^{There is no present waiting in a cold, white room for Naminé’s return. At least, not a present from Aerith.}

 ^{Instead, Aerith hopes that the girl with the hesitant smile, soft eyes and flaxen hair will accept the offered jacket as a permanent fixture in her wardrobe. Winters are cold and harsh. Loneliness, even harsher.}

   ^{A jacket. A gift.}

        ^{Perhaps they will help her weather both.}

 ^{Tucked in the right pocket– slipped in while Naminé was turned– is a little note, scrawled quickly on a spare piece of paper.}

    ^{It isn’t fancy. Or well-thought out. It is a spur of the moment decision.}

       ^{“Merry Christmas.}

  ^{Remember that my home, my hearth, my couch and my heart are always open to you. You may not have a family– I know what that is like– You do have a friend.}

 ^{Whenever you are lonely, remember that you are not alone.}

                             ^{- Aerith.”}

         _{An accident. It had been an accident to take the jacket along with her, a senseless thing that she hadn’t actually acknowledged until she was actually gone, and it was too late. For a split second she wanted to turn back around and rush back, give the article of clothing back with an absolute insistence that she could not keep it, absolutely not.}

         _{Already turning to go back, to give the jacket back to the kind woman with the warm smile and such a manner to her that it made something inside of Naminé ache, she took a step forwards as she shoved her hands into the pockets, she halted once more as she felt something brush and crinkle slightly against her fingers. A piece of paper? Why would there be a piece of paper… surely she could not look. Perhaps it had been there before, when the jacket was given to her with grace.}

                           _{It could be private.}

                                             _{The paper could not be meant for her.}

         _{Still, curiosity tugged at her mind and she couldn’t resist pulling the paper out of the pocket, and she unfolded it between her fingers and her eyes fell to the words scrawled on the page. It was a note as she had thought, written by Aerith and meant for… her? There was no way that such a thing could be meant for her, sweet words that resonated warmth and welcoming, something that she had never truly felt.}

                                                                        _{There was no way.}

         _{Yet it was in her hands, held delicately as if it could crumble in her hands and fall to nothingness, to ash and little bits that she could never hold, not properly. Naminé could not imagine when it had been slipped into her pocket, could not cast her mind back to a time when Aerith could have managed this, but it must have been while her back was turned because there was no other time when it was possible.}

                  _{The words were… meant for her? Welcoming, a place to turn to if there was no place else, arms open as if expectant?}

                                    _{It was too much. An offer of a place to stay…}

                                                      _{This was a gift she had never even dreamed of.}

         _{There was something about Aerith that doubtlessly drew people to her, like moths to a flame, like bees to honey. She was kind and warm and strong, Naminé knew, even if she had only known her for several hours before letting her feet take her away. Sometimes there were just innate things in the world that anyone could see, and the blonde liked to think that she was a relatively good judge of character. Yet she could never take advantage of such a person, could not deal with the guilt and insecurity of those thoughts, and she grasped the note a little tighter in her fingers and clutched it to her chest, staring down at the jacket draped around her shoulders.}

                           _{It was too long on her, which was only to be expected because Aerith was taller than she was. The sleeves bunched at her wrists and when her arms fell to her sides the hems reached past her fingertips, while the bottom of the jacket slid easily past her hips. Despite being out in the cold air it was undeniably warm in a way that her dress never was, and it still smelt of flowers, lilacs and buttercups.}

                                                                        _{And she adored it.}

                                    _{”Thank you, Aerith.”}

         _{She had to get her something in return, something. Anything. Never could Naminé repay her for being so effortlessly kind to her, a stranger who was outside in the cold alone, but she could try her hardest for as long as she could.}

                           _{”You are… truly kind.”}