54/100:Secret. Sephiroth/Genesis and implied Angeal/Genesis
Yeah, the next batch of stories are mostly/totally Sephesis. Which is good news for some, but bad for Angeal D':

Disclaimer - Characters are not mine.

Secret

Letters From The Lost Days

After the door slammed shut, Genesis stiff with rage on the other side, storming down the corridor, the apartment withered up in silence like dead flowers at the end of summer. Though nothing was broken – a first – Sephiroth was more consumed in white-hot irritation than he had been after any other fight he had with his lover that he could recall. Some things should not have been said.

"Just how many lovers have you had, Genesis?"

Sephiroth had no sleep that night, constantly tossing and turning; yearning for something to hold onto, something to curl his strong arms around and possess. Occasionally he pulled down a pillow from the other side of the bed – Genesis' side – but found no comfort in the coolness that replaced warmth and the lack of any response. Even if such a reaction was the redhead frowning and pushing him away, mumbling an obscenity.

Then he would throw the pillow back into its place, hating himself for being so dependent on the man who should mean very little to him. It would only make the relationship mutual, it seemed.

"Why does it matter? What does it mean to you?"

Sephiroth rolled over again, flat on his back, staring up at the shadow-cast ceiling. The cold air conditioning swept across his bare chest, icy fingers reminding him even more of what was lacking. Everything about Genesis was heat; his passion, his lusts and his temper. Even his eyes, in the height of fury, were not frozen but ablaze, the crystal depths of blue burning brightly with loathing… his lips curved into the sharpest, most venomous of all sneers.

"You don't own me, Sephiroth. You never will."

A slim hand rose up to his forehead, coming back damp with sweat. Every part of him ached, from the fight, the fists and the shouting. It wasn't the first quarrel the two had had, and Sephiroth was sure that Angeal was as sick of playing the arbitrator as he was of being dragged into every single one of Genesis' most minute problems and then having to suffer the blow up that was always, inevitably, his fault.

The headache that was tearing through his skull was only showing signs of getting stronger, consuming all of this irate anxiety until there was nothing left but pain and misery. To that, he preferred the bitter thoughts of his lover and how dependable the redhead was, always passing between his two friends like a scarlet-clad pendulum. A fight would send him running back to Angeal, who would calm him down and… whatever else he did, and push him back to Sephiroth for the fuse to ignite and the cycle begin again only a month or two later.

Fumbling around in his bedside drawer, Sephiroth did not find the small white container he was looking for. Heightened senses were driving him near insane. Even the slow hum of the refrigerator in the kitchenette some metres away was loud enough to make him wince and recoil back into the warmth (or lack thereof) of the bed. He turned again, this time going to the opposite drawer that Genesis had possessed and filled with everything he deemed necessary to leave here.

Hand cream, moisturiser; enough lubricant to last for another year (if the accumulated time they spent apart summed up to a vast amount of months) as well as a selection of other little night-time pleasantries, and a pair of expensive reading glasses kept in a small black case. Sephiroth had always wondered what was in this drawer, and even though it was technically his and had been taken without his express permission, he never once ventured inside. Genesis, most of the time, respected his lover's privacy and didn't wander around delving into things that were hidden or that Sephiroth was particularly touchy with. Over the years of their on-off relationship, that list of things had gotten progressively smaller and smaller until the only things Sephiroth kept from Genesis were locked away in his office.

In the darkness, the angle at which he lay made seeing what he was doing impossible, Sephiroth's fingers found what they were looking for. But the little pot slipped out of his fingers, the pills inside jingling as it rolled further into the drawer. Frustrated, Sephiroth followed. His hand met with something at the very back of the drawer that was not the pill bottle. From the shape, it was a book. A book with a soft, almost velvety cover, unlike the plain but beautiful leather bound hardbacks Genesis was usually spotted holding. The General took it and then returned for the medication.

The book was relatively small - about the size of a folded sheet of paper, but quite thick. Thicker than LOVELESS. For a moment, Sephiroth was fooled by the dark red, patterned fabric cover that this was one of the erotic picture books he had always suspected Genesis of possessing and using. No one, he hoped, could be that devious as to imagine everything they got up to on their own.

"I have a right to know… I don't-"

"Don't want to be screwing a whore?" Genesis' voice was cold, a shrill shriek that did not fit comfortably in either this room, with its sophisticated and neutral décor, nor Sephiroth's ears. Blue eyes were as hard as stone; glowing with his ire. The General's silence had served as a reply enough. A flash of an emotion upon the redhead's taut face, almost hurt, and he was gone again.

Inhaling softly, Sephiroth sat back down onto the bed, his back against the cold metal headboard. He rested his half-empty glass of water on the bedside table and turned the lamp on. He waited a few moments for the medication to take effect, silently thankful that the ShinRa scientists had managed to find something to work with the mako inside a SOLDIER's body to qualm physical aches and pains.

The cover was turned. The inside sleeve was a light blue and had some strange scrawl scribbled down on it in black ink. The handwriting, though somewhat hectic was still composed and cursive. Distinctly Genesis'. But the language was not one Sephiroth recognised and he began to think that the strange pictograms were perhaps more of a personal code formulated by Genesis for personal use. Whatever the reason. Another secret, well kept.

