Disclaimer: I own nothing or no one. Why would I need to, anyways?
Pairings: Sephiroth/Genesis
A/N: still have to go back a bit. :)
And thanks to my readers… :) Writing in English is a relatively new experience to me, so… your opinions are always very much appreciated.
Chapter X.
Rhapsody.
Three days after the battle by the nameless village…
"Come, Sephiroth," Genesis addressed his lover's back. "Our time is almost over."
They stood by the serpentine river that lazily dragged its waters, disappearing in approaching darkness. Stones of the deserted quay faintly glistened from the rain that has just stopped. The blur of a small dock could still be seen in the distance, and welkin above was still wrapped in thick moire of gray clouds.
Cold wind strayed in semi-darkness, now playfully sliding over the waters' surface, now flinging cold droplets into their faces. Then silver flew around his lover's frame, loose tresses getting tangled. Genesis gently ran his hand along the scattered hair, smoothing it; fine as silk, he thought to himself, repeating the movement, since his lover obviously didn't mind.
Sephiroth stood with his back to the redhead, in a simple white shirt, chin slightly lifted, as if evincing unhidden defiance. His palm rested on the metal railing, fingers absently tapping on the bronze ornament. His lover's pose was indeed regal with a touch of thoughtfulness and sadness. And yet Genesis felt, almost saw the burden that rested on his shoulders, as formless gray stone, bending him down to the ground.
Upon hearing his words Sephiroth slowly turned, leaning on the railing.
He was pale, so lifelessly pale.
"How much?" Redhead had to lip-read so faint his lover's voice was.
"Tomorrow, till noon, at best."
Sephiroth nodded, falling silent again. Another strong gust of wind rumpled his hair, and Genesis brushed the unruly golden lock that fell across his eyes.
"Do you feel any better?" Redhead broke that solemn still between them.
His angel shook his head.
"How is my state of any importance?"
Redhead sighed.
"How about – I am in love with you – for a start?" Azure eyes peered into emerald depths, and something softened there, waking as a rising winter sun.
"I know and I didn't mean it to sound that way." Sephiroth closed his eyes for an instant. "I… it is not my state you should be worried about. I… I shall be fine."
Then he suddenly shuddered, emerald eyes darkening from old pain and fear.
"I've seen a massacre at the village… in Wutai." Sephiroth began in a runabout way, his voice broken, quiet, "Women, children, slain and piled up as if… as if they were useless garbage. As if… they were mindless husks of Shin-Ra weapon. There was nothing human in it, Genesis. Just blind sickening faith, fanaticism."
"If it makes you feel better, I've seen ugliness myself." Genesis cast his eyes down, shifting from heal to toes. Uncomfortably.
Refined hand rose and fell, stopping half way as if his silver-haired lover forgot what that gesture was for.
"If it was someone from SOLDIER responsible for that, I would have ordered an execution. But then…" He uttered a harsh cold laugh, looking at his ungloved palms the same way he did at Nebelheim mako reactor. With disbelief, disgust almost, asking and asking poignant vain question. "What am I supposed to think, to believe now? That I… I should be put to death for my deeds?"
Darkness lapped against the cage of emerald eyes as sea against the rocks.
"It is different," redhead whispered, looking away again.
Sephiroth sighed, licking his suddenly dry lips.
"I don't know, Genesis. I simply don't… know."
Silence again. Sticky, almost palpable, impudently penetrating into ears; only small waves swished against wet stones, and if not for that faint sound Genesis would think the world around them died.
He let his palm touch his lover's face gently, lingering on the smooth cheek, fingers stroking it gently. Just a bit of warmth, timid and fickle, nothing more. Sephiroth looked at him, and emerald ice in angel's eyes melted again as he spoke.
"You were right. I shouldn't have fought this time. "
Despite having little desire to smile, his sensual lips twitched, forming into a shade of sincere expression.
They were capable of yielding a point… once in a while.
