Chapter Text
It all started with a cup of sugar—just like most neighbor stories often do.
Tifa Lockhart had barely settled into her new apartment—in 7H. She moved out of her old sector to be closer to the newly opened gym where she worked as a personal trainer.
This was her second move since coming to Midgar. She’d left her mountainous hometown, Nibelheim, nearly five years ago, carrying two duffel bags and a head full of dreams.
It had been hard to leave her mom, especially after her father passed. For a long time, they had leaned on each other just to make it through the worst of it. Her father, Brian Lockhart, had been a rock to both of them. He left a void so large that the grief became a shadow, one that had a gravity to it, made you feel stagnant, like you might never move forward again. It crawled deep inside, burrowing in the dark places, and made you see life differently. Sometimes, it made you too scared to live at all.
But when Tifa was old enough, her mother was the one who insisted.
“Time is short, pumpkin,” she’d said, cupping Tifa’s tearful face in her hands the night before she left for Midgar. “Go see the world. Don’t stay small just because of fear.”
So she left—her heart heavy but knowing that no matter how far she went, her mother’s love would always be a beacon that called her home.
That first apartment in Sector 7 had been cheap, noisy, smelled like weed, with paint chips peeling on every wall, and had an ancient AC unit that never worked. Her neighbor was also part of a cult—nothing else would explain the black robes and odd groaning.
But it had been a start. Her start.
And in Midgar, a place that didn’t cost an arm and a leg was a miracle.
Now fast-forward, her new place was a huge improvement… also more expensive in a nicer part of town. Good thing she was also going to be paid way better at this new gym, thanks to several high-profile clients. She was lucky. Her mentor, Zangan, had opened the place and pulled her in. Hand-picked.
She didn’t want to say it out loud and sound too much like those Midgar elites, but she had definitely moved up in life. A bit of a leveling up, and she was damn proud of that. Still… moving in the middle of a balls-hot summer, in a building where the elevator didn’t work?
…Which was typical.
No matter how nice or pricey the place was, there was always something in Midgar.
Leaks, creaks, or odd cultist neighbors. City of dreams and tough luck. Just gotta keep on truckin’ in Midgar. At least the seven-floor walk-up was good training.
Inside her new place, boxes were still scattered in every corner, and the walls smelled faintly of fresh paint. A warm-toned white.
All she wanted was a cup of coffee to power through the rest of the unpacking. She’d done a grocery run earlier—got the coffee, got the creamer. But somehow, she’d forgotten the sugar.
And that was how she met her neighbor next door.
Short, soft waves of chestnut brown hair framed her delicate cheeks in a playful bob, her black-rimmed glasses resting comfortably on her nose. An oversized pink off-shoulder sweater swallowed her frame, draping loosely over one shoulder, effortlessly concealing the fact that she wasn’t wearing much underneath. Maybe just a black cami, thin straps barely peeking out, in that sexy, cute kind of way.
Not that it seemed intentional. She was just comfy looking as one would be in their home.
“Oh! Hi!” Her voice fit her face. Light, sweet, effortlessly warm. She stood there by her open door, expecting.
Tifa exhaled, brushing damp, dark bangs from her forehead. She'd been hauling boxes all afternoon, and it showed—her shoulder-length black hair was in a messy bun, strands sticking to her skin. She must have looked like a real sweaty mess in her white cropped tank and back yoga pants, which wasn’t exactly the first impression she wanted to make.
But damn, she just wanted a cup of coffee.
“Hey… I’m Tifa. I just moved in next door in 7H. I know this is a bit of a cliché, but—any chance I could borrow a cup of sugar?”
The brunette leaned against the doorframe, head tilting, sparkling emerald eyes twinkling with amusement. “Are you going to return it after?”
Tifa let out a breathy chuckle. “...Or I could bring you a cup of coffee instead?”
The girl hummed, tapping her chin with her finger, considering. “Mmm… coffee does sound nice.”
Tifa just smiled.
And just like that, they had met.
