Angeal clears his throat and sets a stack of papers down on the coffee table. Zack looks up from polishing his sword. Genesis looks up from his book.
"I spoke with the sculptor," he says quietly. "She said the statue can be done in a few months, once we agree on a design. The fountain base will be ready well before then."
Zack's expression falls at the reminder of their plans for Cloud's memorial, but he nods. Genesis, on the other hand, scoffs and looks away.
"Cloud is going to be so disappointed in your lack of faith when he sees it," he says flippantly.
This again. Angeal closes his eyes. "Gen," he says softly. Painfully.
"What?" the temperamental SOLDIER snaps back, nose buried in his book again.
"It's been two years."
"So? There's not a force in this world that could keep him away forever." Anger is starting to bubble in his voice —a familiar anger, one that Angeal and Zack often skirt around rather than confronting directly. But today Angeal takes another deep breath and doesn't back down.
"Gen." His own voice cracks. "He's not coming back."
Immediately, eyes blazing with raw fury flash up to him. "You be quiet," he hisses. "I care not for your lack of faith in him. Even if the morrow is barren of promise, nothing shall forestall his return."
Angeal waits patiently, watching his friend without even bothering to disguise the pain in his eyes. Zack glances between them anxiously.
Genesis cracks first, looking away as his breath hitches. "He's stronger than anyone I've ever met," he bites out, swiping a hand across his face. When he inhales, it shudders. "He wouldn't lose to Sephiroth, no matter how long it took. He will be back."
It's hard for Angeal to speak around the lump in his throat—hard to make his voice more than just a breath of anguish. "Gen."
"No!"
"He deserves to rest."
Genesis turns his head away sharply, muffling a wounded noise in his hand. "He d—he doesn't need…"
Angeal is rapidly losing his own fight to control the burning in his eyes. So is Zack, just from watching. What a sad sight they must make. "Let him sleep, Gen. Please. Let him rest."
Genesis's voice weakens almost to the level of pleading, face still turned away. "He —hates resting. You know he hates resting."
"I know." It's hard to see through the film over his eyes. Harder to speak. Zack gets up and comes over to his chair, sitting on the arm so he can lean down and press their heads together. For all of his habitual loudness, when he cries it's deathly quiet.
"I —" Genesis drops the book and presses both hands over his mouth. "I…can't —"
Angeal gets up, pulling Zack with him. He moves the three steps it takes to drop to his knees in front of his best friend. Carefully, he nudges Genesis's hands out of the way and cradles his jaw. Bright blue eyes look at him with anguish and the very last fraying threads of denial, worn down by two years of fruitless hope.
Angeal wants to speak. He opens his mouth to try, but the words catch in his throat. Tears spill down his cheeks when he blinks, catching in his eyelashes and making the world glimmer around the edges. He closes his mouth and gives up. No words will convince Genesis anyway.
Instead, he presses their foreheads together.
Genesis finally breaks, clinging to his wrists like a drowning man as the sobs come hard and fast. "Cloud gave up everything," he chokes out. "He didn't deserve any of this! He deserved to live! He deserved to be happy!"
"He had you," Zack says hoarsely, a hand on each of them. "He loved you guys. You made him happy."
"I failed him," Genesis fires back in anguish. "I should have been able to protect him! He shouldn't have had to protect us!"
"There was nothing we could do," Angeal says. "And there's nothing we can do anymore, except lay him to rest."
Genesis keens. "He deserved more!"
"I know." Angeal pulls his friend's head down to rest against his shoulder and wraps his arms around it, holding him tight as he finally grieves the loss of Cloud. "I know."
