matchgirl
disclaimer: ff7 is not mine.
i
It rarely snows in Midgar, pretty flakes of crystallized snow, that float onto the desolate slums, coating the grime and mess with a delicate veil.
But when it does… Reno wants to do nothing but play outside, freezing himself to death, slowly becoming cold, but feeling all the more alive.
He hates the cold, he loves the snow, but he knows that they can't live without the other. He doesn't have enough money to buy more clothes, save the rags that his "family" – a group of people that he has become accustomed to manage to spare a few scraps of material, producing thin mittens, incomplete gloves, incomplete scarves… the list goes on and on. He doesn't like to depend on them, but he can't live without them—those people—that gang with numbers that depletes and grows are united, each person carrying a story within them, a sparkling star in their eyes.
But when it snows, in those cold blue white days of winter… Reno sees her.
A girl. So sad. Alone and isolated, wrapped up in thin layers of barely conceived clothes, her peony lips shaking blue and a blossoming flower of bruises across her pale skin.
She carries matches with her, Reno notices, an endless supply, his emerald eyes narrowing as he sees her, but she never lights them for herself.
"Sir?" She asks; musical voice timid. "Would you like a match? No? What about you, Miss? Do you need matches to light up your fire? Or how about you, kind man, to use for your cigarette or to light up a candle?"
But they all shake their heads, whispering their murmured apologies, brushing her aside, the contact cold and hard on her pale white skin.
With a broken smile, she nods understandingly and steps back, wistful as she fades away into the crowds, the snow continuing to fall.
Reno blinks, emeralds eyes missing something, and she's gone.
But he thinks of her, each time those white flakes dance from the high heavens.
He wants to talk to her. One day.
ii
It's been five years. He's fifteen now.
He was ten when he first saw her, that nameless girl with the pretty brown eyes and hair the colour of a baby chocobo.
Something is not right. He can sense it, like a chill running through his bones, tingling through his spine.
There's never been a mist in Midgar slums this thick, this bad.
And he has to see her.
There is terror growing in his gut that if he doesn't, he'll never see her again and Reno…
Reno doesn't want that.
A cold breeze passes, blowing his long hair, loose, not in a ponytail – he has no string or elastic band to pull it back.
The snow begins to fall and float, tiny tears from the angels that reside in those clouded skies.
And he bumps into someone.
"Oh!"
"Hey! Watch it!" He says, emerald eyes blazing, his sharp mouth ready for a battle of wits and sarcasm while playing the fool and the jester. He barely notices that his hand has taken a hold of a scrawny arm, with tattered clothes acting as a small cushion. "What do you—"
"I'm – I'm sorry!" She says, voice instantly recognizable. "I didn't mean - I'm so sorry!"
And he freezes, his ire disintegrating as he listens to the sound of her voice, captivating him.
She's shaking.
And she's so cold.
It's all Reno can do, to not embrace her and share his body heat with her, but to say: "You sell matches, don't you"
Voice quivering, she utters a meek "yes".
"How much? I'll buy them from you." He says brusquely, trying to see her face, angrily cursing that the mist is so thick that he can't see her pretty face up front and close to him.
But he's terribly aware that as the seconds pass by, the blonde match girl is shaking more violently. He can hear her teeth chattering, getting louder and more constant as the breeze hits them.
"O-one Gi-il." She says, reaching for her belt, which holds her bag of those precious matches.
However…
She collapses before the trade can be made, fading into unconsciousness, as the skies shed their falling white tears into the embrace and arms of the fiery redhead.
iii
He's stroking her hair when she awakens, two wide and curious eyes, innocently looking at him, slightly wary, slightly tense. But she blinks, breathes and relaxes, feeling the warmth of the fire and the rug that she is cocooned in, wrapped tightly and carefully around her.
She gives him a small smile.
"Oh," she says softly, "it's you."
"Oh," he replies, voice just as gentle, "you're awake."
