4/17/2017
Greetings! Flower from Midgar, or FFM is my first FF7 fic. If you think this is going to be a sweet story, please don't let the title fool you. FFM is dark, touching topics of human trafficking, unrequited love, trust, betrayal and second chances.
For old readers, I've changed the order of some parts of the story, realizing that some parts provide a better reading experience if read at the later part.
For new readers who're drawn or clicked the link out of curiosity, I would like to say thank you for the time for clicking the "Next" button, or just clicking "Chapter 1" without reading the rest of the story.
I hope you'll enjoy this story. Have fun!
Chryselis
Seven years ago…..
It was dead.
Cloud reclined in his chair, holding the potted plant he bought for a school project. He had lavished the plant with water, sunlight and affection. In spite of everything he had done, the plant looked dead.
Maybe it was dead, to his frustration, and so was his grade.
Remembering the reason why he bought the plant, he cringed. His Biology teacher had simple instructions: Buy a plant. Take good care of it. Document the changes you've observed. After one month, submit the plant and the documentation you made.
The young sixteen-year old Cloud immediately visited the only Flower Shop in Nibelheim, carefully browsing through the pots and vases of attractive flowers in different shades of red, blue, white and violet. To him, all the plants looked the same, yet for some strange reason, his eyes strayed towards a small green plant with sharp chubby leaves.
A box partially obstructed it from the view of potential buyers, stirring Cloud's pity for the potted plant. It was a poor little thing, rooted in a brown mug-sized container. Curious, he touched the white pebbles sprinkled on top of the soil and lovingly pinched the softness of the leaves.
The chubby leaves had won him, and Cloud found himself the proud owner of an Echeveria Succulent.
He had trouble remembering the name, and aptly renamed it as Fatty, aka "That Cute Fat Plant". His mother was deeply amused and allowed her son to nurture the plant, hoping Cloud would cultivate a green thumb.
Two weeks later, Cloud had only proved his thumb was black, and he had to do something—fast.
"What's wrong, dear?"
"My plant is dead, and so is my grade for Biology class."
Mrs. Strife observed the depressed plant. "I think Elvira's daughter can help you."
"Who?"
"Aerith." She reminded him. "You have seen the flowers around their house, right? Elvira told me her daughter planted those herself."
Cloud blinked. He knew who his mother was talking about. Elvira's only daughter and his batch mate at Nibelheim Highschool—Aerith Gainsborough.
She was a year older him, and was popular with the male students. Her strong affinity with plants and flowers earned her the monicker, "The Flower Lady".
Aerith kept her long brown hair in braids, and she was very feminine and appealing. That is, if guys loved the girl-next door look. Any guy would have been proud to introduce to their parents.
Despite her wholesome and nice-girl appearance, Cloud never had the courage to approach her at school. And not even his dying plant would change wanted to solve his problem without involving others.
"I think I'll buy another plant."
His mother laughed, sensing her son's dilemma. "Don't be silly, Cloud. No one died from asking help."
"I know, but it's just that—"
"Don't tell me you're scared of Aerith. She's a sweet darling."
Cloud bit his lip.
"Are you scared of her?" She asked. "Do you have a crush on her?"
He jolted from the chair, his face flushed in scarlet. "O-o-of course not mom!"
"They what are you waiting for?" she said. "Go to their house...now."
Cloud carried his beloved plant and placed it on the basket on his bike. No one died from asking help. He took a deep breath. Man up, Cloud.
The Gainsboroughs lived on the outskirts of Nibelheim, a good fifteen-minute bike ride from his house. Cloud took his time to enjoy the sights and sounds of families walking by the roads; the birds flying across the blue sky and the voices of children happily playing by the fields. The gentle breeze of the wind kissing his face and spiky blond hair as he pedaled his bike through the dirt road.
The bike-ride ended when he saw the familiar red roof of a two-storey house. Parking his bike near an oak tree, he approached the house and knocked on the door.
No one died from asking help, he told himself, trying to calm his nerves down.He looked around the property, smelling a subtle fragrance he couldn't identify. Not too strong, not too faint- An elusive scent that reminded him of babies and children.
The door creaked. "Who's there?" the voice said.
"Oh, Good morning Mrs. Elvira." He introduced himself. "I'm Cloud Strife, Aerith's batch mate at school. I, uh, was wondering if she's there?"
Elvira Gainsborough opened the door and urged him to come inside. It was the first time he had the opportunity to look at her directly. She was a beautiful woman, although a bit different from her daughter. She donned a white apron over her green dress. Her hair, the same shade of brown like Aerith's, was kept in a tight bun. "Please sit down. I'll call for her."
