Outside HQ, Zack answered his phone.
"Hey sweetheart, I'm kinda busy right now. Can I call you back?"
"Oh…No it's okay, you don't have to."
The slight disappointment in her voice.
"I have a few minutes. What's up?"
"Well…I just had an idea for something we could do together. You know, like a fun project."
"What is it?"
"Um, I was thinking. You know how the flowers sell so well off the table? Well maybe they'd sell better if they were in their own little display. So, I want to build a flower wagon."
Zack threw a blank stare out into nowhere.
"A flower wagon…"
"We hardly get to spend time together anymore since you're so busy. I thought it would be something fun we could do together."
"You want me…to build you…a flower wagon."
"…You think it's stupid don't you? You're right, I'm sorry, maybe it's a bad idea."
"No, it's a great idea."
"You really think so?"
"Yeah, I'll get the stuff to build it and come over after work."
"I can't wait to see you."
"You too. I'll see you then."
Zack wore the same flat stare as he hung up.
He walked back up into SOLDIER wing with a million things on his mind, and found Kunsel in the break room.
"Kunsel, you know where I can find a power-drill? And like every other tool ever made?"
Kunsel rubbed the back of his head.
"Uh, I can check the supply cache for you. What do you need them for?"
"I just need them."
"You building a house, bro?"
"No…" Zack lowered his voice. "I'm building a flower wagon."
"A what?"
"A flower wagon," he talked through his teeth.
"What was that, Zack? I can't hear you."
"I'M BUILDING A FLOWER WAGON!"
Everyone in the break room looked up. He groaned and started off for the supply cache.
"Zack, just call an escort!" someone yelled after him. It was lost on deaf ears.
Zack got on the train with three things slung over his back—lumber boards, a bag of tools, and a Buster Sword—staring at the ceiling to avoid the wayward glances that stared at him. A subway advertisement for some travel agency hung along the border.
DO YOU HATE YOUR LIFE?
Zack got off in Sector 5 as some construction workers got on. Ouch. He headed to the church pursing his lips when Aerith met him inside. He gave her a quick hug, dropped all the stuff and got to work.
He held up the lined-paper instructions sideways and upside down, turning it over and over.
"At least it's easier than IKEA," Aerith joked. He didn't laugh.
Zack tacked boards together just so they connected in some way. By the end, he'd built a four-dimensional Hypercube, but it wasn't a flower wagon…take it all apart, start over. He hammered nails into everything except the other board, while Aerith followed behind with the powerdrill, making sure they stayed in place for him. He had all the tools scattered on the ground, and not a single clue what each of them did, his mind picturing battle-bots as he messed with allen wrenches. Three hours in and he was cursing up a storm laced with such blatant innuendo that it even made Aerith blush.
"God, it's stuck…It won't go in…Spread already…Turn over damn you…Screw it…Mother F—"
"Hey, it's okay. Let's take a break," Aerith suggested, but he threw his hammer across the floor.
"My thoughts exactly…" He got up swinging his arms, running his hands over his face like a POW. He muttered to himself in frustration. "…It feels so stuffy here...You can't see the sky…Wouldn't you normally miss seeing the sky if you lived under a plate...Guess I'm not normal."
"What are you talking about Zack?"
"I'm talking about taking a break!"
He turned on her in a whirlwind, and everything froze. She stopped breathing…she didn't recognize him.
"…Are you okay?"
His brow furrowed in brazen viciousness, eyes stone and fiery.
"Do I look okay?"
"No. No, you look really mad, and I'm kinda scared. Could you please just tell me what you're feeling? We can talk about anything."
"Yeah, I know, this is a safe place too."
"What?"
He took a deep breath, looking around at everything and nothing, but really looking somewhere deep within. He paced, his eyes falling on the flowing winged statue that stood against the wall like a silent observer. They remained fixed there as his whole body seemed to come to a resolution.
"…I don't think I want to do this anymore."
Aerith fell on the pew, talking fast now, tunnel vision staring up at her boyfriend.
"…Whatever you want Zack. What do you want?"
"Don't do that."
"Please talk to me." The tears were on their way, too late. Panic streaked her cheeks in salted dew as she reached out to him. She had to bring this down. "Okay, this was a really, really stupid idea, I'm so sorry. Can we please forget about it?"
"Don't make this any harder than it is."
"Please tell me why! Please Zack, please, please!"
He was pacing, he was fuming, slow strides that stopped in one place and started again.
"I have my reasons, it would take all night to list them, and usually if you have more than a few it's a good sign that it's time to go."
