Chapter 66 - Unwanted Feelings and Other Concerns
October, 1995
"One week left and then you go back," Sephiroth says quietly to the dog sleeping next to him. "Then what shall we do?"
Charlie's face doesn't twitch. He is sprawled out and pressed against his side. The yellow hair ruffles with slow breaths. The sun hasn't risen. A car horn had woken Sephiroth up before his alarm. He sought out the weight of Charlie next to him. The dog cannot have adoration. Animals are not able to have such complex emotions but the dog chooses to be here. He wanders in every night and waits at his bedside until Sephiroth lifts him. That choice makes waking better. It gives him something to concentrate on in moments like this.
His fingers weave through the fur. The tangles break apart, the strands smooth and present. Charlie huffs into his stomach and shivers. Sephiroth seeks the spot he has found and watches as the dog's leg twitches in his sleep as he scratches. Sephiroth feels a smile on him that opposes the storm coming.
A new worry sits against his chest as he slips out from the covers. Charlie sleeps through his gym time and only wakes when he comes back and lifts him to the floor. This is a new habit. Sephiroth draws his fingers down the dog's spine as he stands over him. The fur is patchy in places. How much time does he have left?
The gym is empty. The windows throw in the beginnings of an orange sunrise across the floor. Sephiroth's earbuds are in but nothing is coming out of them. No music suits him today. Once the dogs go, the other Firsts will lose interest in him. Genesis spends most of his nights on the floor with Yuki and Charlie's constant companion is Angeal. Acid settles in his throat at this upcoming change. All things must come to an end. This is something that he has learned. He should have appreciated this time more.
The exercise clears his mind. Running is particularly good for this. Everything falls away with the pounding on the tread and the high pitched whine of the machine. Sweat covers his back. These emotions hold no significance. Wanting more of something like this shows a reliance, an addiction. He does not need it. All that matters is going back to Wutai and finishing off the tasks that he has started. It will be over then. He has become distracted from his goal.
A knock on the door forces him to hit the emergency stop on the treadmill. He calms his lungs and twists to look. Velocity dumbly pulls him forward a step.
Angeal props open the door with his foot and taps his ear. He waits. Sephiroth blinks. Angeal does it again. The earbuds. He thinks that can't hear him.
Sephiroth shifts his weight against the armrest and pulls out one. Counting out an even breath takes more effort. He looks at the little pack next to his keys. This is not an emergency. He is fine. He has simply been pulled from his exercise without a cooldown. If it doesn't go away, he will have to take a pill and then report it.
"I got up early. Do you mind if we share today?"
Sephiroth takes a breath. Could he? Would that be okay for Angeal? Would he care to share with him?
"Or I can go," Angeal adds quickly and the door starts to close.
Somehow that makes the decision for him.
"No, stay." Sephiroth waves his hand around the room and puts back his earbud. He turns away so he doesn't have to say more and resets the treadmill. Every part of him concentrates on Angeal's shoes on the tile. The door closes. He hears a sigh and then weights start moving on the opposite side. Sephiroth eyes a reflection before dragging his focus back. Angeal's back is to him.
Sephiroth presses the button until the speed goes up and the motor shrieks. This has no consequence.
Angeal arrives the next two days increasingly sooner into Sephiroth's time. The third time, he doesn't ask. He slips in and gets to work. It settles a foreign warmth into the back of his mind. They avoid each other but the interest is clear. He's been caught watching and the same is true for Angeal. The other First's training goes towards strength. Sephiroth favors atheism. It works for how they fight.
It is on the fourth day that Sephiroth rests against the wall, drinking and stretching. Angeal hums as he works the weights. He's lost in his own world. The quiet between them is good, almost as comfortable has having the dogs distracting them. Sephiroth's mind traces the scars that should be on his hands. The marred skin lasted only two months before they were washed away from him.
"Surely," Angeal's tone is friendly as he catches Sephiroth's attention. "We know which one of us can lift more."
Sephiroth glances up. The barbell sits at Angeal's feet. If he hadn't been paying attention, the statement sounded without challenge. Instead, he catches the tone, the interest under it.
"Surely we know." Sephiroth responds evenly. He keeps his body open and relaxed instead of resisting the tension wanting to form at this unknownness. Perhaps he is misunderstanding what the question is.