The wooden floorboards squeaked as he walked his way to the nearest chair and sat. The Gainsboroughs' lived in a modest yet spacious house. Natural light illuminated the room through the large windows, and the same elusive scent lingered inside the house.
"Hello, Cloud."
His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Aerith removed the straw hat from her head, revealing a long braid of brown hair neatly tied in pink ribbons. Mud and dirt smudged her immaculate white knee-length dress, gloves and boots. Her skin was flushed from the warmth of the afternoon sun.
Seconds passed.
Cloud licked his dry lips, his mind grasping for the words to say. They were never introduced, and he doubted if she even noticed him at school. Still, he had no choice. Between a failed grade or reviving a dead plant, he chose the latter.
"I need your help Aerith." He presented to her the dying Fatty.
Moving towards him, she cocked her head. "My, that is one over-watered Echeveria Succulent."
Echeveria what?
Aerith took the slumped plant and touched its yellow leaves. "Definitely overwatered. Come, let's go outside."
Cloud gaped upon seeing the different flowers that occupied every nook and cranny of the garden. Carefully, he touched the flowers and sniffed each one, looking for the scent that haunted him at the entrance.
"Did you plant these all by yourself?"
She nodded. "With my mother's help."
Aerith led him to a slightly shaded corner, where a large flower bed was set. He recognized some of the plants. "That looks like my Fatty."
Her green eyes perked with delight. "Fatty?"
Cloud scratched his head, embarrassed. "Er, it's the name I gave it."
She tried to suppress her laughter. "You must have named it after the leaves." Aerith pinched the soggy leaves. "It must have been adorable when you bought it."
"I don't understand why it's dying. I watered it daily, and I always left it outside the house for sunshine."
Aerith motioned Cloud to kneel beside the flower bed. "It's true that flowers thrive on sunlight and water, but Echeverias thrive on neglect. It doesn't need to be watered every day."
"I thought all plants needed sunlight and water." He sighed. "No wonder I killed it."
Aerith giggled. "You can water it once a week, and let it bathe in the sunshine every other day." She paused for a second. "A little praise does wonders too."
Praise? Incredulous, he couldn't help but ask. "You talk to plants?"
She impishly smiled. "I know it's a strange practice, but the flowers are livelier when I talk to them."
So this was the reason for her strong affinity with plants.
She respected and treated them like human beings, that the plant had no other choice but to respond. Cloud clapped his hands in genuine admiration. "No wonder they call you The Flower Lady."
She chuckled. "Thank you."
She set the plant near the flower bed. "Your little one is in such a bad shape. Can he stay with me for, hm, a week? I'll try to see what I can do."
He found it amusing that she addressed the plant as a living and breathing organism, even going so far to address it as a man. "Alright. Can I visit him after classes? I want to talk to him after all. I can walk you home, if you like."
Aerith's eyes slightly widened. "Oh my, that sounds like a date."
His face flushed. "I-I didn't mean that!" His heart beat rapidly. Shoot, he had never thought it that way.
"I was teasing you, Cloud," She smiled gleefully. "I'll walk with you. Shall I see you tomorrow then?"
He swallowed. "Th-thanks Aerith."
"You're from the Other Section, aren't you?"
Cloud stiffened at the innocent question. He wasn't a genius, nor was he a poor performer. He was average- and that was how the Other Section was categorized- a section of average joes.
For a moment, he was filled with shame to even admit it. Aerith sensed his distress and looked apologetic. "I'm sorry if I asked. It's just that, I rarely see you at school, even though we're batch mates."
"I'm not sociable type of guy." He reasoned.
She escorted him inside the house. Elvira was kind to offer him a glass of cold orange juice and a slice of home-made apple pie. Aerith urged him to stay and try her mother's cooking. Cloud graciously accepted and ate the pie, dripping with its sweet syrup. The warm soft bits of the apple dissolved his mouth, and he licked his lips several times, enjoying its juicy taste.
Suddenly, Aerith reached and gently brushed the crumbs on his cheek. Smiling, she looked into his blue eyes. "My mom bakes the best Apple Pie, right?"
Cloud's heart lurched. Blinking, he wondered if he was dreaming. An average joe sitting beside one of Nibelheim High's popular students. He wanted to pinch himself, but refrained from doing so.
"It's the best!"
Aerith's smile had easily dismantled his doubt. Everything that was happening was real, and it happened because he took courage to ask.
"Is it too late for my plant to survive?"
She shook her head. "You can never say it's too late, unless you try."
He smiled back, knowingly it was too late to uproot the seeds of an requited love he nurtured for her.