A/N: This is all right. Nothing special, but nothing too bad.
Dislclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII, nor am I making any profit off of this following fanwork.
Warnings: Spoilers for the Forgotten City.
this is
This is Aerith, how he remembers her: Red dress, high heels, loose brown curls clutched in his hands and warm, open mouth. Thin hands and rounded fingertips framing blue sky. Dancing, singing, laughing— living. Breathing. Earth.
He remembers flowers, the stems breaking in his clumsy grip, the smile on her face that faltered when she thought he wasn't looking. The way she would sit and watch the sunset break over the sea, feet in the water, skirt spread around her thighs. Her heartbeat slower than his own; her white neck and her thin wrists, gripped within his hands. The way she loved everything around her; the way she never gave up on someone, and bent and bent and never broke, not once. Such strong shoulders for such a little girl.
This is Aerith, and how he does not remember her: Anger and pain, memories of needles in her elbows and thrumming machines glossed over and locked away, nails leaving scratches on his shoulders. Leaving, sacrificing herself and being so utterly selfless he wanted to drag her back and keep her close to him, always, and never let her go.
This is Aerith: Sword through chest, bending over, dulcet smile and hanging arms.
This is not: Her body on the water, lifeless, blood pooling on the surface of the water like oil. Green eyes shut. Lips parted, hair a halo, and dead.
A/N: The writing style in this is really experimental, so I wonder how it works out. ^^
Feedback appreciated! Every review is replied to and thanked.