He did not come to Midgar with anything—friends, love, money or even himself.
The sky was steel and they slept in the shadows, breathing crushed air as the sunshine was torn from their skin. The people did not seem to care though; care for anything but making a living for themselves. Not selfish, however, just surviving with cracked faces.
And she smiled.
Just one gil, sir, was all she asked for; and a gil did not seem much for what she offered—and he did not understand the extent of what she would give him, yet. But the answer was simple; the answer was everything, everything in exchange for sorrow. And a gil that, if she kicked her scuffed boots in the dirty ground, she could have found gleaming within the slums.
Hands met, and a silent contract was made. Fall in love with me and die in my arms; just forgive me, please. Face to face, boots inches apart, and for the gil, thank you.
He left with a single flower.
