L/R @twinklestarstarstar - Tumblr Blog

When the Sky Fell on Her (Day 1)

▲♦ English isn’t my native language.

Fandom : Final fantasy VII | Pairing : Zack Fair / Aerith Gainsborough | Notes : written for @zerith-week 2026 | Theme : Day 1 , First Impressions " There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison. "

Summary: Aerith’s quiet day in the Sector 5 church is shattered when a young SOLDIER crashes through the roof and lands among her flowers. Beneath Zack’s confidence and playful charm, she quickly notices a loneliness he tries to hide. Their teasing encounter leaves them both questioning their first impressions and quietly hoping it will not be their last.

“There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison.”

Aerith had learned a long time ago that silence was never truly silent.

Even inside the old church in the Sector 5 slums, far from the busiest streets, there was always a multitude of small sounds lingering in the air. The tired creaking of the wooden pews. The wind slipping through cracks in the stained-glass windows. The muffled rumble of Midgar’s reactors somewhere above her. Sometimes, she could even hear the hurried footsteps of people walking through the nearby alley without ever taking the time to push open the doors of the abandoned building.

Aerith liked that quiet murmur.

It reminded her that the world continued to exist even when she chose to step away from it.

Kneeling in the middle of her flower bed, she gently pressed her fingers into the damp earth. Beneath the plate, the ground received almost no natural light. Nothing should have been able to grow here. That was what everyone told her whenever she returned from the market carrying new pots, a few packets of seeds, or gardening tools salvaged from a merchant.

The soil was too poor.

The air was too heavy.

The light was artificial.

Midgar was not a place where flowers could live.

Aerith had eventually started treating those remarks as encouragement.

She carefully straightened a leaning stem, then brushed the dust from a yellow petal with her thumb. Around her, the flowers formed a small island of colour at the heart of the crumbling church. They grew between cracked stones and broken pieces of wood, stubbornly ignoring everything that should have condemned them.

— You’re looking particularly beautiful today, she murmured.

A white flower swayed slightly in the passing breeze.

Aerith smiled.

— Yes, I know. You’re always beautiful. Don’t let it make you conceited.

She sat back on her heels and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her mother had asked her not to come home too late. She still needed to prepare a few bouquets for the following day and check whether the elderly woman at the end of the street needed more medicine.

Even so, Aerith was in no hurry.

Outside, the Turks had been appearing more frequently. She occasionally spotted them at the end of a street, far enough away to pretend they were not watching her but close enough for her to know that they had never truly stopped.

The church remained one of the few places where she still felt beyond their reach.

Here, no one called her an Ancient.

No one spoke to her about Shinra, laboratories, or promises concerning a land she had never seen.

Here, she was simply Aerith.

A flower seller who talked to her plants.

Another current of air swept through the church.

This time, several petals trembled at once.

Aerith lifted her head.

Something had cracked in the rafters.

She remained still, her hands still covered in soil, and studied the damaged beams overhead. Some had darkened with age. Others appeared to be standing only because none of them had yet gathered the courage to fall.

A second crack echoed through the building.

Louder.

Closer.

Aerith frowned.

— That isn’t funny.

A dull rumble answered her.

Dust drifted down from the ceiling.

She had only enough time to stand.

The roof gave way in an explosion of wood and light.

Aerith stumbled backwards, raising her arms to shield her face. Broken planks crashed down around her as a dark figure tore through the rafters and landed heavily in the middle of her flower bed.

The impact sent dust and petals swirling into the air.

Then everything fell silent.

Aerith stood frozen, her eyes wide.

A beam of light now poured through the ceiling, cutting through the cloud of dust suspended in the air. Beneath it lay a young man flat on his back, his arms spread wide, as though the sky itself had thrown him unceremoniously into the church.

An enormous sword was strapped across his back.

Aerith looked at the stranger.

Then at the hole in the roof.

Then at her crushed flowers.

She drew a deep breath.

— Normal people use the door.

The man did not react.

Aerith’s frown deepened.

She had not heard him cry out during the fall. Nothing had indicated whether he was conscious. He was not moving, though his chest appeared to rise faintly beneath his dark uniform.

Aerith moved closer with caution, stepping around shattered planks and scattered flowers.

The closer she came, the more her concern replaced her irritation.

The young man wore the uniform of SOLDIER.

She immediately recognised the metal pauldrons, the heavy boots, and the dark material of his clothes. She had seen men like him patrolling the streets of Midgar before. They usually walked as though the entire city belonged to them, their gazes fixed ahead and their weapons displayed for everyone to see.

Warriors enhanced by Shinra.

Heroes, according to the posters covering the walls.

Dangerous men, according to her mother.

Aerith stopped a few steps away from him.

