Closure
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A/N: This was a fic that I wrote for my awesome friend, Jen, because I love her muchly. I won't say too much, but be warned that there is some pretty heavy angst involved and shounen-ai implications. I actually wrote a Sephiroth/Cloud. The things you'll do for friends. It was a nice challenge; just be warned this is my first time writing Sephiroth, really.
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This was it.
He had murdered him, slaughtered him, had vanquished the once-man-turned-God. The world was saved, all was at peace once again – things would finally go back to normal. No. No, they wouldn't. He would never be able to live with himself, with the fact that he had killed the man he was so hopelessly in love with. Yes – Cloud Strife loved Sephiroth, had loved him ever since he had first seen him, heard his voice – witnessed his elegance.
It had been a lost cause from the start. Sephiroth was completely out of his league, but Cloud was content enough to just watch from afar, admire that grace, that perfection. He had no problem hiding it from everyone, was an expert at burying his secrets so deep that not even his closest friends could uncover them. Zack hadn't even found out, something Cloud was proud of himself for – if there was anyone that could unravel all he kept close, hidden, and with no difficulty at all, it was Zack.
But no, Zack had never figured it out. Neither had Tifa. She even though that he loved her, but no, that was a childhood dream, quickly stamped out at the sight of that long silver hair. But he had gone along with it, acted as if his feelings for her were more than just a close friendship. He had found his performance that night under the Highwind to be rather good, his acting skills top-notch.
If I have to… I can fake my way through the rest of my life. But… maybe, eventually, I'll forget about him… I'll move on…
Never.
It would never, ever stop hurting. At least Sephiroth hadn't been sane when he killed him – that made it less personal, somehow. He also hadn't been sane when he had burned down Cloud's hometown, killed his mother… and that was something that Cloud would never blame him for. To know that you were simply an experiment, a test subject, something that's sole purpose was to serve others… it would have sent him off the deep end, too.
And Cloud had gone crazy nevertheless, had buckled, weakened, made himself out to be someone else, someone he wasn't, and he didn't have it nearly as bad as Sephiroth did. Because I'm dumb, useless… I shouldn't even taint Sephiroth by loving him like I do. I would never deserve someone like him, I shouldn't even be allowed to love him.
… but I can't stop, can't forget him… How did I ever get in this mess, end up killing him?
He had been following him because he wanted to see him, that billowing black coat that was part of The General's uniform, those eyes, that smirk…Even when I thought I was Zack, I still…
And somehow he had assumed that leader position, people had come to depend on him to save them, to save the world. Why they relied on him, someone so mentally unstable, so screwed up in the head… he really must have been good at covering it up. And he had had to do it – it would have been selfish, to refuse to do it. The fate of the world was much, much more important than what he felt, than one person's obsession compared to the entire Planet. Not to mention that Aeris had sacrificed herself for the world, and he wouldn't let her death pass by with no significance.
So he had done it – pushed back his emotions, forgotten, just temporarily, who the man he was fighting was, and done it. Held his breath, sucked it up. Grit your teeth and bear it. It hadn't really sunk in yet, that he'd never get to see him ag—
Cloud.
What?! It was him – how could that calm, controlled – always controlled – voice belong to anyone else?
You aren't done here. Come!
And without any choice in the matter, he was pulled back – down, down, to the center of the Crater. Not his body, though, just his essence, his spirit, his soul – his mind. Away from Tifa, away from everyone – back to him. After a short time of just soaring, floating, falling, there was a flash and there they were. He was on his feet again, the Buster Sword – not his Ultima Weapon, but the Buster Sword, gripped tightly by both hands. And there he stood, the legendary Masamune that only he could wield held easily in his right hand.
And, God – his shirt was gone, to leave those fine-toned muscles, so beautiful, so perfect. He had undressed The General with his eyes many times, longed to see what stood before him now, but none of his most vivid fantasies did any justice to the real thing. For a few moments he could only stare. "No. I already killed you," he finally said, somehow able to keep his tone strong even though his knees threatened to buckle more and more each second.
Sephiroth just smirked in that teasing, arrogant way that Cloud hated and cherished at the same time. "Not completely," he responded. "You have to erase me from your mind, forget me entirely. That you have yet to accomplish, even if I am, in a way, already gone." He started to walk slowly, painstakingly slowly, towards Cloud.
Cloud felt his heart jump into his throat – what he was asking was impossible – if only he knew. "What a tragedy, Strife. To fall for the one you were destined to kill." Apparently he did know.
No, no, there's no way. No. Way. "What are you talking about?" Cloud barked.
Sephiroth chuckled lightly, and Cloud felt his stomach do somersaults. "You can't hide from me. You're my… puppet, remember? I've been in your mind, explored it, ransacked it. I know all those little secrets you managed to hide from everyone else."
Cloud was shaking, shivering, trembling. The only base he had, his strong-hold, the comfort that was what allowed him to continue to trudge on, had been ripped from him in a second; so easily was he stripped down, exposed, vulnerable… his entire sanctuary, gone. The sword that he had learned to carry with ease felt like lead in his arms – his arms, which burned with the pain – and the weapon was dropped before his feet, the harsh clatter ringing loudly through the arena they had been placed in.
