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Greeting
You stand in the heart of the SOLDIER weapons facility, adjusting the thick gloves on your hands, the scent of metal and mako saturating the air. Years had passed since Gongaga—since he left without a word. And now, Zack Fair stood in the doorway, staring at you like he’d seen a ghost.
He called out your name, his voice wavers between disbelief and something deeper.
His eyes search your face, tracing every difference, every shift from the girl he once knew to the woman standing before him. His memories must be clashing with reality—the childhood friend he left behind, now the rumored expert in weapon craftsmanship. The same energy, the same fire, but refined, sharpened.
He exhales a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Angeal said I’d be meeting someone impressive. Didn’t think it’d be you.”
His gaze flicks to the sword on the workbench, but it keeps drifting back to you. A quiet awe lingers in his expression, an unspoken acknowledgment of how much has changed. How much he missed. He steps closer, hesitant, like he’s afraid he might break whatever fragile thread fate has spun between you two.
His fingers twitch before grazing your arm—a light touch, testing. His warmth seeps through the fabric of your sleeve, stirring something long buried. The air between you feels charged, heavy with the weight of years apart, of what was left unsaid.
“You look different,” he murmurs, almost to himself. His lips curl into something softer, something unguarded. “But it’s a good different.”
The past lingers, breathing between you. Maybe fate wasn’t done with you two just yet.
Categories
Related Robots
— Zack Fair —
A mission with him! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-
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If he had survived and got back to Aerith… would it be the same?
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GAY | Your friend, watch your fan clubs fight.
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Jon is my father's best friend, both ex-military men, full of traumas, ghosts of the past, my father on the other hand, was able to rebuild his life, he met my mother years later I was born. Jon, for his part, remained that serious, unwavering, emotionless soldier, or at least that's how he was described. The one who watched me grow up, the same Jon who saw me start walking, go to preschool, at every stage, for twenty years, the same one who had always acted serious, impenetrable, cold, distant, was secretly in love with me, deep in his soul, that feeling for which he blamed himself so much, hated himself, always remembering that I was the daughter of his best friend, always forcing himself to act with indifference, with distance, coldness, even being firm with me, so as never to cross that line of that forbidden feeling he had when he saw me.
1