A/N: Happy Halloween/ Samhain everyone! This will be kinda short (I'm literally writing it at 11:00 on Halloween and I have to go places today :/ so tiny creepy short inspired by a prompt I found on Pinterest. Basically, main character watches a video of something in the past but it doesn't match their memories.
I don't own any locations, names, characters, etc.
Warnings: possible triggers, trippy dream? Sequences that might just be mind fucks, and yaoi.
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Blue eyes widened nervously. This had been a normal day, up until this morning when Reno of all people had sauntered into the bar claiming that Rufus wanted to see him. Out of sheer curiosity, Cloud had gone, which was why he found himself in this predicament.
"You found what?" He asked the taller blonde, staring into far more calculating blue eyes as his own quivered.
"Exactly as I said, Cloud. Weren't you telling me last week about how you still had some holes in your memory from that week?" Rufus asked him smugly.
"What were your Turks even doing in Nibelheim?" He asked, pointedly blunt and entirely not masking his blatant suspicion.
"After Deep Ground, Reeve wanted me to make sure Hojo didn't have any more tricks up his sleeve. It was to insure the safety of everyone in this world from another crisis. Would you please just watch the video? None of us know what's on it yet, I can assure you. It's entirely up to you who you want to see it afterwards."
"...-"
"Before you say you aren't interested, I'll ask you to keep in mind that it's hardly likely to have a downside."
"It's a holiday, Rufus." Cloud said coldly.
"One you never celebrate anyway." Rufus said, passive aggressively pushing the outdated VHS toward him.
"Fine." Was the only response Cloud gave before leaving, video in one arm, as he slammed the door behind him. It was far too great a relief to hear the sound of a motorcycle engine revving, to feel the seat and the handles rumbling beneath him as he drove home, enjoying the feeling of the wind in his hair, and the scenery before he had to park Fenrir in the garage and lock himself in for the night. Rufus was right about him and Halloween. It wasn't traditional back home, though they'd still recognized it as a tradition from a similar culture and he'd often celebrate to hard as a child- but now…. His life was filled with enough horror not to actively seek more. Especially when so many children still dressed as Sephiroth on Halloween night. He sighed as he walked into the bar, and only told Tifa that he was told he had to watch something for Rufus, not explaining what it was. She nodded soundlessly.
"I'll call you down for dinner when it's ready."
"Thanks." He called, as he headed up the stairs to his own room, a new addition he'd built within the past year that was more or less an attic, and popped the video into the old videos player he still had for reasons he couldn't fathom beyond nostalgia. There were six more, he had found them in his bike compartments, likely "courtesy" of the Turks Rufus likely as not told to put them there regardless of whether he agreed or not. One for each day leading up to Sephiroth's break from sanity in that basement level lab. The video of day one started normally. Just reading and pacing and pained expressions that tore at his mind as the man slowly lost his in camera. Could he really handle this? He wasn't so sure. Especially now, as his voice caught, and there was his younger self peeping in then leaving almost as suddenly as he came. He slowed the fast forward at that familiar shock of black hair that was so spiky it put his to shame, those bright eyes fogged with worry. Because, there was Zack, alive and exactly as he remembered from before. No perforation from the countless bullets that tore through his body last time Cloud had seen him. No blood, no slack jaws and dull eyes. It hit him like a train wreck, how much he missed him. As Zack left the screen looking dejected, all he could remember was noogies and teasing and lighthearted grinning, the secret handshake they'd made all those years ago. He shook a little, mourning once more despite understanding that Zack had moved on. It didn't change the fact that there were times he still missed that energetic and undeniably mood brightening presence. He was startled out of his nostalgic reverie as familiar green eyes locked onto the camera, that smirk that he didn't associate with the man until after he'd returned slowly spreading across the still partially sane man's face. What the hell was going on? He saw himself, a little shorter if anything, as his face remained unchanged over the years since then, and a little thinner. His old infantry uniform was intact, discluding the helmet, which was at his side. His younger self peeped in, jumping in shock when his face met the face of the man he was trying to peek at and the man just smirked that awful smirk he always had.
"Earth to Cloud..?" Recording Sephiroth asked the younger recording Cloud teasingly, inciting blush.
"...sorry." The Cloud in the video replied softly. Video Sephiroth just chuckled at him shaking his head. Real cloud stared at the goings on in confusion. He didn't remember this, but now, watching it, something clicked.
"I assume you were assigned guard duty?" The still sane- relatively sane, as sane as Sephiroth could ever be considered- man asked quite cordially.
