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Zack knows something is wrong when he wakes up with Sephiroth still next to him in bed.
Their routine is memorized at this point. It could be a damn bullet point list and it doesn’t end with Sephiroth being next to him when Zack wakes up. He is supposed to be alone.
At least it started the same way as always.
It starts with something happening.
Zack has many theories about what happens. They are not important here. Maybe later, when things aren’t so distracting.
Right.
So.
Something happens.
Zack gets a text before five from Sephiroth. If it is 5:01, there ain’t going to be any dick in his life that night unless he goes elsewhere. It is just that way.
So he always gets the most unromantic text and it is along the lines of “Are you amenable for company tonight?”.
Fuck Sephiroth using fancy-ass words like “amenable”.
The first time Zack had gotten the text, his immediate response was “???!?! Whaaaa…?”
It went well.
Sephiroth sets a time and sends a link to a restaurant’s menu. Zack gets to pick anything off of it. He probably shouldn’t but he takes advantage of it. He orders half the menu because leftovers.
Then comes the wait until the appointed time.
Except Sephiroth arrives ten minutes early.
And Zack runs late.
Even now, after they have been at this for literal months, Zack still tries to make his apartment presentable. So he tells Sephiroth there is a monster inside his apartment and could he wait a few extra seconds in the hallway? Did he check out the boring painting down the hall? Has he seen the view from the window near the elevator?
He gets a couple of extra minutes of cleaning in but he always sees the disappointment from Sephiroth. Every speck of dirt and potato chip bag he’s missed comes into view. His eyes are like a freaking highlighter.
They eat. The conversation has gotten easier. It used to be super awkward. Now it is subpar awkward. Zack talks a lot. Sephiroth listens and nods. Zack offers a real drink. Sephiroth declines. For some reason, they are watching a show and they do that after dinner. Zack mentions it once a few dinners in and insists that Sephiroth watch the first episode. They watch an episode after Sephiroth peels four billion socks from his couch before sitting down.
Hey. He keeps it clean where it matters, alright? Don’t judge.
At some point, the sex starts.
Sephiroth always initiates. Zack guesses he gets tired of waiting. Zack has to guess about most things because Sephiroth says about ten words a day. Once Zack tried to beat him to the punch and got handsy and the result was a glare of not yet.
Whatever.
Sephiroth might be a drama queen.
They run hot and cold in bed. It can be completely procedural. Other times, it can feel like Sephiroth is trying to fuck his virginity away for the first time. Who knows. It’s a mixed bag and Zack is game. I mean it’s the Great Sephiroth in his apartment. Who is going to say no?
In the beginning, Sephiroth completely dominates him. That feels pretty great.
When the weeks progress, things start to…loosen? It’s hard to describe. Sephiroth is still in control but the rules and lines blur. Age doesn’t seem to matter here. Zack starts to notice how Sephiroth reacts to him pushing back. How more often than not he impossibly wins with his way. They move from the living room floor to the bedroom because of him. Zack starts kissing Sephiroth’s face. They start playing around more. The stringent grips melt. The foreplay grows intelligent and not a means to an end.
Things equalize but only in a way that Zack knows that Sephiroth can take away in a second.
Sometimes the fuck is still a sterile emotionless blob but most of the time, it isn’t.
Two months into this bizarre parody of friends with benefits except they don’t talk outside of sex, Zack asks the question he’s been dying to ask.
Sephiroth says yes.
And Zack tops for the first time.
And that can be only described as holy fucking shit.
12/10.
Would do that again.
And they do.
A lot.
Or well, whenever Zack gets a text before five.
Which becomes more frequent after Zack takes over consistently.
There is a learning curve. Sure. If Zack fucks it up too much, plays the wrong cards, does the wrong thing, Sephiroth’s smooth exterior flashes to impatience and he finds their positions reversed. The first time it happens, Zack worries between the texts. He even texts the man himself with no response.
For whatever reason, Sephiroth comes back.
And when he does it right three times in a row and he stops having to ask and it becomes habit and pleasure?
Well.
Damn.
That makes him feel like he’s on cloud nine.
If he gets a text.
Before five.
Whatever.
The end is always the same. They fall asleep, usually still tangled in one way or another. Zack tries to stay awake long enough to hear the sound.
Sephiroth only makes it when he’s convinced that Zack is asleep so pretending to be asleep when he really wants to be asleep is a losing battle. Which is makes it all the better when he wins and hears Sephiroth sigh.
It’s a small sound.
And there is so much bone-crushing relief in it.
It’s the most emotion that Zack hears Sephiroth express and he’s not even using words. Sure, there are the classic stifled sounds during sex but because Sephiroth hides it from Zack, it means something more.
It’s like that damn sigh is the only self-expression the man allows himself and Zack lives to hear it. It sounds creepy but once during a sigh, Zack could feel his breath against his skin.
He thinks about that a lot.
At work.
Is that wrong?
Then here’s the interesting thing.
Sephiroth is always gone when Zack wakes up.
100% of the time every part of him is gone from the apartment except for the food. Zack can’t say he leaves without a trace because he doesn’t. If they didn’t make it past dinner, the leftovers are neatly packed and lined up in the fridge. The dishes are in the dishwasher. Various things are straightened. The man can’t help himself.
Many things have changed after the initial “are you amenable for company tonight?” text, Sephiroth being gone in the morning has not.
So why the hell is Sephiroth still laying in his bed with the morning sun coming up?
