Part One
Shinra
At first, Cloud had only seen the shining pieces of him. The war hero, the superhuman fighter, the gleaming silver of his hair, the swell of his chest, the impossible musculature, the strange green eyes. When his lips curved up in a small, confident smile, Cloud always felt a flutter in his stomach. Not anxiety for once, but desire and delight. And now, so often, Sephiroth's smiles were for him.
Then, not long after, he'd seen the darkness. The sorrow. The years of abuse that had forced the subtlety in Sephiroth's expressions. The utter uncertainty behind Sephiroth's cocksure power. The emotional fragility he hid with all the desperation of a wounded creature. The pain in his eyes sometimes.
Cloud swore to himself to fix it. In little ways, a bit at a time. He started simple, leaving flowers for Sephiroth once in awhile. He kept them small, simple, delicate. A rose here or there, always inside the apartment, never public or embarrassing. He knew that Sephiroth didn't want that. Not now. Not yet. And the whole point was to give him a little joy.
He wasn't expecting the flowers that started to appear in his own apartment. For a while it became something like a game. A call and response. A rose in Sephiroth's apartment, a daisy in his own. A bar of chocolate left there, a box of cookies waiting on his bed. It was as fun and easy a piece of their flirtation as any. Cloud would have been put out that his spoiling seemed to have turned into a mutual affair if Sephiroth hadn't seemed so completely pleased with the game.
Flowers and chocolates were sweet enough gifts, but they weren't enough to heal years of distrust and damage. Or to fill in when Cloud's wisdom or tact fell by the wayside. Too many nights, he found himself faced with an exhausted and silent Sephiroth, and nothing that he could say or do to help. So Cloud started hunting for more skills.
Soon he was armed with a five-session series of massage classes and some gently scented oils. He waited for his moment, though, biding his time until it was Sephiroth came home so tired he still had a smudge of dirt across his usually immaculate chest from his latest mission, Cloud felt his weariness evaporate in excitement to finally use his new skills.
"Come on," He'd said, tugging gently at Sephiroth's arm, leading him towards the bedroom.
"I don't think I'm up to sleeping yet." Sephiroth had sighed, gently pulling his hand away.
"I'm not going to make you sleep," Cloud reached back, catching Sephiroth's hand. "I just have a surprise for you. Trust me?"
"Nn." Sephrioth's eyes flickered away, then slid back to Cloud, studying him a moment. Then he nodded.
This time when Cloud led him towards the bedroom, Sephrioth followed. The Soldier let Cloud unbuckle the straps of his jacket, and shrugged out of it gamely for him. He lowered a hand to his belt, and tilted his head when Cloud caught his hand.
"Not that kind of surprise." Cloud teased. "Maybe after. Lie down on the bed, okay? Face down. Here."
He shifted over, arranging the two pillows like his teacher had shown him so Sephiroth could lie flat and head down if he wanted with plenty of room to breathe still. He felt his lover's confused, interested eyes on his every movement, and smiled a little. He seemed to spend a lot of his time mystifying Sephiroth…
Sephiroth lay down carefully, keeping his eyes on Cloud. Cloud gave him an encouraging smile and opened up the second drawer of the bedside table, pulling out the massage oil he'd purchased. Roses and vanilla. Two of the thirteen scents in Sephiroth's hair that he'd managed to identify. Anyone catching a whiff would just assume they'd been lucky enough to snag one fragment of his hair's fragrance.
Cloud bent briefly to kiss Sephiroth's cheek before sliding onto the bed, straddling his hips. First he shifted Sephiroth's hair to the side. Then he carefully guided his arms back to rest at his sides. Sephiroth grunted softly as his pillowing forearms were removed. He didn't resist, but he also didn't relax. He kept half an eye on Cloud. Cloud, for his part, poured massage oil into his palms and rubbed them together. A couple drops fell onto Sephiroth's skin, and the man under him shivered.
Cloud tried very hard not to be too excited by that.
His first touch was intimate. Daring. All-or-nothing on if Sephrioth would accept his attention. He lowered both his palms to the base of Sephiroth's back, dug in, and slid his hands all the way up his long spine.
