Finally. I thought the place felt a tiny bit like you. Too empty to have much to go on on, but it was more than nothing.
[ In a place where there may not even be walls to lean against, Angeal somehow is still doing so.
After a moment, he raises his head to look sideways at Sephiroth. Lifts an eyebrow, and despite the trace of levity to his words, his eyes are dark and deep, worried and apologetic. ]
[Sephiroth's body goes rigid instantaneously, the moment Angeal's voice reaches him. The lines in his back and arms run so taut that they look like cords ready to snap, and when Sephiroth turns his head, there's a mixture of emotions. Inevitably, his face settles into something almost feral. Furious. And the way he slowly rises back to his full height-- it's not unlike an attack dog calibrating itself to strike.]
Begone. I have not the patience for your games today.
[His voice is soft, but it carries the force of a blade aimed to kill. Above all else, it sounds... wounded.
Because of course Sephiroth would believe this is Jenova - toying with an freshly opened wound - before he could ever allow himself to believe that Angeal is really here. He won't allow himself to feel that crushing disappointment again-- he cannot... lest he fall under Jenova's oppressive sway once more.]
[Even in his loneliness, Sephiroth never considered Genesis or his whereabouts. As far as he's concerned, Genesis is dead. That bridge was burned the moment he chose to call Sephiroth a monster in his moment of need, then demand his help in the same breath. When he'd told Genesis to rot, he meant it.
But Angeal... he'd assumed he finally found whatever peace he was looking for within the Lifestream.
And if what he's saying is true...
Well. There's a surefire way to find out, and he'd just as soon do it now before he humors any idea that Angeal's been looking for him all this time. He lets Masamune - which has become but an extension of his will - disappear into the ether. It's something of a peace offering-- an assurance that Angeal won't have its blade turned on him while Sephiroth stalks towards him with purpose.
Jenova can never quite create a perfect mimicry of someone. It's always surface level, with subtler details like hidden scars, marks, and blemishes being missed. Even with his memories muddied, he knows Angeal's body intimately. Not even a breath of hesitation stays Sephiroth's hand, deftly snaring Angeal's collar the moment he's within reach and pulling it to the side-- enough to expose a fair bit of his shoulder. He's expecting to see nothing, but--
His breath catches.
Right there on Angeal's shoulder, just above his collar bone, is a mark. Being two enhanced SOLDIERs, they could occasionally get a little carried away amidst their throes of passion, but only once did Sephiroth ever forget his own strength. His teeth found Angeal's shoulder in the heat of the moment, sinking in and breaking the skin. While it was a harmless injury in the grand scheme of things, Sephiroth had felt terribly guilty about it for ages. It took many reassurances from Angeal for him to stop beating himself up over it, but... right now, he's thankful for its existence. It's proof. Not even just that this is Angeal rather than Jenova, but... that it's his Angeal.
Standing there, he can't even begin to quantify what he's feeling. There's a lifetime of complicated emotions that he's been swallowing down for-- a long time. For a while, he only has the wherewithal to stare at the mark, running a gloved thumb over the faintly marred skin. Eventually, his face starts to contort. Anger. Relief. Frustration. Joy. Something cracks within those impassive green eyes, giving way to a sheen of not-quite tears. His fingers tighten around Angeal's collar until the leather of his gloves creak, jerking the other man closer to him.]
Why?
["Why" a lot of things. Why did the Lifestream reject him? Which couldn't he find him sooner? Why did he leave at all? --Why wasn't their love reason enough to stay?]
[ Angeal's time since that day when he forced Zack's hand has not been nearly as exciting or trailblazing as Sephiroth's own. He took a long time before his self-hate and despair at the impossibility to escape from what he is and what he has done faded even a little into resignation, a time of quiet madness that he does not much care to revisit, but does not shy away from, either. When it had ended...
There was still the need to accept all that he is, and to learn about it. A slow process, and, as some things either did not come naturally to him, or he was fighting against them, it took him a long, laborious time before he learned how to do some of the things that Sephiroth can.
And when he found his way to the place in-between, he got lost, observing all those memories.
That is why he knows exactly why Sephiroth's reaction was what it was, and why it brought him relief. If Sephiroth is railing against a Jenova attempt to reel him in again, that is a good thing.
That is also why a flick of Sephiroth's eyes towards his shoulder lets him know what to expect. Especially with Masamune put away, he doesn't flinch as Sephiroth reaches for him, and doesn't try to fight off the attempt to look.
It is only when Sephiroth stills, finding his proof and getting flooded with emotions as a result, that he reaches, placing his hands on the sides of Sephiroth's pinched waist. Not pushing or pulling. Just there.
That time...
Sephiroth felt guilt for it. But, to Angeal, it meant something else. It meant that, when Angeal pushed him beyond self-control and restraint, Sephiroth trusted him, subconsciously, that he could take what Sephiroth could give. He couldn't put it into words then, not the right ones to assuage Sephiroth's reaction, but, to him, this scar was more precious than any other mark upon his body.
It was one of the reasons why he started looking, despite knowing that he hurt Sephiroth more than anyone other than Jenova and possibly Hojo did. One of the reasons he dared hope that, when the storm of fury is over, perhaps Sephiroth will forgive him, a little.
When Sephirothh pulls him in, the hands at the sides of Sephiroth's waist move a little, to the small of his back, but he still lets Sephiroth decide if that pull is for an embrace, or to shake him more easily. He'd accept either, and much worse, besides.
The anguished question, on the other hand...
He sighs softly, and doesn't avoid Sephiroth's broken glare. Considers for a moment, then tries to put some things into words, into an answer, even if he knows it will be only words, right now. ]
Because we were kids caught in the attempt by scientists to play god, and each of us broke in a different way because of it. You hated the world. I hated myself. And it was all-consuming. And also, because I was a fool.
[Sephiroth has always been a man of impeccable self-control, and it's only a credit to that very fact that he doesn't simply crumble the minute Angeal's hands find his waist. How long has he yearned for Angeal's hands upon him once more? And it's not just any touch-- it's familiar and kind. It's something Angeal has always done with him: placing his hands on his waist or back to anchor him, but letting Sephiroth himself decide if he wants more or less than that.
A silent yet loving language just for the two of them.
Right now, Sephiroth isn't sure what he wants. Everything within him is at war. He longs to be held tenderly, shielded from this nightmare they've all been living. He longs to instigate a fight, to throw him down and pour out every angry word he's been holding in. He longs to push him, to slam his back against the ground and kiss him utterly breathless.
Instead, he can only stand there with a faintly trembling hand buried in Angeal's collar, glaring him down with the force of a thousand blades. He knows - just from his interactions with Angeal's past self alone - that his words are true. He understands now what Angeal was dealing with in a way he couldn't have known at the time, but it doesn't ease any of the pain. It's not fair to resent Angeal, especially after everything Sephiroth himself has done in his fury and hatred but...
