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Aerith had never slept so soundly in her life.
What had changed? Peacetime? That very well could've been it. Aerith had carried around her stresses for as long as she could remember — for as long as she'd been alive, really, since her infant days had been wrought with just as much grief as her adulthood. Not a single day had gone by without a disruption of some sort (an interfering Turk, the screams of the Planet, an existential crisis), and her nights had been just as restless. It had taken twenty-two years and the destruction of Meteor for Aerith to relax, breathe, and enjoy her newfound contentment. Her days were now exquisitely normal, free of pain and peril.
... Still, that didn't seem right. There was something more to it than that.
Could it have been her new life in Edge? Maybe. Life in Edge wasn't perfect by any means, but Midgar's misplaced citizens were trying their best, and their new city was as cheerful as something of its kind could possibly be. Aerith had finally built the flower shop of her dreams, and she now had more money than she knew what to do with. Her new neighbourhood accepted her with open arms, and Aerith became as busy as she had been in Sector 5 — even more, perhaps, since her flowers could easily be found in one place. Surely, financial comfort and a busy social life helped one sleep at night.
Even then, that didn't seem like the right answer.
Maybe it had something to do with her new bedfellows, who had been keeping her warm in the cool February nights.
The first thing Aerith felt that morning was a familiar warmth pressed against her back. A muscled arm, lightly dusted with freckles, was wound around her waist. Aerith smiled and sighed in contentment, ready to sink back into sleep — until she felt a tremor. The other body in her bed, pressed against her front, was shivering.
Cloud had stolen the comforter again.
"You gotta be kidding me," Aerith muttered. The comforter was bigger than the bed itself, and yet he'd managed to yank the entire thing away, wrapping it around himself like a burrito. Aerith grabbed the edge of the comforter and tore it away from him until he was deprived of it entirely. Cloud instinctively tried to burrow into Aerith for warmth, but Aerith kicked his shin instead.
"I'm cold—"
"That's what you get for stealing the blanket." Aerith tucked the comforter around Tifa's body, and wrapped her arms around her until she stopped shivering. "Thanks for keeping it warm for us, though."
"You're gonna give us hypothermia, you know," Tifa mumbled sleepily.
"Is that how you treat the women you love?"
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry." Cloud got out of bed, grabbed the nearest article of clothing — one of Tifa's sweatshirts — and threw it on. "I'm gonna make coffee."
Tifa pulled the comforter closer and burrowed into Aerith's warmth. Aerith smiled and held her tighter, nose pressed against Tifa's hair, basking in the sweet scent of her shampoo. Cloud's scent, as familiar and comforting as Tifa's, lingered in the blankets that surrounded them. "Are we getting up?" Tifa asked her.
Aerith sighed. As nice as it was to cuddle with Tifa, it still felt like something was missing. "Yeah," Aerith said, glancing at the spot where Cloud had once laid. "Let's get up."
It had been a year since Meteorfall, six months since they built their new home, and five-and-a-half months since they started sharing the same bed (Aerith's bed, technically, which was just large enough to fit all three of them... if they cuddled in tight and got creative with sleeping positions). Somehow, in that short amount of time, their lives had become so enmeshed that Aerith wasn't sure where she began and they ended.
It was supposed to be a short-term arrangement. Cloud and Tifa had both been forced out of their rooms by unfortunate circumstance — Cloud's room had a draft, and Tifa's window had shattered in the middle of the night — but those problems had been fixed months ago. Nevertheless, they remained, and Aerith couldn't bring herself to force them back into their own spaces. She knew that she should, that whatever they were doing wasn't normal by anybody's standards, but she really didn't want to, and clearly, neither did they.
Tifa reluctantly crawled out of bed and started searching for something to wear. She chose her old sports bra and a pair of Cloud's old SOLDIER pants. Aerith did the same and ended up with one of Tifa's red sleeping shirts, which she tucked into a pink skirt. Cloud returned with three mugs of coffee, made perfectly to their individual tastes, and they continued their routine in companionable silence. As Aerith sat down at her vanity, sipping her sugary coffee, Cloud reached over her shoulder and borrowed her lip balm without asking. Tifa lurked behind Aerith and used Cloud's hair gel to smooth the flyaways in her hair. Aerith reached for Tifa's makeup case and pulled out one of her lipsticks, ignoring the fact that the colour wasn't meant for her complexion.
Once they were ready, they finally ventured downstairs and greeted Barret, who was counting stock behind the bar that took up the entirety of their first floor. His first comment of the day was usually lobbed at their mismatched fashion choices, but today he said nothing; they'd evidently managed to pick out something decent that day. That, or he was distracted watching Marlene as she made crafts at a nearby table, slicing construction paper with a pair of scissors.