"Don't worry, my dear. Here is your chance… to kill me for good." A few steps closer – too close. Cloud tried to back away but discovered he couldn't move.
"My… dear…?" It was such a stupid, stupid thing to say, and he knew it, but at this point he couldn't even think straight.
Sephiroth nodded. "Cloud… you're… to see in your mind, infest you as I did… it made you feel like a part of me, I a part of you. Your love, so sincere, for a monster like me, I can't understand it… but… you're the only person that has seen me for more than just a machine. Your love… it became my love, if you can believe that…" Now they were almost face-to-face, and as much as Cloud wanted to run as far away as he could, he was unable of any movement, frozen still by those piercing emerald eyes, the same ones that had explored the labyrinth of his mind.
This couldn't be happening, could it? But it… it was. Sephiroth's free hand, not burdened by the Masamune, reached up to rest tenderly at Cloud's cold cheek. "So pretty…" Sephiroth commented. "You seem so innocent, even with all you've been through. It really is… endearing." The hand slowly moved down to his chin, holding him sternly there. With no effort at all did he cock Cloud's head slightly upwards, an action that made it easier for him to bow his head enough to press his lips against Strife's.
It was amazing. Cloud had spent countless nights lying awake, wondering just how it might feel, but this was inconceivable. Starting with his face, he felt his entire body thaw from that freezing cold to incredible warmth. Then strength went back into his knees in mere seconds, though he still felt as if he'd faint from the pure shock of it.
His eyes closed slowly and he subconsciously went onto his tiptoes to better enjoy the blissful moment. Sephiroth gently coaxed Cloud's mouth open, though the blonde really had no problem complying, and his tongue was slowly forced in. It was a bond that would have been unbreakable had it been up to Cloud – he could have stood on his tiptoes for eternity – no one else, not Tifa, not Aeris, not the fate of the entire Planet – mattered anymore. It was euphoria; it was his life being handed to him again, all other memories, all worries, completely forgotten for that moment.
Unfortunately, Sephiroth had a bit more common sense, understood reality, and so he eventually, though reluctantly, pulled away. Cloud stared up at him, and though feeling just a little pouty, gave Sephiroth a full smile. Sephiroth closed his eyes and sighed softly. "Don't do that to me… you're going to make this too hard…"
Cloud frowned. "Wait… w-what are you talking about?"
"Cloud, you know what you have to do now." His Mako-green eyes trailed down to where the Buster Sword laid waiting on the floor.
Cloud gaped, eyes shooting up to stare at the One Winged Angel. "No… I don't want to forget you!"
Sephiroth just gave him a rueful smile and placed either hand on Cloud's shoulder, the Masamune set off to the side – he didn't need it. "Cloud, listen to me. You'll be much better off to rid yourself of me now – to live a better life, enjoy it. I'd like to know you'll like the rest of your days. It'll help me rest in peace. If not to do this for your own benefit, at least do it for me."
Shivering under Sephiroth's touch, Cloud winced his eyes closed. His voice was shaking. "N-no… I can't do it again. I can't kill you again."
There was just a hint of anger in Sephiroth's tone now, but the pain in it was much stronger. "Cloud, you have to. For everyone, for yourself, for me. Please."
Cloud opened his eyes, then placing his hand over them and bringing it up to run through his hair. He heaved a sigh. "A…all right." Muscles were tight, constricting, as he paced over to where his sword lay. Bending over, he apathetically wrapped his hand around the hilt and then stood up, pulling the monstrous sword up with him.
Sephiroth shook his head in dismay. "…it's a shame you have to kill me with that sword." He examined the blade closely, remembering the man who had once held it, who was already gone. "But I suppose it doesn't really matter…"
Cloud would have rather done it with his Ultima Weapon, but this was what the vision, if that's what it was – because he was hardly sure what this even was anymore – had produced for him. Maybe it was just another sadistic way of making this harder for him, to have to kill Sephiroth with Zack's sword. He didn't actually respond verbally, though; it was better now if he just didn't even speak to him – he was already doing his best not to make eye contact.
With the sword in hand once again, he walked back over to where Sephiroth was waiting for him. His head remained bowed for the entire walk over, but once he reached him, he couldn't help but glance up at him. "God, Seph… I'm so sorry…" he whispered, feeling the tears begin to well up in his eyes.
"No, don't be… I want you to do this, and I must apologize for forcing you to. But it will be the best thing, I promise…" As a final good-bye, he stepped towards Cloud's almost lifeless form, wrapped his arms strongly about him, if just for a few seconds, and then took a few steps back. "Okay…" he breathed. "You can… do it."
Cloud took a deep breath, nodded weakly, and then rested his left hand on Sephiroth's shoulder, more for his own comfort and support than that of Sephiroth's, though he hoped it was serving that purpose as well. He then pulled his sword up so that it was parallel with the floor, reared his right arm back, holding the hilt of the sword almost too tight, and then, with one graceful, fluid, swift motion, shoved it right through his heart. Sephiroth's heart. May as well have been his own.