With that thought Genesis took his lover's fragile pale hand and guided him like a dog would guide its blind master. Sephiroth followed, obediently, silently and if it wasn't for the sensation of his long fingers curled in his palm, Genesis would think he simply disembodied. Thawed as first bashful snowflakes landing on warm gray pebbles.
...They stayed at the old house in the slums until time to flee again came. After that incident at the village hiding was the most viable alternative. Narrow streets were dirty, rats sprang from underneath their feet with unpleasant squeak, scattering along the wet sidewalks, hiding. They slipped through the darkness as shadows; neither of them spoke but Sephiroth's hand was still joined with his, warm even in the chill.
There was nothing remarkable about that house; perhaps it was the worst they've ever stayed at. But at least the place had a bathtub and clean bedroom. Genesis opened the door, and once they were both inside pushed his lover to the wall, impatiently wrapping hands around his neck. Sephiroth gave in as Genesis smothered his dry lips with fervent kisses, short but for all that insatiable. They parted, but without the usual eagerness, just by force of a habit, in studied gesture. And yet even this effortlessly turned him on; just unforgettable intoxicating bergamot mint taste was enough to ignite redhead's passion at once. Still clinging to his lover's lips, Genesis ran a hand along his chest, skilled fingers gently undoing little annoying buttons, when suddenly their kiss ended, and a quiet but firm voice rang in his ears.
"I am not in the mood," pushing him aside, even if gently, Sephiroth slipped in-between his body and the wall, disappearing in the bedroom. The door closed behind him with a thud.
A flash of silver in the corner of his eyes and emptiness in his hands.
Genesis leaned against the wall, slumping, his breath slightly ragged, and his blood on fire. His lover wasn't in the mood. Gaia, as if he was. He just wanted to forget about the whole mess, to fight this adhesive feeling of hopelessness, this overflowing stream of darkness. And instead Sephiroth wasn't in the mood.
Genesis' fists clenched as he let out a sigh, almost a moan.
How… how could he possibly choose to bathe in that wretched misery?
Biting his knuckles to suppress the growing desire, he pushed the wall aside and straightened. Lips curved in a false smirk. He had no one to mock besides himself.
Redhead frantically looked around the room, searching for at least something to vent his ire on. An ancient worm-eaten table caught his eyes. In one swift movement his slender hand swept over the surface, throwing off all the books and papers together with two glasses. Water spilled onto the floor, onto the scattered pages that slipped from old tomes.
How? Why?
Genesis was truly at loss of words – or thoughts – which was a state he rarely found himself in.
He began pacing, aimlessly, from one wall to another; his seesaws resembled those of a wild cat trapped in the cage.
Sephiroth was definitely trying his patience. For a moment Genesis considered going out and finding himself a whore, but then thought it was low. Unworthy.
So instead he opened the window; cold wind rose, tousling white curtains, bearing the smell of the slums, neither fresh nor pleasant; but the chill always helped the redhead calm himself.
It helped this time as well.
Sighing, Genesis climbed onto the windowsill with usual grace and deftness, settling across the window opening, bending his legs to fit in and looked down. Narrow street with dirty puddles of water wasn't the sight he found inspiring, so his eyes closed. Suddenly Banora came to mind; with groves of arching apple trees, with verdant waist length grass, with rainbows as bridges across the eternal blueness, with sun kissed purple dumbapples. With memories of him and Angeal playing childish games, of him and Sephiroth lying under the crooked trunk of his prized tree, beautiful words ringing in the air, shared between them.
Everything used to be different back then; so very different. Simpler. He believed it would last forever. Bright azure eyes fluttered open, turned towards the starless sky.
"Have you ever thought of what lies beyond?"
"You know very well, I have…"
With a wan smile Genesis reached out for a book in burgundy cover, soft and velvety by touch when he fondly ran his hand along its surface. That was a book of his memories, one he dreamt to write a long time ago; opening it and taking a pencil stump he resumed imprinting his life into the virgin white pages…
So that everything burned to ash had a chance to rise…
… When Genesis eventually slid between the sheets, Sephiroth was asleep. In dim moon rays his pale face was colorless, silver flyaway tresses spread all over the sheets, shimmering as strands of pearls.