True to her word, Tifa brought over a cup of coffee, served in a Moogle-shaped mug.
Clear green eyes lit up the moment she saw it. “Aww cute, I didn’t peg you for a Moogle fan.”
Tifa laughed, shifting the mug in her hands. “Are you kidding? I grew up watching all the movies. I love them.”
The other woman beamed. “Oh! You should come over sometime! I’m pretty sure I still have The Moogle King on VHS somewhere.”
Tifa’s brow lifted. “Okay… first of all…VHS? Like, in the original plastic case and everything?”
“Yep! With the old-school cover—y’know, the one where one of the artists snuck in that weirdly phallic tower?”
Tifa laughed out loud, already feeling lighter. “Okay, now I have to see this. But first, I should get back to unpacking. I’ll see you around?”
The brunette grinned, leaning lazily against the doorframe, warm mug in hand. “See you around, 7H.”
It wasn’t until later, while unpacking a box of old photo albums, that it hit Tifa—she’d never even asked for her name.
Of course, she knew it now. Aerith Gainsborough. But she didn’t actually hear it until the next day, when Aerith showed up at her door again.
“Here’s your mug back.” Aerith held out the freshly washed Moogle mug, a small, satisfied smile on her lips.
She wore a crisp white button-up neatly tucked into a pleated pink skirt, with a cozy beige cardigan layered over it. It was preppy with a touch of nerdy, and Aerith pulled it off in a charming kind of way.
Tifa took it with a grateful nod. “Thanks. You heading out?”
“Yeah, to work, on Loveless Street.”
“Really? That’s on my way. I work at the new gym across Wall Market. Would you wanna walk together?” Tifa said while putting her hair in a ponytail.
Aerith’s smile was instant. “I’d love to!”
Holding up her gym duffle, Tifa exhaled with a sheepish chuckle. “Okay, one thing before we go… and I feel like an ass for not asking sooner, but—what’s your name?”
Aerith giggled, her glasses sliding down her nose slightly as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s Aerith.”
She said all soft, light, and airy—like she breathed life to the name itself, something delicate, something pretty, and it was.
They started walking, and Tifa quickly realized her neighbor was a chatterbox.
Aerith talked about everything— the neighborhood, had the goss on all the other neighbors, the one she liked, the ones Tifa should avoid, and the best spots for late-night snacks. Tifa learned that Aerith had moved into the building not long before she did, though she’d lived in Midgar nearly all her life.
Aerith worked at a local craft store, the kind that sold everything from paper supplies to yarn to candle-making kits. The front window displays were bright and decorated with colorful displays of student projects from the store’s many workshops.
And Aerith didn’t just work there—she knew everything about the place. She knew every aisle, every hobby, and sometimes even taught the workshops herself, just for the fun of it.
“You should come by and take a class with me,” Aerith said, nudging Tifa with her arm. “We’ve got pottery next week.”
Tifa grimaced, already picturing the mess—the clay under her fingernails, the inevitable disaster waiting to happen where she somehow knocked everything over.
“I dunno about that. I’m not exactly crafty.”
Aerith grinned, undeterred, and stepped into Tifa’s space like she owned it. “I bet you are… with a little guidance. Haven’t you seen Ghost ?”
Tifa laughed, shaking her head. She wasn’t sure where this was coming from, but something about Aerith’s easy confidence made her pause, even energized her. Maybe she could be good at it. And, well… yeah, she had seen Ghost .
RIP Patrick Swayze.
It was when they finally reached the street where their paths split when Aerith asked.
“Hey, why don’t you give me your number?” Aerith said, so casually that it sounded innocent. Her smile was easy, charming, and one designed to win anyone over.
“I’ll text you about the workshops.”
Tifa blinked, then laughed, placing her hand on her hips. “Oh, so this was a setup? Well played.”
A Cheshire cat kind of smile, Aerith held out her phone. “Maybe… I may or may not be quite the entrepreneur. But now you have to come to at least one. It’s free to sign up, just gotta pay for the supplies… though I can waive it for you. Neighbor special.”