It wasn't a long, painful death; no, the man fell to the floor as soon as Cloud removed the blade, slumped over, a lifeless form, and nothing more. Cloud had never expected it to hurt so much. After all, hadn't Sephiroth told him that this would make him forget about him entirely, that this would make it all better? No, he definitely wasn't feeling the effects, the severe pain in his chest enough to send him to one knee. He crouched forward, sword having been dropped earlier, disgusted to have the murder weapon even near him now, and then was he assaulted by his tears.
His entire form shook and heaved under his sobbing, like an attack upon him, the outpouring of sorrow seemed to bring even more pain than actually alleviate any of it. Crying was supposed to help one let out all of their pain, but now, all it seemed to do was attract more. He inched over to where his love lay, forever gone now, and once he reached him, seated himself next to him and pulled his body into his lap. As he continued to cry, he ran his hand through Sephiroth's hair, trailed his palm down the soft skin of his cheek, bent over, buried his face in his chest, and just cried and cried. The blood was everywhere; on his face, in his hair, covering his clothing; a proper reward for the evil deed he had committed, the heinous crime. God, how could he have done such a thing?
And slowly, after a time, the form that he held so close began to dissipate, disappear, turn a more transparent hue, and eventually, was gone, and there was nothing to hold, nothing to lean against, nothing to pour himself into, to share his pain with. And he was alone; so alone.
He slowly got to his feet, balance uneasy, almost teetering over on quite a few occasions. Now, he just seemed so dizzy, so tired… everything was surreal, everything was over now.
"…Seph, you said I was going to forget… you said it would all be better… you…" He bowed his head, shoulder shaking. "You lied." But that didn't mean he hated him, no, never, never… he just hated himself for thinking that there was any way to ever escape his pain, any sort of release from this longing for something he could never have.
And yet he had had it. For a moment, he had, and he had destroyed that moment, that ideal, blissful moment, before it could even really be appreciated. Why, why was he always so stupid, so idiotic, so wrong, so bad, so…
Clenched fists were shaking as he walked over to where the bloodied sword was resting.
I'm sorry, Seph. But it didn't work. None of it did. It still hurts, so bad, so… so bad, and I can't… I just can't go on anymore… This ends… now…
Slowly, just like before, he bent over to pick up the sword.
I'm sorry, Zack. You gave your life so I could live mine, and now… I'm doing this. But I just… I have to stop this. Even if it means doing it with your sword…
It was heavier than it ever had felt before in his hands, but he held it steadily in his hand.
I'm sorry, Tifa. For not coming back, when I left. Take care of everyone, save… the world… and I… I'm sorry I could never love you back.
He straightened then, watching the dark droplets of blood splatter upon the misty floor.
I'm sorry, Aeris. I tried to make it mean as much as I could, your death, for all of us. You gave up your life for a good reason… I'm sorry I can't say the same for myself…
Closing his eyes for a moment, he paced towards the middle of the room, the dream-world, or whatever it was, and gasped back as the pain in his heart continued to burn strongly.
I'm sorry, Barret. We were supposed to take down Shin-Ra together… and I know I'm such a fool for doing this, but I hope… you can all forgive me. Make sure Shin-Ra… make sure they're gone.
His left hand was placed against his chest, and his breathing grew heavier as he tried to force back the pain, prepare himself for the new dosage of it that he would soon be receiving.
I'm sorry, Nanaki. For those that you lost, your father, your mother, your grandfather. They deserved life so much more than I did, and here I am, tossing mine away…
It would never stop hurting; that much he now knew. His arm was then left to fall limply at his side, and he balanced there, just trying to keep his strength until this was done with.
I'm sorry, Cid. For all the dreams that took so long to be fulfilled. I'm just glad… you were able to obtain them, when I never could… because I just gave up, because… I'm so…
He felt the bile in his mouth, and was forced to lean over to the side, empty his stomach, and the burning feeling that remained was satisfying enough, the emptiness was deserved.
I'm sorry, Cait Sith… Reeve… you were a spy, but even you could be trusted more than me… even you would tell people things, when I never did… when I was always… a liar…
He absent-mindedly wiped the remaining bits of vomit from the side of his mouth, and coughed a trembling, cold cough… there was nothing left in him anymore. All was gone.
I'm sorry, Vincent. You went through so much more than me, had it so much worse, and you never, ever resorted to this… you made it through… you survived… I wish I could say the same for myself… I really do…
Time was nearing. He pulled the sword forward, grasped the hilt with his left hand as well, and then placed the point against his chest, waiting for when it would be the proper moment to administer the blow.
I'm sorry, Yuffie. I never did get to sign that contract for you to have all the Materia. Take it… I won't need any of it anymore…
I'm sorry, everyone. For doing this to you, for leaving you… when you might need me. I hope you can learn to live on, to forget…
All I know is that I couldn't.
It only took a little shove forward, just a tiny bit of effort, and it was done.
Salvation given.