What do you do when your dreams are destroyed?
Zack Fair never though he'd have to ask himself this question. Everything had always seemed so set, so rigidly place out in front of him; what missions to take, who to associate with everything.
But now, with his life is shambles he could look back and mentally slap himself for being so naïve.
He was a SOLIDER, not a policeman or a city guard, a SOLIDER, first class for Shinra and yet he blind.
Shit happens. And sometimes life was… life was cruel.
Life's cruelty was the reason Aerith was dead, Aerith was DEAD. His job had killed her, his job had killed is love, his life, his dreams.
And now what? What do you do when your dreams are destroyed? Three painstaking weeks, and an answer still had no come to him.
Comfort was found in the solid brown glass of the beer bottle he found himself with. Alcohol wouldn't bring her back, and in the back of his mind he knew that wasn't the reason he drank. At least he didn't have expensive taste, not like her…
The cheap shit that the bartender sold in the slums was sufficient enough, and so that was how Zack Fair found himself that night; a beer bottle in one hand, a crimson stained ribbon (soft as silk…) laying dejectedly in the middle of a shabby church.
Surrounded by the softness of her flowers. They weren't really hers anymore, after all she was… he couldn't bring himself to think it so instead he swallowed another burning mouth full of the piss they called beer.
He gazed upward, half expecting Aerith to come running, jumping up on his chest and demanding to know why he and slumped so low and she would snatch the bottle out f his hands and…
One more mouthful, to drive away those damned wishful thoughts. When loved ones die unexpectedly he realizes all the regrets (especially since men can never say what needs to be said) and the wishful thinking that the hole of that death creates.
He didn't cry though, not now, not even when Tseng pulled him from her mangled body or when he received the blood stained ribbon.
He was glad for this, no tears just and empty heart and a church too large for one person. All the time he wishes god had given him one more year, one more month, one more hour hell one more minute before everything stopped.
But no, she was dead and one day in the years to come he would come to terms with that but tonight would most certainly not be that night. For tonight, he still hid from the world, hid from himself.
"In a triumph of pain and horror smile." He muttered these words loving the echo in this silent, knowing he hadn't triumphed over anything but nonetheless giving a dull stilted smile to the church rafters.
Zack closed his eyes and put the bottle to his lips but he couldn't drink. He crushed the bottle in his hands knowing the dragon leather padding would protect his hands. And then darkness.
Water.
He was floating on water, could feel the wetness on his back. It was deathly silent, the only sound was his gentle breathing and someone lifted his head tenderly kissing his scars before cushioning him in their lap.
He didn't have to open his eyes to know that he was in her lap. Her fingertips brushed over his face and embarrassment filled him. Aerith combed through his matted black hair and huffed when her fingers encountered the many tangles.
"You've lost touch with yourself Zack."
"I lost everything when you died. What was I supposed to do when I lost all my dreams?"
"You were supposed to dream better dreams…"
"You were my better dream Aerith."
She kissed his lips, softly gently with a hint of longing.
"There will always be something better Zack.. Now open your eyes for me, you know I love their color."
Zack opened his eyes but all he saw was the cracked stone ceiling of this old, old church.