Brush - For Ethereal.

Aerith – Brush – one brushes hand through hair as other opens up.

From the moment he walked in the door, Sephiroth knew something was wrong. Pressing his lips together, he shut the door behind him and placed his pack gently on the ground. She had beat him here. It had long been their custom to arrive separately. The fewer people who saw them together, the better. The longer they did this, the more dangerous it became. Pushing white hair from his face, he bent to remove his boots. He had just replaced the flooring in here and as such boots were now left at the door.

Aerith was not in the kitchen, so he headed into the living room. He found her there on the couch motionless. She was looking at her hands as though the secrets of the world could be found buried in her palms. Chestnut hair tumbled forward, unbound which in itself was unusual. She did not look around at his approach, nor move when he sat beside her.

She did not speak when he drew her close to him in an embrace that would have seen them both torn asunder should anyone else know. Her little hand rested against his chest, and she buried her face in his shoulder. The sobs followed moments later. Sephiroth knew her well enough not to press her into telling what was wrong just yet. Instead, he ran his large hand through her soft hair, holding her as she let the pent up emotion flow from her. Was this not the reason they had this place? How many times had they both voiced their frustrations and sorrows to each other here? Too many to count.

He had no tissue to offer her. Instead he pulled a square of clean fabric from her pocket and handed it to her. She took it, though just clung to it while, gripping it while the tension shook her. Slowly, her grip on his shirt eased and she wiped her nose, then her eyes. “Thank you,” she sniffed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. Aerith nodded, though she did not speak straight away. For a moment, Sephiroth thought she might start crying again, the emotion playing over her face felt like a hot blade through his stomach. “Has he done something to you?”

When she didn’t deny it, Sephiroth lifted her head with a gentle finger under her chin. When their eyes met he asked, “Has he hurt you?”

“No,” she answered immediately. There was no lie in her forest green eyes and he nodded slowly. Consequences be damned, if he had harmed his sweet flower there would be hell to pay. “It’s not that at all.” He pushed a lock of her hair out her face, wishing there was nothing in this world that would bring her such sorrow.

“What is it?” he asked. She looked away, her cheeks colouring. Was it shame? “You can tell me anything,” he said.

“You have to promise not to overreact,” she said, her voice dropping to a low whisper. Water made her eyes swim again, the forest green shimmering with the unshed tears. Sephiroth nodded, the anxiousness clutching his chest.  “He thinks its time to start a family.” She turned her head away again. He felt the tears fall. He closed his eyes and pushed his hand through her hair, feeling the soft strands against his rough skin. Holding her would help neither of them in the long run, but he couldn’t stop. From the moment he had first taken her hand all those months ago, he hadn’t been able to resist her. He doubted he ever would.

Her husband on the other hand. He could go jump off a cliff for all Sephiroth cared. He had been indifferent to Aerith’s needs for so long; he did not deserve to be anywhere near her. Without thinking, his grip tightened on her arm. “You’re not overreacting,” she said softly, a rueful smile on her face. He relaxed his hand.

“I cannot stand the thought of him touching you,” Sephiroth said softly. “I know I have no right at all to say that.”

“You have every right,” she whispered, “I can’t stand it either.” Her face crinkled up again and she was once more lost to tears. It was a blow, and he held her, wondering if there was anything he could do to stop this anguish. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and pushed his hand through her hair again. “I can’t let him do that,” she said. “But I can’t keep putting him off either. It’s been months since the arrangements were made and…” She trailed off and wiped her nose again.

Sephiroth nodded. “We could run,” he said. They had spoken of that before, but never done anything about it. Everything had dwindled away once they had found this little haven. “I’d go with you to the ends of the world if you wanted.”

Aerith looked up, her eyes rimmed red. “Where would we go?” she sniffed.

“Anywhere, we could keep moving if we had to.” Her hand curled and she shuddered. He saw a battle take place in her eyes. Eventually she shut them. They both knew that Shinra, that Rufus who had arranged all these matches and forced them to play house, had infinite resources at his disposal to keep them where they were. They’d be hunted for the rest of their days, but would that be worse than what they endured now? “You don’t have to decide now,” he said. Her hand caught the strands of his hair and she twisted them around her fingers.

“How did we become so trapped?” she asked, though he knew the question was rhetorical. Aerith settled against him, the couch as familiar as an old friend. Silence fell between them and for the moment, he was content to just hold her close. These stolen moments of sadness was all they had left, and he wouldn’t surrender that, not for anything. The time would come soon when they would be forced to part again, but for now, this was enough.