Week #3 Challenge with KirasTastefulTragedy: Write a story based on the song "Glass Skin" by Dir En Grey. I just kind of went with the song's theme of memories. I have rewritten this story three times already, and it STILL doesn't seem good enough, but it's the best that I can do for this challenge.
For those of you who are reading my Genesis/Cloud fic, Bleed Me An Ocean, this also could actually tie into it as a prologue for the storyline.
As always, I do not own the characters and do not intend to make money from it.
Genesis woke up alone in his bed, his hair clinging to his cheek from dried tears. He laughed at himself and peeled back the strands of hair, the action causing his face to hurt a little. The stinging sensation was only one more bit of evidence that he was alive, though, and he welcomed it with open arms. Lately, he had started to degrade. His flesh was slightly ashen and his hair was growing paler with each passing day. It didn't hurt physically, but emotionally he was a wreck.
He walked to the bathroom with a sigh and turned on the faucet over the sink. He dipped his hands into the lukewarm water then dried his face with a dingy towel. He went downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of strong whiskey then made his way slowly to the front door. Springtime had arrived once more to the village of Banora, and with it came heavenly-scented flowers and bright, green grass. Genesis cracked open the door and squinted his eyes as the rays from the morning sun hit his face, shocking him into the present day. He had stayed up all night thinking about the past, only sleeping for an hour. The could haves and should haves had piled onto his weary shoulders in his short twenty-five years on the planet.
He pulled a dusty, tattered blanket around his body and stepped out into the light. A chilly breeze still lingered from the long winter they had just gone through. Genesis was always cold now, his body degrading from the lack of S Cells that he needed in order to stay strong, to stay alive. As it was now, he was very weak and feeling like every breath would be his last. He would eventually have to make an appearance at the Shinra Headquarters to speak with Hollander, who had knowledge about the S Cells as well as his current situation.
He let his wing spring free from his shoulder, the black feathers coming loose from it and falling all around him like soft, black snow. Shinra and Hollander had made him a fucking monster, and his enormous wing was even more proof of how he had been toyed with as the product of an experiment. He scoffed at the idea that anyone could love him the way he was, though Angeal had tried. He thought about his childhood best friend with a smile. The man had loved him despite all of his flaws, including his habit of reading the same book over and over again. Angeal was just like him, though: a one-winged freak of nature, born forth from one man's idea of scientific research.
Genesis knelt down and plucked a flower from the ground. He held it to his nose so that he could further take in its scent. The smell thrust him back into memories of Angeal: summer days spent picking bouquets of flowers for their mothers, their childish laughter floating through the breeze and echoing throughout the village. One day, when they were much older and had decided to join SOLDIER, Genesis met him in the field behind Angeal's home so that they could get a jump start on their sword training.
They ran back and forth, chasing each other with their swords, clanging steel against steel and dodging each others' attacks. The flowers were trampled down beneath their feet, and they caught hell for it from Angeal's mother. Overall, though, it was a satisfying day. Angeal had made his move against Genesis later that evening while they watched the stars come out. Genesis had never been attracted to Angeal before that, but after one kiss, he fell head over heels for the raven-haired angel. Though their relationship never went anywhere other than the one kiss, Genesis still kept him in his heart and mind.
Genesis grimaced at the memory and threw the flower onto the ground. He went back inside and slammed the door, upset with himself that he had let himself get carried away by his memories once again. He rolled his head and popped his neck. He stared into the mirror in his living room and remembered when he was strong and healthy-looking. The thoughts made his blood boil, and he lifted a fist and rared it back to punch the mirror, but stopped himself. He didn't want to cause any more harm to himself; it would probably just make him weaker than he already was.
He sat down and opened up his copy of Loveless, leafing through it and reading the few paragraphs that especially moved him more than the other sections of the book. It spoke of life, of promises and of truth. This book had been his only savior lately, his only way of making it through each day. He shut the book suddenly and stood up. He walked back outside and picked up the flower he had thrown down earlier. Staring at it, he realized something that made him want to cry: He had picked the flower and had forever stopped it from growing. He had severed its link to life, just as Hollander had done so for him by keeping him away from the cells that he needed in order to stay alive.
What gave him the right to play as a god, when his own body was becoming more and more worthless by the minute?
He took the flower inside and laid it on a shelf. Taking one last look at it, he picked up his rapier and prepared to leave. Weak or not, he would play as a god and strike down the one who had made him the way he was. Taking possession of S Cells would keep him alive. Then maybe, just maybe, he could find peace. Only then could he begin to heal.