Tifa rolled her eyes playfully but took the phone anyway, tapping in her number. “Well, when you put it that way. But maybe nothing too messy…”
“No promises,” Aerith teased, waving her off as she entered her store. “See you later, 7H.”
Tifa let out a chuckle before heading to work at the gym, already wondering what she’d just gotten herself into.
When the day came, Tifa didn’t end up going to pottery. She had a last-minute client that day—Jules, a total workout fanatic, who needed her help to perfect his glutes.
Tifa: Sorry, gonna have to miss pottery.
The text bubble response came almost immediately.
Aerith: way to Ghost me
Tifa laughed too loudly at that. She covered her mouth and excused herself shyly from stares from a gym full of gym rats before tucking her phone away.
No clay under her fingernails, but that night, she and Aerith still got to hang out as a compromise. Movie night at Aerith’s place, since Tifa’s apartment was barely set up. Her couch hadn’t even arrived yet— something about the color she wanted delayed the whole operation.
So, in their pajamas— sort of —Tifa in her moogle shorts and a big T-shirt, Aerith having ditched her skirt for an oversized men’s button-up (Tifa didn’t question if it belonged to a boyfriend or why Aerith never seemed to like covering her legs)—they ordered Wutai takeout, spread it all over Aerith’s cute coffee table, and settled in.
“Okay, yeah, that definitely looks like a dick,” Tifa said, holding up the plastic cover of The Moogle King , the artwork showing a moogle standing proudly on a hill with a golden castle in the background with a sus looking tower.
Aerith burst out laughing while passing a bowl of popcorn. “Told you!”
Of course, they ended up streaming it online—because, honestly, who even owned a working VHS player anymore?
Tifa teared up at the same part she always did. She never handled dead dad storylines well. But Aerith didn’t have to know that yet. Felt odd to just spring up out of nowhere on a new friend.
Aerith, however, shifted a little closer, as if she knew. “This part makes me sad too.”
And something in Aerith’s voice, the hint of sadness and the thread of nostalgia, made Tifa wonder if she might be in the dead parent club too.
Tifa glanced at her, smiling softly. Somehow, that made it easier. She learned later that Aerith had lost her birth mother when she was young, before she was adopted by a kind and loving woman named Elmyra. That was a conversation they had on a later date, but at the time, they didn’t have to say it out loud.
Didn’t need to stop the movie and have a sudden heart-to-heart or some deep trauma bond talk. There was just a quiet acknowledgement. Being there was enough.
And then, next thing they knew, the Moogle King was munching on colorful insects and wobbling across a log with three equally adorable Moogles.
“Slimy yet satisfying,” they quoted the movie together.
They watched the rest of the movie— laughing at some parts, more singing, and getting a little teary-eyed again.
When Tifa got up to leave at the end of the night, Aerith suddenly perked up. “Wait—I have something for you.”
Surprise colored Tifa’s voice and face. “What? You…you didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s no big deal.” Aerith grinned, disappearing for a moment before returning with a small box.
Inside was a lavender ceramic mug, hand-painted with a beautiful yellow lily in the center.
“It’s a welcome gift,” Aerith said. “It’s the demonstration I made in the class you missed.”
Tifa held it carefully, cupped in her palms, like it was something precious—because it was . Delicate, like a newfound friendship in a new part of town where she knew no one.
She looked up, warm fuzzies rising in her chest. “It’s beautiful.”
It sort of became their thing.
They started having movie nights at Aerith’s once in a while. Tifa’s couch finally arrived a month later, but Aerith’s place was just… warmer . Cozier. More lived-in . And, well, it had surround sound and a sizable TV.
Plus, Tifa liked the candles she always had burning.
Aerith’s apartment was pretty much the same layout as her place. One bed, one bath. The living room and kitchen connected in a single open space, a white granite kitchen island with wooden barstools with gold accents. An unsurprisingly blush pink couch with cute monstera leaf patterned pillows, and everywhere the eye can see, there were plants—hanging, potted, thriving, living their best cottage core life.