The stranger did not look much like the imposing soldiers featured in Shinra’s propaganda campaigns. He seemed young despite the size of his weapon and the strong build emphasised by his uniform. His black hair stuck out in every possible direction. A thin cut marked his cheek, but it appeared superficial.

She leaned over him.

— Hello?

No answer.

— Mr SOLDIER Who Fell from the Sky?

Still nothing.

Aerith placed her hands on her hips.

— You crushed my flowers. The least you could do is apologise before you die.

The young man’s eyelids twitched.

Aerith leaned closer.

— Are you dead?

— Not yet…

She jumped and stepped back quickly.

The young man slowly opened his eyes. He blinked several times against the light pouring through the roof, then turned his head towards her.

Aerith held her breath.

His eyes were blue.

Not a natural blue, but the bright, almost unreal shade produced by mako exposure. They seemed to hold a fragment of the sky the people of the slums never got to see. The glow was fascinating despite everything it represented.

The stranger stared at her for a long moment.

For one second, his face showed neither pain nor confusion. Only silent wonder, as though he was no longer entirely certain she was real.

Aerith folded her arms.

— Are you planning to stay there for long?

He blinked.

— What?

— My flowers.

He slowly turned his head and noticed the crushed stems beneath him.

— Oh.

— Is that all?

— I’m still trying to figure out where I am.

— In a church.

His gaze travelled up towards the hole above him.

— I had almost worked that out.

— Really? Because you didn’t enter in the usual way.

A smile suddenly spread across the young man’s face.

It was broad, bright, and far too confident for someone who had just fallen through a roof.

— I like making an entrance.

Aerith stared at him.

— You succeeded.

He attempted to sit up, but a grimace crossed his face. He lifted one hand to the back of his head and remained seated among the flowers, his shoulders slightly hunched.

— I’ve had more graceful landings.

— Do you do this often?

— Fall from the sky?

— Destroy buildings.

He considered the question for a few seconds.

— Not intentionally.

— That’s reassuring. I would have been offended to learn you had something against this particular church.

The young man’s smile widened. He appeared to recover remarkably quickly. Or perhaps he was only pretending.

Aerith studied him more closely.

His breathing was too shallow. One hand remained pressed against the ground to support his weight. Despite his easy smile and light tone, his fingers were trembling.

He was hurt.

Far more than he wanted her to realise.

— I can make it up to you, he declared.

— By repairing the roof?

He looked up.

— That’s a large hole.

— I had noticed.

— I was thinking of something simpler.

Aerith raised an eyebrow.

— Such as?

— A date.

She stared at him in silence.

The stranger held her gaze with almost admirable seriousness.

He had just crashed into her garden, damaged the roof of her sanctuary, and could barely sit upright. Yet he had still found a way to ask her on a date as though it were the most natural conclusion to the situation.

Her first impression was immediate.

He was arrogant.

The second followed soon after.

He was completely ridiculous.

The third crept into her thoughts more quietly.

He was afraid she would notice his weakness.

Aerith unfolded her arms and held out her hand.

The stranger looked down at her fingers.

— What are you doing?

— Helping you stand.

— I can manage.

— Of course.

— I’m serious.

— So am I.

He looked at her, then tried to rise on his own.

The moment he placed his weight on one leg, he swayed.

Aerith did not move. Her hand remained extended.

— You were saying?

He gave her a displeased look.

— I would have managed eventually.

— Before or after crushing the rest of my flowers?

The stranger sighed and finally took her hand.

His fingers closed around hers carefully, as though he were afraid of hurting her. Aerith pulled while he pushed himself upright.

He stood too quickly.

His balance failed him.

He suddenly found himself directly in front of her, close enough for Aerith to feel his breath against her forehead. His free hand landed on her shoulder while she instinctively placed hers against his chest to stop him from falling.

His smile disappeared.

In his mako-bright eyes, Aerith finally glimpsed what he had been trying to hide.

Exhaustion.

A deep pain that was not entirely physical.

And, for a fraction of a second, a loneliness so vast that it seemed incompatible with all the energy he radiated.

Then he blinked.

The mask slipped back into place.

He straightened and stepped away, his brilliant smile returning.

— I’m fine.

Aerith tilted her head.

— Do you always say that when it isn’t true?

His mouth opened.

No sound came out.

This time, she had managed to strip away his confidence.

She gently removed her hand from his chest.

— Sit down.

— I just stood up.

— And you’re about to fall.

— I’m not going to—

His legs trembled slightly.

Aerith pointed towards a pew.

— Sit.

He followed her gaze, then looked back at her.

— Do you always order SOLDIER members around?

— Only the ones who fall through my roof.

The stranger seemed ready to protest again before thinking better of it. He walked towards the nearest pew and lowered himself onto it with a degree of caution that confirmed he was genuinely in pain.

Aerith returned to the damaged flowers.