Angeal pauses, studies the weights and looks Sephiroth straight in the eye. "But it wouldn't hurt to check, would it?"
Only a playful glint in his eye makes Sephiroth's head fall to the side. The edges of the room disappear.
R&D has been demanding this test for years. He has refused. He won't be tested like an animal. Sephiroth won't subject himself to that experiment, to being tested again and again until he reached his physical limit and pushed beyond. He didn't want to fall to his knees shaking, bowing his head, gasping and told by an anonymous voice he had done "a good job."
Sephiroth blinks.
Angeal still waits for his answer. The silence grows thick. The amusement dies in him and he shifts his weight to another foot. His eyebrows are starting inch closer together.
This is different. Hojo hasn't appeared. Angeal is a First. This is not R&D. This is not a test.
"I don't see why not."
Ground rules are set. They work together on it. His mind can't quite comprehend how they collaborate on the details. It will be a deadlift. They will increase the weight a hundred pounds at a time and then down to fifty when they get closer and down to twenty at the end. Tension ratchets up in his back at the parameters. They feel too much like rules. Teeth bit into his neck. Then Angeal laughs as he pulls the weights off the rack and jokes about how they will both be late for work.
Sephiroth can breathe.
Yes, perhaps, this is okay.
It is them and them only.
Angeal is right. They are late for work. It takes them a while to reach their limits. They have to run down to the next floor down to steal the weight plates from their gym. The bar starts to bend before they do. Angeal continues to laugh. It's a good sound and keeps Sephiroth's mind away from the test. Sweat pours down both of them. When it becomes a challenge, they take small breaks. When they can't do a full lift, they start measuring who can lift it further up.
The back of Sephiroth's mind reminds him he can quit at any time. He could stop without any real consequence. There are no eyes here.
Sephiroth's fingers slip from the bar with a bite of pain. They've weighed it down so much that even he can't lift it. It feels glued to the floor. Sephiroth puffs out air. He shakes out his fingers and steps back. In desperation, he could have tried harder but not having to frees him. The possibility of Angeal lifting it is slim. Sephiroth lifted the last one higher. The competition is won.
"And there we have it," Sephiroth says. He doesn't count up the weights. He doesn't want to know.
"Alright, let me have a try." Angeal gets up from the floor where he had been looking for a crack of light between the weights and the tile. They swap places.
Angeal wraps his hands around the bar and starts. His face goes red. Muscles bunch together in ripples across his body. His eyes squeeze shut. Sephiroth would have stopped any young trainee from this level of exertion but Angeal is as careful as he is. Sephiroth leans closer to the ground and allows a tiny grin to come across his face in privacy.
Angeal's shoes shuffle against tile. A whine comes out of his throat. A new gear shifts across his body. The muscles that Sephiroth never has been able to form quiver.
The bar raises a half inch off the ground.
And drops so hard it will leave permanent dents on the rubber tile.
Well.
Damn.
Sephiroth stays crouched. The weight had moved. His mind chews over this, replaying it over and over again. Angeal plants his hands on his knees and sways. Sweat drips on the floor from his nose and his chest heaves. Anger at losing flares hard in him until Angeal opens his eyes. A wiry joy shines over him between soaked pieces of hair. The frustration gutters and dies.
"You-" Angeal teeters forward in a haze. Sephiroth stands and puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him from falling. Angeal's weight rings up his arm in pain from the lifting. He has felt worse.
"Did you hurt something?"
"Perhaps…" Angeal gasps and looks up at him wiping back his hair. "Perhaps just your pride."
A low chuckle escapes out of him before he can stop it. It isn't a dangerous sound but it is a new one. He shakes his head at himself and pats Angeal before stepping back.
"Today you beat me, maybe not tomorrow. Just don't tell Genesis."
"It'll be our secret." Angeal winks.
The interaction hangs in his mind the rest of the day.
The house looks smaller than he remembered when the rental car pulls away. Sephiroth holds the leashes so tight that his blood circulation is cut off. It's after work. The sun has set. He is five minutes early. Sephiroth's throat is stiff as he stands on the sidewalk. He doesn't want to do this, he realizes. It's been creeping up on him but now it is there in full force. The emotion weighs down his feet. He waits dumb, not wanting to move.
The dogs are getting returned today.