"Morning!" Marlene greeted them. She grabbed a heart-shaped chain, covered in white glitter, and stretched it out to show them. "Look!"
"Is that for your Valentine's Day party?" Tifa asked her.
"Mhmm," Marlene replied. "Daddy was helping me, but he gave up."
"Daddy ain't good with scissors." Barret replied, lifting his hand. He still hadn't gotten the hang of his new prosthetic. "What are you three doin' today?"
"Selling roses," Aerith said.
"Delivering roses," Cloud said next.
"I'm gonna make record profits selling drinks to single people!" Tifa threw her fist in the air. "Bottomless mimosas!"
Barret fixed them all with a frown. Clearly, that wasn't the answer he had been expecting. "Shouldn't you three go out? You're too young to be caterin' to divorcées."
"Too much money to be made," Tifa effortlessly replied.
"Sad people don't tip!" Barret barked. "Didn't you learn that lesson back in the original Seventh Heaven?"
"Oh! Oh!" Marlene jumped in her chair. "You should go to Donatello's!"
"Donatello's?" Aerith asked.
"That's where Becky's parents are going tonight!" Marlene said. "She said it's really romantic and they have really good spagooter—"
Aerith and Tifa shared a glance. Both of them silently debated on whether to tell Marlene — and Barret — that romantic dates usually involved two people, not three. Aerith considered saying something, but Cloud beat her to it. "Spagooter?"
"Spagooter! With lots of cheese!"
"Doesn't your store open in fifteen minutes?" Barret asked Aerith.
Right. Aerith hastily grabbed her bag and Cloud's arm before dragging them both through the front door. "Have a good day!" Tifa called after them.
After she and Cloud split up, the latter leaving to refuel his motorcycle, Aerith began the five-minute trek to her flower shop. The five of them — Aerith, Tifa and Cloud in one house (and bar), Barret and Marlene in another — had built their compound on a bustling street, perhaps the busiest in all of Edge, and Aerith had her pick of makeshift bakeries and sandwich stalls to grab her breakfast from. She stopped at one and bought three croissant sandwiches — one for breakfast, one for lunch, and one for Cloud when he came to pick up his first batch of bouquets.
Aerith, being a young, outgoing business owner with plenty of charm, was very popular in the neighbourhood. So were Tifa and Cloud, partially due to the fact that the three of them were attached at the hip; everybody who knew Aerith knew them by extension, and their individual businesses bloomed as a result. The cashier gave Aerith a warm smile as she packaged the sandwiches. "So who are you taking out tonight?"
Aerith paused in counting her gil. "Sorry?"
"You know, your friends." The cashier gestured to the sandwich maker behind her. "We've been making bets all morning. The pretty girl or the hunky dude?"
Cloud? Hunky? Aerith grimaced as she remembered the downside of her popularity — that the neighbourhood had become far too invested in her love life. She faked a non-committal shrug. "Oh, I don't know," she said lightly, "might just stay in."
"That's what I'm planning on doing too." The cashier handed her the sandwiches. "Have a good day!"
Unfortunately, the questions didn't stop with the cashier. As Aerith arrived at her flower shop and started taking inventory, pen in one hand and sandwich in the other, the first customer of the day arrived. She was one of Aerith's favourites — a kindly old woman who bought flowers for her husband, since he liked them much more than she did. At the sight of her eager face, however, Aerith felt her fondness wane. "Weather's looking dreary today," the customer commented.
"They're not calling for rain, though," Aerith said. "It's not all bad!"
She shrugged. "I suppose. Bad weather for a date, though."
"Um—"
"So what are your plans for tonight?"
"Not sure..." Aerith wracked her brain for answers and came up with the worst possible response. "Might go to that restaurant that just opened! The spaghetti one!"
"Oh, how wonderful! Who are you taking?" The woman's voice dropped to a whisper. " I'd take your black-haired friend, personally. Much more my type. Don't tell her that, though."
Aerith blinked. She hadn't been expecting that. "Oh—"
"Men are useless. It took me decades to train Harold. You'd save yourself so much effort," she whispered. "They know what women like." The woman talked as if she were imparting wise wisdom. Aerith did her best to bolster that falsehood by nodding very intently and hiding her bafflement with a gentle smile.
The customer handed her ten gil and took off, leaving Aerith dazed in her wake. Why was everybody making this into a competition? The question bit at her mind until Cloud arrived, ready to grab his first delivery of the day. He walked up to the counter and grabbed his breakfast, nothing that Aerith had only eaten half of hers.
