Eyo, how are we doing?

I don't own anything, anyone or anywhere you recognise. Sapphire, along with a few others who'll crop up every now and then, are mine.

Everyone finished playing/watching Intergrade? Or uh, Intermission? I keep forgetting which is which, Intermission is the Yuffie stuff, right? xD

I was fortunate enough to get my hands on a PS5 less than a fortnight before it came out, so got the joy of experiencing it first hand. I hadn't really hoped to so it was nice. THOSE POST CREDITS SCENES AHHHHHH-

Except for Weiss. Weiss is the worst and I hate his cheating multiple-limit-breaking pants. Never again.

Anyway... thanks so much to justme7777 and Cheddar for your lovely reviews and letting me know what you both thought of the last chapter! I'm really glad yous enjoyed it, both for the cuteness and the intrigue, haha. Hopefully there'll be more of that to come in this and future chapters!

Also, thanks a bunch to Nyx, was such a boost to see your sweet review after binge-reading through both stories up to now :D Feels amazing to see it still entertaining people like yourself! Genesis is such an interesting character so I just hope to do him justice, and have some fun along the way. We've still got a lot of plot to get through, I sure hope you enjoy what's to come!

Oh, and in case it's unclear; the second section of this chapter begins a day before the first section, separated out by line breaks (which I've always used to indicate a change in POV). Line breaks are really flaky on this site, I'm so sorry if they don't display right. Ellipsis (...) means a time skip. Anyway. Enjoy!

Chapter 21 - A New Old Friend

Four days after a first, disastrous attempt at an interview (or interrogation, take your pick), Angeal agreed to speak with me again. With rules. Genesis was not going to condone a repeat performance, it seemed. The first was that he would be present, and would hear no objections.

Second was that I picked the venue. I was inwardly touched by Genesis' thoughtfulness, and let him know by laughing and rolling my eyes. When he'd insisted, however, I shrugged and raised my hands, indicating my room (…or his old room, take your pick).

The ex-SOLDIER had frowned. "There's only one door."

I pressed my lips together. Though I appreciated his thoroughness, the reminder that I'd tried to flee like a caged animal the last time was, uh, less appreciated. "It's where I'm most familiar, most comfortable. If it helps, I can sit nearest to the door, and you by the window."

Genesis frowned, taking his time considering the proposal. With my new mantra repeating in my head, no reason not to be honest, I took a breath and studied the floor.

"Besides… we both know you won't let it get that far."

That wasn't actually as embarrassing out loud as it had felt in my head. Which was weird, because it was never not the other way around. Regardless, something in the way he'd smiled and nodded his assent had me closely examining my shuffling feet. "Here it is, then."

The third rule was, well, as I said. Myself closest to the door and Genesis by the window. And that was pretty much it.

They had seemed so arduous and overbearing when Genesis had brought it up, but listing them like that really made them feel, well… reasonable. Even sensible. I couldn't help the idle speculation of where his sense had been the first time around, but whatever. With these rules, Angeal and I would be besties by day's end.

I spurred myself on with that thought, though it withered and died when the SOLDIER: First Class finally found his way into the room, sitting in a simple wooden chair opposite Genesis, the bed between them. I watched carefully, standing and leaning against the wall close to the door.

"You didn't bring your sword," I noted aloud as my friendly greeting when Angeal was settled. I had noticed when he was slow to sit in his chair, leaning oddly to his right and brushing a hand behind him. A fun little ritual that he must've picked up to ensure he wasn't destroying any furniture with his unfeasibly massive weapon, even when it was absent.

He exchanged a glance with Genesis, one I couldn't decipher. Had Angeal always been so stern-faced? "I left it with my mother," he enlightened me, following a lull.

"Gillian," I supplied, to Genesis' visible exasperation and Angeal's suspicion. Good start…

"You've…met?" he queried, his voice at a threatening lower pitch. The careful phrasing and sudden stillness was no doubt due to his childhood friend's swift warning glare, which probably said more than words could.

Trying to look as innocent as possible, I nodded. "She's a good person. I was… struggling, when I got here, and she found me and took me in, looked after me. I hope she's doing well."

