Before They Were Heros
Colors
She hates being dirty, and she swore to Barret that's the last time she ever went in the sewers again...AVALANCHE or not.
But she knows it's a lie, and so does he.
She can feel the sweat sticking to her skin, confined by the grime that's collected. Her scalp feels like it's on fire, her hair greasy.
Her favorite color is yellow; she loves every color, but yellow is her favorite.
She can't wear it though. Her skin is too pale, and it makes her look washed out. It's a shame to not be able to wear your favorite color.
They tell her red is her color. It goes with her eyes. Another reason she can't wear yellow. Yellow doesn't befriend red too well.
She figured her favorite color would be blue...the blue of his eyes specifically, but it'd been so long since she'd seen them, and there was no other blue like those. What's the point in having a favorite color if you can only see it in your dreams?
It's the towels, though, that catch her attention. They're a deep, rich purple. Purple, it's a good color, and she's never seen these towels before. They look too lush, too soft to be in the slums. But they're here.
And she realizes why the purple has made an impact on her, because she hasn't really seen the color purple for years.
It was Zack, he had purple eyes. They were so deep, and dark sometimes, on that journey up the mountain. Other times, they were light and cheerful, but always purple.
She hasn't seen Zack since that night at the reactor.
She hasn't seen him. The boy with blue eyes. The boy that promised to be there for her, to be her hero. The boy that disappeared.
She glances at the towels. She wants more purple in her life, purple like the cheer in his eyes; more blue, blue like the intensity in his eyes, blue like the skies that are nothing but a myth beneath the plate. More yellow. Yellow like his hair, yellow like the sun she hasn't seen in so long. Yellow like the flowers that her mother grew behind her house.
Maybe she liked yellow more, because that's all she ever saw of him. His eyes, they were beautiful, but rare. She never saw them, really, he was too busy hiding his head. But she'd always catch a glimpse of his yellow locks shining in the sun. Maybe that's why she loves yellow, because when she'd catch a glimpse of it, she'd think he was around. She'd know he was there.
She'd stopped looking at yellow after Nibelhiem died. When she saw yellow, she thought of him, and how she'd never see him again.
But she's tired of that.
So she went shopping. She bought colors, fabrics that spoke volumes. Even if she can't wear it, can't wear blue or purple or yellow, she'll have it to see.
It's when she's walking around Sector five that she sees the woman.
All pink, and she envies her. Barret told her not to wear bright colors, that colors attracted attention, and people were more likely to remember your face. So she was stuck in this bar whore's costume for the time, and it wasn't like they were looking at her face anyways. Subconsciously she crosses her arms over her chest, grateful for the jacket she borrowed from Jesse.
She nears the woman, and notices the basket of flowers hanging from her arm. She has to pause, studying the basket, the flowers. Yellow...yellow like the flowers of Nibelhiem, of home.
She reaches out, before she's even thought of it, touching one of the silky pedals. It catches the woman's attention. She turns, beaming green eyes, and smiles at her.
"Would you like to buy a flower?"
She swallows, looking down at her bags. "I just spent all my money." She yanked the fabric from her bag.
The woman's eyes alighted on the purple fabric almost immediately, and she noticed a pain fill the woman's eyes.
"I can't wear purple." The woman stated.
She believes the woman hadn't meant to say it out loud, and she really doesn't see why not; she thinks the woman would look fine in purple.
"Would you like it? I can't wear my favorite color either, but that's not going to keep me from enjoying it, not anymore at least." She replied to the woman.
"But...but I can't just take what-
"I'll buy a flower." She stated, holding out the fabric.
The woman's eyes go wide, "What...color?"
"Yellow."
The woman forfeited a yellow flower to her, and then smiled, a bit of hope sparking in her eyes.
"Thank you."
She took the flower, and continued on her way, only sparing one glance over her shoulder at the woman. She's staring at the fabric as if she's never seen the color purple before. But there's something in the woman's eyes that she recognizes. A pain, a fear, a nightmare that the man with that color eyes will never come back.
She turns to continue on her way, the blue and yellow fabric melding together in her hands.
It's a shame when you can't wear your favorite color.
A/N: random, eh?