"What's up?" he mumbled around his sandwich. "Customer piss you off?"
"Oh, nothing." As soon as he was finished, Aerith handed him an armful of bouquets and the other half of her sandwich. "Make sure you deliver Mr. Berry's order first."
After he left, the customers arrived in earnest, and Aerith became very good at dodging questions. Unfortunately, her lovely patrons seemed intent on sharing their opinions, even if she didn't ask for them.
"We just want to see you happy!" one customer insisted. "Which is why I think you should go for the dashing young man. His business is going places!"
"So is Tifa's!" Aerith argued back. "She's making a fortune today! Bottomless mimosas!"
"Bottomless?" The customer turned to her friend. "Should we go there next?"
The next customer required a box of tissues. "You need to be careful," she whispered, "I was in this exact same situation, and then my friends got together and I was left all alone—"
Aerith's jaw dropped. "I'm so sorry—"
"—and then she died, so very young, and then my friend and I started living together, we even adopted some kids, but he was still in love with her even though she was dead and I was still here—"
The customer eventually left, her shirt stained by her tears. Aerith opened another box and wrote 'tissues' on her shopping list. By the time lunch came around, she was ready to snap. She'd made plenty of money from cliched bouquets, but at what cost? The next person to ask about her Valentine's Day plans was going to get strangled.
Aerith knew she had to avoid murdering her patrons at any post. She sprinted to her front door and flipped the 'open' sign closed. There was only one place that her customers wouldn't follow her to, that was free of cloying holiday decorations and nosy, romance-obsessed people: her mother's house.
Elmyra's new house was a ten-minute walk from Aerith's flower shop. It wasn't as private and spacious as her old property in Sector 5, but that didn't seem to bother Elmyra any. After Meteorfall, they were all happy to be alive and eager to take what they could get. "I wasn't expecting you," Elmyra told her, as Aerith arrived with a new set of croissant sandwiches. "Where are Cloud and Tifa?"
Aerith couldn't remember the last time she'd visited her mother's house alone. Elmyra looked disappointed, as if Aerith had deprived her of visits with her other two children. "I'll bring them over tomorrow," she promised, before unwrapping the sandwiches and telling Elmyra all about her dreadful day.
"One customer spent ten minutes telling me why women are better than men, and another one—" Aerith sighed. "Everybody keeps making a big deal about having to choose. Do I really have to choose?"
The question weighed heavily in the air. This wasn't just about tonight, but about every night that would follow it. Could they truly continue on like this? What if Tifa wanted to move on one day? What if Cloud did? What if they chose each other and left her all alone in her big, empty bed, shivering in the cold? The mere thought of it made tears prick in Aerith's eyes, and she hastily wiped them away with the back of her hand.
For a brief moment, Elmyra looked speechless, as if her mind and her heart were travelling in two separate directions. Aerith felt a flash of guilt at bringing her troubles to her mother's doorstep — if Aerith herself couldn't find the answer, then surely Elmyra was just as lost. Elmyra took a long sip of tea and gently sat it down. "It's the way of things," she said slowly, "to—"
"Only date one person at a time?" Aerith muttered miserably.
Elmyra gave her the faintest of nods. "You have to search for that answer yourself."
Aerith nodded. Elmyra was right, of course — she always was. She finished her sandwich, drained her tea cup, and began the journey back to her flower shop with a heavy heart.
As she walked, however, her thoughts gradually began to change. She glanced at the people who passed her in the street, many of whom she recognized as her neighbours. Aerith knew most of them by name, knew their habits, their proclivities — but that was where it ended. Why did their opinions matter? Since when did Aerith care about the 'way of things?' Why should she choose?
And truthfully, she couldn't. It was impossible. She loved both Cloud and Tifa in equal measure, and leaving one of them in the dust would rip her soul in two. It just couldn't be done.
So what could she do? Aerith pictured a standard date — a nice dinner, a show, a walk in the park — and realized that all she had to do was pull up a chair, buy tickets for a third seat, and make extra room on the walking trail. Suddenly, the answer dawned on her, and she took off down the street, full of excitement..
Aerith hadn't realized she was running until she found herself in front of her flower shop, gasping for air, with a knot in her side. The front door had already been unlocked by Cloud, who was waiting inside for the next batch of bouquets. His eyes widened as she stumbled inside. "Are you okay?"
"Never better," Aerith wheezed. She leaned against the door and tried to catch her breath. Cloud ran over and grasped her arms, stopping her from sliding down to the ground.
Aerith's head swam as she looked at Cloud. She knew what she had to do — but would he agree to it? "We should go on a date tonight."