He looked tired, so very tired, albeit his features never got that virile, austere cast, always so delicate and when relaxed – almost childlike.
Genesis gathered his hair slowly, with timid tenderness, so unusual for him. It was the splendid color that first caught his eyes in dark dreary Shin-Ra halls, not the unusual length. It actually shone, its light as pure as hope.
Sephiroth used to bring people hope, courage to fight. Maybe, he missed it, and kept returning to his role as the General to fill that emptiness. Genesis could only guess…
Redhead flung silver hair across his lover's chest and leaned over to him, gently brushing thin lips with his own, so cold and unresponsive this time.
"Why," he softly whispered into those perfectly shaped slightly parted curves, "why are you so insufferably blind?"
*flashback*
In the end.
Data room seemed colder and more foreign than before. Bright light shone lifelessly, snatching endless rows of shelves and computers from under the cover of darkness; neon lamps winked from time to time, giving him headache.
He came here for one reason; the general wished to be left alone so he could drop the usual stone mask, to be able to feel how tired he really was, even if his state had nothing to do with the physical fatigue.
Sephiroth only let it show when there was none to witness his weakness; not even Zack was supposed to notice anything.
General sat at the table, head propped up with his hand, and two folders lay by his side. Emerald eyes shifted from one face to another, his look faraway, long fingers absently sliding along the picture of a young man with unruly auburn hair and amazingly bright azure eyes. They seemed so impossibly alive as if it wasn't a picture but a face; as though in a split second sensual lips would curve into a smile, greeting him.
"Genesis Rhapsodos," Sephiroth said quietly, shaking off that delusion, and then his gaze returned to another face, "Angeal Hewley."
His old friends and the only person he loved.
What was it all now?
Memories.
Sephiroth hid his face in his palms. The longing was still in his heart, cleansed from bitter resentment; emptiness and pain would linger.
He only lacked hope. This time there was none.
Death took them both from him.
Refined hand absently reached out for a stamp, firmly pressed it to Angeal's picture. A scarlet word appeared across his face with a faint clang. CLOSED. Sephiroth lifted the stamp again, but his hand stopped half way. Sighing, he dropped it, returning his eyes to dainty features, framed in fiery red hair, as if wanting to memorize this face and not the one he last saw before Genesis fell.
It wasn't that easy, to let go. It hurt, even if he contrived to persuade himself their relationship was a mistake.
It actually never was; Sephiroth ran from the truth. Why? He couldn't find the answer to that question; fears, offence, anger everything seemed so petty now.
At least, dying, his friend knew Sephiroth loved him.
Genesis Rhapsodos…
His best friend bore an eccentric last name. Rhapsodos. An echo, a repercussion of the similar word, rhapsody. And that single word described all of Genesis – dramatic, exalted when it came to words, gestures, and such, passionate in expressing his feelings. Never the one to subdue his thoughts or emotions, never the patient one and always audacious.
Rhapsody to its very core, and faithful to his last name even in death…
"Pride is lost… wings stripped away… the end is… nigh…"
That was how Sephiroth would remember him, as a rhapsody. Always.
"Farewell," he whispered ruefully and finally pressed the stamp, spilling red paint – as droplets of blood – across his love's face.
CLOSED.
As white-hot needles in his heart.
CLOSED.
The general said his last words.
Rising, he gently picked up those folders and carried them to the shelves they now belonged at, those marked as archive. At first he found letter "H" and neatly placed Angeal's file between the two with effaced pictures. Then Sephiroth walked down the isle, passing dozens of rows until he finally saw the green letter "R", engraved into metallic shelf.
So many dead, he thought, searching for the right spot, so many forgotten. General's gaze lingered on Genesis' face for another instant before his file in turn disappeared in the line of identical folders.
Farewell, Genesis…
General's head hung, waves of silver concealing his pale refined face.
There was some grave tinge to all of this – in death everyone finally became indistinguishable; there truly was no difference if that person was a third or a first class, a President or a lowly member of Shin-Ra army.