A silence passes between them and Reno eventually stops resting his hand on her silky hair, wondering if it's the right thing to do.
"What do you mean," he frowns at the next few words, "'it's me'?"
"I meant no offence, Red." She sighs, sitting up, but still leaning against him. "It's just that I've seen you a few times while I was selling my matches. In a crowd of people, I can see your hair so clearly." She coughs, her pallor still pale, not regaining a healthy colour.
"Are you alright?" He asks, voice sounding so gruff in his impish ears.
"Yeah." She nods, giving him a small smile, this time more comfortable and easier to give. "Just a cough, Red, I get them sometimes. It passes. They always do."
Silence falls upon them, delicate like those crystallized flakes. Until Jessie comes.
"Say, yer that match girl, aren't ya?" Jessie asks, eyes glittering mischievously. "The one that Red here is pining for. He talks about you nonstop. And when he doesn't…" and Reno does not like the teasing smile that is touching Jessie's wide lips, or that dimple on the side of her cheek, "… he's thinking about ya."
Reno hopes with fervor that the match girl leaning against him does not see that his cheeks have turned into a bright cherry red.
"Really?" She says, a rosy blush blooming on her white cheeks. "That's…. nice." And before she realizes, salty tears start to fall like those pretty flakes, floating on those blue-white skies. "Nobody's ever done that to me. Mama's dead and Papa—" she freezes before continuing, quivering just a little bit. "Papa's a whole different story."
"Whoa, girlie," Jessie says, hastily searching for a cloth to dry those falling tears. "I didn't mean to make ya cry. Alright?" Dabbing the cloth on the match girl's face, her voice becoming gentler and quieter as she repeats herself. "… alright?"
"Yeah." The blonde girl replies.
"Cool. Hey, Red—" Jessie grins at Reno's murderous expression, knowing quite well that he hates the nickname. "What's her name?"
"Er…" The colour fades form Reno's cheeks as he realized that he hadn't reached that part yet.
Jessie internally laughs, while Reno smothers a scowl.
"Elena." The match girl says, speaking for herself. "My name is Elena."
"Pretty name for a pretty face." Jessie comments, before introducing herself. "I'm Jessie, but ya can call me Jess if ya want to. And this here is Reno. Strange guy, but he's alright. Fun to tease, you should remember that."
"Don't listen to her," Reno half-growls, eyes narrowing at the brunette woman. "She didn't mean it."
"But, Red," Elena says slowly, "why would I tease an angel – my saviour?"
And for the first time, Reno is rendered speechless.
iv
She wears a broken smile on her face and gives anyone a chance to fix it.
Reno wonders why this is, but says nothing as he give a gentle grin of his own, also offering a share of his food, sitting beside her in a flickering fire place. It's thanks to her that the fire is possible.
"… thank you." She murmurs, restricting her words. There's a reason why she doesn't talk too much, but Reno has yet to discern it.
Jessie approaches them, her two friends, Briggs and Wedge, beside her.
"Elena, Reno, mind if we join?" She asks, her tone as jovial and friendly as always, but there's something odd in her expression like a change is going to occur.
"Sure. Go and make yourselves comfortable." Reno shrugs, his eyes watching Elena nod and gesture, as well as being partially intrigued by the boisterous woman's behaviour. "I'm guessing you got something to say?" He inquires, after most of them have finished eating their meals.
Jessie sighs, the smile so often appearing on her face fading fast. "Yeah, you're sharp, Red." She pauses, hesitant before continuing. "Me, Biggs and Wedge here are gonna leave. We've been here fer too long. Slum life ain't gonna get any easier, I figure, and we're not really makin' a livin', so, yeah – we're goin'."
Silence ensues, before Reno realizes that Elena is squirming under Biggs' gaze, and is about to say something, before the burly man beats him to it.