He'd practiced on all his classmates, and on the teacher. Nothing had prepared him for how tight, how strong Sephiroth's muscles were.
And nothing had prepared him for the depth of the groan the man let out at the soothing touch.
Cloud had learned a little therapeutic massage, but he wasn't putting that into practice. Not just now, anyway. That stuff was good, but it HURT. He wanted Sephiroth to feel amazing, toe to tip. So instead it was all soothing, deep motions, built to relax. From the top of his spine, he spread out, sliding outwards over his shoulders before rubbing the flats of his hands in slow circles over Sephiroth's shoulder blades.
Below him, as he began, Sephiroth tensed first, then slowly melted under the touch with a deep long breath out.
"That's…" He trailed off as Cloud slid back to his spine, rolling the heels of his palms slowly on either side of the center of Sephiroth's back.
"Okay?" Cloud asked, fretting for a moment.
"Wonderful." Sephiroth breathed, and turned his face into the pillows to let Cloud continue.
Cloud had never worked harder on a massage. From the base of Sephiroth's skull where he'd rubbed his fingers in slow soothing circles, to the very tops of his hips which were as far down as he could reach, Sephrioth was solid muscle. It took effort to so much as begin to make a meaningful impact on them.
But with every motion, Sephiroth was sighing, or stretching just a little, or murmuring his name softly into the pillows.
When Cloud finished and sat back, he expected Sephiroth to turn to him. But the man was still and silent. Cloud watched the rise and fall of his back with each breath a moment before bending down, carefully lifting the corner of one pillow.
Sephiroth was so asleep he was drooling onto the bed. Cloud had never felt so proud.
(Sephrioth woke up deeply embarrassed, but Cloud's happiness and pride quickly settled Sephiroth's discomfort. They went through a great deal of massage oil after that.)
"I love going out with you." Cloud said softly, fidgeting in his seat.
"I sense a 'but' to follow." Sephiroth murmured, setting down his fork. "Are our dates lacking? I've tried to be comprehensive…"
"It's not that!" Cloud said quickly. "I just wish I had… You know. Nicer clothes. I'll try to go shopping soon. I'm just a little tired of always looking like a trooper or a mountain kid, you know?"
"I like how you look." Sephiroth had soothed, reaching out to lay a hand over Cloud's. It had soothed him in the moment, but Sephiroth still took note.
He hadn't forgotten the massages that Cloud offered so eagerly each time he came home from a rough mission, or the fresh flowers that Cloud always made sure ended up in his apartment. Sephiroth tried not to let himself think about how expensive flowers were in Midgar these days. Import prices had made them a luxury long before Cloud made a habit of buying him one or two every couple weeks.
So he set his own plan into motion, relying on intuition and a Shinra-sanctioned style-sheet he was to adhere to when dressing to go out in public. It wouldn't do, the President had said, to have the world's hero running around in sweatpants.
Sephiroth had bitten his tongue to keep from informing the president exactly how much he liked sweatpants. But now he was rather grateful for the sheet. He was no fashion expert. He did not know what constituted 'nice clothes' really, though from what he'd observed most of the people around him dressed in what was considered a 'formal' style, and his sleeveless workout shirts were not considered appropriate in public forums.
He hated shopping for himself through the rows of black and grey suits and so-called 'sporty' and 'casual chic' clothing. But right now he wasn't shopping for himself.
Cloud came home one day to find four packages sitting on his bed in the trooper bunks.
"You get a raise, Spike?" Teased one of his roommates.
"Are any of them more of those cookies from your sweetheart?" Asked another, less teasing and more hopeful.
"No idea," Cloud said, struggling with the tape. "Maybe my mom? I haven't ordered anything."
"Spending all your money on your date?"
"Something like that," Cloud muttered, flushing. At least his roommates hadn't given him crap for being gay in the first place. He'd take a little ribbing about his relationship other than that, so long as they didn't dig too deeply into who he was seeing.
He frowned slightly as he opened the first box to find a black biking jacket inside, durable leather with padding for taking hard falls. He slid it on, and glanced in the mirror. Even his roommate gave a low whistle of approval, and Cloud had to agree. He looked… Cool.