It was just… nice to be there in Aerith’s space. Bright, warm, and smelled lightly floral, subtly sweet.
They watched the rest of The Moogle King trilogy, parts 2 and 3, all in one night, then moved on to other ’90s classics. They’d even watched Ghost. Sometimes they just talked, and the movie became background noise.
Aerith kept inviting her to more workshops, and Tifa kept missing them. Not on purpose, only because she was getting rather popular at the gym with clients lining up left and right.
After missing a painting workshop, Aerith surprised her with another gift—a hand-painted landscape of wildflowers under an expansive blue sky. Something that, for Aerith, was probably effortless.
“This is… amazing, Aerith.”
“It was part of the paint-and-sip class. I might have sipped too much,” Aerith admitted, grinning as she gestured toward the almost chaotic bursts of color. “I went a little hard.”
And yeah, with that explanation, Tifa could see it—the way the paint was laid down in bold, unrestrained strokes. There was a wild sort of freedom to it, as if Aerith had slipped into a meditative state and just followed instinct… or maybe just had enough wine to really feel it. That was the kind of person Aerith was. She felt . She lived in the moment, completely losing herself in the experience.
Tifa could never do that… with or without wine.
She’d need the whole bottle before she could even make a single, careful stroke—one she’d have sketched in pencil first, measuring twice before committing to anything.
But the way they contrasted…
That was something she liked too.
She smirked, taking in all the beautiful details before carefully hanging it in her living room, just above her better-late-than-never couch.
“Wow,” she murmured with a grin. “My empty wall officially has a Gainsborough.”
Aerith laughed. “I should charge you.”
The cost? A cheap bottle of wine—perfect for another movie night.
Over time, their movie nights evolved into a weekly ritual, sometimes even two-three times a week. It started with a serial weekly show. Every Sunday, they had this shitty teen werewolf-esque drama adapted from a YA book series that was far steamier than the network would ever allow. They tuned in religiously— takeout again, and after the credits rolled, they spent hours in post-episode analysis.
“Okay… okay… They’re cute together, sure,” Tifa admitted. “But how are they already madly in love? She’s known fighter chick for, like, three days— plus she’s been like a prisoner all her life.”
Aerith gasped, clutching a pillow to her chest, brown hair bouncing as she spun dramatically to face Tifa. “Three days in TV time is basically three years in real life. Plus, they have that soulmate werewolf instinct thing going on.”
Tifa snorted. “She went third base on day two!”
Aerith arched a brow, and snorted. “Okay, first of all—what are you, twelve? And second of all, your small-town, conservative upbringing is showing.”
“Pshhh,” Tifa scoffed, waving her off.
Aerith giggled, tossing a piece of popcorn at her. “Not everyone has a childhood crush for years , never acts on it, and then the girl moves away anyway…”
“Hey, hey—” Tifa started, already regretting she told Aerith one of her most embarrassing secrets.
“And you went to her wedding.”
“It… it was a beautiful wedding.”
“…Should’ve gone for third base, kid.”
Tifa gasped dramatically. “Aerith Gainsborough, aiming straight for the jugular.”
“Learned from the best,” she said with a sly, victorious smile.
Every missed workshop earned Tifa a new decoration, like Aerith was sneakily furnishing her apartment, one piece at a time. Tifa didn’t mind it, it was nice, and she had never been the best decorator. That painting in the living room, for instance, had become a conversation starter anytime one of her slowly growing circle of friends dropped by—like her coworker Rude, who had taken a surprising and immediate liking to Aerith.
Still, her favorite was the very first one.
Her lavender mug, though, lived in Aerith’s cupboard, always waiting for her. It made it easier for weekend morning coffees at Aerith’s.
They texted daily. Walked to work together depending on their schedules since Aerith wasn’t always on shift, though sometimes Aerith walked with her anyway.
They talked about anything and everything—the deep, the shallow, and all the messy spaces in between.