Zack is curled up around Sephiroth’s waist, arm lazily over his ribs and up towards his chest. If he isn’t careful, he is going to sneeze with the amount of silver hair on his face. The earthy smell and heat that comes off Sephiroth almost lulls him back to sleep but he remembers exactly what is happening.
He doesn’t want to frighten the man off.
Maybe this always happens. Zack is a sound sleeper.
But he doubts it.
So he stays still and focuses.
He’s become an expert Sephiroth reader.
And something is wrong.
Sephiroth is awake and as stiff as a board. His shoulders are a strong line, not collapsed forward. His breath isn’t slow in the depths of his stomach. Only the top of his chest moves in sharp movements. Human beings also aren’t frozen. Zack has melted against an iron rod this morning.
He thinks about going back to sleep. He feels like he is witnessing something he is not supposed to see.
Did he do something wrong? Zack replays what he can remember of the night. It all was great on his end. No screw-ups. Barely any moments where he could have improved.
But the man he’s been sleeping with consistently for four months feels like he is teetering into…something not so great. Zack has to admit that the Brick Wall of Solitude has been annoying but now he might be able to help him.
So he pretends to wake up. He breathes out, stretches his back and snuggles closer. Sephiroth doesn’t move at all.
“’Orning,” Zack says into the back of Sephiroth’s neck.
“Good morning, Fair.” Sephiroth’s voice is deep. It vibrates into Zack’s chest and sits there.
Fair. Hm. They aren’t off to the best start. When Sephiroth started calling Zack by his first name, he had dropped his fork back into his fried rice. Now it’s commonplace.
Whatever. Embarrassing stuff happens all the time. It doesn’t stop him.
He pulls on the man’s shoulder, trying to roll him onto his back. That doesn’t work. Sephiroth pulls back. Remains where he is. His face turned away, staring at the sun coming through the blinds. It is clear that he wants to be left alone. Thankfully Zack is good at bothering people.
He sits up and looks down over at Sephiroth who eyes him immediately from the pillow. Zack tries a smile. He gets a frown back. This won’t last long. The power dynamic change will grate against Sephiroth. No one looks down on him. If Sephiroth has locked himself in an icy cage, he’s going to have to irk him to get any more emotion out of him.
To make him rise up even faster, he leans over, putting an arm on either side and cocking his head. “What’s up? Did I do something wrong last night?”
“Everything was more than sufficient.” Sephiroth shifts and moves his hands. He could win awards for the lack of emotion in his words.
Zack raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t like that thing I did?”
“We did a lot of things last night.”
Zack howls in delight, pulls off of him, rolls onto the mattress. “Yeah, we did.”
Sephiroth is up immediately, pulling on his clothes. The bedhead turns into a braid. Zack watches the muscles in his back click his spine into a ridged line.
“How do you like your coffee?” Zack doesn’t bother with everything. It’s his apartment, underwear will suffice. He beats Sephiroth to the door.
“This is not necessary.” Why does he stop to see Sephiroth pull on his shirt? Why is it so appealing to see the fabric flutter down?
“Milky white and full of-”
“Zack. No.” The shoes are going on with a blur. It can only be years of practice that make all those clasps go together so quickly.
“Fine. I’ll get it going. You can make it yourself.” He leaves. The teasing might bring up Sephiroth’s spirits and lower his guard.
“I said no.” And that feels the closest thing to a threat that Zack has heard from him. He turns back. Sephiroth is framed in the bedroom doorway. He has his jacket folded over his arm. In the light, the blackness of the clothes makes everything else stand out, stark and white. The mako eyes glimmer close to danger.
Zack decides to circumvent that and goes for the heart of the problem. “Everything alright?”
Sephiroth blinks. Surprise gets crushed by the steel expression that he uses for the rest of his life.
“This was a mistake.”
He moves like a train. No matter what Zack says and everything comes out of him at once, Sephiroth does not stop moving. His face is impassive. He drills his eyes at the front door. His strides are long.
“Look man-I’m sorry-” Zack tries to get between him and the door but he has to stand back or get shoved out of the way.
Sephiroth doesn’t slam the door. It clicks shut. Zack stays and listens to the footsteps disappear, controlled and even. The elevator chimes a moment later and then he is gone.
Zack sets his forehead against the doorframe. He fucked up.
Sephiroth disappeared from Zack’s life entirely for a few days. He must be avoiding him. The worry settles deep in the back of Zack’s head which is not something that he is accustomed to.
It takes thirteen days for Sephiroth to come back, one of the longest stretches but it is like years. Sure, they see each other in Shinra, sometimes they even work together at SOLDIER. Sephiroth is so good at compartmentalizing. Zack feels like he hasn’t mapped out every dip and curve of his body when they stand alone together in the elevator.
Saying something about anything outside the apartment would breach something. He’s afraid he will ruin everything. Sephiroth would be horrified. Shinra wouldn’t exactly approve of this dynamic if they found out.
They might make them stop.
Zack knows that Sephiroth wouldn’t put everything on the line for him.
So. He pretends everything is super cool.
“Are you amenable for company tonight?” appears on his phone seven minutes until five, uncharacteristically late.
Zack spins in a circle and cheers in public. Cloud looks at him weird. He says it is good news.
Sephiroth arrives ten minutes early. Zack doesn’t want to make him regret it. He makes everything easy, no mention of things before, just a “hey man, thanks for waiting” and steps aside to let him in. Sephiroth ticks the boxes of the night. They eat dinner. Everything is “fine” to Sephiroth. Zack talks about everything, anything.