Angeal made a thoughtful noise that didn't sound particularly angry or disapproving. I was grateful for that, and cast my gaze to Genesis. I had been hoping to see some kind of encouraging smile or nod, but was instead met with narrowed eyes and a frown.

After half a second of intense panic, I realised it wasn't a look of displeasure but of concern.

"Why struggling?" he prompted gently. I took my time, waiting for my heart to crawl back into place from the hole it had dropped through a moment earlier.

With another glance to my cheap and cheerful trainers (loaned from Gillian, I recalled guiltily), I took my time thinking about how to accurately convey my 'struggle' without divulging that I'd hallucinated his passing. It didn't seem like a very polite thing to say to someone.

"I'd like to know that as well," Angeal piled on. I nodded in acquiescence.

"Well… emotions were running high that day. I'd lived in Mideel – well, of course you know that…" I trailed off, shaking my head in agitation. "I gave up on finding any friend from SOLDIER a couple months before then, but then I saw these newspaper clippings, and I realised that you guys – well, Genesis anyway – was from here." I didn't notice the pair glance at each other as I continued, "And like at that same time, or just before I'd found out that I was actually away from Mideel a whole extra year, which I hadn't accounted for, and at that point I was kind of making up my own mind about what was going on with me and filling in the blanks so I actually thought I had made it into SOLDIER so I just decided that I'd been in SOLDIER for one year rather than two years instead of none at all—"

I cut myself off to take a slightly gasping breath, with the redhead by the window ordering a fraction of a second too late, "Breathe, Sapphire."

And then the most amazing thing happened; Angeal laughed. Granted, it was a half-hearted, breathy chuckle, but it was genuine. Mouth agape, I stared as he shook his downturned head. "You're convincing, I'll admit," he confessed with a reluctant, unexpected warmth. My mouth snapped shut.

I had mixed feelings about that. To convince him I was me, I had to make an embarrassment of myself and ramble until I keeled over from lack of oxygen? Great.

The redhead huffed a few laughs under his breath; my first clue that I'd once again verbalised at least part of my sarcastic inner monologue. Angeal wasn't looking up, but the air between us didn't feel quite so heavy now. The tension in the room had split, like the yolk on a perfectly fried egg. Yum.

Clearing my throat in a fruitless attempt to gain some dignity, I threw my hands in the pockets of my hoodie (my warming cheeks grateful that I'd put on the lighter, burgundy-coloured one rather than the fleece-lined grey one) and muttered, "Does that answer your question?"

Despite my glaring at him, Genesis amicably nodded his head. His stare didn't waver from mine, equal in intensity but opposed in meaning. I felt oddly reassured by the solidarity. The man surprised me in just how much he appeared to want this to go well.

Angeal proposed the next question, "How did you reunite with Genesis?"

The mood fell once more. I turned my face away from the ex-SOLDIER, the kind, open expression he'd shown forgotten in a blink. "I…"

I killed some SOLDIERs. I knew that. Did I even feel guilty? Did I regret it at all? Had I taken the time to even think about the men I'd struck down, the lives they could've led, their families—?

I had. I'd thought about little else. Except that one question.

With two years, what had he done to me?

I took a calming breath. Seeing a gloved hand braced on the bed, Genesis twisted and hovering half out of his chair, I shook my head minutely and offered a weak smile. Still here, don't worry, was the message I tried to convey.

Talking as Genesis returned his butt to his chair, not looking even a little bit convinced, I explained, "I was in town for a week or so before I heard the news that a SOLDIER army had arrived and taken over the factory. As a fugitive, I decided it was in my best interest – and Gillian's – to make myself scarce. I didn't get very far before I figured I'd have to fight—"

"You're omitting things," the redhead interjected, voice airy and unbothered. In contrast, his eyes were sharp against mine, narrowed in contest.

Taking a second calming breath through my nose, I closed my eyes.

Lilah is alive because of what you did. You did what you had to. There was no reasoning with them. You fought to protect her.