Tifa told her about her rinky-dink hometown, how her mom had finally moved back to Wutai, her motherland. About past relationships that never quite worked out. About her dad.
And Aerith shared stories of all the jobs she’d cycled through after college—how none of them stuck, how she always ended up restless—until she found the little craft store and realized that learning sixty million crafts had been her passion all along.
Tifa admired her.
She had never known anyone quite like Aerith—someone so free, so honest, never afraid to speak her mind. Tifa had always been the opposite. Sure, she could move like fire when she really felt it, especially in anger, but most of the time, she was slow, careful—always mindful of the people around her.
They had their go-to spots—bagels from the tiny corner deli for breakfast, their favorite Wutai takeout place, which happened to be the same place they ordered from the first night they hung out because after cross-checking every place within a ten-mile radius for the best soup dumplings, that first one rightfully earned its crown.
Tifa could admit to being a bit of a snob when it came to Wutai cuisine—half Wutaian herself, she had grown up on her grandmother’s dumplings, the undisputed best in her book. But this place, their place? It came close.
And, of course, the cute little café, Bliss, halfway between Tifa’s gym and Aerith’s craft store, where they met up for coffee breaks that always stretched longer than planned, making Tifa text her client that she would be a couple minutes late.
“They won’t be too mad, will they?” Aerith asked, a playful apology in her voice as she twirled a strand of her bouncy brown waves.
Tifa waved it off with a grin. “Nah, I’m worth the wait. I’m a pretty big deal, y’know. Got people waitlisted for months now.”
Aerith raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Oh? Big roller. Maybe I should start taking your private lessons.”
Tifa smirked, crossing her arms as she teased, “One, I know for a fact you hate cardio.”
“Touché… but I could make an exception.” Her voice dipped, warm and smooth. “If it’s with you. I can be good. I can follow instructions.”
Tifa gave her a look. “And two . I call bs. You most definitely can not follow instructions.”
Aerith stuck her tongue out.
Tifa laughed, shaking her head. “And just so you know… I don’t come cheap.”
Aerith rested her chin on her hand, a glint of challenge in her eyes. “Oh yeah? Try me.”
“And for difficult customers… I charge double.”
Green eyes never wavered. “I’d say you’re worth every gil.”
“Alright alright… enough playing.” Rolling her eyes with a smile, Tifa stood up, picking up her coffee. “I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah, go get 'em tiger!” Aerith teased.
Meeting up, grabbing meals, doing everything together—it all became a habit. A routine.
Aerith wasn’t just her neighbor… or even just a friend anymore—she was a constant, woven so seamlessly into the rhythm of Tifa’s days. Tifa could barely recall life without her.
And then, after a couple months of knowing her, Tifa suddenly blurted out one evening, “Are we… best friends?”
Aerith laughed. “You mean all this time, you don’t know?”
“I mean… I just… we never really…talked about it?”
“It does feel weird to say as an adult, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Kind of?”
“And you caught me without my friendship bracelets too…”
Tifa shrugged with a laugh.
It was a strange thing to put into words as an adult. As kids, calling someone your best friend was whatever, something you could do without hesitation or much thought within minutes, even seconds of meeting them. It didn’t require much.
But as you grew older, it became harder to vocalize, as if somewhere along the way, you forgot how simple it was to form real connections—how easy it had once been to share a bond without overthinking it.
“Like... we are, right?” Tifa asked again, the question softer this time, like she was waiting for confirmation.
Aerith grinned, eyes twinkling. “Tifa Lockhart, are you asking me out … as your BFF?”
Tifa felt her face heat up suddenly. “Yeah, I guess I am.” She nodded, sure.
Aerith giggled, wrapping her in a warm hug. “Of course, we are. Tifa, you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. And I’m so grateful to have you as my best friend. I accept a thousand times over,” she said before settling under their shared throw blanket.
That night, they curled up on the couch for yet another episode of Love Is Blind , their latest binge obsession—three nights straight and counting. It felt as though Tifa had lived at Aerith’s most of the time now.
