"You know, I was thinking," Zack said, leaning on his arms on the pew as he watched the braided-haired girl work her magic on the broken floors of the church. "How hard could planting this stuff be for them to exclusively grow here? Did you sabotage all of Midgar?"
Aerith's dirt-smeared hands paused around the soil as she gave him an incredulous look. "And how exactly would I do that?"
Zack gave a playful shrug. "I don't know, maybe you're an actual angel and whispered into their souls not to grow anywhere else?"
She chortled, shaking her head in disbelief before returning to her task at hand. "You're really bad at flirting, Zack."
"Is that a blush I spy? Cause that's definitely contradicting your statement."
Aerith rolled her eyes, but her grin persisted and she didn't bother to hide it. "For the record, apart from the soil, the depth, the drainage, air, water, food, either shade or sun, not to mention all of Midgar is basically a metal plate—" She pulled a grimacing face. "Yeah, how hard could that be?"
Zack burst into a gleeful laugh. "I won't remember all that."
"Oh, I know," Aerith looked up at him, a sarcastic smile on her face. "You've always been an action kinda guy. You can't remember any list that's not written down."
"You know me. But if it makes you feel better, I can make you feel good with those actions," Zack wiggled his brows.
Aerith chuckled, her cheeks dusting in pink. "Stop it with the innuendo and get your ass down here to work if you're so curious about it."
"Oh, I'll give you more than my ass," Zack's grin widened. He didn't need any convincing about anything to do with Aerith though.
Jumping off the pew, he squatted down next to the petite girl, trying to imitate her steps. He realized soon that his own calloused hands were too huge for delicate flower buds. And it became a session of clumsily-planted shoots which he doubted would have grown well given some of the ruptured stems. Still, as she laughed at how horrible his work was, he thought it was worth it. She looked beautiful. He'd do anything just to see her smile, carved in his memory till the last of his heartbeat.
They just managed to plant a quarter of the soil area when they felt a few drops of water pelted down their skin. Aerith gasped, and Zack looked up to the roof hole which was their only direct access to the sky—the one he created the first time they met. Her immediate reflex was to jump out of the way for some dry and shelter, wringing out any droplets off her white dress. Zack seemed to revel more under the rain, his neck craned back as he stood, staring high up into the sky.
"What are you doing? Zack, you're getting wet. Come here!" Aerith urged.
He turned back at her with an amused smile. "Why? It's some water from heaven, Aerith. It's the only way to taste the sky. You've seen it. So why not taste it?"
"First of all, I haven't seen it. And that taste sounds too wet and dirty for my liking," Aerith argued before putting up a finger in a warning. "And don't try to insinuate anything from that other than literally."
Zack bit his lips for a while before laughing. "I was about to but fine. I won't. But you lied. You have seen the sky through this hole."
"How can you be so sure?" Aerith's brows raised challengingly.
"Angeal's death?" Zack prodded again. "I might have been crying that time, but I knew you looked up to the sky when you talked about the flowers. Before you hugged me."
There was a silent pause between them at the mention of the incident. As much as they loved their playful exchanges, both of them appreciated the tender private moments as much as the banter. She treasured his lowest point as much as she admired his highest.
"Come on, Aerith," he half-whispered to her in encouragement. "You've seen the sky with me. Now let's taste it together. Dance with me?" He held out a hand towards her, offering her a dance. His combed-back hair had started to dampen with each drop, even though he didn't seem to mind.
She stared at his hand, hesitating, before meeting his eyes—his sky blue eyes that she found more beautiful than the sky itself. "I don't know how to dance."
"I can teach you how."
"You know how?"
"Shinra has functions. And I don't mind you stepping on me. In a lot of ways."
"Zack!"
He laughed. "Sorry."
She was still grinning when she tried to give him a reproachful look, which was the major giveaway that the look didn't work. He always knew how to assuage her concerns. Slowly, she lifted her right hand and placed it into his left, letting him guide her, putting her trust in him. He accepted all of them and held them gently in every way.
Having to face him directly up close made her heart beat faster. She could feel his warmth even through the rain, get a whiff of his masculine scent with her height to his chest, and feel the rhythm of his heart hammering beneath her left palm. The showering rain didn't bother her anymore. Rather, it felt calming, nurturing even. As if the rain enhanced their senses. As if the rain connected their souls—Aerith and Zack, the earth and the sky. And Aerith knew by then that her heart was no longer hers. Neither, it seemed, was her mind. That day, they danced, moving into unheard music as old as time. It wasn't refined. Her footwork was clumsy, but they both enjoyed it, evidenced by each laughter echoing in the chamber.