Sephiroth puts the food in the fridge. Zack does the dishes. They watch an episode of the show with a cushion between them. Zack blinks when he watches the credits roll. They never make it this far. Sephiroth leans forward on his knees, his fingers weaved together, something flickering across his face.
Zack takes the remote. The scroll of credits pauses.
Sephiroth stares at the blank screen. Hair falls over his shoulder. He’s stiff again. The air conditioner kicks on. The hissing breaks the moment.
“Shall we?” Sephiroth asks automatically and stands going to the bedroom. No lull, touches or breaths against his neck. Just the plain question.
Questions die on the tip of Zack’s tongue. Asking had not done anything, dummy. He learned his lesson there or at least he hopes that he has learned. Sephiroth opens the door and turns back to watch Zack on the couch. There it is. The steel wall is gone. Loss echos in the back of Sephiroth’s eyes and into him.
“Sephiroth…” They both know what they mean when he says his name. Sephiroth looks away at him, at the dimmed screen of the TV, at the door, even into the kitchen before settling back on him.
Then he peels off his freaking shirt and leaves it hanging between his fingers. He’s not stripteasing. There is no sexual turn of the body but the intention is entirely apparent. Things short circuit in Zack’s brain. The shirt drops, crumpling to the ground. Zack can’t stop himself from rising.
Sephiroth turns away, into the darkness.
Zack tries so hard to do everything right that night. He touches, pushes, says everything that he knows that Sephiroth likes. It seems to work. By the end, he is butter, all emotion drowned in being fucked, face a controlled slack, limbs loose and unwound under him.
Zack holds him close afterward. He wills his questions through his skin, smelling lemons and their sweat.
But Sephiroth is gone in the morning.
And Zack was too exhausted to stay up and wait for the sigh.
He wonders if it happened.
Shit.
It’s like wondering if the tree made a sound when it fell in the forest.
He finds that Sephiroth bought him the entire cake inside of the usual slice or two.
It’s gone quick.
But it stays with him in his mind for a lot longer.
Well, quick clarification, the cake tasted amazing, blew his mind, all that good stuff.
But the way that Sephiroth talks, it isn’t exactly verbal. Zack spends too much thinking about a chocolate cake.
Things fall back into a pattern for several weeks. They eat dinner. They watch a full episode. Sephiroth lures him to bed. He doesn’t push back on requests. He barely makes any of his own. It’s like he is withering internally, withdrawing so far that even his touch feels more dead than alive.
Zack tells him that everything is grand.
Sephiroth confirms that this should continue.
His fingers draw across Zack’s body afterward, quiet and needy.
The text comes frequently.
Zack spends half his nights waiting for the classic sigh. It stops coming.
This is when Sephiroth starts shaking in his sleep.
It’s worrying.
The third time it happens, Zack can’t stand it. Damn the risk, he drapes himself further over Sephiroth, pretending to be asleep. He squeezes him tight against his body. He waits to be rolled away. It doesn’t happen. Sephiroth leans back into him, head turning into his neck. His breath puffs against his chin. The sheets warm and the room remains quiet. The rub of their unshaved faces makes him hot but he ignores it. Instead, he absorbs the quivering with everything in him and Sephiroth calms into sleep.
Zack realizes he’s learning the steps to breaking this man open.
Whenever the attacks come as he decides to call it, he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He pulls him closer and waits for the comfort to soak through.
It works consistently.
Zack never knows if Sephiroth is cognizant of any of this. Several times he notices Sephiroth watching him lost in thought in meetings.
Sephiroth leaves for a four-week run in Wutai shortly afterward.
Sephiroth shocks him. He gives him a house key to his apartment and requests that he water his plant once a week and “not to kill the plant, you understand? There are instructions. Follow them. Read each line.”
Zack nods and gives a mock salute. Sephiroth’s face lightens but he can’t see anything other than the stress. It is now so familiar that he forgets that once Sephiroth’s face didn’t have it.
Going into the apartment feels like he is trespassing. The door clicks open and he’s waiting for Sephiroth to spring on him with a huge sword in his stomach. There are no alarms. The room is dark except for the open dining room window which is shedding light on the singular plant on the table. It is the same floor plan as his, a living/dining/kitchen combo with a separate bedroom. He’s got a balcony though.
The rumors are true then. Sephiroth didn’t bother to move out of his Second quarters into the First accomos.
He’s not sure why it would matter.
There is barely anything here that signifies that a human being lives here.
The furniture is utilitarian. It’s everything that an apartment should have but it is all stark and emotionless. It’s like Sephiroth went to a store and picked one brand and bought a couch, loveseat, coffee table, dining room set and a TV stand without another thought. Everything looks so impossibly unused.
A receipt for new suits is on the dining room table. There are two knives in a knife block. A pair of black house shoes sit by the door. A wine glass dries in the sink. No paintings on the walls. No decoration anywhere. The fridge has nothing in it. It’s been recently wiped down. Zack touches the closed bedroom door and decides against it.
Creepy.
He takes care of the plant. He gives it a half-turn and water. He brushes the dust off the leaves. It’s a mother-in-law’s tongue. It doesn’t need this kind of love. It might even turn against its owners if you love it too hard. That makes Zack laugh. Perhaps it is the perfect plant.
He repeats this process for two weeks before he notices something is off.
And then he sits on the floor of Sephiroth’s apartment and laughs until tears fall down his face.
Still.
He does what he is told because he doesn’t want to lie to Sephiroth.