"Us?"
"Yeah."
He looked conflicted. "What about Tifa?"
"All three of us," Aerith said breathlessly. "All of us. On a date. Together. Let's do it."
"All three of us?"
Aerith nodded. "All three of us."
"On a date?"
"A proper date," Aerith insisted. "Like couples do."
"Aerith suggested the spaghetti place," Cloud said.
Tifa stared at each of them in turn, trying to determine how serious they were. Then she chewed her lip, deep in thought. "Would they even have tables? That place must be packed." She glanced at the clock. "It's probably too late to make a reservation..."
Aerith nearly leapt out of her skin in excitement. She was afraid Tifa would object to the idea, but she was only concerned about the logistics. "We'll make a contingency plan!" Aerith assured her. "If they don't have any tables, we'll go to a food stall. Get some takoyaki."
One of Seventh Heaven's customers turned to face them. "Does that mean we're gettin' booted out?"
"Sorry," Tifa said. "I'll have more mimosas tomorrow!"
The customers grumbled and deposited their gil on the countertop. Tifa picked the coins up and shoved them in her cash register without even bothering to count them. As soon as the till closed, she ran around the counter and grabbed Aerith's hand. "Come on," she rushed, dragging Aerith with her. "Let's get ready!"
They raced up the stairs, two steps at a time. Cloud dutifully followed them with all of the energy of a man governed by two purposeful women.
Aerith and Tifa didn't have much in the way of nice dresses, but they managed to put together something that passed for a proper date outfit. Aerith fished a cherry red sundress out of the back of their closet. Her hair, loosened from its usual braid, hung down her back. As Aerith pulled the dress on, Tifa fished out a black dress that looked like it might've actually been negligée, but Aerith certainly wasn't about to say anything. "Is this too much?" Tifa asked.
Aerith vigorously shook her head. It took a considerable amount of effort to look at Tifa's face and not the rest of her. "Looks great," Aerith breathed. Her eagerness must've been obvious, since Tifa's cheeks flushed bright red in response.
"I don't know what to wear," Cloud complained from the closet.
"Don't you have a button-up shirt or something?" Tifa asked him.
"Yeah, but I haven't seen it since Cid's engagement party."
"Look between my dresses," Aerith said. "I think I borrowed it a few days ago."
"Can't I just wear my usual shirt?"
"No!" Aerith protested. "This is a special occasion!"
"We're all dressed up! You have to dress up too!" Tifa said.
By the time he was finally dressed, Aerith and Tifa were ready to go. They waited in front of Aerith's bedroom door, purses in hand. As he came out of the adjoining bathroom, he finally spotted their outfits, and his eyes widened. "You both look good," he finally said as he cleared his throat.
Tifa stared at the ground to try and hide her smile. Aerith beamed. Cloud had cleaned up well — the light blue button-up shirt brought out the vividness of his eyes. "So do you."
They shuffled down the steps, hand in hand, and made their way through town. The entire way there, Aerith felt like she was walking on air. The three of them had held hands while sleeping, or while dragging each other to and fro, but they'd never held hands while simply walking before. It was such a simple thing, but it made her heart soar nevertheless; a sure sign that this night was meant to be. "Maybe we can go see a show too," she sang.
They finally arrived at the spaghetti restaurant. It was perfect — the dim lighting, candles, and background music made for a very romantic atmosphere, and Aerith couldn't think of a better place in Edge to have their very first date. As Aerith looked around the dining room, making note of the many couples celebrating the holiday, Tifa finally let go of their hands to wait in line for the host. "Do you have any tables for three?" she asked.
If the host thought anything of their trio, he made no mention of it. He simply looked at his table chart and turned around. "Follow me."
They sat down and ordered. The restaurant itself wasn't terribly fancy — paper plates, plain napkins, drinks served in plastic cups — but it was the best Edge could offer in its current state. Donatello's was clearly trying to emulate a top-side restaurant, and everybody seemed more than happy to play along. Aerith had no problem sipping her cheap wine and acting as if it were from Rufus Shinra's personal collection. "I'll have the spaghetti," she told the waiter.
"Me too," Tifa said. "Cloud?"
He shrugged. The waiter took off and returned with three plates, sans parmesan, which he doled out with a long grater. Aerith batted her eyes and shot him her sweetest smile. "Can I get some extra?"
"So you twirl your pasta," Tifa instructed to Cloud, "like this." She neatly wound her pasta on her fork and scooped the tiny bite into her mouth.
Cloud's hand froze, inches away from his dinner knife. "Can't I just cut it?"
"We're on a date! You have to eat it right!"
