#misadventure

“You’re bored,” Genesis said. 

Sephiroth shook his head. “I’m not.”

“Why are you staring into space, like that?”

“Just thinking about life.” 

The two were sitting high up on the simulated Junon city walls, looking out over the holographic sea, at perpetual sunset. 

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Sephiroth asked.

Genesis closed his book. “I’m going to be a hero. So are you. That’s what we’re doing here. That’s the whole point.”

“I meant, apart from that. Isn’t there anything else you want for yourself?”

“What else is there?”

“I don’t know,” Sephiroth shrugged. “A family. A normal life.”

“Sephi, what you must understand, is that ours is a special existence. We’re not like the rest of those people, with their dull little humdrum lives, never doing anything important, or changing anything. We’re the ones who get to do that. We’re the ones who will make a mark on the world. Whose names will be remembered by history. So, who the hell wants that boring, domestic crap, with neighborhood associations and family dinners, and…lawn maintenance.”

“I’ve always wanted those things,” Sephiroth admitted. “I don’t think it sounds boring, at all.”

“You’re romanticizing it because you never had a normal life. Trust me, it’s not something to aspire to. It’s nothing but stifling drudgery.”

“You don’t even want a family?” 

“We’re sterile.”

“There’s adoption.”

“Either way, I don’t plan to have time for children. There’d be no point in me adopting some brats just for nannies to take care of them, while I’m out saving the world.”

“Oh,” Sephiroth said, looking down at his gloved hands.

“Worry not, my friend, you’ll be saving the world right along with me,” Genesis smiled, leaning over to bump their shoulders together. “You won’t have time for those domestic things, either, so it’s best to forget about it. Besides, who needs families, when we’ve got each other.”

Sephiroth looked up, and suddenly it seemed that their faces were very close together. 

“Gen,” he murmured.

“Sephi,” Genesis said, as he leaned even closer, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Sephiroth could feel his warm breath on his lips. He swallowed hard. “What are you…what are you doing?”

Genesis went stock still for a beat, then he pulled away hastily, golden-ivory cheeks blushing like ripe apples. “What are you doing! Why are you always pestering me when I’m reading, anyway! Leave me alone!”

“Wait, Gen, don’t—Gen come back!” Sephiroth called after him, as he ran away out the training room door. 

He planned to speak to Genesis the next day, after he’d cooled off, but he wasn’t at the briefing and he didn’t see him all morning. He was fretting so much, during lunch, that Angeal broke down and let it slip that Gen was taking a ‘mental health day’ i.e., pouting in his room. He shook his head and laughed as Sephiroth vanished, practically leaving a Sephiroth-shaped dust cloud behind.

“Gen, come on,” Sephiroth said, to the locked door. “Just let me in.”

“Go! Away!” Genesis’ muffled voice shouted back.

“Please? I really need to talk to you.”

“Anything you need to say you can say from out there!”

“Well…alright.” Sephiroth cleared his throat and raised his voice, to a volume at which he was certain to be heard clearly, through the door. “I’m sorry about yesterday! I wanted to kiss you!” Some passing SSCs looked over and began muttering amongst themselves. Sephiroth ignored them. “But, I wasn’t sure you wanted to kiss me. I didn’t want to presume and make a fool of myself so—”

The door banged open and Sephiroth was dragged bodily inside. 

“What the hell are you doing!” Genesis hissed. “Why are you shouting things like that, where everyone can hear!!”

“You told me to,” Sephiroth defended.

Genesis stuck his head out, peering up and down the hall, then pulled the door closed and locked it. “Are you attempting to drive me out of my mind, so that I’ll quit the program? Is that what it is? Are you that worried about me surpassing you and stealing your spotlight?”

“My spotlight?” Sephiroth asked, looking adorably confused—or, more accurately, he looked regular confused, but his hyperbolic attractiveness made everything he did look adorable.

Genesis sighed patiently. “The light used in a theater production, to call attention to the primary performer in a scene. An idiomatic way of saying that you’re the one everyone looks at. You’re Shinra’s famous war-hero.”

“Oh. I don’t want the spotlight, then. If someone would take it, I’d be happy.” 