The plant remains the same through those four weeks.
Sephiroth schedules to come by the day he returns which flatters Zack to no end. He looks exhausted and kinda smells like jet fuel when he comes in with burgers and fries. Dark bags line his eyes but regardless he’s standing tall.
They don’t make it through dinner. They don’t even start. Zack doesn’t want Sephiroth to feel weird about how happy he is to see him so he just smiles and lets him in, asking about the food. The apartment door closes. Sephiroth sets down the bags carefully and attacks Zack.
They don’t make it to the bed.
Zack stumbles back and meets his living room rug again.
He’s happy that he found his vacuum cleaner this week and actually managed to use it yesterday. Sephiroth is not willing to surrender control and Zack gives in easily. It’s such a relief to feel Sephiroth warm and close on top of him. Zack laughs into his mouth. Sephiroth keeps pulling him closer before releasing slightly. He can’t close the last gap so Zack does it for him.
It’s all desperate.
He tastes amazing.
Shit man.
He missed him.
Afterward, they both catch their breath.
Zack watches Sephiroth pick himself up first. He aches knowing that now the act is done, he will be leaving. Zack had hoped for dinner to see how Genesis and Angeal are doing on their year run in Wutai. It’ll be their turn next year. Sephiroth is unreadable as he stretches, looking down at Zack, still vaguely destroyed.
Then he disappears into the bathroom.
The shower turns on.
What the fuck man.
Zack questions everything.
They end up eating cold burgers with Sephiroth smelling like Zack’s conditioner. It amazes him. Sephiroth is quiet but the weight has eased off his shoulders. A bad joke earns Zack a smile. He talks about their friends and how they are doing a good job in keeping the insurgence in Wutai at a bare minimum. How the landscape is so different there even though they have both been there. He expresses himself and for once, Zack listens.
It would be too good to be true for Sephiroth to stay after the dinner.
As the food disappears, he wonders. He hopes they will follow the usual routine.
But Sephiroth rises, nods and leaves.
The man who shakes in his sleep seems like a distant memory.
And stays that way for the first couple of weeks.
Zack doesn’t want to jinx it. It hasn’t felt like causal fucks forever but Sephiroth is freakin’ quietly starting to bond. He’s not bringing flowers or expressing it like a normal human being. It’s the way that he’s spending more time at Zack’s apartment. He looks at Zack like he means something. He’s relaxing. The strict routine breaks into pieces. He still doesn’t spend the night but he sleeps through when Zack notices.
The sighs return.
Zack wants to celebrate with champagne.
A couple of weeks later, Zack texts Sephiroth a picture of a dressed-up cat when he’s out on the town with Cloud.
Okay. He’s super drunk. He’s given up with casual conversation with Sephiroth long ago.
His phone bings ten minutes later
It’s Sephiroth.
Funny, the text reads.
Zack screams and breaks his phone throwing it at the nearest wall.
The conversation continues from there after ITS puts a new screen and camera. It’s stilted and awkward but it exists. Sephiroth doesn’t know the existence of emojis and, to Zack’s chagrin, has no interest in learning.
It’s happening. Zack can’t believe it. Sometimes he reads back their conversations to make sure he didn’t dream it.
Sephiroth is opening up to him.
They are going to be a thing.
Then reality slams a fucking semi through this quiet life.
Something happens again.
Sephiroth disappears for a week. His secretary can’t tell him where he is. The Shinra building feels empty. Zack texts a couple of times but nothing comes back. If it was a secret mission, surely Sephiroth would tip him off.
Zack knows it immediately from the “Are you amenable for company tonight?” text that shit has gone down.
He says yes. Sephiroth’s eyes are shut down when he arrives. Everything is fine again. The color is gone from his face. He barely responds to Zack’s jokes. The food is delicious but Sephiroth’s plate stays full.
He’s remote in bed. It’s like Zack is shadowboxing with him, not ever quite touching him.
The man under him performs. He only realizes it because he’s seen him do otherwise now.
He doesn’t ask.
It’s so incredibly frustrating. He wants to shake Sephiroth and demand the truth.
But being direct isn’t going to get him anywhere. It’ll scare him off. They’ll lose all the progress that they have gained.
That night Sephiroth wakes him up because he’s shaking so bad. Zack can’t stop it.
It takes two more weeks of this to drive Zack to his edge. It’s nearing four in the morning and Sephiroth is having an attack. Zack presses his face against his neck, planting kisses there, picking up the baby hair with his lips. He’s sure Sephiroth is awake for this one because the shakes have stopped but it was broken stop, not the gradual one. He has shut it down.
“Can I do anything to help?” Zack whispers.
Sephiroth takes a breath and lets it out.
“I’ll be here.” Zack presses his nose hard against his neck. His hand splays against the softness in Sephiroth’s belly and he pulls them closer. There it is. Deep inside, he can still feel the tremor.
Sephiroth’s lungs expand against his arms. He holds it and then says, “I will return but I will be unable to participate in our activities for a while.”
The why disappears down Zack’s throat like swallowing fire. How can people be so physically close and not talk to each other about their problems? He’s mentioned things to him. Some of them were in frustration. Others were hopes that Sephiroth will respond.
Yeah.
That worked well, didn’t it?
“Can I do anything?”
“No.” It’s not a hard sound.
“If you change your mind, you have my number. You know how to text. Somehow.”
Sephiroth doesn’t say anything. They lay together. It’s so quiet that Zack can hear the breaths that Sephiroth takes. Even not being able to see his face, he can tell from the way he lays that he is still awake. He keeps himself close and waits. It mystifies him that Sephiroth doesn’t shove him away. That all of this is okay with him.