A few moments later, I opened them to look Angeal's way, contritely peering through untidy silver strands to study his unassuming expression. "I didn't think it was important, but I accompanied an older woman who'd told me about the SOLDIERs. She was frantic, decided she didn't want to stick around, so I said I'd go with her." Angeal nodded his understanding, so I continued, "When we encountered our first SOLDIER, who was hostile, I exited the car," through the windscreen, "and fought to let the civilian get away. Everything after that is… kinda blurry."

While that wasn't a lie in and of itself, I suspected Genesis knew why I had skilfully and sheepishly passed the buck to him. He took in my wide open gaze and small but polite smile with a lazy smirk, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. Yep, he knew. Between the two of us, and with his closest friend as a spectator, I wasn't going to be the one to put a fine point on just what exactly had happened out there, on the battlefield on the road to Mideel. Because, that was… well. It was big. Kinda blurry, but big.

…And now I had this sinking feeling because he definitely shouldn't be in charge of this narrative. He'd play it off like it was meaningless to him and I fell into his arms like some desperate damsel. Oh come on, Sapphire, you know better than this!

Thunderstruck but unable to take it back, my mischievous smile fell entirely, as Genesis turned his head to face Angeal, with his stupid hair hiding his entire face from me again, how?!

I scrutinised the flimsy trainers Gillian had allowed me to take, as Genesis began to weave the tale of that eventful day, just two weeks ago.

"A disturbance was brought to my attention. A greater challenge than my SOLDIERs had anticipated, so I deemed it necessary to deal with the matter personally. Quite fortuitous then, that this mighty opponent fell to her knees simply at the sight of me."

I groaned, "Can I turn feral and run away now?"

"Ultimately, once I recognised her SOLDIER enhancements, her identity was not difficult to conclude. Sapphire broke free from my SOLDIERs, and predictably received a swift knock to the back of the head as a result. Regrettably, I was too preoccupied with regaining my wits to react in time. So I brought her back, had Hollander treat her injuries." Later I would note he wasn't overly generous with the details, perhaps to the benefit of both of us, but there was something more important on my mind first of all.

"Hollander?" I echoed, brow furrowing. I hadn't thought to ask. Genesis waved a hand dismissively, as if the man who'd restored me to health wasn't significant. "I'd like to thank him."

The ex-SOLDIER Commander met my eye then, something in his narrowed gaze leaving me with a feeling of discomfort, like I'd overstepped. "I'll pass it along."

The ever-shifting scale of how my existence at the factory once again teetered away from 'guest' and closer to 'prisoner', to my dismay.

I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, because my old tutor had a lot on his plate. I tried to ignore the insistent, wary conspiracy theorist at the back of my brain that recorded everything that felt just a little off. But ignoring alarm bells had come at a hefty price in the past.

Angeal clearing his throat – too softly to be out of legitimate need – had Genesis and I casting our eyes away in opposite directions, with a silent stalemate and a promise to reengage at a more opportune time. "I can't think how you would have come to that conclusion," the SOLDIER prompted his friend, a kind-hearted attempt to lighten the tense atmosphere.

"Quite straightforward," Genesis answered, his tone regaining that self-assured, droll lilt. "When I ascertained that she was neither of the currently active female SOLDIERs, I speculated that she might simply be male with feminine features. The reality wasn't a tremendous leap from that particular thought."

…Really?

Angeal seemed to believe it. He cast his eyes my way, and in spite of his previous caution, presented me with a genuine smile a moment later. My unimpressed frown at Genesis' ironic speculation lifted, to instead tentatively return the smile.

Three days after the first disastrous attempt at bringing his two favourite people together, Genesis decided they were both ready to try again. Sapphire had been desperate for the opportunity, harassing him about it every time they spoke.

Angeal had been… less enthusiastic.

So unenthusiastic, in fact, that he had actually fled the town altogether for those three days. But he'd returned that day, albeit lacking an explanation, so Genesis took it to mean that his friend had done some thinking and was now prepared to accept that the prematurely-grey, mako-eyed woman in his room was indeed the kid he used to torture.

Why was she still here, again?

"I've been doing some thinking, and the more I think, the more I can't believe your gall at taking over this factory."

Angeal always had been adept at focusing on the mundane. His statement was a clear signal that the hot topic was to be broached at Genesis' own risk. "What, no hello? I've missed you." The redhead's smile was welcoming, but his eyes glinted dangerously.