"No!" She leapt up to him, to throw her arms around him and never let him go…but he backed away. Her tears dripped like rainfall, threatening to drown them both. He'd sail away, floating far from her to turbulent seas where she couldn't follow. Pale and rigid from shock, she pleaded up at him with dying iris eyes. "Please tell me one, just one."
His devil gaze trained on the ground. He struggled to string together words.
"It's…You don't do anything, you're just here, and you're always going to be here. You don't have any plans, there's nothing to look forward to, nothing to build."
The scattered pieces of an unbuilt wagon laid like a broken erector set on the ground.
"...Don't leave me, Zack. Don't go." Her whisper, it traveled to him across worlds, soothing him, swaddling him, serenading his soul. Her breath traveled all the way to his ear. He felt it sweep his lobe like warm fleece, weaving in and out of pierced holes for silver earrings. But his heart was barred to hers, sealed off in walls of concrete and blast-steel, sheltering him from the monumental earthquake shaking his body to its core. With tears in his own eyes that refused to fall, head thrown skyward to the hole in her roof, he whispered up to the long way down.
"…I can't do this anymore."
"Wait…" she reached for his hand, but her fingers met shadow…he was already gone.
"I can't."
"Wait!"
She fell on her knees, fingers flowing across the ground. Her cries tore through every step he took down that aisle, calling him back, wrenching his heart from his body in delicate, girlish sobs. His whole body yelled at him like another persona, go to her, you idiot, you love her! But he only fled faster, walking away, walking out. In the cold vastness of empty choir lofts and chipped stained glass angels, she screamed.
He ran, taking the stairs two at a time, rushing in a mad sprint toward the train station. Pumping his arms like they'd never known life, he forced his body onward as his lungs that burned like sandpaper, muscles that cramped like saw blades, the sword on his back seeming so much heavier than it had been before. He threw himself into the train car as the doors closed, falling onto the bench seat, completely alone in the empty car. Despite the agony welling in his chest like razor blades, he couldn't help but feel the utter overarching wave of one singular emotion as he let his head fall against the shatterproof window…relief.
He slept like a baby that night.
He woke up the next morning from the most restful sleep of his life and turned his phone on: 36 missed calls, 75 new texts. Good lord, there was a novel in his message app.
*DELETE ALL*
As the days turned into a week, the calls came less frequently, and as the week turned into two, stopped altogether. Winter Break for Uni students was happening at the Goblin Bar. Zack had skipped last year and the year before. This time, when his friends invited him along, he went.
The bar was packed with co-eds in skimpy outfits sipping girly drinks. The night was young, but already things were starting to get wild. But as soon as the SOLDIER's walked in, it was on!
Zack struck up a conversation with a blonde bombshell who had the body of a model.
"I'm in my last semester at MU."
"Cool. What are you studying?"
"I'm a law student *hiccup*."
Oh well, nobody's perfect. The next girl was a bit of an airhead as she went on like the place was so dirty.
"I'm studying to be a social worker, but I don't want to work with like ghetto kids and homeless people."
The next girl looked the same as all the rest. They were all starting to blend together.
"Pre-med," she sneezed on him…
"Geologist. Did you know the planet is over 6,000 years old?"
He threw her a flat stare…
"Psychologist. Tell me about your childhood."
Next…
"I'm studying to be a botanist."
Zack pricked up with genuine interest.
"Really? My favorite flower is the iris arcanthus. What's yours?"
"Uhh…"
He was already up and walking away.
He ended up sitting by himself at the bar, drinking a seltzer water with an olive in it…the bartender understood. One more girl flowed up to him, pearl-white bunny ears sticking up to the ceiling.
"Hey SOLDIER, how about buying me a drink?" She wasn't even buzzed, and she was beautiful, but Zack pursed his lips.
"Aren't I a little young for you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I see you out by the boardwalk talking to guys a lot older than you."
She cocked a defensive eyebrow, excuse me.
"I don't see what's so wrong with it. I love older men, they take care of me."
A revelation. Zack walked out of the bar.
Standing on the street with a heavy sigh, running his hands through his hair, he looked out over the city he called home. He saw the system splayed out in gridlines like a bizarre form of urban art, the mural of methodology interlaced to form the organic consciousness of the world's greatest metropolis.
Zack beheld the future of his city. He saw Loveless Avenue in decay, the posh coffee shops of the Fountain District replaced with video stores and sex shops. He had a name for the prostitutes, now he knew why…
Girls with no fathers.
The children of Midgar drifted in a chemical haze of half-sleep, maybe Zack was drifting too. Zack had never met his real father, but if he did, he'd probably kill him. Children need fathers, it didn't even have to be a man, he'd heard of a few families like that, just a strong arm to hold a steady course and ward off the blatant reality of what promiscuity in women and men actually was: a sick form of self-mutilation.