“Hmph,” Genesis replied, tossing his head. “So you say, but you’ve never tried being out of the spotlight. Always playing second fiddle to the company’s golden boy, nothing more than a chorus girl at best.”

Sephiroth certainly would have been perplexed by that barrage of idioms, but he was staring at Genesis’ auburn hair, with his hands balled up into fists, because his fingers were itching to touch it. 

“You recall how they publicized my raid on that munitions factory last month as your heroic deed, correct?” Genesis was elaborating. “The raid for which you were not even present, let alone responsible?”

It looked like thin strands of that amber colored glass some pill bottles were made of. Would it be smooth and cool to the touch, like glass? Or would it be warm and soft, like a dog’s fur? (It must be noted that the only animal he had ever touched was a dog, making that his only context for comparison.)

“Sephiroth!” Genesis snapped, jolting him back to himself. 

Sephiroth blinked. “Hm?”

“Stop staring at me like that. You’re creeping me out.”

“Ah—apologies.”

“What are you looking at, anyway? Do I have a leaf or something?”

“Yes,” Sephiroth lied, decisively seizing the opportunity. “I’ll get it for you.”

Before Genesis could reply, he reached out and stuck his ungloved fingers into the fiery, copper hair. Ah-ha! It was silky and smooth, like glass! But it was also warm, like a dog’s fur. Interesting. His curiosity satisfied, Sephiroth drew his hand back, looking pleased with himself.

“Where’s the leaf? Did you get it?” Genesis prompted.

He then realized his mistake and fumbled for an excuse. “I was mistaken. It was nothing.”

Genesis scowled suspiciously at him and marched over to the small mirror, on the wall above his sink, to inspect his hair for any unauthorized objects. Nothing was amiss, but he kept fussing with it, for a minute.

Sephiroth returned to his purpose in coming here. “So, regarding yesterday.”

Genesis froze for a microsecond, but immediately regained his composure and went on adjusting his hair, in the mirror. “Hm? What about it?”

“I came to apologize. And…and to make sure all is well, between us.” 

Genesis, who was accustomed to Sephiroth’s stiff speech patterns, understood the gist, no matter how poorly expressed. He turned around to face him. “Did you really want to kiss me?” 

Sephiroth nodded. “I did.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes! Why! I want to know why!”

Sephiroth was in a pickle, now. He had been educated by Shinra scientists, and they had not allowed him to waste time on anything they deemed unnecessary to his function as a weapon. Amongst the chief time wasters were such trifles as literature, poetry, art, music, and any but the most basic human psychology. Thus, he had no words for the things he felt. 

Instead, jumbled ideas like exciting, beautiful, warm, precious, vibrant, all bounced around in his head, pinging wildly off each other and making an utter hash of his thoughts. 

“I…I don’t know,” he said helplessly, at last.

“You don’t know?” Genesis sounded annoyed, so he knew he’d said the wrong thing. 

“I mean, I don’t know how to say it,” he attempted. “There are a lot of reasons.”

Genesis looked down and then back up at him. “Do you still want to?”

“Yes.”

“Have you kissed anyone, before?”

“No. Have you?”

“O—of course I have! Lots of times!” Genesis stammered, blushing to the ears. “I’m nineteen years old, after all. It would be embarrassing if I hadn’t.”

Sephiroth’s big, blue-green eyes lit up. “Then you can teach me. I was nervous, because I was sure to do it wrong, but it’ll be fine, if you know how.”

“Obviously I can teach you. There’s nothing to it, actually. You just press your lips together. And sometimes you, uh. You…you know. With your tongues.”

Sephiroth stepped closer. This used to put them eye-to-eye, but that was before he hit his second growth spurt at age eighteen, and shot up another half a foot. Genesis looked up at him, as he loomed over him. Sephiroth leaned down. They closed their eyes. 

“Wait!” Genesis gasped, just before their lips made contact. “I…I can’t do this.”

Sephiroth drew back to look at him, and found his brilliant blue eyes were rimmed with pink. “What’s wrong?”

“I lied! I’ve never kissed anyone, either! And I will not have my first kiss be like this! In a dorm room, at three o’clock in the afternoon, with no romantic ambience whatsoever!” 

