#bone apetit

His moments of genuine joy were sparse, but as vibrant as the people who influenced them. And whenever he did catch a break from the incessant turmoil in his mind, that joy overwhelmed him.

It was moments like sitting on Angeal's kitchen counter, swinging his bare feet with his hair messily pulled up into a knot. Genesis' laugh was akin to rain after a year of drought: heavy and unrelenting in how much he laughed.

Angeal liked to tell jokes while he cooked. He would occasionally put the spoon up to Sephiroth's mouth, asking him to test the flavor.

“Lazard has a point,” Genesis muttered one time, handing Sephiroth a wine glass, “we're all connected at the hip.” He grabbed the wine bottle from the top shelf and turned to them. “Because tell me why I had a party I was invited to, but instead I chose to spend my Friday night with you two?”

Angeal continued to stir the pot. He huffed.

"Must be our irresistible charm," he teased, glancing at Sephiroth.

Sephiroth, though typically stoic, couldn't help but crack a smile.

“Irresistible charm,” Genesis parroted Angeal’s tone, then scoffed, adding an annoyed “Give me a break” before popping the cork off the bottle.

For those fleeting moments, the maelstrom in his mind quieted to a gentle breeze. Those sparse, vibrant bursts of joy flowed effortlessly, a respite from his weaponized existence.

Those nights in Angeal's kitchen became akin to an anchor grounding him in a reality he had previously not known.

But that was a year ago, three weeks before the accident in the training room.

Now, three weeks after they deserted, Sephiroth stood in Angeal's empty kitchen, the same space that had once been filled with that very same joy.