Another Time, Perhaps

By mihoyonagi

Chapter VII

"You seem to have an affinity for the stars, do you not?" Sephiroth's deep voice echoed behind her, startling Aerith. She looked back at him, taking her attention from the window in which seemed to always have her attention.

She couldn't help staring into space, as she so often found herself doing while aboard the gummy ship. Space was amazing, and it truly made one think…

"The stars are just so beautiful," she smiled weakly. "Scary, but so beautiful."

"Scary?" A white eyebrow was raised.

Nodding lightly, Aerith let the smile dissipate from her face. "Humans put so much effort into living, and trying to be heard, but in such a place as space, we are so tiny. It almost seems worthless, but not quite."

Again, the flower girl was met with a questioning look.

"Humans have emotions that make it all worthwhile. If, even for just a moment, we can be happy, our lives have meanings…"

Sephiroth slowly nodded. "I understand what you say. It's very difficult to think of your own life when contemplating such against the vastness of space. We are microscopic in comparison to what goes on in the heavens, but as far as it goes, at least we have the intelligence to worry ourselves with such prospects."

The room fell silent, save for the soft hum of the electric lights overhead.

The general let out a soft noise, and Aerith once more turned her attention to the man near the doorway. Slowly, slight smile resting on his thin lips, he made his way to the small couch and sat down, leaving a gap between himself and his traveling companion.

A small realization then hit Aerith, like the punch line of a joke two days after it was told. "You laughed." She blinked a few times, and the smile on Sephiroth's face grew, though only slightly.

"Indeed," he answered simply, meeting her stare with a gentle gaze of his own.

"What's so funny?" her voice escaped her lips with a slight hint of worry. He wasn't laughing at her, was he?

The general sighed, but still kept smiling, slightly, but tenderly. "Cloud and I used to talk of the same things in the small time we spent together back at the coliseum. He worried about his existence, more than an average man should, really. You were always at the top of his worry list, but his thoughts on life and meaning were a close second."

Aerith let out a small giggle. "From what I remember, he wasn't always like that. From time to time, maybe… But once he got his mind on something, it always got stuck. He was stubborn, but at least loyal."

Sephiroth nodded. "He was a good friend, or at least the closest thing I have ever had to one. He never really got over what I did, but he was at least civil with me."

"What about me? Aren't I your friend?" Aerith blurted the simple questions before she could answer.

Thin lips played into an even bigger smile. "If that is what you would like it be," he answered, simply.

Seconds wore on into minutes, those minutes then turned into hours, and the two sat, the flower girl and the general, just like that, content to talk of things long past. However, both spoke of happier times, of funny things, and of good things in which they will never forget. Sephiroth leaned his head back against the soft pillow of the couch and retold to the best of his abilities a tale of how Cloud had undeniably embarrassed himself to the limit by swinging his sword too low and chopping off a tip of his spiked hair, and, in his shock swung the sword onto his back too quickly, resulting in his belt being sliced in half. Much to the blonde's dismay, and in an attempt to keep his pants from falling, he had fallen face first into the mud.

When he didn't hear Aerith laughing, however, he turned to her. He head was flopped to one side, her eyes closed, and her breathing gentle and slow- she had fallen asleep. The general sighed, knowing not what to do. If he were to leave her there, she would wake up with a terrible neck ache. If he were to wake her, he doubted he would be thanked for it. Summing up his options and not liking the answer to the equation, Sephiroth furrowed his brow. 'I am not worthy to touch her…' he scolded himself in his mind, thusly ruling out the majority of his possible solutions.

But to leave her there would be far worse than carrying her to bed, so, gathering his courage and tossing his thoughts out the window for a mere few moments, the general scoped the sleeping young woman in his arms and carried her quickly, yet carefully, to her room. Her room was dark, and turning on the lights was a bit of a challenge with a limp body in his arms, but Sephiroth managed- or so he thought.

He looked down to see Aerith's eyes open slowly. Her hand rose to the back of her head, and she let out a small sound of discomfort. "Ow," she mumbled, blinking and looking up to meet the startled gaze of the man who carried her. Slowly, much to Sephiroth's relief, Aerith closed her eyes and let her hand fall limp onto her stomach.

Even more carefully than before, the silver-haired man pulled down the sheets of the small cot and placed the thin, frail bundle of life down upon the stiff mattress. Slowly, he unlaced her boots and removed them from her feet. Her toes curled when met with the chilly air of the ship's cabin, but she merely made another sound in her sleep, then fell back under its spell once more.

Pulling the sheets up to her shoulders and making sure she was comfortable, Sephiroth as too preoccupied to notice the pair of arms that had slid around his neck- that is, until he was roughly pulled downwards so that he was close enough his nose was touching hers.

Her eyelids appeared heavy as she slowly opened them and looked deep into his eyes. Sephiroth felt his blood boil in his veins from anxiety. He inhaled sharply and held his breath, despite her warm breath falling over his face is sweet waves.

"I forgot," she mumbled, blinking sleepily. "To congratulate you on becoming the champion."

Before anything intelligent could register in Sephiroth's mind, her grip around his neck tightened, and she pulled him down. Their lips met. All rational thought that had tried to regain itself inside the general's mind was lost with the feel of her tender lips against his. Her hands fell limp against his shoulders, and he knew she had fallen asleep. He forced himself to pull back, sharply. He placed a gloved finger to his lips as a sea of unfamiliar emotions surged through his body. He found himself running from her room the next moment.