"You know Shinra are bound to check here eventually," Angeal barrelled on, unaffected even as his old friend's fake smile fell, "within a fortnight would be my guess."

"I could've had a month, were it not for you leaving later and drawing all that attention."

"My apologies. I forgot that, of the two of us, I am the least subtle."

"It hardly matters," Genesis disregarded with a wave of one leather-bound hand, "my business here was mainly personal and has been dealt with. Everything else – the factory, the unexpected arrival – they have all been very generous blessings from the Goddess herself."

The stony-faced SOLDIER raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, well now that she's so naturally come up in conversation, it only seems right to ask; you'll meet with my little impostor again, won't you?"

Sighing heavily, Angeal pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I truly am the least subtle," he remarked dryly. When Genesis said nothing to the contrary, eyes keenly narrowed, his friend defensively folded his arms. "How has she been?"

The words were practically dragged out of his throat, Genesis speculated with a smirk. Angeal was too predictable. Even a supposed impostor was deserving of his concern. "She feels guilty," the redhead told a tactical truth, watching the man closely for his reaction. "Suspected you'd decide that previous events were your fault, and wished to try to convince you otherwise."

In the minimal furrowing of his brow and tightening of his frown, the poet saw Angeal's thoughts written plain on his face; that sounds like her. "I need to think, but… I will meet with her. Please ask her if tomorrow would be suitable."

…

The triumphant smirk that Genesis had restrained curled his lips the next day, as he witnessed the pair begin to bond.

It hadn't taken much to convince Angeal, as he knew it wouldn't. After all, he himself been in the same boat meagre weeks earlier. It was inconceivable. But more importantly, it was good. The fact that her unbelievable reappearance was welcome made believing it a lot more palatable.

He recognised Angeal's gradually increasing warmth and tangible building excitement in the slow smile that he offered the girl. Genesis had sought to bridge the gap with one or two blatantly nostalgic witticisms, suspecting his dry, teasing humour (familiar to both) would help them along. Smugly, he recognised that he hadn't been wrong.

A cautious, yet hopeful little upturn of Sapphire's lips showed well enough just how much Angeal's belief meant to her.

She needed Angeal. She needed another friend to spend time with. She needed another perspective on her time in Shinra; a kinder, more focused, more caring one.

He'd help her remember more. More people. More events. More interactions, just more. And she'd become even more like the kid he remembered.

She'd need him less. Eventually not at all. And then she'd leave, maybe with Angeal, to find all of these kinder people he'd helped her remember.

Genesis smirked triumphantly. Their inevitable parting was swiftly approaching, but he had stolen these moments from the chomping maws of fate. If this was all they were meant to be, then he truly had been blessed.

A monster such as he deserved far less.

The sound of his front door slamming closed roused him from a mid-afternoon nap. "Dear cousin!" came the soft, melodious call. He supposed that meant naptime was over.

Rolling out of bed and running a hand through his hair, snagging on the odd tangle, he peered out from his open doorway. Already she had made herself at home, slumping in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, head tilted back and eyes closed. "You asked me to move in with you and Digo, you remember that? I feel like you've forgotten my reason for not doing that."

"You don't want to be alone, though," Meryl reprimanded, as if it were up to her.

"You had a kid, that doesn't make you my honorary parent as well."

She laughed softly, a tinkling whispery sound. "Oh, puh-lease. Me treating you like a little kid far predates me having your honorary sister."

"Maybe," he half-heartedly agreed with a yawn, leaning over the new mother's shoulder to examine his niece, slumbering soundly (for perhaps the first time in her short life) in her pram.

The tiny thing was a little less alien-looking, to his relief, but only to more closely resemble a middle aged man. The bright pink headband did nothing to hide the drastic widow's peak. Whatever she dreamed of must've been concerning, because her brow was furrowed and forehead wrinkled in consternation.

She could sure shout like a grumpy old man. But she wasn't half bad now, he supposed. Even if he'd had his afternoon nap interrupted, he wouldn't begrudge his niece hers.