It took him opening the other three packages—a shirt that was some sort of clever mix of polo and t-shirt that managed to look pretty sleek without looking too ritzy, a pair of black fitted jeans, new white high-top shoes—For him to put it together.
That night, he went to Sephiroth's apartment wearing his new clothes. The look of pleasure on Sephiroth's face was all the confirmation he needed.
"How do I look?" Cloud asked, shifting on his feet.
"Amazing." Sephiroth confirmed.
"How'd you know my sizes?"
"I snooped." Sephiroth admitted, bending and pressing a kiss to Cloud's lips.
Cloud caught his hair, sliding his hands back to cup the back of his neck, deepening their kiss in pleasure and excitement.
Suddenly, he'd thought for the first time while looking in the mirror that maybe he did look like the kind of guy who got to date Sephiroth.
"Thank you," He whispered when they finally parted.
"Oh," Sephiroth's lips curved into a slow, small smile. "My pleasure."
(They did not go out that night to show off Cloud's new look. In fact, Cloud's beautiful new clothes ended up in a pile on the floor of Sephiroth's bedroom, tangled with Sephrioth's own.)
Sometimes there were bad days. Sometimes there were moments when Cloud got too close. Touched on something that shouldn't be touched.
"Didn't your parents ever teach you to say thank you?" He ribbed after Sephiroth closed the door on a delivery man.
"No." Said Sephiroth flatly.
Fuck, thought Cloud to himself as he watched the walls slam down.
It happened every once in awhile. A gentle tease about something Sephiroth SHOULD know. SHOULD understand. A joke, a turn of phrase, a reference, a film…
Sephiroth never explained. He didn't even complain or object. He just shut down. Cloud had watched it happen over and over. Sometimes he met up with Sephrioth for a date only to find him already shut down from earlier. He still functioned, still spoke, and gave polite smiles. But his mind was elsewhere. He was detached.
So Cloud had done the only thing he could. He'd snooped. Not into Sephiroth himself, but into the symptoms—what could help, what they could be. He'd made mental notes and danced around them. He added parents to the list. But it wasn't enough, just trying to dodge Sephiroth being hurt. So this time he didn't let it go.
"Hey," He said, rising from where he was sitting, going to Sephiroth's side instead of falling into silence and awkwardness with him.
Sephiroth held still for his approach, not quite meeting his eyes, but not outright ignoring him. Cloud lifted his hand to touch Sephiroth's cheek. Contact, his reading had said. Dissociative episodes weren't uncommon in people with battle fatigue or ptsd. Cloud wasn't sure that was it, but he was pretty sure that the word 'dissociative' fit Sephiroth's moments like this like a glove.
"I'm sorry." He said softly. "Come sit with me?"
"It's fine," Sephiroth said dismissively. "I was joking."
Nice defense mechanism you have there, Cloud thought to himself.
"Still," Cloud didn't challenge the assertion at face value. But when Sephiroth nodded, he still drew him towards the sofa. He took the takeout food from Sephiroth's hand, setting it on the table and drew him to sit on the sofa.
He wasn't sure how to proceed. But he knew what Sephiroth liked. So he just started running his hand into his lover's hair in slow, gentle strokes until Sephiroth's empty eyes closed softly with a flutter under the affectionate touches. Then his shoulders slumped slowly, and Cloud was shocked to watch him bend slowly over, bracing his elbows on his legs and his face in his hands.
He leaned over, wrapping his arms around his lover's bowed shoulders, holding him close and rubbing one hand up and down his arm gently, maintaining the steady, soothing stayed there a long while, Sephiroth silent in his cautious vulnerability, Cloud trying his best to ensure that he was as supported as he could be. When Sephiroth finally straightened with a slow breath out, his eyes weren't empty anymore. He didn't tell Cloud what he'd been thinking, but he didn't shut down either.
"Thank you." He murmured, as if it was a gift.
"Any time," Cloud had whispered in return.
(It would be another year before Cloud found out in person what lessons Sephiroth's father had taught him. Thank you wasn't in the vocabulary. In fact, by the time Sephiroth dragged himself back from the lifestream to save Zack and Cloud from their torment, Cloud didn't have any vocabulary left at all.)