Zack’s done a lot of thinking and watching him outside these private walls.
He is lonely.
It becomes so apparent in the curl of his fingers when he hears people laugh or the way he looks away at times. Everyone stares at Sephiroth but he’s not sure anybody sees the quiet guy underneath. Hell. He’s 1000% sure he wasn’t looking the first ten fucks. That was the Great Sephiroth. It’s only when the wonder had started to wear off that Zack started noticing the other physical wants and cues.
This man doesn’t have that expectation of his identical counterpart. The inherent strength and confidence, it’s just like his coat, he can’t wear it all the time. The power and strength are there but this is the guy laying in front of him, holding his breath, unwilling to speak.
Zack doesn’t move. Sephiroth must know he wants answers. He’s not stupid.
The air lets out again, slow and whistling.
Damn it.
It happens over and over. A breath in and a long pause before it comes out. He’s getting even more ridged under him.
Zack struggles.
Every part of him wants to be not patient. This isn’t in his nature. Everything is building up in him, to act, to do something, to poke the bear in front of him. Yet he can feel the glass. The fragility of the trust of that bridge that he’s been building.
After a period that feels too long, Zack can’t help the sigh. He presses his forehead deep against his neck and resigns himself to the progress he has made. Remember that. Sephiroth has warned him this time that he’ll be MIA. He’ll know it isn’t him. He’s exhausted. Closing his eyes, he tries to keep that positivity before diving into further failure.
It eases him into a deep drowse. Even now, he loves the way that they fit together. Someday things will be better.
“Zack.”
Immediately Zack realizes he is drooling on him.
“Oh shit. Drool.” He jerks back. “Sorry man.”
Sephiroth rolls onto his back and weaves his hands in front of him on the cushion before Zack can wipe anything away. It isn’t about that?
He stares at the ceiling. “R&D requires me to participate in…SOLDIER therapies. I suspect they have other ill-gotten purposes than my own health. I...” Sephiroth pauses. “I will not be well for an indiscriminate amount of time.”
Zack is so shocked that he can’t say anything.
Sephiroth pulls his eyes away from the ceiling and turns his head to look at him. Silver hair pools around him. “I am not telling you to worry. It is the opposite. I will not die by that damn man’s hands. You can rest assured of that.”
Sephiroth is assuring him that he won’t die. It means that there is a possibility, in some universe, it could happen.
“Fuck.”
That should have been better.
More empathetic.
More anything.
Sephiroth’s chest hitches in a suppressed laugh. With that information out of the way, some stress bleeds away from him.
“Hm, I suppose, yes, fuck.”
Zack is still processing. Putting together these pieces in a way that makes sense but they don’t make sense with this strong man.
Sephiroth glances at the clock on the bedside table.
“I am to report in a few hours.” He slides from the bed. “I will be in touch at a later date.”
And then he picks up his neat pile of clothes, kisses Zack’s hair and leaves the room before he can say anything else.
Zack stares after him.
Fuck.
The phrase echoes in his head. I will not be well for an indiscriminate amount of time.
Sephiroth is a SOLDIER. Zack shares somewhat of the same genetic engineering. Zack has found himself beat to hell and back and knows that he will bounce back from it in a few days. One lucky bastard slashed Sephiroth’s arm once when they were both out on a mission. It was sealed in hours without any extra help.
Freaky.
Sephiroth said “an indiscriminate amount of time.”
How fucked up is he about to get?
Everyone is afraid of R&D. Things go into R&D and when they leave they are either missing limbs or have somehow gained them. Zack has been in there a few times since his exposure for little things. The things that he’s seen in tanks and spread across tables make him extra motivated never to come back. Even Sephiroth seems opposed to saying no to them if he has made peace to go into…who knows what. That’s what worries him.
It explains the shaking.
It’s not some shitty war trauma. They all have that. Zack assumed that a car had backfired or someone had said something damning. Sephiroth would have swallowed it down. It would sit there until it exploded deep him in the middle of the night. It’s happened to Zack before.
No.
He’s wrong.
It’s trauma happening right now.
It explains why he came back from Wutai a different man.
Shit. There is no way that he could have known about it but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept. As the early morning drags into the day, Zack keeps getting distracted, wondering exactly what is happening to Sephiroth. Is he even conscious?
He’s not going to break into R&D. Maybe Angeal or Genesis would have that authority or power but nobody looks at Zack and goes “this guy has to have his own way”. He isn’t built like that. To make it worse, it is Thursday: paperwork day. Zack sits at a desk and plugs away at typing lines of words into forms that no one will read.
I will not be well for an indiscriminate amount of time.
He stares at his phone and thinks about their text conversation. How frequently Sephiroth has asked to be together.
This is how he is dealing.
It keeps getting worse.
He wishes that he didn’t care. That would be easier, wouldn’t it? They have sex because it is a need that has to be met. An eye for an eye. Good to see you, buddy, see you again when you feel horny.
But it isn’t that way.
Zack does care. He cares about the strange way that Sephiroth reveals himself. It’s the tiny sigh at the end of the night making him feel that he’s done everything right and that maybe Sephiroth is happy right there. The entire cake that was left in his fridge as an apology. It’s the way the strongest man in Shinra bends like water for him, allowing him to do what he will. Or the way it still feels like he playing with danger when Sephiroth reverses their roles because he can.
