Notes: Characters are to Squeenix. This has been on my computer for about 3 years. I don't know why I never posted it- it's fluff- and I'll probably come back and edit it 10 times but I just wanted to shuck it out there and see how it was received.
Note The Second: Having NOT played Crisis Core some things may be inaccurate, although there really aren't many details and it's more an inner-monologue that is concurrent with FFVII. I did some reading up on CC- hence the change in our flower girls wardrobe (thank god!). If the fluff bug bites again I may continue this further into their relationship- I DO enjoy this pairing. Clo/aeris(ith?) always made me feel doom and gloomy... just sayin'.
Please Enjoy!
A Bad Idea
She was trouble. That was the first thing he noticed- well, the first thing his brain noticed.
After the initial glance of her through the cluttered street, eye having been caught by the sheer color of her dress, he'd followed up with a closer look. White was simply not a practical color for most people, this was doubly true for people who lived under the Plates. Making a clean living was hard enough, keeping free of the cities grime and pollution was another battle entirely. The majority of Midgars populace being the working class that they were - labourers or uhn, entertainers, you dressed for the job. And from the look of the String Bean in front of him this girl was neither, or so he desperately hoped. Perhaps that's why the corporate men on the Upper Plate all wore dark suits? They were just another camouflage, hiding the filth they dealt from view at large. But scum was quite visible from his vantage point.
The slip of a girl looked like she hadn't stressed a day in her life- somewhat of a miracle in this part of town. Clearly not worked to the bone in any sense of the meaning, he couldn't help but wonder exactly what she was doing right now, or in the city at all. She looked extremely out of place, it was clear to him even from his position trailing behind her. He'd closed his mind to the possibility of her working any regular underpaid nine-to-five gig. She was too young to marry, so that left…judging by the way she wore that dress she was either completely and innocently naïve, or entirely out of sorts within her profession. The latter caused his chest to tighten briefly- she's too young!
But Zack dismissed the thought.
Her smile was a little too genuine, her eyes a little too bright. Correction- everything about her was a little too… something. Young? Untouched? Too whole? Too easily moulded or ruined?
She stood out like nothing else in a crowd and didn't seem the least bit affected- or aware for that matter. It crossed his mind that it was possibly a contributing factor to his captured attention. Why he wouldn't stop looking was another (ungentlemanly) reason entirely. He really shouldn't be staring at all, she couldn't have been older than fifteen, sixteen tops. Never mind that she looked simply sweet in an even more simple dress.
It was a white and blue pattern, not particularly revealing, but somehow fitted well enough in all the right- or was it wrong? -places.
He suspected foul play on both his and her parts. More her really. Because she had to know she looked inviting- standing out that much- acting none the wiser. She separated easily from a crowd, looking all pretty and innocent as she did, he couldn't really blame himself for looking. The longer he followed her shape through the throng of foot traffic, the more trouble he knew he was in for.
Every modicum of common sense he had was deterring him from further investigating his curiosity.
On one hand: Jail-bait.
It would be much easier (physically and ethically) to 'play with kids his own age' so to speak.
But on the other hand: Curiosity.
Zack carefully weighed his options. Maybe keeping to his own 'friends' was the problem? Perhaps he needed to branch out a little more. True, there were plenty of fish in the sea, but he was beginning to think he needed a new demographic. The waters in Midgar weren't what he called fresh- or hard to catch for that matter. Noting with no small about of chagrin, that this had a large amount to do with his lack of a serious relationship for the past two years.
The truth was Zack found himself a little bored with the company he'd been keeping.
It was all well and fine when he was new to the city- everything was exciting when you came from a small village like Gongaga. There was no lack of company at the waterholes soldiers frequented, but after so many late nights and early mornings bridged by cheap drinks and cheaper places people liked to call 'hotels' (hovel, more like) the faces, places, and names just blurred together. It was all too easy. Too many women were simply too eager for a quick night and all it would cost him was the five gil for a poorly-mixed drink and half hour of vacant conversation. The clothes were too tight, too not-there in some cases, glitzed and gaudy, and the motivation was all wrong.
Not that he didn't appreciate a well put together woman- on the contrary, Zack was quite appreciative of women. But somewhere along the last two years packaging started to play second fiddle. A nice package was great, but eventually that's all it was, a package.
He dated his fair share, but it all seemed pretty trivial and lacking substance at the moment. The thought of dating, or browsing the bars for company had never seemed so unappealing to Zack.
Suddenly feeling very old he realised he simply wanted to be with someone. Not just anyone either. The thought was scary. Someone he could hold a conversation with, not just friendly innuendo laden banter intended to keep the awkwardness at bay until the liquor did it`s job and everything got easier-- No, Zack wanted a whole woman. One that new what she wanted and held no illusions, no chip on her shoulder, no catty games.
He'd been unable to find such a woman thus far, why not try something a little different? Consequences be damned. So what if she is, like, twelve? Part of him reasoned.
`You don't know that,` he argued back, `she could be-` Eleven! the arguably more ethical part of him supplied. Honestly man, would you look at her? She screams trouble.
Zack had looked, and was continuing to do so-without his minds prompting.
Look at her face, Zack.
The less inhibited side of him complied- begrudgingly- and turned its focus to the girls face. Again he was struck with the outright way she stood out. There was something 'full' about her (though it clearly wasn't her figure- yet.) it was down right appealing. She seemed completely comfortable with her own skin, despite her small stature.
She really was just a girl- she looked bright and her flesh still looked pulled over her frame-; not quite a woman, but the curves she did have were in the right places at such a point were he could tell she'd be extremely dangerous in a year or two.
She really was a bad idea. And he knew better. It was just common sense. Fortunately or not, Zack never relied much on what little amount of sense he had. He was a man of action.
Checking the street quickly, he knew he was in a lot of trouble even before he set a foot out in her direction.
No, judging by the way she smiled, he was utterly doomed.
Fin