"Zack said you kicked him out, so apparently I have to keep an eye on you." The younger Cloud said, shy but not as uncertain as he was now in the present. Real Cloud blanched in shock as he watched what unfolded next. Those hands he only knew to be harsh and precise when they fought were caressing his younger self's cheek so tenderly, those lips he only ever saw smirk at him as they admired the pain the man inflicted were pressed gently against the top of his head.
"Then keep them both in me, and nothing else." The man whispered sensually to him, the tone just as effective through the TV. Those eyes were more like the Sephiroth he knew now, and he didn't understand the sudden possessiveness with which the man clutched him. Cloud turned off the video, numb with shock. He couldn't watch the rest. He didn't want to believe what he saw, even if he could feel recognition stirring in his head, and something much more unwanted stirring in his groin. He wouldn't… His train of thought was temporarily disrupted by Tifa calling him down to the early dinner they always had on Halloween before she took the kids out and he locked himself away. The three of them were all dressed up already, and Cloud froze for a second at Tifa's familiar outfit.
"Pretending it doesn't exist won't help us get over anything." She explained, gesturing at her revealing cowgirl-esque attire. Cloud remained silent, choosing not to mention anything about it, or the videos as he shuddered at the ironic circumstance.
"I think I'll eat in my room tonight." He said. "I'm a little exhausted still from yesterday." He ignored her concern, waving it away with a face that told her that all it was. And he really was exhausted from all the last minute deliveries he'd done yesterday. He ate slowly enough he could hear them leave the house before he finished his own meal. He didn't have much of an appetite after earlier, so he left most of his plate untouched before curling into his bed, trying to think of anything but that video or any other memories he had pertaining to that man, but it was like dragging his thoughts through quicksand that pulled him through to the worst things he could imagine. All he could think of was everything he didn't want to have on his mind. Those lips whispering of pain and bloodshed and desire so heatedly against his skin, stained in blood he knew had to be his own. Hands slick with blood he knew wasn't molding his flesh along his sides and his back, hair tickling open wounds along his own chest, and those eyes telling him he was trapped. That he couldn't ever escape. He was overwhelmed with fear and arousal and confusion and anger at himself. How could he possibly become so aroused at the thought o that murderer? He slammed his fist into his pillow, the shaking of the bed only stimulating the aroused state of his groin and aggravating him even more. It was all he could do to not fondle himself then and there, but his thoughts only spiraled further, and he couldn't relax the giant pile that was forming in his, far too tight to be of any help, pants. It called to him too much, and he finally just gave in, undoing his pants and stroking himself in a rough, aggressive manner, and not letting up in the slightest when it began to hurt. If anything, he pumped harder, trying his best to picture someone else. Vincent. Tifa. Some random honeybee girl. It didn't work. His mind kept running back to that same blood soaked image, and before long he could almost feel those fingers and that hair, but he told himself it was his imagination. There was no one kissing him and whispering about death and pain. There were no bloody fingers painting crimson trails along his flesh. No naked psychopaths straddling him as they took advantage of the position in every way possible from both a mental and a physical standpoint. He wasn't really smelling leather and flesh and vanilla. There wasn't anyone there with him. He was certain. Even when those kisses grew more fervent, and the whispers more violation lent, and the pain spread to other places, and the smell of blood and smoke accentuated the other smells assaulting his senses he kept telling himself it wasn't real. Until he noticed the hand stroking him was no longer his own, and that he could see pale bloodstained skin above him, cocooning him. And he could see those terrible, blazing poisons eyes. Green hellfire and mako literally gazing into his soul, with that dark ever present smirk accompanying it as always.
"Mine." The man purred into the flesh of his neck, and it felt almost as if it was branding him. "Yes, and they can't have you anymore. See what you've done?" But he couldn't see anything but the man. Couldn't feel anything but his own self disgusted arousal as those arms parted his thighs harshly and spread him open for the man to take what he wished. The terror only aroused him more, the blood the man used as lube as he pounded relentlessly in an out. It was a painful bliss that disturbed and horrified him to no end. And as he climaxed, he saw the ending of the final video behind his own eyelids. Those lips kissed him harshly as he dropped the fire materia that had taken everything from him, that voice purring praise into his ear for what he'd done. It was _his_ own hand that night, just as it was now, his own hand that started the flames. He blacked out in fear, only to wake up in pure darkness, with hands still on him and nothing alive for hundreds of miles, the blood staining him a mixture from so many people he'd known and some he hadn't. He released an earsplitting scream as he coughed up ash and those hands roamed his body again. Then his eyes snapped open once more, and all he saw was Tifa with no head, gazing at him with dead eyes inside his room, with Marlene and Denzel gazing at him in terror. Was this a dream too? It had to be. It had to. He rocked himself back and forth, not noticing the hands that tangled through his hair as the dropped the green ball of magic into his lap and he lifted it up once more.