In the end all of the dead became equal; rows of gray folders or white tombstones. And living souls were left with memories, warm as rays of rising sun or cruel as a steel blade cutting through warm flesh…
Long lashes trembled, revealing sparks of emerald flames; long fingers brushed a single silver lock off the forehead, falling onto the white surface of the pillowcase, freezing. He wasn't sleeping for some time, thinking, remembering, and to no surprise visions that came back from his past were about death and loss. Happy memories never came at times like this…
Sephiroth stirred, trying to stretch, but then felt his lover's hand wrapped around his waist. So Genesis didn't leave; a ghostly shade of a grateful smile slipped onto his lips. Sephiroth groped for that elegant palm and gently covered it. He used to wonder how Genesis managed to become such a good SOLDIER being so slender; how he contrived to wield the blade with those narrow, almost feminine hands. But on the battlefield and on training grounds Sephiroth forgot about his amusement. Genesis was always a sound match to his… inhuman abilities.
Sephiroth's eyes closed once more, breathing becoming more and more shallow. But before the ex-general was overcome by dreamless slumber, last word flashed through his mind.
Rhapsody.
First thing Genesis felt when awoke out of sleep was warmth of Sephiroth's body, tightly pressed to his own. That happened rarely, since his lover got up a sound hour or so earlier; but that morning he was still asleep.
Yes, Genesis knew, those thoughts haunted him too often, but he couldn't help but notice that even in slumber Sephiroth's face was ravishing, every fine curve so deliciously relaxed.
Perhaps, only in such moments his lover was truly himself.
Genesis carefully climbed out of the bed, not wishing to wake him up; even someone as strong as Sephiroth needed rest once in a while. Kissing him gently on the cheek, the redhead wrapped a thin sheet around his waist and came to stand by the window, peering through the small opening in the curtains.
It was early, he could tell, although the sky was clouded over. Stooping frame of a beggar sat by the dirty brick wall of an old building. Nice place, Genesis thought with disgust. But he couldn't be picky; they were outcasts, unwelcome intruders, monsters to those who saw black wings, hideous ugly beings. How many curses followed them; how many stones were thrown in their direction?
Yes, they were used to bearing hardships, Sephiroth and him. It was a price for a gift neither of them asked for. What was it? Destiny? Concurrence of fickle circumstances? Someone's mockery? Redhead never knew.
With that thought he stretched, every movement graceful and feline, and strode to the kitchen to make some breakfast. Some food was supposed to be left from dinner; Genesis ran his hand through auburn hair, putting it to rights. That meal was quite awful; they both were in dismal moods, barely talked.
… Setting the tray of food onto the nightstand Genesis climbed back into bed and woke his lover. Green eyes with silver sparks opened at once, riveting on him, recognition dawning in their enigmatic depths.
"Good morning."
Sometimes his lover sounded so official as if they didn't know each other for ages. He smirked a bit.
"I've made us food. Would you like some?"
A wan smile touched his thin lips.
"I would appreciate it."
Before Genesis picked up the tray he pulled his lover closer; Sephiroth didn't object, relaxing in his embrace, resting his silver head on redhead's shoulder.
They ate in silence, but this time it was a comfortable one; nothing of yesterday's chill remained. From time to time Genesis would pick a strawberry and put it in Sephiroth's mouth, feeling his tongue twine around his fingers.
Gaia, it was so good…
Sephiroth must have thought the same way for he suddenly raised himself and drew forward. Genesis closed his eyes, anticipating what was to come. And there it was, the gentle sensation of his tongue sliding along redhead's lips. They eagerly parted, obediently allowing his lover to continue his game, thin lips enveloping his slightly plump ones. Enveloping and withdrawing, again and again until Sephiroth deepened the kiss and silver tresses fell onto his forehead.
So persistent, so demanding. Always.
