Elucidator14567
Some nights, he dreams.
He dreams about a young man with the same ridiculously oversized sword. But it's not him. This man's hair is black.
Some nights, he drinks.
He drinks with the bartender girl with gravity-defying breasts and inhuman strength. She laughs loudly, already a bit tipsy, while he cracks a small smile, hidden by his jug.
Some nights, he talks.
He talks with with the two men with mechanical arms, one huge and muscular, one cloaked and brooding. The older guy does most of the talking, always "Daughter this, daughter that", while the younger just rolls his eyes, contemplating whether to leave or not.
Some nights, he trains.
He trains with the motormouth tough guy with a mouth that spews cuss words 24/7, and with the young ninja girl who once attempted (or did she actually do it?) to steal his money. They constantly argue back and forth at one another, and it's up to him to separate them after a good few minutes (on good days, that is).
Some nights, he runs.
He runs through the city, over the mountains; Running with a majestic red lion with a fortune-telling cat on top of his head. They leap and spin and laugh, and he feels free.
Some nights, he remembers.
He remembers the young flower girl with the long brown hair and brilliant green eyes. He remembers her lilting voice and her kind smile. He remembers when he first met her, surrounded by flowers at the stall in Sector Five.
Some nights, he cries.
He cries by himself, locked in his room, clutching a frayed pink ribbon. He cries as he sees the blade swing, the cruel smirk on the one-winged angel's face. He cries as he sees her face, shocked, and then having the life slowly drain out of it. He cries as he remembers the weight of her bloodstained, limp body lying in his arms.
Zack. Tifa. Barret. Vincent. Cid. Yuffie. Red. Cait Sith.
Aerith.
"I'm sorry..."