He does.
Emotions are illogical little things that way. He has so much anger that he scarcely knows what to do with it, but Angeal certainly doesn't deserve the brunt of it. It's not his fault any of this happened, and yet--]
You are still a fool. [The words spill from his mouth, thoughtless and cruel. Whatever semblance of a wall Angeal had been using to lean against, Sephiroth pushes him firmly into it with his whole body. Perhaps it's there because they willed it so-- perhaps because Sephiroth is yearning to press ever closer to Angeal, but he's still too tangled up in his fury to know any other way but this.] What makes you think I have anything left to give after all this time?
[The words bite, but Angeal's known him intimately enough... Maybe he'll see that there's still pieces of the Sephiroth he once knew - loving, patient, and kind - buried underneath all of that wicked and scorching fire.]
[ Even as his body responds to Sephiroth's proximity - by holding on to him tighter, closer, even if he doesn't make that tender while he can see the tension and fury from a mile off, and it needs to come to a head before proper sweetness can begin growing once more - his eyes widen at the words. Not in hurt, or offense. Not even pity. But, for the first time in a very, very long time, Angeal feels proper anger that is not directed at himself, his eyes flashing for a moment. Goddess-damned Jenova, and all who inflicted her on this kind soul.
The anger is not at all directed at Sephiroth, on the other hand, so his voice is still calm, or at least contained. ]
A fool I am, for fucking up so badly. But what I am not is what made us what we are. Neither Shinra, nor what they dabbled with without understanding - and so I am not here to take from you. [ Because they have all taken and taken and taken from Sephiroth, until, yes, Angeal can well believe Sephiroth has little enough to give, and even less to give him. At least right now, little beyond pain, that is, one way or another.
But Angeal is used to his own pain, and he can take Sephiroth's, support him. ]
[Angeal pulls him closer, tightens his grip around his waist and back, and it takes everything Sephiroth has not to lurch into him. He'd almost forgotten what those strong hands felt like, pressing firmly against him and holding him flush against the other man. Even with the barrier of leather between their skin, the mere pressure of his fingers is enough to set him on fire.
He thought he'd accepted that he'd never feel Angeal's touch again, but... he's not so sure anymore. He doesn't know if it's the fury or the desire that's consuming him. Maybe it's both.
Starting with giving all of myself to you, Angeal says, promising not to keep taking from him like the rest of the world had, and just like that, the little bit left of Sephiroth that's holding him composed splays apart at the seams. He doesn't have the words for any of this-- so perhaps action will suffice in its stead. It's not gentle when his free hand flies up, fingers biting into Angeal's jaw, and pushes his head back. It's even less so when Sephiroth crashes his mouth against Angeal's, kissing him furiously like he'll otherwise starve.]
[ Angeal does not struggle or flinch at the rough hold on his chin, and he certainly doesn't try to keep back from the kiss, rough and hungry and ungentle as it is.
In fact, after a few moments, he moans into it, half melting against Sephiroth's body and kissing back, just as hungrily. He lets Sephiroth take the lead, but he meets him halfway. Not letting the kiss be a conquest and surrender, but staking a claim that they are equals. That Sephiroth has him back fully, not as a toy, but as a partner.
And...
A part of him, the part that is exhausted from fighting against the darkness and despair and loneliness for all these years, the part that gave up once, and has been slowly, hopelessly keeping him moving forward? Properly sparks up to life for the first time since Genesis dropped the knowledge on him.
Sephiroth wants him, still.
After... he returned to himself, post the rejection by the Lifestream, when he began to learn about things, he had... thought it might be the case. But he had not properly allowed himself to hope, not even as he was offering himself to Sephiroth just now.
But Sephiroth wants him. Sephiroth, who has been made larger than life, more powerful than any person born to a woman - with all that power, and all that pain, and all weight upon him, Sephiroth wants him still.
When the kiss breaks, eventually, his eyes half-open to drink in the sight he's missed so badly. ]
Yes.
[ That kiss was not a question.
But Sephiroth needs to know that, whatever he needs right now, whatever he takes, he has Angeal's consent. Certain. Enthusiastic, even.
Right now, Sephiroth might not care.
Later, he likely will.
And he leans in for another kiss.
They have all the time, but there are so many years to make up for. There will be time for gentleness later. There will be time for Angeal to find ways to take all Sephiroth's pain away, slowly, systematically luring his mind into peacefulness.
Now, it is passion and fury and need, and he's fine with that. ]
[Angeal's moan is like a siren's song, sinking its melodious teeth in and dragging out more of Sephiroth's ravenous hunger. The hand he'd tangled up in Angeal's collar relinquishes that grip, only to travel down lower-- to find Angeal's hip and dig his fingers in. He uses that as leverage, pinning Angeal soundly between the wall and his body, rolling their hips firmly together. Sephiroth is already hard, hungrily seeking friction between them.
And... well. Angeal is right. Right now, Sephiroth doesn't care. His boundaries and inhibitions have all been practically frayed into nothing. He's been a cruel and wicked thing for so long-- used to taking what he wants without asking.
But that yes still puts its hooks in him, and the wheels turn in his mind.
He doesn't greet Angeal's lips again just yet.
Sephiroth has existed in this place for long enough that he knows dreams and one's will play a significant part in where you end up. He's developed a mastery in navigating it after all. And so... he moves his hand from Angeal's hip, sliding it to his back as if to support him. A strange gesture when they're up against the wall until-- suddenly the wall is no longer there, and Sephiroth is guiding him through a doorway.
Even if Angeal were to elect not to look, he'd know they were somewhere entirely different from the lighting alone. It's warmer, fuller... a jarring difference from the wide open emptiness they'd been occupying moments before. And... a familiar one at that. It's an apartment, cozy and modest. Plants - thriving and green - line every window. Photos with unmistakable faces neatly line the walls and counters. Most curiously of all are the flickering images - blink and miss them - of Sephiroth and Angeal that shimmer about various places. Watering plants together, cooking in the kitchen, reading on the couch--
Memories of a kinder time.
But if Sephiroth regards any of this at all, it's fleeting and disinterested. He's far more intent upon pulling Angeal with him down the hall and into the bedroom.]
[ Angeal is entirely too focused on Sephiroth, and willing to accept wherever he is taken to look around - but the familiar, hard-missed scent hits him, and he can't help stumbling a little in surprise, steadying himself against the other man.
He never thought he would find himself back here.
Then Sephiroth is moving them, and he follows without resisting, just breathing in and trying to not get overwhelmed, his eyes misting enough that he follows the direction provided without thinking or looking. ]
Eventually... we'll find a place to make our own again.