In moments like that Genesis was willing to forget about everything and… simply forgetting was enough…
The kiss ended, and both lovers resumed eating. After finishing breakfast neither of them was in the mood for conversation so the redhead started citing poems, one by one, reviving them in the memory. Melodic voice rang softly, changing and altering when needed. Genesis always felt as if he tasted those words like an exquisite delicate dish. Emotions they stirred in his heart were indescribable, images of distant places and landscapes showed through his inner darkness.
Sephiroth's eyes closed as he lay still, listening to Genesis' voice, obviously enjoying his little show.
He's been reading sixth one, when a certain piece came to his mind. Sephiroth could have known it as well; the redhead was not at fault. As he read last but one line
"And yet for storm it begs, the rebel…"
"As if in storm lurked calm and peace…" Sephiroth finished it for him, a bit quieter and less passionate, stirring and opening his eyes. Emerald depths brightened, so beautiful, so bewitching. "I suppose, it is about us in a way. Although I don't think our struggle can be called romantic in any way."
Genesis shook his head.
"Any hopeless fight is romantic, whether you wish it or not." He loverly passed his hand over his angel's alluring silver hair. "You do realize, it is hopeless, don't you?"
"Hardly," he answered with restrained laugh.
There was something in his deep voice, something in expression of his finely wrought features that really bothered the redhead. Sephiroth couldn't be serious about fighting his nature, could he? But Genesis never had the chance to finish his thought or even comprehend it fully.
The front door was knocked out with a loud bang. Orders were shouted, in the language Genesis didn't deign to learn properly. The sound of hurried footsteps accrued.
Sephiroth strained himself at once, his movements fast as lightning, barely noticeable to untrained human eyes. In the matter of seconds he turned from a man to a SOLDIER, self-disciplined, ready to counter almost anything.
Deadly in his art.
The ex-general rose, Massamune appearing in his left hand at once. He stood, shielding Genesis, deflecting the first round of gunfire as people dashed for the bedroom door, appearing in the doorway.
They were quite unlucky; bullets swished in random direction, some hitting those who fired them. First bodies fell at once with holes in their skulls or other parts, blood sprinkled, painting the walls in blurry crimson patterns. Moans and more orders blended into cacophony.
Chaos.
Genesis hurled the tray aside, reaching out for the scarlet rapier. He was naked, and it was the only reason why he allowed Sephiroth to protect him.
In the mean time Sephiroth froze, hand slightly outstretched, the tip of his long blade drawn aside a bit, so that he wouldn't have to swing it with too much power.
Availing himself of their enemy's confusion and disorder, Genesis shouted.
"Step aside, Sephiroth!"
He didn't turn, intent gaze still fixed on the lines of intruders as he made a single step to the right, allowing Genesis a clear view of what was going on. Not wasting any more time, he released a fireball and then another one. It hit the door, bursting into myriads of white-hot sparks. They hungrily bit into the wood, tongues of flames licking the doorway, chocking grey smoke rising at once. Unwelcome intruders were forced to retreat.
"They shall be back before long," Sephiroth's voice was indifferent. He changed into his battle attire in no time. The redhead followed his example, quickly fastening black stripes and putting on pants and coat, then straightened.
"Then, maybe, we should punish them," he said with a devilish grin, running his fingers along his scarlet blade with fondness. It ignited under his touch.
His lover immediately frowned, pale face darkened.
"No, Genesis, I am done… punishing."
He sighed. To be honest he didn't care.
"Then flee?"
Sephiroth nodded, sheathing his blade.
Genesis swung his arm, throwing another fireball, upwards this time. It flew through the flimsy roof, making a huge hole; the wood caught fire at once.
Hasty steps were heard outside the door once again, together with a nervous loud voice. Neither of them wished to take note of his words.
Sephiroth turned around gracefully and yet reservedly.
"Genesis, your hand," his command was calm, unruffled. The redhead hated orders, but that was definitely not the time to choose or argue.
Their hands firmly joined, Sephiroth's black wing fluttered, and they abruptly soared upwards. Peaceful blueness of the sky spurted towards, and llittle house in the slums disappeared below, its roof riven as wound edges and bleeding with streamlets of smoldering flames.