Your cheeks are stained with tears. All those things you did,
all the people you killed, all which you destroyed. I know how you must feel.
I know. You and me. The same. Sephiroth. I can't make up for all the deaths,
and neither can you. Maybe what we do is a try to reconcile, some kind of...
sadomasochistic apology to all those we killed. Me grabbing you, you slamming
me into a wall, screaming, whimpering, moaning. The others, they have to
hear, must hear.
Life never turns out the way we want it, Sephiroth. I don't
know what I wanted, or what you might possibly want, but I think all men
have some kind of rooted desire deep down, very deep down, to build
a house, get a wife, have kids. Hey, it's part of the human reproduction-plan.
But thinking about it, it's not what I want. I don't have what I want, and
never will have it either. For I want you, but I know you don't want me.
Holding you in my arms. Warm. Unsecure.
A few minutes ago, when you were still sleeping, I looked Cloud
in the eyes. He was shocked, I saw it, shocked and angry and somehow
disappointed. I only looked at him, dared him to do something, say
something. But he didn't. If he'd been armed, would he have charged at us,
my love? I don't know. But he just closed the door again. He looked so
hurt.
Tomorrow is another day, a day which dawn I fear. You must be
gone by then, that is why I remain awake. I have to stay alert, on guard,
wary in case they would come. Maybe they won't. Maybe they'll just leave
us here, now that they know. Cloud knows, Tifa knows. She saw us.
Pushing, thrusting, wet, wet, wet and so good again and again
and again. You were crying, I was screaming, shouting, begging for more,
more, more and she was just staring. I didn't care, you didn't see. I don't
even think you noticed the slamming of the door when she fled; you were busy
bleeding down my mouth. She must have told him: Cloud, or he wouldn't have
come - if I would have been getting noisy with someone else than you. You.
You. You.
It feels like I'm on some kind of high, and maybe I am - adrenalin
usually works that way on people. It wore you out though: your crying. Your
pushing, panting, and crying. Whatever people say about you, Sephiroth, you
heartless killer: you are my child. Mine. Minemineminemine. I want more of
you. More than you can give. If I told you this, you'd ask: what more can
I give you? Always so eager, so wanting to please. I want everything you,
Sephiroth. Your fear, your sweat, your dirt and grime, your blood, your love,
your come, your agony, your lust. Everything you. Don't blame me for it.
You belong to me, just like I belong to you. And here we lie. I made a deal
with the devil, and here I lie now.
If I'd jump, would you follow?
You're so quiet. Almost like you weren't breathing. So still.
Are you sleeping? I know I'm not, even if it might seem like it. Can you
see through my bluff?
All I want is to lie here with you a while, to feel calm just
a little while. Just a little while longer. It makes me feel stabile. Stability.
I want something to take care of. Would you be my pet? Oh, please say yes.
I'd take such good care of you. I'd feed you, and caress you, and kick you:
just the way I know you like it. I heard you had a cat once, I remember it.
A scruffy, tabby thing. She liked me, even though I kept stepping on her
paws and pulling her tail. Such are the manners of a child. But I'm not a
child anymore, even if you look kind of the same as you did then. What happened
to that cat?
I miss you, Vincent. I know, I know, you're right here in my
arms and your arms are around me in turn, but you're still so far away from
me. I know what you're doing - you're not sleeping - you're keeping watch.
You're afraid. I'm afraid too, Vincent. I wish we could be together. Always.
Just this now isn't enough, no matter how much I try to savor what we have
righ now doesn't matter. I still know it is going to end, and sooner rather
than later. Can you hear the shadows screaming, Vincent?
I can't get enough of your name.
Cling to me as I cling to you - you can feel that, can't you?
- and smell the roses in the street. You can buy more than just roses of
course. Lilies and long-stemmed lilacs and those small little white ones
I don't know what they're called. Isn't that a pity? I never take the time
to find out trivial little things like that, and that's what hurt the most.
If I only knew what they were called I would raid the world for them all
and give them to you, if you'd want them. For you would, wouldn't you? You,
who claim to be the worlds greatest lover of beauty. Maybe you're right.
Beauty is born from beauty.
Can't I hold you a little longer?
When I wake up, you'll be gone. That's why I won't sleep.
Are you sleeping? I'm going now. When will you wake up to find
me gone? What will you do then, Vincent? Will you cry?
And now that I'm awake, I'm all alone again. Gone. Gone...
Sephiroth. My dear little one. Sephiroth. I'm gone.
I'm gone.