Meryl had a soft smile on her face, even with her eyes closed, sensing her cousin scrutinising her child in that wary yet fond way only he could. But when she opened her dark brown eyes and took him in, she glared fiercely. "Put some clothes on, idiot!" she hissed.

The man looked down at himself, brow furrowed. Sure his chest was bare, but he had a pair of shorts on. "Why? I'm decent!" he exclaimed in a whisper, gesticulating wildly to emphasise his argument when he wasn't satisfied with the volume.

"It's winter! If you get ill you'll not be anywhere near us."

He rolled his blue-green eyes, lamenting sarcastically, "And that'd be such a shame." But without further protest, he returned to his bedroom, throwing on the first shirt he found. "Besides, it's not winter," he nit-picked, glancing at the calendar swiftly just to confirm.

"Give over," Meryl chuckled quietly, "like, a week 'til winter then."

The temperatures had taken an unexpected nosedive over a week ago, leaving it too cold for snowfall, to her disappointment. Frost and ice were all they had for now, the sky during these brief days a vivid, cloudless blue. So he supposed he could agree, it was basically winter. "A week 'til winter is autumn, dear cousin. I weep for your daughter's education."

"So that's, what, the fifth lesson you'll be taking on? Haircare, cooking, sleeping—"

"—Don't forget walking."

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

He smirked, teasing, "Not unless you're joining the class."

"I'll have to check my calendar," she threw back with a bright grin in his direction, where he stood against the doorframe. "I might need it sooner than the little one though. How does next Wednesday sound?"

The man ran a hand through his hair, less of a tidying gesture and more a nervous habit. The motion was accompanied by a faint series of clicks by his right ear. "Actually, that won't work for me," he admitted hesitantly, looking around the room he was too familiar with.

A chill settled in the air between them, unrelated to the early onset winter. "Oh," Meryl uttered softly, monotone voice a stark contrast to her previous cheerful lilt. His cousin never was very good at masking her emotions; relentlessly upbeat most of the time, but woe betide anyone who upset her, like he was just about to do.

"Yeah," he answered the unspoken question, "I'll be leaving… soon, I guess. In the next few days." Or, tomorrow morning, as he'd originally planned, but Meryl had a way of twisting his arm when she wanted to.

"Why?" she demanded to know, a whine in her voice. If she'd been standing she might've stomped her foot.

He sighed, an agitated noise. "You know why."

His cousin blinked once, then looked at the floor. "I thought it'd be different now. With the baby, I thought… maybe you'd stick around."

Mirroring her stubborn focus on the floorboards, he shrugged. "I did. I've been here a lot longer than I should."

Meryl stood up, fire in her eyes, and pulled him into his bedroom, tucking them both behind the door. "You should be here all the time. We're your family, Nate. What are you looking for that isn't here?" she hissed, whispering volume doing nothing to belittle her determination.

Unwilling to rehash the same argument they had every visit, the former SOLDIER pressed his lips together and shrugged his shoulders. "I'll come back. Always have before now."

Nate's cousin scowled. "You saying that back to me is really going to backfire one day," she berated, lacking the biting venom her words had held before.

"Not this time," he teased. "Nearly three years, and it's worked for me so far."

Meryl raised her eyebrows, "Three years, huh?"

Her voice was soft, and deceptively airy. Nate, same as with the tragedy of losing his hometown, had refused to burden his sweet cousin with details surrounding his defection from Shinra. He had merely implied that the circumstances were… unfavourable, and left it at that.

Sure, maybe his caginess hurt them both, but it'd only upset her to know.

So he nodded, and confirmed, "Yep."

…

In a small town on the grassy plains of the west side of the continent, some days later, the same former SOLDIER pulled up to a stop outside a quaint, pastel blue shop. Switching off his motorbike and kicking down the kickstand, the sudden silence from the shut-off engine was unnerving.

The tinkling bell upon entry into the small shop brought him back to reality, and he met the eyes of a young woman behind the counter. She studied him with a quiet, sympathetic recognition. "Hello again," she called out softly.

Nate was impressed, but also concerned. He supposed maybe he'd made a routine of it, but maybe that was dangerous. "Hello," he greeted anyway. Offering a melancholy smile, he requested, "Same again?"