"Zack."
"We're not far enough."
"You're exhausted."
"We're not fucking far enough, Sephiroth!"
"Alright. I understand. Let me help."
The hand he offered carried too much baggage. Too much weight. Too much to ask, for Zack to trust him again. Too precious a burden to offer to help with. He knew, he knew. But Zack only lifted his too-bright eyes to him, then shifted Cloud off of his shoulder so that Sephrioth could pick him up.
Cloud, for his part, was passive. Empty. Eyes barely open, glowing a terrible uniform green. Sephiroth lifted him in one arm, letting Cloud hang limp against his shoulder to support himself so he could keep his sword out in his other hand.
"He won't wake up." Zack said blankly. "Not for weeks now. Maybe longer."
"Mako poisoning," Sephiroth supplied. "I was so late."
"But you came back."
"Of course."
"Will he be okay?"
"Hard to say. For now, the best we can do is keep him safe."
Zack's eyes were wired. Wild. Sephiroth didn't have a spare hand to comfort him. He shrugged Cloud into a slightly more comfortable position. Or, at least, one that he hoped was more comfortable. Cloud's still mako-damp hair brushed over Sephiroth's neck. He made a mental note to pad his pauldrons somehow to give Cloud a more comfortable ride.
"Nowhere is safe." Zack said at his side. "Nowhere I know."
Sephiroth could not disagree. His world was no safer.
"You are not alone." He said. It was all he could offer.
Zack's brows twisted and he lifted his eyes to Sephiroth. A small, aching smile touched his lips before he turned back to trudging doggedly forward.
They walked all day, long into the night. When Zack's legs finally gave out, Sephiroth carefully settled Cloud at his side and started setting up a camp for the night. It was the first night of a new could not chew, but he would drink water and broth. Sephiroth and Zack worked together looking after him, feeding him sips of broth and water to try to keep his body working, carrying him as they walked.
It was quiet the first three days. Quieter than Sephiroth had ever known the world with Zack in it. They spoke rarely, and when they do it was about dark topics.
("Are you going to lose it again?"
"I don't think so. I'm sorry that I did."
"I'm sorry for hurting you."
"I'm just glad you stopped me."
"Cloud stopped you. Thank him."
"I will.")
Then, so slowly it was almost imperceptible, Zack's spirits returned to him. He chattered through the day, mostly to Cloud. He urged him to rouse, but never berated him. He told Sephiroth what had happened to them with a laugh on the edge of breaking. Sephrioth listened first, and then when Zack ran out of words he filled in with his own. Secrets from long ago. Illicit experiments that he'd only come to understand in Nibelheim when he lost his mind.
Shinra followed them as far as they went, haunting their steps with gunfire and shouts of 'traitor.' Sephiroth and Zack cut them down and went on. Zack had been the one to decide their direction in the end. Back to Midgar, to his flower girl. Sephiroth thought of how far he'd have gone for Cloud, and did not begrudge him the choice.
Each night when they stopped, Sephiroth took time with Cloud. He rubbed his muscles carefully, making sure his body would work when he was ready to use it again. He brushed his fingers through Cloud's blonde spikes, keeping them neat and untangled. He spoke to him quietly, told him what he'd missed, that he missed him, that he was safe now. Cloud did not speak or reply. But he always seemed to breathe a little easier after Sephiroth's attention. The eerie glow had never left his eyes.
It was not much, but it was as close as Sephiroth could come to spoiling him for the moment.
(Their new normal lasted nearly a year. Then Shinra's guns caught up to them, just outside Midgar. They left Cloud as safe as they could make him. Zack ruffled his hair. Sephiroth kissed his forehead. Cloud shifted just a little, but Sephiroth knew it was only their motions that had moved him. He turned with Zack and went to face the music.
There were bullet holes in their flesh the moment they were in view. As strong as Zack was, as fast as Sephiroth, they could not outrun every bullet of a group of men sent out to carry through on a suicide mission.)
