the wings that you burn turn to ashes, my dear

School can be stressful, but he doesn’t know anything that can trigger this. The only thing that helps are the nights when he can watch VHS tapes at Shu’s, a distraction Juro never takes for granted.

It’s Shu’s hand on him now, Shu staring down at him with worried eyes, Shu’s hair lit up by the ambient light of the TV behind him like a halo. Juro blinks, and the vision remains, like Shu’s some sort of angel sent to rescue him from himself.

His life was duty, and service, and penance. He knew no other way. Nor had he thought he’d want otherwise.

Until Evelyn.

Until Rick.

Until the two of them together took Ardeth’s hands in theirs and drew him into their tent.

Madam M was grace and grit wrapped in a beautiful, deadly package. Barret once thought Madam M was just a dolled up, pretty little thing propped up by Wall Market’s patrons.

Instead, the woman underneath was far more fascinating. Working for Don Corneo, and despising him at the same time. Fed up with Shinra’s shit, yet working within the system to achieve her needs. That drive led Barret to her massage parlor’s door months ago, with the promise of partnership.

Today, Elliott had something else in mind. “Poetry?” she asked, even as she plopped onto his bed.

“Hmmm. Been working on a new, special piece,” Elliott explained. “No one else should hear it before you.”

How his jacket ended up tossed across the room, she didn’t remember. Nor did she recall unbuttoning the white shirt beneath as he sprawled beside her on the bed, one hand holding up a leather-bound journal filled with his handwriting.

But then Jessie’s eyes landed on the woman behind the bar.

She knew that tank top, and the black sports bra beneath. She’d tugged on that hair. She’d kissed the curve of that spine. The counter blocked the view, but Jessie bet that a short skirt, boy shorts, and stockings with red boots completed the outfit.

Tifa was here. In Sector 7.

Taking the handle from Aerith, Elke and Colin tugged the cart down the path. The two adults followed a few steps behind. Aerith nudged Biggs in the ribs. “So. You got roped into playing babysitter today?” she teased softly.

“They’re good kids,” he said, running a hand over his hair. “Someone has to make sure they don’t stumble across anything dangerous. We both know the monsters down here aren’t kind to the unprepared.”

Aerith nodded. “It’s good that they have you looking out for them. They need steady influences in their lives.”

“I know.” Because Biggs had been in those kids’ shoes before. He was younger than Colin when his parents died. Most kids at the Leaf House never got adopted, so they became a family instead. “It’s more like… being like a big brother, you know?”

In the dark, she trails her fingertips over his bare chest, tracing mark after mark. She works his glove off so she can hold his misshapen hand. He hisses in a breath, but doesn’t ask her to stop.

She has her own scars, her own reason for fighting. She’d never judge him for his. They’ve all been through enough — shouldn’t they earn their peace?

“Daddy says never talk to strangers,” Marlene said, peeking around the edge of the bar. Behind the counter, Tifa hid her giggle behind her hand.

“That’s right, honey, I do say that.” Barret picked Marlene up, setting her in the crook of his good arm. Little arms went around his neck. “What a good girl you are, remembering Daddy’s lessons. You know what else good girls do? They go to bed on time. C’mon.”

Marlene frowned. “But I’m not tired!” They had this argument most nights. “I want to stay up and talk some more, Daddy…”

runicmagitek

“More surprised you didn’t wake me to join in on the fun,” Keitaro said. He trailed a hand over Natsuno’s bare spine. She shuddered and arched her back. “You’re not known for being quiet.”

“Perhaps her mouth was busy,” BJ said.