"As you wish." She left him to his thoughts, strolling into the back room behind the counter.

Some minutes later, Nate left the shop and his motorbike, marching north, with a bouquet of little blue and white forget-me-nots cradled in his arms.

"Don't you hate it when people say, 'can I ask you a question'?"

Today had been a good day. While Angeal hadn't outwardly said he believed my story, and by extension my identity, he had warmed up to me. After the ice was mostly broken (due in no small part to Genesis' efforts, I couldn't deny) and my airbrushed adventures told, the interrogation became a conversation. Angeal seemed to be more comfortable treating me as a new person, contrary to how Genesis and I had immediately hit it off, almost picking up right where we left off. I had no issues with either approach, mostly just glad that the man was willing to give me a shot.

Unfortunately, he'd gone to see his mother this evening, leaving the redhead with me.

No, that came out wrong. It wasn't… agh.

I wasn't disappointed that Angeal left, or that I was left with Genesis. It was that he'd gone to see his mum.

His mum, Gillian. The woman who'd looked after me for my first week in Banora. The woman who'd seen me at my worst; wailing, bawling, zoned out, a total mess.

It seemed so silly now, knowing what had happened wasn't real, was due to… stress, or exhaustion? An overactive imagination maybe? Trauma, probably?

Maybe silly wasn't the right word.

But Angeal, the nosy older brother sort of person that he was, would undoubtedly be asking his dear mum what my 'struggling' looked like. I didn't think my rambling, half-assed cover of 'oh no, it's actually a year later than I thought?!' would explain me spending several unresponsive hours on my knees in an otherwise random patch of dirt.

That voice in my head with its mantra, no reason not to be honest, was shouting very loudly at me. If I didn't fess up and tell Genesis now, then he'd be blindsided by it tomorrow, because Angeal would be needling me for that, I was sure.

Call me sentimental, but I felt like Genesis deserved advanced warning that I'd watched him die.

But, as it turns out, actually saying that was kind of… difficult.

"Everyone knows that's just like… the precursor to asking a question that the other person's gonna not want to answer. It's such a dumb thing. Like, it's basically saying, 'I'm going to force you to answer a question you don't want to answer but you can't blame me because I asked first'. Be far better just saying, like… 'Sorry, but I want to know something,' and then ask. Don't people say asking forgiveness is better than asking permission?"

When my rambling came to a halt, allowing for audience participation, Genesis jolted, his drooping eyelids springing open once more. "No. The saying is that it's easier to ask forgiveness, not better."

Thoughtfully, I nodded. "That… sounds more right, yeah."

He almost flinched. "More right?" he repeated, looking like he'd just smelt something particularly foul.

"Righter?" I guessed, then frowned. "That just sounds bad."

Genesis dragged one gloved hand down over his face, squinted, tired-looking mako eyes peering at me over his fingers. "Stop."

Frowning, and slightly offended, I asked, "What?"

The ex-SOLDIER replied with a sigh, returning his hand to his lap, and it seemed like that was all the answer I was getting. Until, after a few moments, he asked, "What's your question?"

It seemed my beating around the bush was as obvious as I pretended not to know it was. To buy my scrambled mind a few extra moments, I cleverly retorted with, "Huh?"

His raised eyebrows told me he was not having any of it. My front falling away, I cast my eyes to the side and frowned. Aware that my fingers were twisting nervously around each other, I pressed them to the floor either side of me.

Our favourite conversing location was the same one we'd adopted since my second conscious day in the factory. There was something oddly comforting about us chatting on the floor, sitting opposite one another, the other person's feet and lower legs within grabbing distance. It felt like a hideout, like an escape from reality. It felt like the roof of the Shinra building, rickety railings and dizzying heights and fierce winds. It felt like a huge, white room, empty but for us and a low table for playing games on.

A few times, he'd put his hand down between us, palm facing the ceiling. Once, I'd rolled my feet side to side and accidentally-on-purpose brushed that hand with my leg. A couple times I'd poked at his arm with my foot, and he'd playfully shoved it away.

