the cold. All she felt was the warmth radiating off of him.

She glanced up, caught him looking down at her, saw him avert his eyes.

Her smile softened. “Silly,” she whispered, pressing herself closer to him. “You could’ve just asked me out.”

Cloud stiffened a little bit, then huffed. “You wanted to get asked out by a total stranger at your job?”

Aerith laughed. “Maybe not. But you’re not a total stranger now—haven’t been for a while. What’s the updated excuse?”

“I—” He cleared his throat, then shot her a side-eye look. “What’s yours?”

She chuckled lightly. “Hey, I asked first.”

“I… don’t have a good answer.” He grimaced.

She grinned a little sheepishly. “Well, neither do I.”

They both laughed. They trailed to a stop in the middle of the path, under a street light.

Looking up, Aerith saw Cloud swallow a knot in his throat. “Hey, um, Aerith? Your song…”

She straightened up. “Hm?”

“It was…” He pressed his lips together. “Really good. Beautiful.”

Aerith smiled. “Thank you. You know, I meant every word.”

He shot her an unreadable look. “You did?”

She hummed. “The same way you meant all of those pictures. And that little note you left me. Not to mention the request slips.”

“I—Yeah.” Cloud dropped his gaze to the spot where her hands were wrapped around his arm and let a small smile crawl onto his face. “Meant every one of ‘em.”

A quiet moment descended on them. Aerith looked up at the fake stars over them, and at the real ones peeking out from under the Plate. It was a beautiful night—as beautiful as Midgar could manage, anyway. The soft light coming from the street lamp washed over everything around them, turning it fuzzy and quiet. And Cloud, sneaking intermittent peeks down at her, was so close and warm.

Aerith sighed, melting a little bit more into Cloud’s side.

“You cold?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how you made me sing you a love song without telling me it was you.”

Cloud grimaced. “I—”

Aerith tutted. “So sneaky. And a little cowardly.”

“Hey, I—”

She giggled. “You’re just gonna have to make it up to me,” she declared.

Cloud let out a half laugh. “Right. Uh, how’s lunch sound?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Then it’s a date.” Aerith grinned. “And it’s a start. But I had something a little different in mind,” she said, shifting so that she was facing him.

Cloud looked down at their entwined fingers. “Oh?” he asked, but his blush deepened. “Like what?” Sneaky again!

Aerith scoffed playfully. “Oh, like you don’t know.”

He did know, and he proved it by meeting her halfway in a kiss that she would have to write a song about. Or several.