[ Almost absently, and with a lopsided smile. A promise, in a way, or a hope, perhaps. Difficult to come by, for either of them.
But he is not distracted enough that when Sephiroth stops and claims his mouth again, he doesn't answer in turn. ]
[Sephiroth doesn't let Angeal stumble far, grip still firm. He searches the other man's face for a moment, watches those deep blue eyes glisten when the memories come washing over him like a tidal wave. It pulls at his heart, deep underneath all of this churning chaos, but not enough to cool the immense heat of his anger or his desire.
If anything, Angeal's words make it all come roiling to a boil. Sephiroth is certainly not ready to articulate how that makes him feel, and it shows. He's even less ready to let his walls down and accept that kind of vulnerability when he's barely had time to process the years worth of festering hurt and betrayal that never got closure. They're nearly to the bedroom, but that journey is cut short by Sephiroth crowding Angeal into the nearest wall, slamming his back flat against its surface. His fingers tighten further around the other man's chin like teeth clamping down, a flash of heartbreak and fury in those serpentine eyes of his.]
Enough. What good is your word when you've broken every promise you've ever made to me? Keep your flowery promises to yourself, Angeal.
[It's a terribly callous thing to say-- and Sephiroth knows it. It's hateful and scathing, and it's on purpose-- because he doesn't know how to be anything else anymore. Because - in this moment - he wants Angeal to hurt with him... to feel betrayed and lost, just like him. It's selfish and cruel, and he doesn't care. He's been alone all this time, drowning so deeply in it for so long-- what's the rest of eternity?
...Of course, Sephiroth doesn't really want that. He's sick of this damnable loneliness, of Jenova, of life in its entirety. Eventually, he'll regret saying these nasty things to Angeal.
[ Physically, he relishes the slam against the wall. He even relishes the blazing glare at him.
The words, on the other hand, make him slip one step closer to the ever-yawning abyss of self-hate that he has barely crawled out of, and some of the light leaves his eyes. This is his doing. He did betray promises, and he did leave Sephiroth alone, and he deserves this.
But he doesn't look away, or let the hurt show much beyond that. His hands come up to the small of Sephiroth's back, beneath the wing. ]
Got it.
[ He is not here for himself, after all. He is here for Sephiroth, and to begin to atone by alleviating this loneliness. He is just... very, very far from even beginning that atonement, very obviously.
[Even after all this time, with so many of his memories muddied and half-there, Sephiroth hasn't forgotten the way Angeal looks when he's been wounded. Even when he maintains nearly perfect composure, there's a switch that goes off in his eyes. Pain turned inwards-- a knife he uses to drive into his own heart. Sephiroth's words have soundly hit their mark, but...
He doesn't know if it satisfies him or if it simply makes him angrier that Angeal accepts his snarling words without so much as a fight. And then he's sliding his hands along the small of his back and--
There's another flare of something. Sephiroth doesn't know anymore, but-- the audacity to still move his hands so sweetly against his back after Sephiroth has viciously aimed to tear at Angeal's heart. Somewhere underneath the flames, his chest aches again. Angeal choosing kindness in the face of Sephiroth choosing to inflict pain-- it feels like a blade cutting soundly into his ribcage, and there's a breath of a moment where Sephiroth starts to falter, to rethink.
His grip on Angeal's jaw loosens suddenly.]
"Got it"? [A scoff...] Is that the best you can do?
[ Angeal's own heart aches with the familiar words brought back to him. Not thrown in his face, not quite, but without the lightness of a game as they have been addressed to him before. His own reaction is conditioned, a breath out and lowering of his eyebrows... and not being goaded, because he knows, they both know, that he will never let loose against Sephiroth.
Instead, a corner of his mouth twitches up. ]
I don't think promising you I'll do better will help?
[ His expression softens. ]
And I am sorry that I fucked up like I did. [ Oh, more than anything he can even begin expressing. ] But those are just words. You deserve better.
[ It is as simple as that. In the end, until his deeds match the words, Sephiroth is right. He might as well keep his flowery promises to himself. ]
[Maybe that's part of what's so infuriating about all of this. Sephiroth is hellbent on instigating a fight, or at least drawing some form of aggression out of Angeal, and Angeal continues to meet him with patience. More patience than he rightfully deserves.
And that's the sticking point for Sephiroth, really. What he deserves. Because it certainly isn't soft hands and kind words, and Angeal insinuating that he does just makes him bristle all over again.]
And what would you know of what I deserve? Where were you while my hands wrought unthinkable destruction? I came within a breath of destroying this Planet in its entirety, Angeal, and even then, you were absent.
It goes far deeper than simply doing better.
My hands are irrevocably stained with the blood of thousands. Blood that I gladly bathed in-- all while you wallowed in self-loathing. The man you once loved is dead, Angeal. All that stands before you now is but a harbinger of death, and if you came here seeking anything different, then you are a damned fool.
Do not dare speak to me about what I deserve.
[There's nothing gentle at all about the way Sephiroth relinquishes Angeal, with one last shove against the wall before he turns and starts storming back down the hallway.]
[ Angeal doesn't flinch at the words, and he doesn't flinch when he's pushed away, but he doesn't hesitate to push off from it and follow. ]
Do you think I could find you without seeing what has happened? I know, Sephiroth. I know what my wallowing and confusion did to you. That is why I am not seeking who you used to be. I'm not who I used to be, either, and my failures which led to your suffering, and then aided your rage, are mine to bear, to remember, and to do better.
And I've sought death before. It didn't exactly give me anything worth having - I told you. I'm here to take from you. And certainly not fake relief.
What's done is done. Neither of us can undo it, and I wish I could. But what I deprived you of, then, I'm here to give now - and you won't be rid of me. You may not be who I knew. But you are still yourself.
And if there is one person I can dedicate myself to, it's you. Even after all that you did and almost did.
[Angeal is following him, determined to say his piece. Sephiroth nearly makes it to the portal before Angeal's words finally slow him down, beckoning him to turn sharply on his heel. His eyes are sharp, his body still bristling with anger. But... then slowly, Sephiroth tilts his chin up, his expression gradually easing into well-practiced indifference.]
And if I don't want it? If I don't want you?
[He wouldn't be fooling anyone. Not after the way he pinned Angeal to the wall, chasing after his mouth like a starved animal but moments ago. Certainly not when he'd brought him here of all places and with the intent of ravaging him senseless no less.
Maybe, in some misguided way, he thinks he's protecting Angeal from him by behaving this way. Because, no matter how much he may still yearn and ache for this man, Sephiroth knows his hands only bring pain and destruction. And Angeal is too complacent to take it, to keep giving without regard for his own well-being, thinking it's deserved. Sephiroth has already slipped too far-- snarling ugly things in his profound anger and reaching for Angeal in violence rather than gentleness. He'd just defied Fate itself to save a past version of him, only to defile the one who once belonged to him with bitterness and fury.