His phone stays silent.
Five comes and goes.
Fuck. Zack can’t concentrate on anything. He shoves the desk as he stands. The pencil mug clatters over. Zack grabs his keys. Maybe video games and a beer. Maybe that will solve this. He can’t live like this for a week or two knowing that Sephiroth is quietly in pain somewhere in the building.
He has to man up and accept it. They are both adults.
They aren’t even in a real relationship.
The keys dig into his palm.
One specific one hurts more than others.
Zack pauses, staring down at it. The extra silver key sits against his skin. He had forgotten about it. He doesn’t make the choice in his mind. It just so happens that Zack selects a different floor number when he gets to the SOLDIER barracks.
Sephiroth’s apartment is empty.
Disappointment and relief pummel him.
The place is neat but different. A folded robe is set on the edge of the couch near the front door. A blanket and pillow are on the cushions. An empty trash can is placed at the end. A twelve-pack of electrolyte drinks is lined up on the counter, stripped of packaging. Three have been opened but their caps are set back on top.
Pajamas are on the countertop in the bathroom from where Zack can see.
The bedroom door is open this time but Zack doesn’t go that far.
He’s actually not supposed to be here this time.
The curtain is still open for the plant.
He closes the door and relocks it.
Knots work his stomach.
He doesn’t feel himself breathe for a long time.
He knows how much he’s fucking everything up but he checks on the apartment daily. Nothing changes. Everything is in stasis. Zack feels like he is frozen too. Work grates on him. He wants to know what is happening. When he is in the main elevator, he looks at the floor numbers in the 60s. He wonders which one to go to and then he swipes his badge and smashes the appropriate button for his work.
It is five days after Sephiroth reports to R&D that he returns.
Zack immediately knows when he opens the door. The lights are on. The robe is gone. The neatness that Sephiroth requires is abandoned with the clothes littering the floor. The apartment smells like R&D, fake lemons and a strong disinfectant. There is a plastic bag in the middle of the floor filled with bottles, creams, and papers.
Zack should leave. His curiosity should have been satisfied. Sephiroth is safe again.
But he hears the coughing echoing out of the bathroom.
And he can’t.
Sephiroth looks like shit. He’s a rag doll leaning against the tiled wall opposite the toilet. His hair is hazy, clumpy and stuck to sweaty skin. One hand is pressing against a straining chest, the other is loose against the floor. The bathrobe is pulled tight and closed. Sephiroth doesn’t move, his whole face clenched when Zack makes it to the door.
If his body isn’t enough, Sephiroth not noticing him would alone be enough to send Zack into worry.
Sephiroth goes ridged, teeth flashing, nails digging into his skin. Then he eases back as the spasm leaves him.
“Hey, Seph,” Zack says as softly as he can, crouching down to his level and knocking against the frame.
His eyes slit open. The green irises are the only color on his face. He jerks back at the sight of him.
This is not the time to push things. Him even being here might too much. He wants to smother the miserable pile on the floor but the air in the room is fragile. So Zack looks away, busies himself by grabbing the washcloth by the sink and soaking it through.
“Here.” He hands it down. The fingers that grasp it quiver.
Anger is hot within him but he shoves it deep.
Later.
He has a friend that needs serious help.
If he stops moving, Sephiroth might send him away so he hurries to the next thing he can think to do.
“You done?” Zack puts his hand on the toilet handle.
Sephiroth nods, folds the wet towel over and rubs his neck. The toilet runs. His eyes close but his mouth stays ajar. His lips are cracked and bleeding. Every breath shakes him. Now the shock has passed Zack can see the mako gummed to his hairline. What the fuck happened? How could someone think that this was an acceptable state to drop off someone who lives alone?
Zack guesses the next move and starts to run the bath. A shower seems like too much.
Sephiroth’s eyebrows loosen. The water fills the quiet. Zack sits on the edge, watching it fill but spying the man next to it. Sephiroth opens his eyes and Zack sees how they can’t focus. The washcloth goes aside on the floor. He’s not saying anything. Simply, he could not have the energy to fight him, to send him away but some part of him doesn’t think that is right. Even now, Sephiroth is strong enough to tell him no.
And he isn’t.
So Zack waits for the tub to fill and runs his fingers across the surface to put bubbles there. Now that he is aware of it, he can feel the mako. It vibrates in him. Mako does that. It’s a strange sensation of being close to something that is now part of him. Sephiroth hasn’t moved his hand from his chest.
Worrying.
The faucet chokes and hisses as he turns it off.
“Alrighty. One bath ready.” He turns to Sephiroth. He holds out a hand, to drag him up. There is no way that he’ll let himself be picked up so it isn’t worth trying. Sephiroth takes a breath, holds it and then puts his hands against the sink and the bath. Hauling himself up takes more effort than it should. His knees visibly shake.
The bathrobe falls open. It reveals the angry incision that runs down the middle of his chest.
“What the actual fuck,” Zack says before he can stop himself.
“I don’t…remember,” Sephiroth whispers.
“Sephir-”
“It will disappear. They always do.”
Silence takes over. Zack doesn’t know how to move, how to stand here knowing what he now knows. You can’t just move forward from someone saying shit like that. Every part of him is locked in place, trying not to destroy everything that might have touched this man.
Sephiroth shakes, caught between standing and easing into the water. It’s when he closes his eyes again, like he’s riding a wave of nausea, that Zack wakes up. He grasps a forearm and guides him to sit on the edge.
“I want to do this alone,” Sephiroth says.