I had been focusing on the whole honesty thing that the physical contact hang-up we had still lingered. But hey, one thing at a time.

I was almost tempted to reprioritise, just to avoid this conversation. Blowing up with embarrassment over poking him in the leg was massively preferable to where this was going.

"It's, well… Have you, uh…

"…Do you remember when I said, uh, that I thought… thought, you were dead?"

My eyes had been darting about the room as if it was host to the most vigorous game of ping-pong ever played, but when the words finally came out, they zeroed in on the very living man opposite. The very immobile living man. But eventually, he nodded his head, his expression unreadable.

"That… that wasn't entirely, uh… unfounded." Was the air getting thinner in here? I took a shuddering breath and continued, tears already threatening, "I dunno, I'm so scared I'm losing my mind, but I— I saw a body, a— a SOLDIER, and I tried to revive him, but I couldn't, and he looked… just like you. Like exactly. And I just—"

My voice broke for the last time, and I gave up all hope of speaking coherently, tears streaming unchecked into my hands. That serene, lifeless expression was all I could see, as if the evidence to disprove that vision wasn't sitting right in front of me.

Sitting… beside me, now, actually. His legs curled in behind him, body twisted in my direction. I risked a glance up to his face, rich with colour and life, though I was barely able to see through blurred vision and strands of hair.

I assumed the long red blobs were his outstretched arms. I took my time taking that in, even as he spoke the request with a tone of voice that was both soft and hurried, "May I?"

If one of us was focusing on the honesty, I mused, then it was a good thing the other had the whole touching bit in his crosshairs. I nodded quickly and sunk into his warm embrace, he lacing his fingers together against my upper arm and securing us together.

"I'm truly sorry," Genesis murmured, a quiet rumble against my ear. "I… don't know what to say."

"That's not like you," I teased, weakly giggling between the sobs. I was on the receiving end of a gentle squeeze for my sass, which was exactly no discouragement.

My cuddle buddy rested his chin on my head. "You won't experience anything like that again. You'll be safe from now on, Sapphire, you have my word. You aren't alone in the world, not anymore."

He spoke with a kind of threatening gravity, voice low and rumbling and solid. I imagined mountains would bow in submission to his demands. If it wasn't so outrageously comforting I would've mocked him relentlessly. He was just lucky I was sobbing like a child (and I was as well, because I'd be a stuttering red-faced mess if I even tried to speak more than five words).

I curled my hand into the front of his coat, turning to lean fully into his chest rather than against him with my shoulder. Before I could heft myself into a more comfortable position, not draped all over him from half a mile away, Genesis took the initiative, pulling me flush to him with one hand at my lower back.

The squeak that wanted to escape was muffled by a hiccup, which was an almost more embarrassing involuntary sound. Instinctively holding my breath to avoid any further humiliating noises turned out to be a terrible choice though, because that same moment his other hand rose, gloved fingers threading through my hair, and the air gushed out of me in a sigh.

Such a nice feeling, it sent shivers down my spine and put goosebumps on my arms. I buried my head into the curve between his neck and shoulder, the warm, rough turtleneck against my left cheek and the smooth leather collar against my right. My mind strayed inexplicably to a strand of beads, held together by a lock of hair.

I turned my head to face him (well, his neck), and took a breath to ask whether he had been the origin of those beads, but the thought of asking vanished when he turned to stone beneath me. I froze as well, and waited for him to speak, eyeing up his jaw as a stand-in for his eyes. But he said nothing.

I breathed out, eyes catching on his throat, where his subtle Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

…Was he uncomfortable? But he was holding me so solidly, the hand on my back firmly pressing. When I leaned back against his arm, just slightly, just enough to test, Genesis' hold strengthened and pressed me closer once again.

Slowly then, almost hesitantly, his jaw came to rest on the crown of my head, his arm at my back curling closer around me. I nestled in happily, my left arm leaving the front of his coat to curl over his neck.

The sigh that escaped him awakened a warm tingling sensation in my tummy. The bright smile that I wore came unconsciously. Genesis had a smile in his voice too, I could tell, as he began to recite Loveless.

As we curled into and around each other, and the rest of the world faded to a limitless white room, I realised that I could stay there forever.