Cloud concentrated on throwing the bolts open, so fundamentally hurt and angry that he didn't even register Sephiroth moving behind him. The man was utterly unbelievable, treating Cloud as he did, and the youth refused to stand for it a moment longer.

He drew the last lock and twisted the handle, yanking the door open with no little force.

It slammed closed and stayed that way, held in place by Sephiroth's gloved hand.

They stood there, the boy facing the door, furious, the man leaning against it from behind him, covering his surprise with his usual cool disdain.

"Well," he said, breaking the long silence. "At least this time you aren't nude as a grape."

"No thanks to you," Cloud snapped. Once upon a time he would've been appalled at himself for back-talking the General—now it only served to make him more upset. "Move."

Sephiroth made a soft little "tsk" noise at him and shook his head, his long hair floating softly against Cloud's back, tickling through the thin cloth of his uniform. "Is that any way to speak to a General, Cloud?"

"No," the boy said, his anger making his words short and clipped. "But you aren't behaving as a General, Sir."

Sephiroth drew in a soft breath behind him and then growled, "Watch your mouth—I have limits to my patience."

"So do I!" the youth said, turning around to face him, despite how much it hurt to look at him, to remember what he'd done so willingly, all of their moments together crowding his mind and mocking him with his easy capitulation. Genesis's casual use of the word Master had not escaped Cloud, and it burned him to know that it was, in fact, quite true—no matter how he tried, no matter what he promised himself, all Sephiroth ever had to do was crook a finger at him and Cloud would fall to his knees and beg…literally.

Sephiroth gazed down at him with shining jade eyes that sparked with sudden heat, glowing in the dim half-light that seemed to pervade his home. They were so close that the edges of his coat lapped against Cloud's knees and the long strands of his hair wisped against him with maddeningly light touches. With the height difference they were standing nose to clavicle, but Cloud's upturned, mutinous face and blazingly angry blue eyes more than made up for his lack. He looked feral as the beast Sephiroth knew to be hiding within him, and more than just a little dangerous in his fury. Angry animals were unpredictable, Sephiroth knew, and Cloud was no exception.

"Such a temper," he murmured, smiling softly, seeing recognition light those bright blue eyes when Cloud recalled the previous time Sephiroth had said such to him. "Would it soothe your wounded pride to know that you affect me as much as I affect you, Cloud Strife?"

Cloud blinked at him, unwilling to be drawn in by such an obvious trap, no matter how sweet the bait.

"That isn't possible, General," Cloud said, forcing the words past his clenched teeth. "I would not flatter myself to think that I affect you in the least. Please, let me leave."

"In such a state of agitation?" Sephiroth asked, amusement floating in his voice. He gave a lazy flick of his fingers to the topmost bolt and murmured, "I think not, Cloud. Stop throwing a tantrum and come away from the door."

"Sir—"

"Now, Strife," Sephiroth said, and turned his back on him, half expecting the irate young man to leave anyway.

Glaring at him, Cloud moved away from the door, his sinewy arms crossed over his wide chest.

Sephiroth appraised him, his vision better in the dim light than in the strong fluorescents of the hall. He hadn't noticed before, but Cloud had grown in more ways than just his temper. He was taller than Sephiroth remembered, and clearly had put on muscle mass that gave him the sinewy grace of a slinky, lithe cat. Though his face had always been beautiful, it was moreso now that he'd lost that last bit of baby roundness from his cheeks, and his eyes seemed even larger now in comparison with the high hollows of his perfect cheekbones. Even marred by obstinance, Cloud was by far the most beautiful person Sephiroth had ever known, male or female.

"Come here, Cloud."

Those blue eyes flicked to him, narrowing slightly.

"No."

Sephiroth felt a flicker of irritation at being denied. People did not simply tell him no, it was outside of his range of experience and he didn't like it one whit.

"Cloud Strife, come to me this instant," he sharply said, seating himself in one of the parlor settees with all of the regal grace of a monarch. He'd never had use for the room before, and had always been rather irritated by the décor the President's assistant had used, but he found the seat to his liking and it would serve his purpose as Cloud was as likely to get near his bed as he was to walk head first into oncoming traffic.

Frowning, Cloud came closer but stayed out of reach, knowing to the millimeter the range of Sephiroth's long, graceful arms.

Sephiroth regarded him, beautiful and righteous in his teenaged anger, stubbornly clinging to his fury and unwilling to bend even a fraction. Compared to the gentle, yielding child of just months ago, the change was drastic but strangely compelling.

"Why did you run from me?" he asked.

"Why didn't you chase me?" Cloud countered, yet it served as an answer. Damaged pride had prevented Sephiroth from chasing him, and damaged pride had sent Cloud fleeing like a rabbit.

"Angeal tended you," Sephiroth murmured, waving away the incident, though he himself had brought it up.

Cloud arched an eyebrow at him, a hint of his old nervous habits showing through in the way he stiltedly answered, "It was more than you offered."

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed as an unwelcome and unexpected spurt of jealousy touched him.

"What else did he offer you, Cloud?"

Mortified, Cloud gave him a disbelieving look, his eyes filling with suspicious brightness as he warbled, "Is that it, Sir? Because I let you take me, I let anyone take me? He calmed me and fed me and made sure I was alright, that's all! Whatever you may think of me, Sir, I'm not a whore—even if I may still smell like one!"

He ended on a snarl, his white teeth bared and those threatening tears shimmering in his eyes. He was horrified by Sephiroth's subtle accusation, appalled that he would besmirch the memory of someone he claimed as a friend—and for what? For a boy he rejected time and again? For a possession which he would use as he saw fit? And, insult to injury, he actually thought that Cloud might have allowed such a proposition to be made, even welcomed it!

"I can't believe you," he said, his voice small and hurt as the anger drained out of him. His strong little shoulders slumped, even the wild spikes of his hair seemed to bow under the weight of his sorrow. "I just…I can't believe you…"

Shaking his head, Cloud moved again for the door, sickened by the whole exchange.

"Cloud," Sephiroth said, alarmed by the defeat he saw etched on the youth's drawn little face. He surged to his feet, ready to stop him by force if necessary. He hadn't reckoned the weight his unthinking comment had carried, though his history with Cloud should have taught him to be circumspect. That odd assurance inside him knew without a doubt that if Cloud made it through the door he would never return under any circumstances and that his hurt would harden into hate. Despite everything, he had not lost that odd desire to keep Cloud safe from harm, to see him happy and at peace. With no other recourse left him, he simply whispered, "Please don't go."

It was raw with unnamed emotion, with things Sephiroth was not used to and had no comfort dealing with. It was spontaneous and utterly unbidden. It was an echo of the hurt which Cloud felt every time someone looked through him like he wasn't there, spoke around him, wished him dead or gone or both.

And, despite his best intentions, it was enough to stop Cloud in his tracks.