They watched as some semi-good looking blonde fumbled through every relationship in the pods because talking to him was about as productive as talking to a wall.
Which they were already doing in the show—the whole point was to fall in love with someone sight unseen. But that guy never made any meaningful connections with anyone, no matter how hard he tried (or didn’t try). Guess love wasn’t so blind for him after all.
But sitting there, warm under the blanket with Aerith’s head resting against her shoulder, making her usual commentary.
“Man, that guy has the personality of wet cardboard,” Aerith snorted.
Tifa felt her heart full to the brim.
Because Aerith was the most meaningful connection she’d made since moving here… and in life, if she were honest. Ironically, she was also on the other side of her walls.
And sometimes Tifa imagined: if they could only speak through the walls like the show, she knew they would never stop talking. They’d never leave the pods. She could never tire of Aerith. Not her voice, not her laugh, not the way she saw and described the world.
And for the first time, she could say it out loud.
Aerith was her best friend.
And… Aerith, as a best friend, was crazy over the top sometimes, especially when it came to holidays, sending her decadent pastries from fancy bakeries for Christmas, and splurging on flowers for Galentines. And on random days, Aerith would pick up little trinkets—just because something reminded her of Tifa.
But it was on her birthday that she really went all out.
She took Tifa to the uptown dining district, and they dressed to the nines—Tifa in a stunning purple dress that Aerith had bought her just for the occasion. They ate at the fanciest, bougiest restaurant, the kind that probably cost a small fortune, which made Tifa feel guilty, but Aerith refused to let her help.
“I feel bad… This is too much.”
“Are you kidding?” Aerith grinned, adjusting the straps of her red dress with a plunging neckline. “It’s my best friend’s birthday! It’s your free pass. Birthday rules! Let me spoil you!”
And spoil her, she did.
Aerith handed her a small velvet box. Inside, Tifa found crystal teardrop earrings. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
“I saw them and just thought they’d look so pretty on you…” Aerith said softly, watching her closely. “And I was right.”
Tifa couldn’t stop smiling that night, feeling both overwhelmed and deeply loved. Aerith was the kind of friend she had always wished for as a child—the kind who saw straight into her heart, who just knew her without needing to be told. The way Aerith understood her, the way she made her feel special, and that Aerith had been special to her, the word friend doesn’t do her justice.
They clinked their champagne glasses together on the rooftop bar, the city lights twinkling below them.
It was, without a doubt, one of the best birthdays she had ever had.
Aerith did hit the gym in the summertime.
Only for the free AC, of course. The craft store she worked at had a venting issue, so while it was closed for repairs for a week and a half, she came by almost every day to hang out with Tifa.
“You could at least pretend to be working out,” Tifa teased, glancing over her shoulder.
Aerith was lounging against the wall, cross-legged, casually sipping a green juice Rude had made her, while Tifa’s current client powered through another set of reps in front of them.
"I'm having a green juice, Tifa. That's enough," Aerith replied, sipping her little green smoothie, making an obnoxious slurping noise.
Tifa rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she refocused on her client—Jessie Raspberry, an award-winning theater actress and one of her highest-profile clients… who had taken quite a liking to Aerith.
"Your girl looks good, though," Jessie remarked mid-pushup. “What’s your routine?”
Tifa blinked. "She's not my—"
"Thanks!" Aerith cut in proudly.
Jessie grinned. "Honestly, if you ever need an agent, I could hook you up."
Aerith tapped her chin thoughtfully, then shot Tifa a mischievous look before slipping into her best mid-Atlantic accent. “Tell me, darling—do you think I’ve got what it takes to be a star?”
“Oh, she’s good,” Jessie commented, clearly impressed.
Aerith gave a dramatic flutter of her lashes and replied in an entirely different accent, “Why, thank you… I have always depended on the kindness of strangers .”
Tifa snorted, shaking her head before turning back to Jessie. "Keep your back straight."
"Got it, coach!" Jessie shot back with a smirk.