"How do you feel?" Zack asked when she finally managed to get a few steps right.
"Difficult," she replied, making him frown ironically. "There are too many steps to remember. You need coordination. You can easily trip on your partner's foot. You can lose your heart. You have limited movements—"
"Wait, what did you just say?" Zack interrupted.
"Limited movements?"
"Before that."
"You can easily trip?" she teased. The look on her face made him know what she was doing though. But he was willing to give this one to her.
"It's not difficult," he argued. "Dancing is about confidence and rhythm. You'll get better in time."
"It's a little less difficult than half an hour ago," she looked down to their foot, stepping in much better coordination than minutes before.
Zack's eyes dropped down to study the contour of her face. "Half an hour ago you would sit this out because you thought you could not do it. Now you already have your own rhythm you dance to."
"Because you're with me. You have a way to make me feel relaxed," she said to justify herself.
"As you should be," he nodded, pulling her close as they moved. "You'll get better in time. Someday, I'm sure you'll eventually dance, even when you're on your own."
She glared at him, even though it felt less effective with his towering height. "What makes you so sure?"
He gazed into her emerald green eyes, letting himself loose in the beauty of the color of mako. He never appreciated that color until he looked into hers, like the mako running beneath the planet. "Because you want to, Aerith. It was easier for you to sit out before, but you choose to dance with me. I may expedite this. But I trust that if you had the choice, given enough time, you would choose to dance. Perhaps someday, you'll choose to dance under the actual sky, instead of a portion of a broken roof."
Leaving Midgar needed courage. One she failed to do once. But she was alone then. Right now, as she stepped out with her newly-found friends—Cloud, Tifa, Barret, and Red XIII—, she had some mixed feelings. She paused when she felt the droplets of rain—the taste of the sky. Ignoring her party leaving her behind, she put out her palm to feel it. The rain was supposed to be nurturing. She thought it was. It was three months ago, however, when the blue sky shed the rain through the hole of the church's roof, making her feel uneasy. As if his eyes were crying. And she wanted so badly to be there for him the way she did when he cried over Angeal's death. Ironically it was the blue sky she hated so much that she sought. Because in his absence, it was the sky through that hole that made her feel like she was staring into his eyes.
She looked up to the sky again, for the first time without a roof hovering above her head. But right now it wasn't blue. It was dark and cloudy. And she decided; "I hate the sky."
It wasn't that she hated it per se. But it seemed so adamant about taking away everything important to her. But this was the dance that she had to do for herself. And this time, she chose not to sit out. Even though this journey was more walking and less dancing—actually no dancing involved but still, metaphorically. It was almost like the first time she escaped Shinra's detention with her mother. She didn't know what to expect, but she craved the excitement of an adventure.
It hit her that, years ago, Zack wasn't just talking about dancing. It was about picking what was out of her comfort zone instead of the easy way out. Something that needed as much confidence and rhythm. Something like life and adventure.
She ended up hitchhiking a chocobo truck, letting them reach Kalm before dawn. Rain hit them again not too long after. Aerith wondered if this was heaven's funny way of telling her things.
She still hated the sky. But this time, she reveled in the steady drumming of the rain on her skin, cascading from the confident sky. Reaching her palms up, she pondered about whether the rain felt cold or it was just her skin carrying the heat of her blood, her inner soul. Perhaps she had always had it in her since she escaped Shinra's imprisonment, laid dormant since she was seven. It finally dawned on her that she was under the open sky on her own accord, just like Zack had anticipated.
He trusted her.
Her stomach churned. She wanted to experience each drop with him, together and apart, chaotic and wild, mind and soul. But the rain was their connection—the earth and the sky—and she could still feel him with her. It nurtured; just like how it gave life to her flowers, it gave life to their love. And right now, far away from the Midgar plate hovering above her, the rain reached her with no barrier. "There's no roof."
Cloud looked at her. "Are you alright?"
She didn't know. This was the moment she long waited for. Yet, something felt lost... wrong. "I feel anxious." It was the only possible way to describe how she felt.
But as Barret came into her periphery, she strode onwards, eyes seeking the possible rainbows given by the light. Perhaps that was what Zack meant. To dance was freedom. To dance was to become a blooming flower or a bird aloft. To feel the movement was a new breath for a body and nourishment for a soul.
And this was her soul. Wildness was her rhythm and freedom was her confidence. She wasn't exactly alone. But she had finally chosen to dance in the rain, under the open sky, to the rhythm of her own music. She would forever be thankful for all the memories and encouragements Zack gave her. Perhaps someday if they ever got the chance to meet again, she could proudly tell him; I did it.