The rain was really insult to injury. He could feel the mud seeping into his hair. Into his clothes. Into the bullet holes in his flesh. It had gone as well as it could have. No one else on the cliff face was breathing after all. Only the two of them. But still…
Sephiroth lay by Zack's side on the ridge. His head was turned towards Midgar as they lay in a pool of their mingled blood, breathing hard, but still breathing. Zack coughed beside him, and let out a laugh that was so clearly standing in for a moan of pain. Sephiroth couldn't stop shivering, just a little, as the cold rain poured down on the pair of them.
"How many'd you count?" Zack wheezed.
"At least a hundred." Sephiroth replied, sounding bored but not feeling it. It was hard to be bored while his body tried to heal the dozen holes in his chest.
"What, no exact number?" Zack teased, his voice raw.
"I got a little busy." Sephiroth muttered, turning his head a little further to spit blood before he aspirated it. "And I wouldn't harass me too much. Some of those shots I took for you."
"As if I didn't take any for you."
"Hn. Touche."
"You gunna live?"
"Of course. You will too."
"Not so sure, Seph."
"You will." Sephiroth insisted, cutting his eyes over towards Zack, squinting against the rain. They were lying head to head, sprawled in different directions. "I'm counting on you."
"Sap." Zack accused, grinning with blood on his teeth. He tried to lift his hands—to lift Buster sword—then dropped weakly back to the mud.
Sephiroth couldn't lift his head to look at where Masamune's shattered blade had landed. He still held her hilt and the first foot of her sword. The rest was gone.
Somewhere closeby, someone moved.
"Shit." Whispered Zack.
Sephiroth tensed, trying to force himself upright. His muscles seized, but he couldn't get the strength to sit up. You have to, he ordered himself. You have to, they'll kill Zack, stand up.
Then he heard a quiet sound of effort, and caught a breath so sharp that he ended up inhaling blood after all. He choked, coughing, each racking breath sending a wave of pain through his body. But he'd recognized that little whimper of sound. That tiny, desperate noise of effort.
He wasn't certain until the dead-eyed trooper crawled to their sides, hands clawed in the earth, struggling closer in a body he didn't fully control yet. Cloud pushed himself up to his elbows, his eyes too bright, so hauntingly empty, but he was moving, looking, trying… He looked to Zack and his brows knit as if he knew he should be afraid—should be worried—but couldn't figure out how. He shifted forward, his legs too numb to work.
"Z…" He blinked, dazed, caught a breath. "Zack…"
"Hey," Zack whispered, a slow grin crossing his lips. "You came…"
"Came." Echoed Cloud, his voice soft and haunted, even as his eyes traced in confusion over his friend's bloodied body.
"Must have worried." Sephiroth murmured. "Imagine. All we had to do was get in mortal dang—hng."
His word cut off in a choked sound as he felt his heartbeat stutter, his injuries sting. Live, he urged himself. Live, live, live.
"S… Se…"That voice cut through. Cut through anything. Everything."Sephi…roth?"
He blinked rainwater out of his eyes like tears, and gasped in another breath at the feeling of that voice in his ears.
"Cloud." He whispered, and could not be ashamed at the aching sound of his own voice.
Cloud did not speak again. But when Zack reached up a weak hand to catch him, Cloud let his friend pull him into a weak, bloody hug. Cloud's head rested on Zack's chest, till his blonde bangs were dyed red, and smears of blood spotted his cheeks. For a moment, it was just them on the cliffside, bloody, exhausted, still breathing.
When Cloud started to scream, neither of them could blame him. Sephrioth finally managed to force his wounded body into motion, just enough to lift a hand to the man he loved.
Cloud accepted his hold with all the grace of a broken puppet, falling against him and falling apart.
Slowly Zack managed to crawl a little closer to them both so that they could all curl together against the rain. And slowly, Cloud's screams began to settle as the terror faded and the rain stopped.
(When they were finally able to move again, they were stuck together with blood and muck. Cloud didn't want to let go of Sephiroth, though he didn't—couldn't verbalize it. They let him hold on. Sephiroth dropped Masamune's hilt with some regret to the ground. A broken sword would do him no good now. But it had done all the good he'd needed. They were still alive. And Midgar beckoned.)
Part Two to come next week…