The waiter finally pulled away, empty grater in hand. Aerith looked up from her massive pile of cheese. "Yeah, Cloud. Gentlemen don't cut their spaghetti."
"That's how I've always eaten it." Cloud argued.
Tifa shot him such a scalding look that even Aerith felt chastised. Cloud scowled and reluctantly began the arduous process of eating his pasta correctly. "Remember," he mumbled around his food, "the lengths I'll go to make you two happy."
At that, Tifa smiled and blushed anew. Aerith grinned and nudged Tifa with her foot. "Wouldn't it be easy to make this at home?"
"Yeah, it would be," Tifa murmured thoughtfully. "It's not exactly a complicated dish."
"That could be our next date," Aerith pitched. "Wouldn't it be fun?"
"We could make garlic bread with the old bread in the pantry," Cloud said. "My mom used to make stuff like that."
Aerith dug into her own cheese-covered pasta. As she twirled the noodles around her fork, she snuck glances at Cloud and Tifa, and could've sworn they were doing the same. Aerith looked to her left and caught Tifa staring at the neckline of her sundress. She then looked at Cloud, who seemed oddly fixated on Tifa's slender hands, until he shook his head and reached for his plate. "Does anybody want my meatballs?"
It might've been the wine, or the low lighting, or the romantic music, but Cloud and Tifa both looked exceptionally lovely that evening. The atmosphere seemed different somehow; even the most innocent of glances seemed to take on new meanings, though Aerith admitted to herself that she might've been looking into it too deeply. Aerith quickly drained the rest of her wine, as if it would clear her head and drown the butterflies in her stomach. "This is the first date I've ever been on," she admitted. "The first sit-down date, I mean."
Every time Aerith mentioned the word 'date', she half-expected Cloud and Tifa to turn around, emphasize that it was a friendly outing, that it didn't mean anything, a simple misunderstanding — even though they'd made it this far without correcting her. However, Tifa simply rested her chin on her hand and smiled. "Is it everything you've ever dreamed of?"
Aerith met her eyes and nodded. She gulped, her throat like a desert. "Absolutely."
Their next stop was Shiva Square: the home of Edge's first makeshift auditorium. An amateur theatre troupe was hosting a play, and tickets were dirt cheap. Unfortunately, everybody in Edge had the same idea as them, and the auditorium was packed to the brim with couples. Cloud ran ahead to grab seats, while Aerith and Tifa followed behind at a leisurely pace. "This'll make up for the Gold Saucer," Aerith whispered to Tifa.
"You mean that time you two went on a date without me?" Tifa said. Her tone was sullen, but Aerith knew it was a joke; she'd gotten over their little adventure a long time ago. "There's no gondola, so it's still not the same."
Aerith pouted. "Doesn't the spaghetti make up for it?"
Tifa sighed. "I guess it'll suffice."
Cloud sat down first, then Aerith, then Tifa. Aerith took her seat in the middle, then looked at each of their laps in turn; she slowly reached for their hands and pulled them into her own lap, her fingers threaded with theirs. Neither of them pulled away, and that small fact made Aerith's heart thud in her chest. A part of her hoped that this moment would never end — and it continued, to her satisfaction, for over twenty minutes. They were now well past the start time, and Cloud was starting to look antsy in his dress pants. "What's going on?" Tifa asked. Aerith shrugged.
They watched as a grey-haired man shuffled onto the stage — the first person they'd seen on stage all night. Everybody snapped to attention. He cleared his throat. "This is awkward," he muttered to himself, forgetting that the auditorium had perfect acoustics and everybody could hear him. "Do we have any seasoned actors in the crowd? We need three volunteers—"
Aerith stood up before he'd even finished his sentence. Cloud yelped as she nearly tore his arm out of its socket. "We have experience!" she yelled, even though she and Cloud had very little, and Tifa had none at all. "We can help!"
If Cloud and Tifa disagreed, they had no opportunity to object. The portly man glared at them as they ran backstage. He clearly wasn't happy with the sudden turn of events. "Thank you for stepping in," he said, as graciously as he could manage. "Our three leads went home with food poisoning."
Tifa gasped. "How awful!"
"They went to some silly restaurant that just opened." He pulled three scripts out of his coat pocket. "They left these behind. Pick whichever roles, I don't care."
"We'll do our best!" Aerith assured him.
He sighed and shuffled away, as if he were carrying the reputation of Edge's amateur theatre scene on his shoulders. "This was supposed to be a serious production..."
