The air was already wet before the rainfall, even his hair had started the raise and frizz under the light spray of chemical rain. Well, if he needed to be any more a spectacle there it was. But he knew better, the eyes he felt on him as he went along weren't because every silver strand of his wasn't in place. It was because of who he was, it was because of where he was.
He didn't like the slums. It was a filthy, decaying place, and the people did not even bother to pretend they weren't staring. He wasn't alone in his feelings, Zack apparently couldn't stand it either. He had grown up in the country, and Sephiroth supposed the man had more reason than he to hate this place. He knew the only reason Zack even came down here was to see...
Sephiroth pushed the thought out his head as quickly as he could, a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn't doing anything wrong. He had business in the slums and that was all. He lingered by shop after shop, refusing to even admit his pretense to himself. Then it cut through the air, something sweet slicing into something rotten. His nose tickled and he turned to see a bit of pink between the tangle of arms and legs made by the Midgar rush.
He didn't need to say anything as he moved toward it, he was given a wide berth. That's how most of them were, afraid. As they should be. The man found his eyes following a long row of buttons, flexing his fingers. She didn't have any flowers today, it was too bad because he liked the white ones especially. Such a pretty little thing. Her eyes were to the ground and stayed there, even as he stood nearly in front of her.
Refusal. He knew it well enough, but he knew better when she finally raised her head that it was a passing thing. In the moment he knew he was a deplorable man. But at the same time he felt that he was beyond that and self aware enough to know and accept his own corruption.
"General...my boyfriend has told me so much about y-"
"Flower girl." He interrupted the pantomime she always put up, playing into it and yet breaking the illusion with the familiarity in his voice. She winced, he wanted to move the game along. She would always mention him first, say the same thing she said the first time they met. When it had truly been an accident.
He didn't know what it was about the game once it was initiated, but he stopped denying himself and instead worked to get it, bring her onto his plane. Because she was corrupted too, and it was only a matter of time. It was the release and control he craved all at the same time.
"His name is Zack, I think you kn-" This time she cut herself off, the look on his face made her tongue go to gum. Eyes narrowed, mouth taut. She hated it when he looked at her like that. After all of the things she'd let him do to her in that church, and she would still wither under his glare. Actions that usually become a little less effective after such a personal connection is made.
She felt angry and so incredibly dirty, but she could never call herself a victim. She could feel her lines falling flat every time the chance came about that she might deny him, put an end to it and let the marks remind her it was all real. But she didn't want to face it or think about what linked them so tightly, she didn't want Zack to find out. Because she had normalcy with him and she was pretty certain that love was what they had together. Not this. Not something pursued in the dark, something that was so obviously wrong.
A beautiful man can make a girl so stupid.
Zack made her forget the voices in her head, the man in front of her reminded her they were there. Reminded her that she wasn't alone in her struggle with normal things. They didn't talk much at all, she could hardly even remember a time when he'd said her name, but that bond was there. Which made the whole thing even worse. She supposed that if this had been unavoidable, something superficial would've been easier on her mind.
Though, she wasn't going to pretend she was immune to his looks. She didn't know a person that was.
"Sephiroth. We cant...I don't...I have flowers to sell." It looked as if his patience was wearing. He only gazed down at her, waiting out the fight they both knew was temporary. She looked at him, eyes dark and troubled under the frizz. "Why...why don't you help me pick more?"
(A/n: Er...this was meant to be a drabble. Eh, even if it turned out longer than I wanted I had fun trying my hand at Aerith/Sephiroth. If you liked it or even if you didn't, I'd like to hear from you. Thanks for reading.)