…the things he says and the looks he gives me whenever I'm with Angeal, or when I've just come back from being with him, they're so… disgusted and disdainful. Almost as if being with Angeal is dragging me down to his level. Whatever that might be in his eyes. We're the same aren't we?…

Sephiroth's eyes widened and his conscience screamed for him to simply place the book back into its place as if it had never been found and ride out the rest of this temporary separation. And then, when Genesis returned, he could forget ever reading the redhead's own diary. This invasion of privacy was the worst that Sephiroth knew of. Especially behind Genesis' back, but—

He listened to his conscience too much.

That's the only time they acknowledge me: with those glares. At the table over dinner, I'm dismissed back to my studies before I can say a word. I stay outside the door like I know I shouldn't and listen.
'I want a son,' I hear mother's voice whine, like she does to father every now and again, using a tone that assures what she desires. 'I want a son of my own'.
She called me defective… and father agreed. Why? I've done all they ask of and impose upon me. Is this just my relationship with Angeal again?…

Was that why Genesis bounced between the two SOLDIERs? Clinging onto one when the other wouldn't have him? All because his parents ignored him as a child… Sephiroth glanced quickly at the doorway, afraid of finding Genesis standing there.

How long had he suspected – or known – that the parents he knew were not really his?

…and before I knew what was happening in that moment – in my mind – I just leant forwards and kissed him. I kissed him like my father accuses me of doing. Like he obviously despises. I kissed Angeal and I loved it. Will they disinherit me now for being 'tainted'?
Maybe now they'll notice me.
Angeal does, always. Even if it's just one of the chiding looks followed by his smile or the way he sits and listens to me, whatever the time, whatever the place and whatever the subject.
I loved the way he noticed me when I crawled into his lap. How large his hands were on my back and in my hair. We were like one in that moment. I wanted to seep into his body, to hide from the world and he could protect me like he promised he would…

Sephiroth blinked, clearing his eyes from the strange aching sensation that haunted them. Angeal was Genesis protection, his 'rock' as Sephiroth had seen it written before, the only one Genesis had ever entrusted all of his faith, trust and vulnerability upon.

A part of the burden of bitterness upon the General's back flittered away. How could he despise the friends when he could understand them a little better now? Genesis wasn't running there to whine and moan about Sephiroth. He was running there because he could face going nowhere else, and he knew Angeal would be the one to calm him down… keep him grounded. Sephiroth wondered what would happen if Angeal was away on a mission when one of the lovers' infamous feuds occurred.

The next page was obviously the record of one of the biggest changes in Genesis. In which, arguably, he stopped being a boy and became a man… as did Angeal. Everything preserved in great detail, as if Genesis never wanted to forget. The description of how moist fingers felt inside him, the touch of lips and the brush of foreign skin made Sephiroth turned over quickly, not wanting to invade Genesis' privacy more than he already was. Although, a part of him – the part that was born from his lust for the redhead – was curious as to just what could be, if it had not already, been written about them.

…because of the pain, he refused to touch me again. I know I shouldn't have but I needed something, something to take away all that hatred from my parents. Something to vend; to let go; to get back at them. So I took Martin up on his offer…

Thankfully, this time, there was no documentation of this encounter. It could only mean to Sephiroth one thing: there was nothing behind it… just sex. Somewhat stunned, Sephiroth flicked across a few more pages of the book. There were a lot of names that danced across his vision on the cream paper. A few were repeated. Each record was as cold and as indifferent as the others.

Until:

…And then Angeal pointed out to me exactly what I had become. I now fear looking back at what I've written in here and facing all those nameless faces that haunt my memory of times I thought I needed, but long to forget. He said it bluntly. The way it needed to be said. Sometimes the lack of poetic euphemisms is vital – it's something I can trust Angeal to always give me. 'Genesis, you've turned into a whore'. There was jealousy in his eyes, I think at least. I despise guilt, but it's all I felt. I stopped. Immediately.

…It's been months now since I ever touched anyone save Angeal. Although, I have wanted to. But not just anyone, this one boy in Midgar. He's younger than me, but he's stunning. Angeal knows, I told him, as I tell him everything. He thinks that the Goddess has given me her gift. I think he's right.

Sephiroth closed the book with a smile. Trust Genesis to be presumptuous. Although there were other pages written left, he chose to leave them, at least for now. If there was anything he needed to know about their relationship, as turbulent as it was, he would ask the redhead directly. He'd face that fiery temper and maybe in doing so, they'd grow closer.

Sliding the book back into its place, Sephiroth stood and threw on an assortment of clothes.

-

In the dead of the night, Sephiroth was somewhat surprised that Angeal had let him into the apartment without a struggle. Perhaps the SOLDIER was too weary with sleep to even understand what he was doing.

Sephiroth was pushed towards the bedroom at the far end of the corridor, furthest away from Angeal's own.

Inside, a figure was curled up in bed facing the wall. The pattern of breath was not that of slumber. Occasionally, Genesis shifted, trying to get comfortable but always failing; always facing the black wall.

Silently, Sephiroth shut the door and lay down on the bed beside his lover, taking him deeply into his arms. "I'm sorry, Genesis," he whispered softly into the man's warm neck. "You're right, it doesn't matter."