TW: Mentions of violence and gore
Getting to know Aerith is like discovering a hidden bookstore in a remote alley, or finding a vantage point to catch the break of dawn at its glorious moment by accident, or having a good first bite of a food you thought would suck.
She's full of surprises.
Surprises that aren't outrageous but interesting enough to learn because they're composed of parts that make Aerith uniquely her.
She usually starts her day around 8am, the period of time when she would send her morning texts to Tifa – about her breakfast, her work in progress paintings, her blooming plants, or simply a morning greeting.
A bowl of cereal or fruit salad is her typical breakfast meal.
She likes neither tea nor coffee for her morning fuel. She only needs almond milk.
Her favourite brand of cigarettes is Venomantis because they offer different flavours. Her favourites are ones that taste like apples and cinnamon.
But she smokes menthol like everyone else if the day's gone too shitty for her.
She plants a lot of blue forget-me-nots, and yellow and white daylilies at her apartment balcony and the front yard of her gallery – her favourite flowers.
On weekends, she likes to go to other art galleries – something she does at least once a week.
She remembers the layouts of almost all art galleries in Midgar like they're inscribed in her brain at birth.
If Aerith pretends to be a tour guide in these art galleries, no one would find out.
Her memory of these places is that good.
She doesn't limit herself to art galleries in Midgar though.
She also likes to hop randomly into a train just to make it to special exhibitions outside the city that she's interested in.
She likes to take a stroll around the city but takes care of her motorbike like it's her baby.
Car rides aren't her thing because sitting inside a car makes her feel confined.
In her bedroom, there's a collection of Honey Bee Gals albums stacked inside a corner cabinet. She listens to their love ballads religiously, shares lyrics of their songs to Tifa whenever she gets swayed by her melancholic moods, and she keeps a piece of paper signed by Andrea Rhodea, the lead singer of the band, in a glass frame.
During most of her free times (when she's not working, or painting in her apartment), she reads books written by the exceptional Cetranologist, Bugenhagen, and self-help books.
When you want to watch a movie or TV show with her, never choose romantic comedies.
She can't go past 10 minutes of them without constantly yawning and falling asleep.
Instead, she relishes horrors, thrillers and their subgenres.
All in all, Aerith's generally not difficult to understand. She never hides what she likes and dislikes.
Yet, Tifa understands that all of which she knows about Aerith is only the tip of the iceberg.
The other woman's better at hiding things that really matter.
Things like her relationship with Zack.
She doesn't talk much about how things are between her and the asshole but Tifa had heard her scream on the phone for far too many times, and caught her red eyes and stuffy nose after her dates with him. But Tifa had also seen her little smiles at times when she thought no one's looking.
It's all too confusing for Tifa but she doesn't want to risk jeopardizing what she and Aerith have by prying.
To make things fair, she doesn't talk about her and Cloud with Aerith either. Aerith never asked again, which makes things easier.
It's not just their boyfriends that they are keeping away from each other.
When it comes to details about their families, neither of them are really transparent about them too but Aerith keeps hers under wraps more securely than Tifa ever does.
She's never talked or hinted anything about her family.
It's another one of their usual movie nights at Aerith's place.
They're both relaxed on the two-seater in the common room.
Tifa's sitting, while Aerith's lying down with her head on Tifa's lap.
On the screen, a slasher has already been playing for an hour.
There's another hour left before it ends.
The homicidal villain has just finished stabbing one of the female characters with a butcher knife. He has since moved on to severing her limbs into several pieces and cramming them all in a barrel that he dumps near a river.
Aerith stirs.
Tifa senses her discomfort and reaches a hand down to caress her hair.
"My… mom's dead. Has been for many years now," Aerith suddenly says.
Her remark rings in the quiet room like nails falling on tiled floors with a loud jangle.
"Ever heard about the Icicle Inn wife killer?" Aerith goes on to ask, her eyes still fixed onto the TV screen.
"I think so… it's the mountaineer who murdered his wife, isn't it?"
Aerith bobs her head.
"My dad lost his mind when he found out that my mom's been cheating on him. He followed her to one of the love hotels she frequented, before strangling her to death there and cutting her into pieces because he thought she didn't deserve any respect."
"I'm sorry to hear that…"
Aerith exhales a shaky breath.
"He still refuses to tell anyone else – not even me, about the places where he threw away my mom."
Tifa keeps quiet, thinking that she has more to say.
The slasher has now reached a scene where a bunch of kids have finally found the barrel. Chaos ensues as each of them react in different ways.
Some are panicking. Some are crying. Some are screaming. Others are running away. But the calmer ones are calling for help.
"I hope that fucker rots in jail," Aerith hisses. "It's because of him that I can't even keep my promise to my mom."
She turns her head slightly to look up to Tifa. "She wanted her ashes scattered around her hometown, the Cetra Capital."
She looks back at the TV screen.
Colourful flickers of light are reflected on her watery eyes as she mumbles, "How can I do that when I can't even find parts of her body?"
Tifa grazes her finger along Aerith's jaw. "I'm here, Aerith… I'll be here."
Aerith's looking back at Tifa.
She's staring at Tifa like she's having a hard time believing what her eyes are seeing.
She soon reaches out a hand to the back of Tifa's neck, before pulling her down lightly for a kiss.
Spring rain dripping on skin.
That's what the kiss reminds Tifa of.
It's a kiss done to seek for shelter in between someone else's lips – to rely on their softness when all other things are harsh.
The kiss ends, and Aerith's looking at her again.
There's a tenderness in her gaze, warming Tifa's chest like she's swallowed the sun and it's now radiating inside her.
Tifa says nothing more.
She smiles and embeds her hand into Aerith's hair to caress it again.