It's not right. He's not so far gone that he can't see that in this moment of clarity. All he'll do is mar an already broken man further, and it leaves a snarled knot in his stomach. He's not capable of healing either one of them.]
[ Angeal pauses at the question, blinking. And, yes, looking for Sephiroth, he was afraid that might be the case.
But that question was answered, and he finds himself... Unhurt by it. Instead, his mouth quirks up at one side. Because, come on. ]
Still stuck with me.
[ The hint of a smirk solidifies, just a little, and he steps in front of Sephiroth once again, and, once again, reaches for him. Instead of wrapping a hand around his waist, he tangles fingers in a strand of silver hair. He knows. He knows that every part of him has been soaked in blood. And that doesn't scare him. ]
I'm not as fragile as I was, Seph. You waded through rage and destruction, some of it not even your own, but in very many ways, not unfounded. I sank through a pit of despair and guilt and pain.
But we're standing here, neither of us free of them, but neither are we drowning in them, anymore.
I can take your fury, and stand beside you beyond it, not because I'm invincible, impervious to it. But because hurting you back won't take away my hurt, only add to yours.
[ He lets go of the strand of hair and pokes a finger into Sephiroth's chest. ]
Don't think I won't push back, though. Just... when it's not about lashing back. You know as well as anyone that I'll put my foot down when something's gone too far.
[It's ever so carefully measured, the way Sephiroth watches Angeal. Studies him. Analyzes the way he twirls his hair between his fingers, the way he almost smiles, the unafraid way he stands with his back straight and eyes unwavering.
It seems like his mind is made up, and those words have certainly struck a nerve. ...A different one, this time. Instead of anger, he's met with a new kind of overwhelming emotion that he's not sure how to quantify. He doesn't particularly want to, because it doesn't change the fact that he doesn't like any of this.
Angeal was an honorable man, a compassionate man. Still is, after all this time. And Sephiroth just can't fathom how he can want to spend whatever time they have with a murderer. No-- not even that. He's always been a monster in its truest form. If there's one thing meddling with timelines has taught him, it's that his hands will always be bound for blood and destruction. Not kindness. Not normalcy. Not love… He turns his head away, letting a cascade of silver hair obscure his face.]
...Idiot. You only chain yourself to misery here.
[But the fury has mostly bled out of his voice, out of the sharp lines in his back and shoulders. He seems less interested in clawing Angeal's heart in two. If anything, he… seems to be looking elsewhere. Somewhere far away, lost.
Hate breeds hate. It's a cycle that can't be broken. …But it can. Right, Glenn? All it takes is a little compassion.
Ever so faintly, Sephiroth lets go of a shuddered breath at the memory, unbidden, washing over him like a tidal wave. Angeal… He knows that all too well, doesn't he? Standing here, choosing to hold Sephiroth's shattered heart even when it insists only on cutting him. His fingers slowly curl into tight fists at his sides, leather creaking. He starts to turn towards the portal again, but he pauses halfway through– like he can't decide if he wishes to leave or stay.]
[ Angeal was an honorable man. But he gave up on his honor the moment he considered himself a monster.
Monsters have no honor.
Compassion... compassion, on the other hand, he has refused to surrender, other than for himself - whatever shreds of it he had held on to before, he had let go of with the first beat of his wing. It was a long, hard road, to find out how it mattered at all, that compassion. Until he found a way, before Hollander twisted the knife in his chest with finality - a war to fight all suffering. It is why he could not return to Shinra, back then, for they caused much of the suffering he saw, but they stopped some, too. Hence, he could not join Genesis against them, either.
Compassion is also, yes, why he found a glimmer of hope, eventually, in the personal hell he had dropped himself into. And compassion led him to Sephiroth, his precious Sephiroth who was so broken, by Angeal himself included, and used and abused by force far too great to win against. Why he hopes - not for himself, still, but for this man. ]
I've called myself that, and worse.
But not for being yours.
[ Do as you will.
This time, it's Angeal's hand that wraps around Sephiroth's collar, holding him in place as he steps closer and claims a kiss. ]
[But not for being yours, Angeal says, and another scoff presses out from between Sephiroth's tongue and teeth. Perhaps you should, is what he's about to say, until Angeal's hand finds the collar of his jacket, anchoring him in place. He's promptly silenced by that familiar mouth pressing against his own; he doesn't fight it or attempt to jerk himself away from the man.
If anything, he - without thinking - starts to chase after Angeal's lips when the kiss breaks before he remembers himself. Even now, like this, Angeal still has a powerful sway over him... just like he always has. And for trying to pretend like that's no longer the case? Sephiroth is an idiot, too. He still thinks he's trapping Angeal here somehow, still doesn't like it, but...
Angeal is a stubborn, stubborn man.
If he's determined to stay, there's no force on Gaia that will move him. He's always been that way-- the sturdy mountain of their little group. Immovable yet sheltering.
And for the first time, that leaves Sephiroth unsure of what to do in this moment. His desire hasn't exactly cooled, and the anger is only tempered to a manageable level, but... they've broken a little ground here, too. Not quite soft-- and it won't be for a while. Not until Sephiroth works through his catastrophically tangled mess of emotions.
But it's a step in the right direction.
Eventually, however... Sephiroth settles on seeking an answer to the question that's been burning in his lungs ever since Angeal began offering him kind words and forgiveness.]
...Why? If you've seen what I've become, then you know there is nothing here worth staying for.
[ Angeal doesn't let go, nor does he step back far, but he doesn't press himself closer, either. Letting Sephiroth find his own pace... and processing himself, also, what did happen. Taking the moment, too, to consider properly why things broke, and, yes, he can see, a little, how him taking in the pain would have turned Sephiroth away - not from Angeal. But from Sephiroth himself.
Ah.
Why...
He doesn't flinch back at the question, but he does consider, eyes still on Sephiroth. ]
There are many answers to that one. Some are selfish, others painful, and the deepest ones probably hard to believe, and all of them are true.
I want you. I see nothing for myself unless I am by your side, and I don't see anything getting better for you unless I am by yours, too. I need to atone, for leaving you alone when you needed me most. I also want to find out who you are now. Yes, you did horrible things, but how much was you not fighting another's will, and how much is what you would have done free of it? It makes a difference to me, even if nothing can take back what has been done.
When all is said and done...
The men we used to be are gone. The men who were heroes, the men who wanted to end that which creates suffering. [ His shoulders drip in shame, just a little, but he doesn't let his gaze drop. ] I'm here because I believe there is someone worth staying for, right in front of me. Who is in constant pain, and sees no path forward that makes any difference. And I want to find that hidden path. With you. I want to find out who we will become. Together, as we always should have been.