He drifted into the alley behind the bar, his sword weighing him down as if it sought to drive him into the ground. He couldn't call her, he didn't deserve her, and a part of him somewhere thought that she'd always known that too. He kicked the trashcan over in a moment of rage and clutched his head against the wall, choking and rocking to hold back terrible tears.
Good job, man. Real good job.
But something caught his eye. At the other end, someone else leaned against the same wall gazing out into nowhere. He looked about Zack's age, with dark hair pulled back in a pony-tail and crazy bangs that went all over the place. This alley seemed like the place people went to when they'd really messed up. The guy turned to walk away, and Zack saw something familiar slung over his back—a Buster Sword.
"Hey!" he ran after him. "Hey wait!"
But when Zack came out onto the street, there was no one there. A ghastly mist hovered above the ground like a disease, steaming from manhole vents in a hallucinogenic urban haze. A tug on his back pocket…
"HAH!" he shot around as the little Wutai thief darted away. Zack pulled his wallet out of his pocket, clipped to a zip-line on his pants. "Learned my lesson, Squirrel."
She stared at him for a long moment, and pulled his Bahamut Fury Materia from behind her back.
"NO!" he dropped to his knees. "That's a Summon! That's very dangerous! Here, I have a fully-leveled Hell-Thundaga, max-stats, the whole nine. I'll trade you right now."
"You want it back? Apologize to Aerith!" she glared at him through peeled eyes.
Zack sighed, standing back up.
"Look Squirrel, sometimes grownups start relationships, and sometimes they end them. Aerith will be fine."
"She tried to kill herself, you jerk!"
He froze, the dead weight of her words socking him straight in the crotch. She threw him a disgusted scoff and ran off into the night.
It took a long time for Zack to get his bearings, standing in the steam like the world was floating away. He walked down a street with no name, wandering in aimless circles until he reached the park, where he found a bench. Now he took out his phone, this time with conviction.
He dialed her number. She answered on the first ring.
"Zack? Zack please don't hang up!"
"I'm not…" He could feel her shaking on the line. "Aerith, are you okay?"
A long pause, a tense reply.
"…No." The sobs came in waves, sweeping their thorns across his heart. He still hated hearing her cry. "Could I come see you? I can come to you, I figured out how to use the trains, I'll come above the Plate."
"No, stay where you are, I'm coming to you, okay?" She stopped sobbing like she couldn't believe it. "You stay put, I'll see you soon."
He hung up and started for the train station.
When he got to the church, the whole structure seemed depressed. A grey pallor clung to the façade and when he went in, there was no flapping of doves' wings. The stained glass angels seemed like old paintings someone had dug out of an attic and tacked up on the wall.
He saw her in the flowerbed, curled with her knees against her chest. She stood like a lone leaf, and he saw the brevity of his emotional callousness. She'd lost weight, good god, she never had any weight on her! In a baggy boys' hoodie and jean shorts she approached him like she was afraid he was going to hit her. That absolutely killed him. When they stood a few feet apart, she held up a ball of Materia.
"This is probably yours, I found it in the flowerbed." Her voice was so soft, hoarse from sobbing. She handed it to him carefully, and Zack recognized his Bahamut Fury Materia. However, the color was off, it had changed from fire gold to sea green. "Is it okay? I hope I didn't break it."
"No, seems fine," he examined it, and fused it back into his arm. She hurried back to her bag on the front pew, keeping her eyes on him.
"I want to show you something." She brought a folded letter on printed business paper for him to read. He opened it with a curious expression.
_Congratulations! You've been accepted to the Midgar University Botany Program. The Administration welcomes you and urges you to pick your classes early. Student Housing will be provided as per your full scholarship_
His mouth hung open. When he looked back at her, she was a different girl.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"…Because I was afraid you'd make me go."
He read the letter to the bottom, it was legit.
"…I didn't hear anything for a long time, then it came in the mail a few days after you left."
"Aerith, I never left. We were just having a fight. A few more days and I would have come crawling. And to prove to you that I was never gone, here…" He started to reach into his pocket, and her eyes flew wide. Reflex, she wasn't quite sure what it was but either way she wasn't sure if she was ready. "You don't have to say yes, I still have a few days to get a refund…"
Oh god, her heart stopped beating…
He pulled out two tickets to Loveless and showed her the purchase date. Last week.
She fell into his arms in choking sobs. With loving lips caressing her face, he whispered into her ear.
"You have my heart now, Aerith. I'll always come back. But please, be gentle, I've been through Hell."
A light that had died rekindled in the old church, seeping through the hole in the roof as he scooped her up. He carried her to the flowerbed, hands sweeping hair out of her face. He tried to push the sleeve of her sweater up—he wanted to see—but she clammed up, not letting him.