“Let me help you in and then I’ll leave.” The scarcely hidden worry on Sephiroth’s face forces him to continue. “I’ll be right outside the door. Tell me when you are done. Then whatever you want from there?”
“The couch. Only the couch when like this.” Zack has to ignore how Sephiroth’s perfect control of language breaks.
He tries a smile instead. “One couch potato coming up.”
Sephiroth says near to nothing after that. Zack feels surprisingly embarrassed as he helps Sephiroth slide into the water naked. Maybe it is because he is fully clothed. Maybe it because Sephiroth feels so weakened. Regardless, it is a relief to close the door. He presses himself against the wood, steadying himself.
He waits until he hears splashing.
Then he moves on.
He has a right to be here now so he ransacks the kitchen. Premade rice and butter sit in small microwavable containers in the fridge. Chicken broth is in mugs wrapped in plastic wrap. Frozen chicken noodle soup is in the freezer. Sephiroth has it all set up to make it as easy as he can. It hurts his heart. How long has he had to do this?
He turns up the heat in the apartment. The blanket and pillow get spread out on the couch. The bag of medical stuff goes on the table. He doesn’t go through it. The wet smelly clothes get put in a trash bag and set in the doorframe of the dark bedroom. A lavender candle sits on the coffee table. Zack suspects he knows why now and lights it.
Staring at his phone, he makes the decision. He texts the SOLDIER HR line and says he’s caught food poisoning. He’ll be out for at least tomorrow and the day after. Please use vacation time. He sighs and puts his hands on his hips. The phone chimes with the autogenerated response telling him to feel better.
The apartment is silent. It’s weird with them both being here at the same time. He’s not used to this.
The water is a freakish glowing green when Zack comes back in. It had been ten minutes without any sound and he’s gotten worried. Sephiroth is slumped in the tub, completely out of it, hopefully asleep. The bath had taken the remaining energy he had. His head dips into his chest. Silver hair floats across the surface. Several strands cross in front of his face. Zack touches his shoulder and whispers his name. No response. Shit. Death by bathing is a bad way to go.
He feels for a pulse and finds it lazy and steady.
Well, that’s good.
He gives a harder shake to his shoulder and Sephiroth wobbles but stays under. Snapping near his ear gives the same result.
Zack paces and fusses with the bath towels. Clomping and his muttering does nothing to wake him. It’s probably drugs. Sephiroth is high on something. He has to be.
But Zack knows a raisin Sephiroth is not a good care plan.
Sephiroth’s lips are going blue too.
Fine. He’s going to have to do it. Sephiroth is going to crucify him later already. The damage is done and he absolutely can’t leave now. He takes off his watch and spreads out an extra towel. He stares at the black fabric of his shirt, thinks about taking it off but that would be even weirder, right?
The water is freezing as Zack puts his arms in.
“Don’t wake up and kill me, alright?” He asks the relaxed face.
He doesn’t say a thing when Zack snakes his arms around his back and legs. He waits an extra second. The contact does nothing. He grunts and lifts him out. The water drains away noisily. Zack holds his breath as he gets soaked. Sephiroth’s head rolls the natural limits of his neck and stops when it bumps against his chest.
Sephiroth’s eyelids flicker. His breath hitches. His body seizes.
“You’re okay,” Zack says quickly.
He stills.
“Shit man, that wasn’t supposed to work,” he whispers. It’s freaking magical. Not the drugs but that his reassurance actually did something. What has been going on in that brain?
This is not the first time that Zack has lifted Sephiroth but it always a shock at how light he feels. His build is so different than the rest of them who bodybuild. Also, he must have bird bones or something.
It is the longest that Zack has held Sephiroth as he rotates in the small space, only smashing Sephiroth’s feet against the mirror once. He’s reflexively curling up into his shirt. Zack is warmer than the air. It makes sense but Zack can’t help but imagine that it is something more. He’s so delicate. Even the way his feet sit on top of each other cries to him. Zack holds him closer, trying to make him even more comfortable as they make it to the couch.
Toweling him off gently on the couch creates jello Sephiroth. He pats around the bloody incision and feels sick. The skin he touches burns as Zack pulls on the loose clothes. He hopes Sephiroth will forgive him as he digs in the medical bag, finds the take-home instructions and wakes him up enough to take the prescribed medication.
This intimacy is so different. Zack is beside himself with emotions as he pulls the cover over the sleeping body. The peace on Sephiroth’s face could be a drugged-out mess but it’s not that way. Sephiroth is trusting him. The feeling is there. Before, Zack could see his mind working, calculating the limits no matter how blown out he got. Now, Sephiroth turns on his side curling up, ignoring Zack hovering over him.
Then he sighs, deep and content.
Zack swallows and has to look away.
Time passes easily. Zack sets up on the loveseat after convincing Cloud to pack him an overnight bag and deliver it to the strange apartment. He has to tell him why later. Sephiroth remains out of it. He wakes up a few times and that’s when Zack rouses himself no matter the hour to make sure he drinks some broth. Mostly they both rest.
Color returns to part of Sephiroth’s face the next morning. His highest functioning state is keeping his eyes open. Zack allows himself to turn on the TV and finds an odd amount of cooking shows prerecorded. He looks over at the doped-up man and raises an eyebrow. Fine. It’s already set on a cooking channel with the volume on low. Guns, news, violence, it doesn’t seem quite appropriate anyways.
He barely hears Sephiroth tell him that it always ends well.
