With the Commission's case officially closed, Hawks was expected to return to normal.
Patrol routes. Hero interviews. Smiling for cameras.
The usual performance.
But no matter how many villains he caught or how many fans cheered, his thoughts always drifted back to her — to that soft voice, to the scent of flowers and rain, to the quiet place where no one expected him to be a hero.
---
It started small.
At first, he told himself he was just checking in.
He'd drop by the church in the mornings, bring a bag of pastries, pretend he was just passing through.
Aerith would greet him every time with the same gentle smile.
> "Good morning, Hawk," she said one day, using his nickname by accident.
"Hawk, huh?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.
"Sorry — Hawks," she corrected, flustered.
"Nah, I like it. 'Hawk' sounds… real."
She laughed. "Then good morning, Hawk."
And just like that, it stuck.
---
The days turned softer.
He started helping more around the church — fixing the fence, sweeping the floors, carrying flower crates to the plaza.
Aerith teased him that he was becoming her assistant.
> "Hero by day, flower boy by afternoon," she joked.
> "Hey, don't knock it till you try it," he said, leaning on his broom with a grin.
"You might actually like being ordinary."
> "Ordinary?" Hawks said, watching sunlight pour through the broken roof. "That's starting to sound nice."
---
But their peace didn't go unnoticed.
Word spread among other heroes — that Hawks was spending too much time off-duty, often seen around a "quirkless girl" near Musutafu Plaza.
Whispers reached the Commission again, though they ignored it — officially, the case was closed.
Unofficially, they didn't like what they saw.
Hawks didn't care.
For once in his life, he was done pretending to be the perfect soldier.
He wasn't there for duty anymore.
He was there for her.
---
One evening, the two sat outside the church as the sky turned gold and orange.
Aerith was weaving flower crowns while Hawks rested beside her, his wings stretched lazily behind him.
> "You're quiet today," she said softly.
> "Just thinking," he murmured. "About how different my life feels now."
> "Different can be good."
> "Yeah," he said, looking at her. "Guess I finally found something worth slowing down for."
Aerith smiled — that serene, almost glowing smile that always made the air feel lighter.
> "You don't have to rush everything, Hawk. Sometimes the world blooms only when you stop chasing it."
He chuckled.
> "You always make things sound like poetry."
> "Maybe flowers taught me that," she said playfully. "Or maybe you're just listening now."
He didn't answer. He just looked at her — the soft breeze in her hair, the calm in her eyes — and realized how far he'd fallen.
Not from the sky.
But into her.
---
That night, when he finally flew home, he carried one of her flowers tucked behind his ear.
The wind rushed past his wings, but for once, it didn't feel like escape.
It felt like home was waiting for him — in that little church filled with light and laughter.
And Hawks couldn't help but smile.
He wasn't flying away anymore.
He was flying back.