Why? Because even as you are, you are still my light in the darkness. Even if you don't believe you can be. Even if I am drawn like a moth to a flame - it is better than despair. But I won't burn that easily.
[Angeal's words reach him, and it only makes Sephiroth want to retreat further back behind his icy veneer. He's not ready to confront being wanted, being made someone else's purpose, and certainly not having his sins forgiven. Something wavers in Sephiroth's sharp eyes, something he's quick to strangle down beneath his anger and obstinance.]
No. Do not try to make me your light, Angeal. That is a weight I cannot carry-- for you or anyone else.
[Because damn if he hasn't already tried. Cloud saved him from Jenova, showed him how to be something approaching human again, but even then-- Sephiroth continued to hurt him despite every dogged attempt not to. He tried to be a man deserving of love and kindness, and never quite measured up. If he couldn't even do that for Cloud, how the hell is he supposed to do it for Angeal?]
You're putting me on a pedastal I don't want. [...Or deserve.] Furthermore... the way you speak of me tells me you grasp little of the gravity of my actions-- or that I was complicit in much of it. Jenova was but a piece of the puzzle.
I - alone - wanted the world to burn. [And some part of him still does. The only thing that has stopped him from being subsumed by that fury all over again is Cloud. And now-- Angeal is here - alive - again, speaking of wanting to forge a new path together and carve their own little place in the world again and--]
You don't understand--
[A stark-white pain splits through Sephiroth's skull, jarring a hiss from him. He jerks free of Angeal's grasp to turn away, cradling his face in a gloved hand. It's a familiar pain. Jenova. She always tries to eke in when Sephiroth begins to question, to doubt, to fall apart. He's had plenty of practice at warding her off, but-- she's too much a part of him for Sephiroth to ever truly be free. After all, that's why the Lifestream has refused him again, and again, and again--
She finally quiets... Sephiroth's voice is much softer when he speaks again-- but twice as sharp.]
...If you stay, I will hurt you.
[It's not a question or a threat. It's simply the truth.]
[ His voice is low and quiet, and rather than the near question which might make Sephiroth think the doubts him (he thinks it's not the entire truth), he adds, ]
Then let it be so.
[ It's not the entire truth, not with the pain that he can see coming to his man. And he doesn't try to hold Sephiroth again, but he does place one warm palm on his back, above the wing. ]
I'll be ready when you do hurt me. But, just as certain as you are that you will, I know that, if I'm not next to you, I'll be hurting us both. Every moment.
I won't make you my light. But, please. Pain and pleasure, despair and reality. Let me be your Angeal again.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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And then another.
And then. ]
Finally. I thought the place felt a tiny bit like you. Too empty to have much to go on on, but it was more than nothing.
[ In a place where there may not even be walls to lean against, Angeal somehow is still doing so.
After a moment, he raises his head to look sideways at Sephiroth. Lifts an eyebrow, and despite the trace of levity to his words, his eyes are dark and deep, worried and apologetic. ]
Welcome home?
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Begone. I have not the patience for your games today.
[His voice is soft, but it carries the force of a blade aimed to kill. Above all else, it sounds... wounded.
Because of course Sephiroth would believe this is Jenova - toying with an freshly opened wound - before he could ever allow himself to believe that Angeal is really here. He won't allow himself to feel that crushing disappointment again-- he cannot... lest he fall under Jenova's oppressive sway once more.]
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All right, that's fair enough. But before you attack, consider...
You're not the only one who got rejected by the Lifestream.
[ Genesis did also.
Why wouldn't Angeal? ]
But you've been a little difficult to track down.
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But Angeal... he'd assumed he finally found whatever peace he was looking for within the Lifestream.
And if what he's saying is true...
Well. There's a surefire way to find out, and he'd just as soon do it now before he humors any idea that Angeal's been looking for him all this time. He lets Masamune - which has become but an extension of his will - disappear into the ether. It's something of a peace offering-- an assurance that Angeal won't have its blade turned on him while Sephiroth stalks towards him with purpose.
Jenova can never quite create a perfect mimicry of someone. It's always surface level, with subtler details like hidden scars, marks, and blemishes being missed. Even with his memories muddied, he knows Angeal's body intimately. Not even a breath of hesitation stays Sephiroth's hand, deftly snaring Angeal's collar the moment he's within reach and pulling it to the side-- enough to expose a fair bit of his shoulder. He's expecting to see nothing, but--
His breath catches.
Right there on Angeal's shoulder, just above his collar bone, is a mark. Being two enhanced SOLDIERs, they could occasionally get a little carried away amidst their throes of passion, but only once did Sephiroth ever forget his own strength. His teeth found Angeal's shoulder in the heat of the moment, sinking in and breaking the skin. While it was a harmless injury in the grand scheme of things, Sephiroth had felt terribly guilty about it for ages. It took many reassurances from Angeal for him to stop beating himself up over it, but... right now, he's thankful for its existence. It's proof. Not even just that this is Angeal rather than Jenova, but... that it's his Angeal.
Standing there, he can't even begin to quantify what he's feeling. There's a lifetime of complicated emotions that he's been swallowing down for-- a long time. For a while, he only has the wherewithal to stare at the mark, running a gloved thumb over the faintly marred skin. Eventually, his face starts to contort. Anger. Relief. Frustration. Joy. Something cracks within those impassive green eyes, giving way to a sheen of not-quite tears. His fingers tighten around Angeal's collar until the leather of his gloves creak, jerking the other man closer to him.]
Why?
["Why" a lot of things. Why did the Lifestream reject him? Which couldn't he find him sooner? Why did he leave at all? --Why wasn't their love reason enough to stay?]
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There was still the need to accept all that he is, and to learn about it. A slow process, and, as some things either did not come naturally to him, or he was fighting against them, it took him a long, laborious time before he learned how to do some of the things that Sephiroth can.
And when he found his way to the place in-between, he got lost, observing all those memories.
That is why he knows exactly why Sephiroth's reaction was what it was, and why it brought him relief. If Sephiroth is railing against a Jenova attempt to reel him in again, that is a good thing.
That is also why a flick of Sephiroth's eyes towards his shoulder lets him know what to expect. Especially with Masamune put away, he doesn't flinch as Sephiroth reaches for him, and doesn't try to fight off the attempt to look.
It is only when Sephiroth stills, finding his proof and getting flooded with emotions as a result, that he reaches, placing his hands on the sides of Sephiroth's pinched waist. Not pushing or pulling. Just there.
That time...