"Aerith…" He bore into her with a serious gaze. She shook her head. "…Where?"
She pointed in a quick motion to her chest, and Zack moved to unzip her hoodie, but she curled up in a tiny ball.
"Aerith, I'm not trying to take advantage of you, I would never ask if this were anything else, but I need to know if I have to take you to the hospital above the Plate. I know you don't want to go, but I don't want to lose you."
"They can't do anything anyway. My body's different."
And Zack stopped.
"It's that thing, isn't it? That thing you don't want me to know…" She held herself so tight like she'd fall apart, and Zack's anger left him. "Aerith, I've been with you for almost two years now…I think I know already."
She shuddered as he eased her sweater open, pushing the rim down over her shoulders. With the careful, deliberate movements of a male nurse, he parted her blouse to expose two supple breasts. But he wasn't looking at those…
…He was looking at the glowing quicksilver gouge over her heart.
Now the tears came, great welling sobs that left her in wracking tremors. She cried out an explanation to Zack.
"The woman who was my mother died trying to get me here. My mom rescued me. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
Zack's mouth hung open as he gazed at a wonder no one had laid eyes upon in over 2000 years. She cried into herself, angelic and frail, emanating an eclipsing glow from the luster of a silver aura.
"You're probably the last one...And you chose me."
The realization was like growing up at last. These were beautiful flowers, but the healing properties came from Aerith.
He helped her collect herself, buttoning her shirt back up without brushing her skin. Something caught his eye from the wall by the plumb sapling, and he went over to see a wooden wagon fully-assembled.
"You built it!" he gasped, and she bit her lip. "Gosh, that's what I love about you. You do things, you have a beautiful mind in that pretty head!"
But he looked back at the wagon, cocking his eyebrow at the chalk scribbles along the sides and dripping paint cans underneath it.
"I was trying to paint flowers on it," she said, "but I can't seem to get it right. I'll probably just paint it red."
"Naw, naw, gimme this…" Zack knelt down, grabbed a small brush and got to work.
"You can draw?!" Aerith exclaimed.
"Yeah, I did my own decals on my dirtbike back home. I told you."
"No you didn't."
He paused, a puzzled look crossing his face.
"…Then why so surprised?"
She shrugged.
"…I guess I never thought of you that way."
He let out a frustrated sigh.
"Does everyone see me as some big dumb SOLDIER-dude? Gosh, it's like I'm a half-developed videogame character or something."
She watched him concentrate while painting, smoke steaming from his ears like it always did when Zack was rubbing brain cells together. With one paintbrush in his mouth, another in his hand, and another behind his ear, he peered at the wagon like he saw something more than just wood.
"Have you always been like this?" she asked.
He put the brush down for a moment, reminiscing back to earlier days.
"Well, when I was in school, I had a lot of trouble paying attention and I didn't do very well. But when I'd play games or draw, it was like I could zone out and focus. Really helped me calm down."
40 minutes later, he stood back with his hands splayed out to present.
"There, you like it?"
"Ummm..." Aerith cocked an eyebrow.
"Aw what? Why not?"
"No, I like it a lot, really…it's just, well, there's orange flames on the sides and skulls in the middle of the flowers."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Arrgh, you're right, I'll fix it."
"No, don't, I want it like that! It's you."
She stopped his hand, holding it in hers, while a sheepish grin worked its way across his face.
"…Guess my idea to quit SOLDIER and become a carpenter is off the table?"
She pat him on the shoulder with an empathetic smile, and he slumped halfway to the ground.
"No, my dreams!" he cried. "There they go!"
"Hurry! Catch them before they get away!"
"Okay…"
An evil look in his eyes…she ran.
He chased her around the church, jumping over pews to cut her off as she called for her dog to help her. The thing snoozed like a fat cat in the rafters. He finally caught her at the flowerbed picking her up like he was going to eat her as she screamed bloody murder for all the Slums to hear. Oops.
When he let her down, they just stood with their hands in each other's at the front of the aisle. Once their heart rates slowed down and the giggles let up, the moonlamps streaming over her glowing features made his thought process freeze. Here they were, gazing into each other's eyes, holding hands in a church before the break in the floorboards that was now home to bushels of flowers. His smile faded with resounding seriousness radiating from his core, staring at Aerith as a realization hit home.
There was an altar here once.
His phone went off with the ringtone he'd been using for the past couple weeks and forgot to change.
MY FRIEND'S GOT A GIRLFRIEND AND HE HATES THAT—
"Shoot! Shoot! Hello?"
.
[Received Carbuncle Materia]