Yuki is twisted around his leg. Charlie sniffs a nearby patch of weeds.
They are just animals.
He doesn't need them. They were pushed on him. It has been an inconvenience. They dragged him to spend time with the other Firsts. Socialization that he didn't need. Charlie is a crutch. There are no old dogs allowed overseas. There are no pets permitted in the lives of SOLDIERs because the animals will oftentimes outlive their owners.
Regardless, he cannot keep holding onto Charlie like he is a stuffed animal. It is weak and childish.
Sephiroth crouches and reaches out, just one last time, to Charlie. He comes when Sephiroth whispers his name, ambling between his knees and pressing his head into his stomach. There will be a wet spot on his shirt. Dog hair will cling to the fabric of his pants. Sephiroth rubs his hands along his sides regardless. The tail wags back and forth. A snort of hot air tickles his abdomen.
Sephiroth closes his eyes and tries to memorize this frailty.
"You have to go back." Even in his ears, he hears the shake. Yet, that is the truth. Charlie is not his dog. The owner wants him back. His emotions creak as he packs them away. He focuses on feeling of fur and warmth before he folds the memory into a tight square and catalogs it. Once the animals are gone, his life will return to its previous state. He will move forward without thought. There will be nothing again until he returns to Wutai and then there will be little after.
That was good.
He knew how to operate there. Those were the rules that he knew.
He presses the dog harder into his stomach.
"I'm glad that you were able to spend some time together."
Mariella stands on her porch, arms crossed, smiling at him.
Sephiroth's gut turns. He's been caught like a child doing something that he should not. Charlie's tail wags faster between his legs. Yuki tries to take off. Her nails scratch against the concrete as the leash stops her. Sephiroth checks and then unclips her. He lets the first dog go. The leash falls. The animal is gone in the next second as if he had meant nothing. Mariella's arms catch her as she wiggles up to her face.
"It's good to see you too, terror." She gets out before the licking completely takes over her face.
Charlie turns towards the voice, his fingers tearing away from his fur.
That's right.
Sephiroth is not the center of their world.
When the lab starts after Mariella, he lets him. The second dog leaves. The leash drags as he slowly climbs the stairs. Every step is an effort. He sits at her feet, panting, face upturned and happy.
Sephiroth realizes that he won't be laying with him tonight in bed. He dreads it. The emptiness will be back. Charlie doesn't belong here. He doesn't belong with a murderer. He doesn't belong with him.
He stands by the street, trying to ignore the air around him. Mariella looks more relaxed as she puts down Yuki.
"They are healthy," he says, knowing that she is expecting him to say something.
Mariella laughs. "They look more than physically well. Come in. Bring the crates and bags inside. Coffee?"
Then she's turned, disappearing back into the house he hasn't been in since the war, when he was a child, when he knew her, when everything was simple. Charlie disappears with her. He takes a step forward to follow the dogs in but stops. What she said is so familiar, so unguarded, has she forgotten what she has done?
Surely not.
How could he, regardless of her?
There was no monetary payment for taking care of her pets. He had done it because she had asked. No more time is needed here. Sephiroth takes the folded up crates and carries them up the stars. The entryway and living room look the same. The corner of the couch where Thea would inevitably bully a younger version of him into is empty. His mind wants to return to that spot to remember the softness of the fabric and the sag of the foam. He should go there to have them take care of him in a way that he can't put into words.
Carefully, he places the cages in the entryway, trying to make no noise. He turns and quickly goes back for the bags. He wonders if they will notice the addition of a few toys or treats. Doubtful. Mariella hasn't noticed he isn't there yet. Logical considering Thea yells something from deeper inside the apartment. His heart clenches.
They laugh.
Sephiroth pauses.
He is unwanted.
Nobody wants what is inside him.
He cannot.
He has to remember that he is broken.
They were the ones to tell him.
"Sephiroth, remember to take off those shoes, okay?" Mariella says.
She is being cursory.
She put him here like this.
He cannot forget.
He closes the door silently behind him. It's a relief. The complications disappear. The wood divides him from them. Never in his life has he hurried but he moves faster than he usually does down the street. It rips into him. The animals are just animals, a waste of his time. The people inside are misguided. It is all an illusion.
He'll get out of sight before Mariella gets to the door.
It'll be easier for all of them this way.