They only had ten minutes to learn their lines. It was an utterly impossible task, so they simply came to terms with the fact that they'd be terrible and went off to get ready. Aerith and Tifa took up residence in the bathroom, while Cloud threw his silly spandex prince costume on over his clothes. Aerith came out first and started fixing her witch's hat in a nearby mirror. "Weren't you supposed to be the princess?" he asked.
"Tifa and I switched roles," Aerith explained. "I thought she might want to wear pink for once."
Tifa burst out of the washroom. The tulle dress, nearly as wide as it was long, scratched against the floor as she walked. "This looks ridiculous!" She vigorously scratched her hips. "And it's itchy!"
Cloud frowned as he took in Tifa's appearance. "I think I like the black dress more."
"You don't say?!" Tifa exclaimed, voice laden with sarcasm. The tightness of the bodice had squished Tifa's cleavage up to her neck, which Aerith thought looked terribly uncomfortable. "I look like a cupcake!"
"I mean," Aerith slowly said, tilting her head to the side, "if you hate it that much, we can always help you take it off."
Aerith stared, picturing herself grabbing the tulle skirt and pulling it over Tifa's head. Cloud slowly nodded, as if he were thinking the same thing. Tifa's mouth dropped open in surprise. "L-later," she stammered, staring at the ground. "We have a job to do first."
Cloud eyed the emergency exit at the back of the theatre. "We could bail."
"The theatre guy says he'll give us coupons to the spaghetti restaurant if we do a good enough job," Aerith reminded him. "All we gotta do is get through a thirty-minute show."
"The place that gave those actors food poisoning?" Cloud asked, suspicious. "The one we were just at?"
Tifa, in the midst of scratching her hips bloody, paused. Years of running the bar on a slum budget had made her very thrifty. "I mean, we're fine," she pointed out. "It can't be that bad."
"Maybe those actors just had weak stomachs," Aerith reasoned. "Not like us."
The script was a standard fairytale story — a prince, a princess, true love, and a witch to muck it all up. It was so similar to the play from the Gold Saucer that Aerith wondered if the portly man had plagiarized it. As they hovered off-stage, waiting for their cues, Aerith read the opening narration on the script and realized that 'Galdia' had been scratched out and replaced with 'Aidlag'. She pointed it out to Cloud, who huffed. "Can't believe we're doing this again," he muttered to her.
"Remember the free spaghetti," Aerith whispered back.
"It wasn't even good—"
The narrator turned and gestured at Cloud. "Oh, you must be the legendary hero, Prince Albert!"
Cloud didn't move an inch. Tifa gave him a shove and gasped as Cloud went sprawling on the ground. "Sorry!" she whispered.
The crowd erupted into laughter. Cloud, flushed with embarrassment, picked himself up and continued on. Unfortunately, his performance didn't improve — it took considerable intervention from both Aerith and Tifa for him to remember his lines.
"I'm here to save the princess!" Tifa mouthed.
Cloud cleared his throat and hoisted his foam sword in the air. "I'm... I'm here to save the princess!"
That was their cue. Tifa's train was so long that Aerith stepped on it and tripped; they both went tumbling to the ground, but managed to pick themselves back up just before clearing the curtain. Cloud's mouth thinned into a line as he tried to hold his laughter in. Aerith and Tifa waddled past him, standing in the center of the stage. Suddenly, Aerith's mind blanked, and Tifa elbowed her in the ribs. "I have the princess right here," Tifa whispered.
Aerith grabbed Tifa around the middle and dragged her around a bit. Tifa bit back a squeak as the itchy tulle dug into her waist. "I have the princess right here! You'll never rescue her!"
The script was awful, but they tried their best. Aerith and Tifa shuffled off stage, dragging their costumes with them, while Cloud stumbled through his lines with the knight. They then moved on to the 'legendary battle' at the bottom of a volcano, which mostly consisted of Aerith throwing rainbow streamers at Cloud and Cloud doing an awful job of dodging them. He eventually threw a streamer of his own, and Aerith dramatically fell to the ground, clutching her stomach and groaning in pain. The witch's hat rolled off her head and came to a rest at the top of the stage.
Finally, they'd reached the climax of the story: saving the princess and leaving the witch to her doom. Aerith and Tifa both laid on the left side of the stage, feet away from each other, and waited for Cloud to approach them. He took one step towards Tifa and froze, eyes oscillating between the two of them. "Come here!" Tifa whispered. "You have to pick me up!"
Slowly, he began to walk again. He held his hand out for Tifa to take, as the script called for, and drew her up to her feet. Aerith stayed on the hard floor, sprawled out, waiting for the curtain to drop — but Cloud stopped in front of her. It took a moment for her to realize that he was offering his hand, palm up, for her to take.