Sephiroth felt guilt for it. But, to Angeal, it meant something else. It meant that, when Angeal pushed him beyond self-control and restraint, Sephiroth trusted him, subconsciously, that he could take what Sephiroth could give. He couldn't put it into words then, not the right ones to assuage Sephiroth's reaction, but, to him, this scar was more precious than any other mark upon his body.
It was one of the reasons why he started looking, despite knowing that he hurt Sephiroth more than anyone other than Jenova and possibly Hojo did. One of the reasons he dared hope that, when the storm of fury is over, perhaps Sephiroth will forgive him, a little.
When Sephirothh pulls him in, the hands at the sides of Sephiroth's waist move a little, to the small of his back, but he still lets Sephiroth decide if that pull is for an embrace, or to shake him more easily. He'd accept either, and much worse, besides.
The anguished question, on the other hand...
He sighs softly, and doesn't avoid Sephiroth's broken glare. Considers for a moment, then tries to put some things into words, into an answer, even if he knows it will be only words, right now. ]
Because we were kids caught in the attempt by scientists to play god, and each of us broke in a different way because of it. You hated the world. I hated myself. And it was all-consuming. And also, because I was a fool.
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A silent yet loving language just for the two of them.
Right now, Sephiroth isn't sure what he wants. Everything within him is at war. He longs to be held tenderly, shielded from this nightmare they've all been living. He longs to instigate a fight, to throw him down and pour out every angry word he's been holding in. He longs to push him, to slam his back against the ground and kiss him utterly breathless.
Instead, he can only stand there with a faintly trembling hand buried in Angeal's collar, glaring him down with the force of a thousand blades. He knows - just from his interactions with Angeal's past self alone - that his words are true. He understands now what Angeal was dealing with in a way he couldn't have known at the time, but it doesn't ease any of the pain. It's not fair to resent Angeal, especially after everything Sephiroth himself has done in his fury and hatred but...
He does.
Emotions are illogical little things that way. He has so much anger that he scarcely knows what to do with it, but Angeal certainly doesn't deserve the brunt of it. It's not his fault any of this happened, and yet--]
You are still a fool. [The words spill from his mouth, thoughtless and cruel. Whatever semblance of a wall Angeal had been using to lean against, Sephiroth pushes him firmly into it with his whole body. Perhaps it's there because they willed it so-- perhaps because Sephiroth is yearning to press ever closer to Angeal, but he's still too tangled up in his fury to know any other way but this.] What makes you think I have anything left to give after all this time?
[The words bite, but Angeal's known him intimately enough... Maybe he'll see that there's still pieces of the Sephiroth he once knew - loving, patient, and kind - buried underneath all of that wicked and scorching fire.]
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The anger is not at all directed at Sephiroth, on the other hand, so his voice is still calm, or at least contained. ]
A fool I am, for fucking up so badly. But what I am not is what made us what we are. Neither Shinra, nor what they dabbled with without understanding - and so I am not here to take from you. [ Because they have all taken and taken and taken from Sephiroth, until, yes, Angeal can well believe Sephiroth has little enough to give, and even less to give him. At least right now, little beyond pain, that is, one way or another.
But Angeal is used to his own pain, and he can take Sephiroth's, support him. ]
I am here to give to you, instead.
Starting with giving all of myself to you.
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He thought he'd accepted that he'd never feel Angeal's touch again, but... he's not so sure anymore. He doesn't know if it's the fury or the desire that's consuming him. Maybe it's both.
Starting with giving all of myself to you, Angeal says, promising not to keep taking from him like the rest of the world had, and just like that, the little bit left of Sephiroth that's holding him composed splays apart at the seams. He doesn't have the words for any of this-- so perhaps action will suffice in its stead. It's not gentle when his free hand flies up, fingers biting into Angeal's jaw, and pushes his head back. It's even less so when Sephiroth crashes his mouth against Angeal's, kissing him furiously like he'll otherwise starve.]
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In fact, after a few moments, he moans into it, half melting against Sephiroth's body and kissing back, just as hungrily. He lets Sephiroth take the lead, but he meets him halfway. Not letting the kiss be a conquest and surrender, but staking a claim that they are equals. That Sephiroth has him back fully, not as a toy, but as a partner.
And...
A part of him, the part that is exhausted from fighting against the darkness and despair and loneliness for all these years, the part that gave up once, and has been slowly, hopelessly keeping him moving forward? Properly sparks up to life for the first time since Genesis dropped the knowledge on him.
Sephiroth wants him, still.
After... he returned to himself, post the rejection by the Lifestream, when he began to learn about things, he had... thought it might be the case. But he had not properly allowed himself to hope, not even as he was offering himself to Sephiroth just now.
But Sephiroth wants him. Sephiroth, who has been made larger than life, more powerful than any person born to a woman - with all that power, and all that pain, and all weight upon him, Sephiroth wants him still.
When the kiss breaks, eventually, his eyes half-open to drink in the sight he's missed so badly. ]
Yes.
[ That kiss was not a question.
But Sephiroth needs to know that, whatever he needs right now, whatever he takes, he has Angeal's consent. Certain. Enthusiastic, even.
Right now, Sephiroth might not care.
Later, he likely will.
And he leans in for another kiss.
They have all the time, but there are so many years to make up for. There will be time for gentleness later. There will be time for Angeal to find ways to take all Sephiroth's pain away, slowly, systematically luring his mind into peacefulness.
Now, it is passion and fury and need, and he's fine with that. ]
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And... well. Angeal is right. Right now, Sephiroth doesn't care. His boundaries and inhibitions have all been practically frayed into nothing. He's been a cruel and wicked thing for so long-- used to taking what he wants without asking.
But that yes still puts its hooks in him, and the wheels turn in his mind.
He doesn't greet Angeal's lips again just yet.
Sephiroth has existed in this place for long enough that he knows dreams and one's will play a significant part in where you end up. He's developed a mastery in navigating it after all. And so... he moves his hand from Angeal's hip, sliding it to his back as if to support him. A strange gesture when they're up against the wall until-- suddenly the wall is no longer there, and Sephiroth is guiding him through a doorway.
Even if Angeal were to elect not to look, he'd know they were somewhere entirely different from the lighting alone. It's warmer, fuller... a jarring difference from the wide open emptiness they'd been occupying moments before. And... a familiar one at that. It's an apartment, cozy and modest. Plants - thriving and green - line every window. Photos with unmistakable faces neatly line the walls and counters. Most curiously of all are the flickering images - blink and miss them - of Sephiroth and Angeal that shimmer about various places. Watering plants together, cooking in the kitchen, reading on the couch--
Memories of a kinder time.
But if Sephiroth regards any of this at all, it's fleeting and disinterested. He's far more intent upon pulling Angeal with him down the hall and into the bedroom.]
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He never thought he would find himself back here.