Several stems had been broken by his fall. Others had merely been flattened beneath the planks. She knelt and began removing the debris.

Behind her, the young man remained silent.

It did not last long.

— They really grow here?

Aerith turned around.

He was staring at the flowers with a different expression now. There was no arrogance left in his gaze. Only an almost childlike curiosity.

— Yes.

— Under the plate?

— That is generally where the slums are.

— But there’s no sunlight.

— They make do with what they have.

He leaned forwards slightly.

— I’ve never seen so many down here.

— Most people don’t pay attention.

— I pay attention.

Aerith looked down at the damage.

— A little late.

The young man’s face fell.

— All right. I deserved that.

She suppressed a smile and lifted one of the planks. A yellow flower appeared beneath it, its stem bent almost to the ground.

The stranger stood from the pew.

— Wait. I’ll help.

— I thought you were fine.

— I am.

— Then why are you walking like an injured chocobo?

He stopped.

— An injured chocobo?

— I could find something less flattering.

He joined her despite the warning and crouched beside her. Aerith expected him to crush another plant with his boots, but he carefully placed his knees on a clear patch of ground.

His attention settled on the bent flower.

— Is it dead?

— Not necessarily.

— How can you tell?

— The stem isn’t completely broken.

Aerith retrieved a strip of cloth from her satchel and pointed at the flower.

— Hold it upright.

The stranger hesitated.

— Me?

— Do you see anyone else?

He moved his hands towards the plant with excessive caution.

— Like this?

— Gently.

— I am gentle.

Aerith looked at his enormous sword.

— Obviously.

— My sword has nothing to do with this.

— It’s taller than I am.

— It’s practical.

— For gardening?

He smothered a laugh.

Despite the size of his hands, he held the flower with surprising delicacy. Aerith wrapped the strip of cloth around the stem to support it, then adjusted the small knot.

— There.

The young man did not immediately release the plant.

— Will it survive?

— Maybe.

— Only maybe?

— It just had a SOLDIER land on its head. It needs time to recover.

He watched the flower for several seconds.

— I’m sorry.

His voice was different this time.

There was no joke.

No charming smile.

Only disarming sincerity.

Aerith turned towards him.

At first, she had assumed he was apologising merely to continue flirting with her. Yet he appeared genuinely troubled by the damage. As though the survival of one small flower had suddenly become far more important than it reasonably should have been.

— It’s resilient, she said. It grew in Midgar.

— That does take courage.

— Or a great deal of stubbornness.

He lifted his eyes to hers.

— I know something about that.

Their gazes met.

For a moment, Aerith had the strange impression that he was no longer talking about the flower.

The young man was the first to look away.

— My name is Zack.

The name perfectly suited his presence. Short, lively, bright. It sounded like a spark, or the beginning of an adventure no one had yet decided to embark upon.

— Aerith.

Zack repeated her name more softly.

— Aerith.

Something tightened inside her chest.

It was not unpleasant.

Only unexpected.

— Do you always repeat people’s names?

— Only when they’re pretty.

— And do you always ask girls on dates after destroying their roofs?

— This is the first time I’ve found myself in this exact situation.

— How fortunate.

He gave her a crooked smile.

— I think so too.

Aerith shook her head, though she could not entirely prevent the corners of her mouth from lifting.

Zack looked at her as though he had just won an important victory.

— You smiled.

— No, I didn’t.

— You did.

— It was a grimace.

— A pretty grimace.

— Are you always like this?

— Like what?

— Loud.

He pressed a hand against his heart, looking deeply offended.

— I’m enthusiastic.

— You fell from a considerable height. You may still be confused.

Zack burst out laughing.

The sound filled the church with astonishing ease. It bounced against the old walls, travelled through the rows of abandoned pews, and somehow made the building feel less empty.

Aerith watched him laugh.

It was difficult to imagine that a boy capable of producing so much light could carry so much silence in his eyes.

— Why are you looking at me like that? he asked.

— I’m thinking.

— About our date?

— About how to get you out of here without making the hole any larger.

— I could use the door.

— Excellent idea.

— See? I’m resourceful.

Aerith finished clearing the last of the flowers and stood. Zack did the same, more slowly this time.

A metallic noise echoed in the distance.

They both froze.

The change in Zack was immediate.

His smile vanished. His hand moved towards the hilt of his sword, and every trace of clumsiness disappeared from his posture. In the space of a second, the talkative young man became a SOLDIER again.

Aerith recognised that tension.

Someone was pursuing him.

— Are you in trouble? she asked.

Zack turned his head towards the church entrance.

— Nothing I can’t handle.

— Another thing you say when it isn’t true?

He glanced at her.

— You’ve known me for five minutes.

— And you’re not particularly difficult to understand.

A shadow crossed his eyes.

— Don’t be so sure.

Aerith felt the conversation brush against an invisible boundary.