Aerith's breath caught in her throat. "What are you doing?"
"Rescuing you," Cloud said, as if it was obvious. "Are you coming?"
After a long pause, she took it, not knowing what else to do. Cloud pulled them both off the stage, stopping only when they were well out of view. Aerith's mind whirled as she thought of the meaning behind Cloud's gesture; she glanced at Tifa and saw her stunned expression, as if she were pondering the same thing.
"It looks as if Prince Albert decided to save both the princess and the witch!" The narrator sputtered, improvising on the spot. "What a gallant fellow!"
"Let's bail," Cloud whispered. "This isn't worth the coupons."
They changed out of their hideous outfits as quickly as they could. The washroom was taken, so Cloud grabbed a piece of scenery and stood it up against the wall, giving them a space to change. The portly man, beet red in the face, waddled up to them as Aerith shoved her witch's robe between the scenery and the wall. Tifa, as polite as ever, was trying her best to fold the tulle monstrosity. Cloud, who was standing guard, clenched his fists as the man approached, ready to defend their privacy.
"You idiots—"
Just then, one of the stagehands ran up to them, saving Cloud the trouble of having to shove him back. The stagehand skidded to a stop in front of the portly man. "Sir, that was brilliant—"
Aerith and Tifa quickly threw on their dresses. As soon as they were finished, they darted through the back door, escaping while the portly man was besieged by endless compliments for his progressive take on a new tale. Aerith sighed as she stepped out into the cool February air. It wasn't until then that she realized she was wearing Tifa's black dress, and that it had quite a bit of extra fabric in the bust. She clutched the fabric in front of her chest and laughed out loud. "That was amazing!"
Cloud ran his hands through his flattened hair. "That was the most fun I've had in months."
"Never again, though."
"Never again," Tifa readily agreed. "That dress gave me a rash! And this dress—" She tried, in vain, to adjust it on her body. The fabric was so tight that it gave her no room to maneuver. "—How can you breathe in it?!"
"We'll just have to get you out of it," Aerith teased her. She reached for Tifa's hand. "Come on! Let's go home."
Aerith would've rather ended the night with a gondola ride, but this suited her just fine. As Aerith tugged Tifa down the street, Cloud reached for her other hand. She took it with a smile. A single drop of rain fell on their conjoined hands, spilling down their skin and hitting the ground.
The sky, which had been overcast all day, began to pour in earnest. Nobody in Edge had been expecting it, and the screams of couples on romantic walks filled the air. Cloud, Aerith and Tifa broke out into a run, darting through the crowds that were searching for shelter. The rain had thoroughly soaked them by the time they reached Seventh Heaven.
Rain filled Tifa's purse as she searched for her house key. "One second, it's here somewhere—"
Aerith took that moment to step away from the house and feel the rain in earnest. Even in the cool February air, the water felt amazing on her skin. She stretched her arms out to the heavens and spun around, lifting her face to the sky. Living in Edge was the first time she'd lived in the open air, and the novelty of rainfall, fresh from the sky, free of sediment from the upper plate, had yet to wear off.
Cloud wrung his soaked shirt out with his hands. His wet hair stuck to his scalp in clumps, hanging over his face. "Please tell me you didn't lose the key," he said, "we don't have a spare—"
Thunder rumbled in the distance. The feeling of the ground shifting beneath her feet filled Aerith with excitement. "Forget the key! We should dance!" Aerith sang. "The weather's perfect!"
"Where's your key?!" Tifa asked Cloud.
"Inside," he said.
The sopping black silk flew in the air as Aerith spun around. "I could stay out here all night," she announced, even though she clearly couldn't — her fingers had long turned numb, and her limbs had begun shivering from the cold. Thankfully, Cloud and Tifa had more sense than she did, and Cloud came out to grab her as Tifa finally found the key and wrenched the door open. He wrapped his arm around Aerith's waist, intent on dragging her inside.
Aerith planted her feet in the ground and looked up at Cloud's face. His eyes, even in the dark, looked stunningly blue; they stared back at Aerith, making her breath quicken. Aerith's gaze lingered until Tifa ran over to fetch them both. Aerith turned to Tifa, newly speechless at the sight of her, soaked by the storm, face flushed from the cold, wet dress clinging to every surge. Aerith thought her staring would've scared Tifa off, since she certainly wasn't being subtle with her leering, but all Tifa did was grab her hand and tug her towards the door. "We need to go inside," she insisted.