"You're that match girl, ent ya?" With a small and shy nod, he continues. "Ya sing… sometimes. I've heard ya, and I don't know why you're so shy – you've got a great voice – You'd make far more money if you tried for a job as a singer."
He doesn't know if the matchmaker girl will reply, but isn't surprised when she averts her eyes to the ground and clings onto Reno just a little bit tighter than before.
"I'm not saying 'come with us', but…" Jessie scratches the back of her neck, looking away for a moment, "you should leave Midgar, before it's too late." She meets Reno's eyes, oddly serious. "Yer fifteen, sixteen soon. And ya gotta get outta this place so ya can live." She stands up, giving them one last glance, her expression unreadable. "Just promise me that ya'll think about it." She leaves after that, chatting amicably with other people in the vicinity.
The two teens watch her before Elena lets go of Reno's arm and wraps herself around a blanket, silently offering Reno part of it to share.
"She's right." He hears her quietly murmur a "what?". "We should go, leave Midgar. We can do better than this." He proceeds to explain, before asking her, emerald meeting topaz, tentatively putting his arm around her shoulder. "Where do you want to go, 'Laney?"
"… snow." She replies, before elaborating. "Somewhere with eternal snow that falls."
"Why?"
Her wide eyes meet his, terribly innocent and childlike.
"Because that's when I met you."
"Oh."
Then:
"How long are you going to stay with me?"
"By your side?" She whispers, her eyes never leaving his.
"Yes."
"Forever."
At that moment, Reno, propelled by the beating of his heart, kisses her; her forehead, her cheek and the corner of her pretty peony mouth.
He closes his eyes, resting his head on her shoulders.
"Thank you."
v
It's been several years now and they've changed. Little by little, the transitions so subtle to them that they don't even notice.
They've gained jobs. One more steady than the other.
Elena is a singer at the bar, tall and willowy, her peony mouth more chattery and talkative than ever before, once she had conquered her stage fright. She sings to her heart's content and occasionally, much to Reno's amusement, she sells matches.
Reno's job is less stable. It pays well, but there is danger with every mission. There is always a risk that he won't come back to his haven. To her.
"I met someone today, Red." Elena says, gazing out the window, watching the eternal winter wonderland. "I think he likes me."
He pauses, eyes glimmering a strange emotion, but since she is gazing out the window, she doesn't cat it. He gets out a cigarette, his vice starting from when his job began. "Really?" He hopes that he doesn't sound crushed.
"Yeah." She shrugs, reaching for her pocket – therein lies a packet of matches. "I turned him down."
"Why?" He dances with death each time the phone rings and tells him of another mission. He wants her to move and dare he say it, love someone else who can promise her forever, but…
He's selfish.
He wants her to himself.
But—
"He's not you, Red." She lights the match, in turn lighting the cigarette. "He might be taller – taller than you, handsome, dark-skinned and completely the opposite of you but… all I want is you."
"Match girl, I swear…" He kisses her, one nickname for another, the cigarette easily falling into his hand. "… I gotta know where you get those matches."
She pulls back, a smile touching her lips, gracing her cheeks. "It's a SE-CR-ET."
He grins back, lopsided as ever. "You and your secrets."
"Maybe I'll tell you them, one day."
"Maybe."
Her smile is somber, wistful as she says: "I'll tell you one today."
"Today?" His eyebrow arches, piqued by curiosity.
"Uh-huh. Outside." With a flirtatious wink, she takes his hand entwining it with her own. "Right now."
And it begins to snow, soft and slow, swaying and floating like those cold winters in Midgar.
"Well?"
She lets go of his hand, silently debating the matter, before deciding and places her hands on his shoulders, standing on her tippy-toes to reach his ear and whispers…
"I love you."
vi
She looks ravishing. She looks radiant.
She has never looked more beautiful in his entire life.
And she's engaged. To him.
Tonight, she's going to go out with a bang.
She's going to give them all she's got.
"Reno… c'mon, Red…" She says, half begging, half pleading, dying from her curiosity. "Tell me what you meant."