She could have pushed. She could have asked what had sent him falling into the church, why he looked so exhausted, or who could be pursuing a member of SOLDIER. But she knew how to recognise secrets people were not yet ready to share.

She possessed enough of her own.

Zack removed his hand from the hilt of his sword.

— I should go.

— Probably.

Yet he remained where he was.

His gaze drifted towards the flowers before returning to her.

— Do you come here often?

— It’s my church.

— You bought it?

— I adopted it.

— With the hole in the roof?

— That part is recent.

— Right. Sorry.

Aerith approached the flower bed and picked a small yellow flower. She hesitated for a moment before holding it out to Zack.

He stared at it as though he did not understand the gesture.

— Is that for me?

— Consider it proof.

— Proof of what?

Aerith looked up towards the broken ceiling.

— That you didn’t dream the part where you fell from the sky.

Zack took the flower carefully. His thumb brushed against her fingers as he accepted it.

— I could come back to make sure.

— You don’t need to check when you have proof.

— Then I’ll find another excuse.

— For what?

He held the flower against his chest.

— To see you again.

Aerith felt warmth rise faintly to her cheeks.

She folded her arms to regain her composure.

— You could start by repairing my roof.

Zack looked up at the hole again.

— You’re very attached to that roof.

— I was.

— I’ll see what I can do.

— Do you know how to repair rafters?

— Not yet.

— How reassuring.

He took a few steps towards the exit.

— My offer still stands, by the way.

Aerith pretended to consider it.

— You haven’t even asked whether I’m already interested in someone.

Zack stopped.

An almost comical expression of concern crossed his face.

— Are you?

She allowed the silence to stretch.

— Maybe.

— Is he a good person?

— I don’t know yet.

— You don’t know?

Aerith smiled.

— I only just met him.

Zack stared at her.

Then understanding lit up his face.

— So that means I have a chance.

— It mostly means you’re very confident.

— I prefer optimistic.

— I noticed.

He offered her one final smile, less arrogant than the others. Softer too.

— See you soon, Aerith.

She could have told him that he had no way of knowing whether they would meet again.

That he knew nothing about her.

That meetings in Midgar did not always become reunions.

And yet, something prevented her from saying it.

— See you soon, Zack.

The young man stepped through the church doors.

Aerith watched him disappear into the grey light of the slums, the yellow flower still held carefully between his fingers. His figure vanished behind a wall, taking his jokes and the sound of his footsteps with him.

Silence returned.

But it was not the same silence.

Aerith remained standing in the middle of the aisle, her eyes fixed on the open doors.

Only a few minutes earlier, her day had been ordinary. She had been tending to her flowers, watching the cracks in the roof, and preparing to go home before her mother began to worry.

Then Zack had fallen from the sky.

He had destroyed her roof.

Crushed her plants.

Tried to charm her before he had even managed to stand properly.

He was loud, clumsy, conceited, and far too charming for his own good.

He was also gentler than he wanted anyone to see.

Aerith returned to the flower bed. The flower they had straightened was still standing, supported by the strip of cloth tied around its stem.

She brushed her fingertips over its petals.

— What do you think?

The flower swayed slightly.

Aerith smiled.

— Yes, I know. He’s strange.

She picked up her tools, but her attention kept drifting towards the door.

She thought about his mako eyes, his laughter, and the brief second when his smile had vanished. She wondered what he was hiding behind all that confidence. What kind of pain could make someone feel the need to smile so brightly.

Zack had probably believed he had met a fragile flower seller hiding inside an old church, someone naïve enough to be impressed by his uniform.

He would learn.

Aerith was not a flower that needed protecting.

And he was certainly not the invincible hero he pretended to be.

The beam of light falling through the ceiling had shifted. It now illuminated the exact place where Zack had landed, making the petals scattered across the earth shimmer.

Aerith lifted her eyes towards the unreachable sky beyond the plate.

She had spent her entire life surrounded by walls, metal, and people who wanted to decide her future for her. She had learned not to expect very much from ordinary days.

Yet on that particular day, the sky had found a way to reach her.

It had unruly black hair, a smile too bright for the slums, and a sword far too large for its own good.

Aerith did not yet know what place Zack would take in her life. She knew nothing about his dreams, his battles, or the reason such loneliness lived inside his gaze.

She only knew that he would return.

Perhaps because he had promised.

Perhaps because she wanted to believe him.

Or perhaps because, during their brief encounter, something between them had fallen into harmony with an ease as fragile and impossible as a flower growing beneath the plate.

A first impression could be misleading.

It could also be incomplete.

Aerith stared at the hole in the roof for a few more seconds before lowering her eyes to the flower they had saved.

— He’ll come back, she whispered.

This time, the flowers did not answer.

But she did not need their confirmation.

She was already certain.