Then Sephiroth is moving them, and he follows without resisting, just breathing in and trying to not get overwhelmed, his eyes misting enough that he follows the direction provided without thinking or looking. ]
Eventually... we'll find a place to make our own again.
[ Almost absently, and with a lopsided smile. A promise, in a way, or a hope, perhaps. Difficult to come by, for either of them.
But he is not distracted enough that when Sephiroth stops and claims his mouth again, he doesn't answer in turn. ]
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If anything, Angeal's words make it all come roiling to a boil. Sephiroth is certainly not ready to articulate how that makes him feel, and it shows. He's even less ready to let his walls down and accept that kind of vulnerability when he's barely had time to process the years worth of festering hurt and betrayal that never got closure. They're nearly to the bedroom, but that journey is cut short by Sephiroth crowding Angeal into the nearest wall, slamming his back flat against its surface. His fingers tighten further around the other man's chin like teeth clamping down, a flash of heartbreak and fury in those serpentine eyes of his.]
Enough. What good is your word when you've broken every promise you've ever made to me? Keep your flowery promises to yourself, Angeal.
[It's a terribly callous thing to say-- and Sephiroth knows it. It's hateful and scathing, and it's on purpose-- because he doesn't know how to be anything else anymore. Because - in this moment - he wants Angeal to hurt with him... to feel betrayed and lost, just like him. It's selfish and cruel, and he doesn't care. He's been alone all this time, drowning so deeply in it for so long-- what's the rest of eternity?
...Of course, Sephiroth doesn't really want that. He's sick of this damnable loneliness, of Jenova, of life in its entirety. Eventually, he'll regret saying these nasty things to Angeal.
But today is not that day.]
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The words, on the other hand, make him slip one step closer to the ever-yawning abyss of self-hate that he has barely crawled out of, and some of the light leaves his eyes. This is his doing. He did betray promises, and he did leave Sephiroth alone, and he deserves this.
But he doesn't look away, or let the hurt show much beyond that. His hands come up to the small of Sephiroth's back, beneath the wing. ]
Got it.
[ He is not here for himself, after all. He is here for Sephiroth, and to begin to atone by alleviating this loneliness. He is just... very, very far from even beginning that atonement, very obviously.
That doesn't shake his resolve.
Nor cool his desire. ]
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He doesn't know if it satisfies him or if it simply makes him angrier that Angeal accepts his snarling words without so much as a fight. And then he's sliding his hands along the small of his back and--
There's another flare of something. Sephiroth doesn't know anymore, but-- the audacity to still move his hands so sweetly against his back after Sephiroth has viciously aimed to tear at Angeal's heart. Somewhere underneath the flames, his chest aches again. Angeal choosing kindness in the face of Sephiroth choosing to inflict pain-- it feels like a blade cutting soundly into his ribcage, and there's a breath of a moment where Sephiroth starts to falter, to rethink.
His grip on Angeal's jaw loosens suddenly.]
"Got it"? [A scoff...] Is that the best you can do?
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Instead, a corner of his mouth twitches up. ]
I don't think promising you I'll do better will help?
[ His expression softens. ]
And I am sorry that I fucked up like I did. [ Oh, more than anything he can even begin expressing. ] But those are just words. You deserve better.
[ It is as simple as that. In the end, until his deeds match the words, Sephiroth is right. He might as well keep his flowery promises to himself. ]
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And that's the sticking point for Sephiroth, really. What he deserves. Because it certainly isn't soft hands and kind words, and Angeal insinuating that he does just makes him bristle all over again.]
And what would you know of what I deserve? Where were you while my hands wrought unthinkable destruction? I came within a breath of destroying this Planet in its entirety, Angeal, and even then, you were absent.
It goes far deeper than simply doing better.
My hands are irrevocably stained with the blood of thousands. Blood that I gladly bathed in-- all while you wallowed in self-loathing. The man you once loved is dead, Angeal. All that stands before you now is but a harbinger of death, and if you came here seeking anything different, then you are a damned fool.
Do not dare speak to me about what I deserve.
[There's nothing gentle at all about the way Sephiroth relinquishes Angeal, with one last shove against the wall before he turns and starts storming back down the hallway.]
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Do you think I could find you without seeing what has happened? I know, Sephiroth. I know what my wallowing and confusion did to you. That is why I am not seeking who you used to be. I'm not who I used to be, either, and my failures which led to your suffering, and then aided your rage, are mine to bear, to remember, and to do better.
And I've sought death before. It didn't exactly give me anything worth having - I told you. I'm here to take from you. And certainly not fake relief.
What's done is done. Neither of us can undo it, and I wish I could. But what I deprived you of, then, I'm here to give now - and you won't be rid of me. You may not be who I knew. But you are still yourself.
And if there is one person I can dedicate myself to, it's you. Even after all that you did and almost did.
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And if I don't want it? If I don't want you?
[He wouldn't be fooling anyone. Not after the way he pinned Angeal to the wall, chasing after his mouth like a starved animal but moments ago. Certainly not when he'd brought him here of all places and with the intent of ravaging him senseless no less.
Maybe, in some misguided way, he thinks he's protecting Angeal from him by behaving this way. Because, no matter how much he may still yearn and ache for this man, Sephiroth knows his hands only bring pain and destruction. And Angeal is too complacent to take it, to keep giving without regard for his own well-being, thinking it's deserved. Sephiroth has already slipped too far-- snarling ugly things in his profound anger and reaching for Angeal in violence rather than gentleness. He'd just defied Fate itself to save a past version of him, only to defile the one who once belonged to him with bitterness and fury.
It's not right. He's not so far gone that he can't see that in this moment of clarity. All he'll do is mar an already broken man further, and it leaves a snarled knot in his stomach. He's not capable of healing either one of them.]
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But that question was answered, and he finds himself... Unhurt by it. Instead, his mouth quirks up at one side. Because, come on. ]
Still stuck with me.
[ The hint of a smirk solidifies, just a little, and he steps in front of Sephiroth once again, and, once again, reaches for him. Instead of wrapping a hand around his waist, he tangles fingers in a strand of silver hair. He knows. He knows that every part of him has been soaked in blood. And that doesn't scare him. ]
I'm not as fragile as I was, Seph. You waded through rage and destruction, some of it not even your own, but in very many ways, not unfounded. I sank through a pit of despair and guilt and pain.
But we're standing here, neither of us free of them, but neither are we drowning in them, anymore.
I can take your fury, and stand beside you beyond it, not because I'm invincible, impervious to it. But because hurting you back won't take away my hurt, only add to yours.
[ He lets go of the strand of hair and pokes a finger into Sephiroth's chest. ]
Don't think I won't push back, though. Just... when it's not about lashing back. You know as well as anyone that I'll put my foot down when something's gone too far.