Jessie was one of the few clients on Tifa’s call list who made it possible for her to afford living alone in Midgar. The costs of living here were high, and even with some of her star clients, the grind never stopped.
Sometimes, Tifa wondered how much Aerith had to hustle, juggling extra workshops, probably on top of her regular store clerk job, to afford the apartment she had. They never really talked about money— it wasn’t a topic they ever touched. Truth be told, if it hadn’t been for her dad’s inheritance, Tifa would’ve never been able to afford the place in the first place.
But Tifa always thought it must take a lot of work to make it even because Tifa knew how high her bill was. Aerith never seemed worried, though—just that carefree, whimsy energy that always made everything seem easy.
Maybe arts and crafts really do pay well.
It had been a little over a year since Tifa moved into her place, and everything just fell into all the right places.
She was happy. Really happy.
Her career was taking off, she loved the gym, and it had its perks, being the boss’ favorite. She liked her friends like Jessie and Rude, and through it all, Aerith, her best friend, had been there, supporting her every step of the way. Tifa couldn't imagine her life without Aerith, and it made her realize just how much they’d grown together.
Then… well, one early autumn evening, during one of their usual movie nights…that was when Tifa accidentally stumbled upon it.
They were watching the latest episode of the current Love is Blind season at Aerith’s. Typical night for them. Aerith had been tired that day—stone sculpting was something she had recently gotten into, and it had worn her out. She’d passed out before the newly formed couples even hit their honeymoon in Costa Del Sol.
Tifa, still wide awake, glanced toward Aerith, who had curled up on the couch, lost to sleep. The strap of her pink silk nightie had slipped from her shoulder, exposing smooth skin to the dim light of the living room. She was nestled deep in the blankets, head resting against the armrest, breathing slow and even.
Aerith did this often—falling asleep mid-show, sometimes leaning on Tifa’s shoulder, sometimes using her lap as a pillow. She loved to sleep, always had. More than once, Tifa had to wake her up in the morning so she wouldn’t be late for work. Good thing she had a copy of Aerith’s keys. Aerith had hers too.
Tifa had long since stopped minding.
She glanced at Aerith, soft and peaceful in sleep, and considered just letting her stay there for the night. But… she could do better than that.
Moving carefully, she slipped her arms under Aerith’s legs and back, lifting her with ease, with her back straight.The faintest trace of floral perfume lingered on her skin. Tifa carried her to the bedroom, lowering her gently onto the bed. She slid off Aerith’s glasses, setting them on the nightstand, then pulled the blanket over her with the same tenderness.
“Mmm… Thanks Teef…” Aerith murmured in her sleep, sighing contentedly.
Tifa chuckled under her breath and whispered. “Goodnight Aerith.”
She had barely turned to leave when the sharp chime of a notification interrupted the quiet.
Tifa glanced toward Aerith’s laptop, which sat open but in sleep mode on her desk. She stepped toward it, intending only to power it down. But as soon as she tapped a key, the screen blinked to life—unlocked.
Her eyes flickered to the notification.
Then, she froze.
The website on the screen. The chime wasn’t from an email or some other random social site.
It was… OnlyFans.
Tifa’s stomach flipped. Because staring at her in the dim light was someone’s profile. Someone… named Maycum Bloom… The name meant nothing to her. But the face on the profile picture?
…It was Aerith.
Another chime .
A new message.
"Your latest video was so hot! I luv yu maycum!” exSOLDIERLocke tipped 10$.
Tifa blinked, her pulse hammering in her ears.
Video? Video?
Slowly, her gaze drifted to the feed. Her finger hovered over the trackpad, shaking.
There, staring back at her, was a thumbnail.
Wearing that same pink silk nightie.
Tifa swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.
Legs spread…
“What…”
Her best friend—her neighbor. The woman she’d spent the last year growing attached to at the hip. The one who knew her inside and out, who filled her apartment with paintings and tiny paper-crafted flowers, and who’d bought her crystal earrings for her birthday.
The same Aerith holding a pink silicone dildo with half of it in her—
“What the fuck…”