Tifa's voice was breathless. Aerith watched as her eyes darted to Aerith's soaked chest — to the front of Tifa's own dress, which hung off Aerith's body, exposing her white bra — and Cloud's transparent shirt, which clung to every muscle he'd earned during their adventures together. Tifa's chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes wide and eager, as if she were feeling the same things that Aerith had been feeling all night. Did Tifa feel the same way as her? Did Cloud?
There was only one way to find out.
Pure adrenaline shot through every inch of Aerith's body. If she didn't take this chance, she knew she'd never find the courage again. "I need to do something before we do," she insisted. And before Tifa could object, Aerith reached forward, grabbed the front of her dress, and pulled her into a kiss.
Aerith kissed her with everything she had, with desperation, with need, with long-buried desire, brought up to the surface by the ferocity of the storm. She was certain she'd gone too far, that Tifa was seconds away from shoving her away, until Tifa grasped Aerith's shoulders and kissed her back until Aerith was gasping for air. Cloud's arm was still wound around Aerith's waist, tight and possessive, and Aerith blindly reached for him, her hand grasping his own. As she finally pulled back and opened her eyes, she saw that Tifa had done the same.
The look that Cloud gave them was full of pure, unadulterated need. There was no mistaking the meaning behind his intense gaze; Aerith's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the wanting that rippled off of him in waves. They released each other and turned to him, intent on including him, but he had other ideas. "Inside," he insisted, before grabbing them and dragging them towards the door.
They left puddles on the floor as they ran up the stairs. Soon, they stood facing each other, water dripping from their hair, clothes clinging to their skin, in Aerith's bedroom — their bedroom. "We're gonna catch a cold," Cloud said in a low voice. "We should—"
The words get changed hung in the air, but that's not what they intended to do at all. Their clothes may have been about to come off, but they definitely weren't going back on for quite some time.
They first reached for their own soaking garments. Aerith's hands grabbed her dress straps, until she saw Tifa struggling to pull her own garment over her head. Cloud and Aerith both stepped forward and grabbed a piece of the skirt, tearing the dress off of Tifa's soaked body. Their hands grew more frantic after that; Aerith reached for Cloud's shirt, tearing the buttons button, while Tifa hastily shoved the straps of Aerith's dress down her shoulders. The wet garment landed on the floor, and Aerith quickly kicked it aside.
"I think we owe you a kiss," Aerith whispered to Cloud. Tifa reached up to him and crushed her lips against his, swallowing his heavy groan. Their hands reached Aerith's own, pulling her closer, making sure she knew she wasn't forgotten.
They may have been freezing, but they warmed each other up just fine. In the midst of bliss, filled with sighs, moans and wandering hands, Aerith knew she had made the right choice after all.
In the early hours of the morning, long after they'd tumbled into bed, Aerith found herself staring at the ceiling. She turned to Cloud and Tifa, who laid beside her, tangled in the comforter; neither of them were sleeping either. A question waited on Aerith's lips — one she'd always been afraid to ask, but she knew that this was the right time to ask it. "Why did you two start sleeping here?"
The usual excuses — drafts, broken windows, too much sunlight — went out the window as Tifa reached underneath the comforter. Her hand came to rest on Aerith's bare torso, just above her navel, where a three-inch scar laid. Cloud did the same, and the combined heat and pressure from their hands felt more healing than the spells that had saved her life.
Aerith had never been more happy to be alive.
She smiled, lifted their hands up, and pressed her lips to each of their palms. In Cloud's embrace, with Tifa's hands in her own, Aerith fell into a deep sleep.
A day ago, Aerith was beside herself trying to figure out what to do — with them, with this, as if her life depended on on making the right choice. She couldn't be greedy, they said. She couldn't have them both.
All it had taken was following her heart. Her intuition, as always, had led her in the right direction. She would've missed out on so much.
The scent of earth, wet from the rain, filled the room through a crack in the window. Tiny raindrops hit the glass, creating a soothing melody that made Aerith never want to leave bed. The fluffy comforter enveloped her like a cloud, though it wasn't nearly as comfortable as the real Cloud, who pulled her in tighter and burrowed his face in her hair. In all of her life, Aerith had never experienced such a perfect moment.
She would've missed out on this.
Tifa's sleepy smile was so cute that Aerith couldn't help but kiss her. Tifa slowly drew away and sighed as Cloud leaned over and pressed a kiss to Tifa's forehead. Aerith laid between them, pressed between their two bodies, as happy as a clam.
"Are we dating now?" Tifa whispered. "The three of us?"
The smile that slowly spread across Aerith's face was as bright as the sun. The morning was like any other, really; spent together in each other's arms, breathing the same air, hogging the same blankets. The only difference was the lack of clothing. "Weren't we always?"