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It seems like his mind is made up, and those words have certainly struck a nerve. ...A different one, this time. Instead of anger, he's met with a new kind of overwhelming emotion that he's not sure how to quantify. He doesn't particularly want to, because it doesn't change the fact that he doesn't like any of this.
Angeal was an honorable man, a compassionate man. Still is, after all this time. And Sephiroth just can't fathom how he can want to spend whatever time they have with a murderer. No-- not even that. He's always been a monster in its truest form. If there's one thing meddling with timelines has taught him, it's that his hands will always be bound for blood and destruction. Not kindness. Not normalcy. Not love… He turns his head away, letting a cascade of silver hair obscure his face.]
...Idiot. You only chain yourself to misery here.
[But the fury has mostly bled out of his voice, out of the sharp lines in his back and shoulders. He seems less interested in clawing Angeal's heart in two. If anything, he… seems to be looking elsewhere. Somewhere far away, lost.
Hate breeds hate. It's a cycle that can't be broken. …But it can. Right, Glenn? All it takes is a little compassion.
Ever so faintly, Sephiroth lets go of a shuddered breath at the memory, unbidden, washing over him like a tidal wave. Angeal… He knows that all too well, doesn't he? Standing here, choosing to hold Sephiroth's shattered heart even when it insists only on cutting him. His fingers slowly curl into tight fists at his sides, leather creaking. He starts to turn towards the portal again, but he pauses halfway through– like he can't decide if he wishes to leave or stay.]
--But do as you will.
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Monsters have no honor.
Compassion... compassion, on the other hand, he has refused to surrender, other than for himself - whatever shreds of it he had held on to before, he had let go of with the first beat of his wing. It was a long, hard road, to find out how it mattered at all, that compassion. Until he found a way, before Hollander twisted the knife in his chest with finality - a war to fight all suffering. It is why he could not return to Shinra, back then, for they caused much of the suffering he saw, but they stopped some, too. Hence, he could not join Genesis against them, either.
Compassion is also, yes, why he found a glimmer of hope, eventually, in the personal hell he had dropped himself into. And compassion led him to Sephiroth, his precious Sephiroth who was so broken, by Angeal himself included, and used and abused by force far too great to win against. Why he hopes - not for himself, still, but for this man. ]
I've called myself that, and worse.
But not for being yours.
[ Do as you will.
This time, it's Angeal's hand that wraps around Sephiroth's collar, holding him in place as he steps closer and claims a kiss. ]
This. This is what I will.
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If anything, he - without thinking - starts to chase after Angeal's lips when the kiss breaks before he remembers himself. Even now, like this, Angeal still has a powerful sway over him... just like he always has. And for trying to pretend like that's no longer the case? Sephiroth is an idiot, too. He still thinks he's trapping Angeal here somehow, still doesn't like it, but...
Angeal is a stubborn, stubborn man.
If he's determined to stay, there's no force on Gaia that will move him. He's always been that way-- the sturdy mountain of their little group. Immovable yet sheltering.
And for the first time, that leaves Sephiroth unsure of what to do in this moment. His desire hasn't exactly cooled, and the anger is only tempered to a manageable level, but... they've broken a little ground here, too. Not quite soft-- and it won't be for a while. Not until Sephiroth works through his catastrophically tangled mess of emotions.
But it's a step in the right direction.
Eventually, however... Sephiroth settles on seeking an answer to the question that's been burning in his lungs ever since Angeal began offering him kind words and forgiveness.]
...Why? If you've seen what I've become, then you know there is nothing here worth staying for.
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Ah.
Why...
He doesn't flinch back at the question, but he does consider, eyes still on Sephiroth. ]
There are many answers to that one. Some are selfish, others painful, and the deepest ones probably hard to believe, and all of them are true.
I want you. I see nothing for myself unless I am by your side, and I don't see anything getting better for you unless I am by yours, too. I need to atone, for leaving you alone when you needed me most. I also want to find out who you are now. Yes, you did horrible things, but how much was you not fighting another's will, and how much is what you would have done free of it? It makes a difference to me, even if nothing can take back what has been done.
When all is said and done...
The men we used to be are gone. The men who were heroes, the men who wanted to end that which creates suffering. [ His shoulders drip in shame, just a little, but he doesn't let his gaze drop. ] I'm here because I believe there is someone worth staying for, right in front of me. Who is in constant pain, and sees no path forward that makes any difference. And I want to find that hidden path. With you. I want to find out who we will become. Together, as we always should have been.
Why? Because even as you are, you are still my light in the darkness. Even if you don't believe you can be. Even if I am drawn like a moth to a flame - it is better than despair. But I won't burn that easily.
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No. Do not try to make me your light, Angeal. That is a weight I cannot carry-- for you or anyone else.
[Because damn if he hasn't already tried. Cloud saved him from Jenova, showed him how to be something approaching human again, but even then-- Sephiroth continued to hurt him despite every dogged attempt not to. He tried to be a man deserving of love and kindness, and never quite measured up. If he couldn't even do that for Cloud, how the hell is he supposed to do it for Angeal?]
You're putting me on a pedastal I don't want. [...Or deserve.] Furthermore... the way you speak of me tells me you grasp little of the gravity of my actions-- or that I was complicit in much of it. Jenova was but a piece of the puzzle.
I - alone - wanted the world to burn. [And some part of him still does. The only thing that has stopped him from being subsumed by that fury all over again is Cloud. And now-- Angeal is here - alive - again, speaking of wanting to forge a new path together and carve their own little place in the world again and--]
You don't understand--
[A stark-white pain splits through Sephiroth's skull, jarring a hiss from him. He jerks free of Angeal's grasp to turn away, cradling his face in a gloved hand. It's a familiar pain. Jenova. She always tries to eke in when Sephiroth begins to question, to doubt, to fall apart. He's had plenty of practice at warding her off, but-- she's too much a part of him for Sephiroth to ever truly be free. After all, that's why the Lifestream has refused him again, and again, and again--
She finally quiets... Sephiroth's voice is much softer when he speaks again-- but twice as sharp.]
...If you stay, I will hurt you.
[It's not a question or a threat. It's simply the truth.]
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[ His voice is low and quiet, and rather than the near question which might make Sephiroth think the doubts him (he thinks it's not the entire truth), he adds, ]
Then let it be so.
[ It's not the entire truth, not with the pain that he can see coming to his man. And he doesn't try to hold Sephiroth again, but he does place one warm palm on his back, above the wing. ]
I'll be ready when you do hurt me. But, just as certain as you are that you will, I know that, if I'm not next to you, I'll be hurting us both. Every moment.
I won't make you my light. But, please. Pain and pleasure, despair and reality. Let me be your Angeal again.
(no subject)
(no subject)