Zack forces himself to ignore it. He’s treating this like the shakes, not making a big deal out of anything. It’s keeping them calm.
Zack doesn’t pay much attention to the show but Sephiroth curls into a ball of blankets and cushions. Zack swears that he’s watching the colors move with no more care than that. He moves to sit on the couch with him, a step before a cuddle, and hears the breath catch in his throat. He redirects to the bathroom.
One step at a time. Sephiroth is exhausted and healing. Zack tastes bitterness. It’s not for him. It’s for Sephiroth.
He’s thawing the soup on the stove when there is a knock on the door.
A preset food delivery? That seems about right. He heads towards the door.
Sephiroth jerks awake, the first real movement since he arrived.
“Zack, get in that closet. Don’t leave unless I say so.” Sephiroth’s voice is clear.
He stops surprised and looks back at him. “Hm? Not pizza?”
The knock comes again.
“Fair. The coat closet. Now.” The way he is electrically awake, everything stiff and tense, makes him obey. There must be a reason that he is burning through everything to be this aware. He feels ridiculous stuffing himself into the closet, pulling it closed behind him. The blankets shift. The knocking sound one more time and then the lock clicks open.
“I’m coming in,” A female voice he’s never heard says. A suitcase rolls in behind her. Zack doesn’t hear a response from Sephiroth.
“TV?” She sounds amused. “Are you feeling alright?”
“That’s what you are here to check, aren’t you doctor?” Sephiroth is icy. Zack dies to leave but if this is R&D, it might be best for him to stay secret.
“May I remind you that we only come here because you always refuse one of our recovery beds?” The rollers on the case come to a stop.
“I am fine here. Unobserved.”
“Careful. We could bring you back in.”
“I would like to see you try.”
The woman doesn’t comment.
Zippers open. Things clatter onto the coffee table. She must start an audio recording because she talks to herself. Her descriptions of his state are honest and unflinching. Machines click and chime. Numbers rattle off for the machine. Sephiroth becomes a set of statistics and vitals. His voice shakes as she asks him to breathe in and out. Gloves peel on. Zack has to bite his fist when he hears Sephiroth whimper. She announces it is still bleeding but healing.
“Any unexpected aches, pains, stress, headaches, feelings?” The question is breezy as the gloves snap off.
“Get out.”
“I’d love to but I need your answer.”
“No.”
“Sign here.”
A pen scratches paper. It clicks shut. The case closes. The woman rises. Shoes pad across the carpet. The door opens and then the lock reengages.
“Zack,” Sephiroth says after a minute.
He steps out.
Sephiroth sits stiff and pale. He is stern as he drills into Zack’s eyes. “You must promise me that you will not look into this. You will not stick your nose into things you do not need to know about. That you will not suffer the consequences as I do.”
“Y-y-yeah.”
Sephiroth shakes his head. “No. You will promise me this now.”
Zack’s throat knots. He says yes and he’ll never be able to exact any revenge against Hojo. Part of him knows that it is useless anyway. What could they do against Shinra? If Sephiroth is forced into this, what could he do?
“Zack.”
“I promise.”
Sephiroth shrinks back down, falling behind the headboard of the couch. The soup boils over on the stove. Zack has to hurry to it.
They spend most of the rest of the day in silence. The TV continues. Sephiroth eats what is put in front of him. The first day it is a fifty-fifty shot of staying down. Zack lays out everything in the R&D bag and makes note of what needs to be taken when. He dabs on creams to the cut and talks to him while he does it. Sephiroth isn’t all there. The doctor’s visit took everything. He’s distant but sometimes the words come back and Zack gets a response.
They both sleep in the living room again that night.
Somehow food manages to stay on day two. After the second cup of soup and fourth round of antibiotics and painkillers, he stops looking so damn wilted. Late afternoon and a solid nap later, things start to kick back into gear. Sephiroth asks for his phone which Zack has to find. They switch the channel to a movie. Zack starts to get the feeling that it is time to leave when Sephiroth gets up and makes his own plate.
He leans forward, trying to ask to stay but every way he builds the question collapses before he gets to the end. His thumbs war against each other. He drops his head forward. It’s not worth it. He’ll go so he doesn’t have to be disappointed.
“Zack,” Sephiroth says from the kitchen.
“Yeah man? What do you need?” He looks up. Sephiroth is putting rice in a bowl. Zack is relieved to see how smooth and confident those movements are. He’s seen the cut. It is starting to heal. Sephiroth pauses and leans against the counter, studying Zack.
“Would you care to spend the night? Not on the loveseat.”
Zack only makes indescribable noises.
Sephiroth’s face reddens and he looks away. “I still don’t believe I can-”
“Dude. I don’t care. I wouldn’t anyways. So yes.”
Sephiroth smiles into his bowl.
Zack pushes his hands against his face.
Nothing is fixed.
Man, it’s not even close.
But Zack wakes up the next morning with Sephiroth next to him in bed. He is right there only because he wants to be, no after sex crash to keep him. Zack reaches out to feel the warmth of his skin. It is impossibly smooth. His fingers draw lines between the tiny moles on his shoulder, measuring the distance between them.
Every part of him wants to ask him to be his boyfriend, to make this official. Even the thought of it makes him happy but it’s too soon. He knows that. So he settles forward and leaves a long kiss against that skin, making the promise that someday they would bridge the gap.
Sephiroth shifts back into his chest. His eyes open and recognize him with sleepy ease.
Then he is the one to drag them even closer.
To tuck his head.
To breathe in his air.
And together they live in that moment.