"Later, babe. Later. I promise."
"But, I… I really want to know now."
He wraps his arms around her, kissing her forehead comfortingly, murmuring a "soon."
"Wish me luck?"
"Always, match girl."
She grins, her smile no longer broken. He fixed it so long ago.
"Thanks Red."
She kisses him, sweet and chaste.
And for some reason, it feels like goodbye.
vii
When she sings, she becomes a star, a falling comet in the atmosphere, too bright and pure and beautiful for the audience to handle, illuminated by the lights that surround her and the dimmed lighting where the audience are situated.
And in his eyes, it is Elena who is the angel.
Her topaz eyes sparkle, prettier than the jewel that rests on her middle finger. Her golden hair glows, luminescent of a heavenly gift. Her skin, pale as a pearl, flushes into a dainty pink… and there's nothing more beautiful than that.
When the song ends, the enchanting melody over, her lips part, barely touching the microphone, small hands gently resting on the stand, she gives them one last smile, one last applause.
And before Reno can stop himself, he is by her side, kissing her because tonight she is so goddamn beautiful and—
And outside, under the starless sky, darkened by the approach of midnight, a stranger makes his way towards the village.
Giggling, laughing, eyes brimming with joyful tears, Elena and Reno leave, hand in hand, the door opening to reveal the wonderland of Icicle Inn – the pretty village of white that reminded them of those distant days of Midgar.
A stranger stood before them.
And everything came to a halt.
"Papa…"
"You little bitch…" He hisses, masqueraded by the shadows and black clothing, his hand shaking.
"No… papa… don't—"
A scream.
A gunshot.
Silence.
viii
The snow that falls is stained red with her blood.
Reno holds Elena, so limp and pale in his arms that she is like a frail doll, ready to break into thousands of porcelain pieces.
"No… no! You can't… you can't go – not after everything we've been through – you, me, us!"
His immaculate clothes are being soaked with her blood.
"I love you – I love you – goddammit, Elena – I… I… you can't die… not… now…"
He clutches her, and she's silent, her eyes of topaz watching his emotional emerald eyes, her thoughts becoming muddled and vague, his sentences becoming incoherent.
"Hey, Reno. I can see a star going out in your eyes."
A star going out. Someone's soul going to heaven.
Hers.
And Reno forces himself to focus, to dredge up the tale that he had desperately wished to spare her from.
"Once upon a time…" he begins, because Elena always liked—likes—stories to start like a fairytale, no matter what the ending, "there was a match girl who lived in the slums. One day, when the snow was falling, she looked up and saw a star, a comet going out and she remembered that a falling star meant that a soul was going to heaven – joining the Lifestream…" He chokes, it hurts so much to think, to breathe, to talk, when the person he loves the most in the Planet was dying…
He'd kill her 'father'—
He was gone. All that remained was a gun. And Reno couldn't—wouldn't move.
"And she remembered that the only person who loved her was her grandmother," He continued, his sight blurry, but the image of Elena was so strong that he could visualize her with every heartbeat, every blink of the eye. "That night, she had a dream about her grandmother, who took her to heaven. The next day, the match girl was found, alone in the cold slums, no longer part of the world."
That was the story he had tried to save her from.
"I… 'Laney… don't leave me…" He begs, while she breathes her last breaths. "I tried… I tried to save you from the same fate…" His voice sounds so weak and distant in his ears.
"Angel, you're here with me. So I'm not alone…" Her chest heaves painfully as she coughs; everything feels so cold and lifeless. "My angel…"
He wants to scream and run and shout and die, but his body refuses to move except to touch her soft mouth with his salty one, the tears transferring from one face to another.
"I love you…"
A falling star could be seen above them among the flurry of crystallized white snow-tears.
ix
By the time morning dawns upon the new day, all that remains is stained red snow, a gun with two bullets missing…
… and one last packet of matches.