“What should we do?”

Genesis drew himself up and lifted his chin, regally. “If you want to kiss me…you have to take me out on a date.” 

Sephiroth gravely contemplated what this could mean, but Genesis saw his wheels spinning, and came to his rescue. 

“A date is a romantic outing, usually involving a meal and an activity. I want you to take me to see Loveless, on Saturday night. And then to dinner. At a proper restaurant, mind you, with tablecloths and candles and a dress-code.”

“I see. And, once we’ve done those things, then we can kiss?” Sephiroth asked.

“That’s how it works. We go on the date, and if you play your cards right, you’ll get a kiss at the end.”

“I don’t know any card games. Hojo didn’t allow frivolous distractions.”

Genesis looked aggrieved. “But why didn’t he allow you to learn any idioms?”

“He always said that idiomatic speech was vulgar, and he wouldn’t have me using it.”

“Goddess alive. That man certainly is a piece of work, isn’t he.”

Sephiroth gave a mirthless little chuckle. “Quite.”

“About our date, you’ll have to get permission from Lazard. Sooner is better, since he’ll have to arrange security and everything.”

“I’ll go see him right now.”

“Good. Then…it’s a date.”

Sephiroth smiled. “It’s a date.”

“A date? Absolutely not.”

Sephiroth frowned. “Why not?”

“Do you know what kind of time and resources we’d have to put into vetting whatever girl you wanted to take out?” Lazard returned. “Not to mention the mountain of paperwork she and her entire family would have to sign. Which would mean the legal department would have to get involved, as well as the Turks. In terms of manpower and budget, it’d be akin to running a top-level recon op.”

“What if there is no girl to vet?”

“What do you mean if—oh, fuck me. Sephiroth, do not tell me you’re…” Lazard took off his glasses and sat on the edge of his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ok, listen to me. Whoever he is, if you care about him at all, you will never, ever see him again. If Shinra gets the slightest whiff of you being entangled with a man, they’ll do whatever they can to get rid of him. And you know firsthand what they can do.”

The silver brows furrowed deeper. “Why would my dating a man be any different from dating a woman?”

“It may not have occurred to you, because you’ve been so sheltered, but every aspect of your public image is carefully curated, based on market analysis, social media trends, and canvassing public opinion. Your number-one demographic is heterosexual women, between 19 and 45. No matter how you swing, personally, you must keep up a heterosexual façade, for your public. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t care who you date, but it’s not.”

“I see,” Sephiroth said dejectedly. “Genesis will be disappointed, but I suppose it’s not meant to happen.” 

“Genesis?”

“Mn. He wanted me to take him on a date, to see a show and to have dinner.”

Lazard held up a hand to stop him, as he turned to go. “Hold on a minute. That…you may be able to do.”

“But Genesis is a man.”

“True, but you and Genesis are colleagues who work closely together. There’s nothing the female public loves more than handsome, male celebrities having platonic fun together. It humanizes you and makes them feel closer to you. Most importantly, it makes you look single. If you can behave yourselves, we can sell it as wholesome, heterosexual male-bonding. But you’ll have to take Angeal with you. If one of you is missing, it’ll look like there’s a schism on the team. The gossip rags will go apeshit.”

Sephiroth appeared unconvinced. “So, in order to avoid appearing homosexual, the three of us should all go on a date, together?”

“Exactly.”

“If you say so, then…alright. I’ll ask Angeal.”

“A date? Absolutely not,” Angeal said, crossing his muscular arms on his barrel chest. “I mean, I’m flattered and all, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to mix our work and personal lives. That’s how things get messy.”

Sephiroth felt a headache coming on. “I’ve been so confused that I’ve explained the situation poorly and confused you, too. Let me start over. Genesis wants me to take him on a date. Lazard said we could only go, if all three of us go, together. That way we’ll avoid appearing homosexual.”

“I don’t know how me being there is gonna stop you and Gen looking homosexual,” Angeal smirked. “But, if that’s Lazard’s condition, then sure. I’m happy to help you guys out.”

“You don’t disapprove? I thought you said it wasn’t good to mix our work and personal lives.”

“Look, to be honest, I was just trying to let you down easy. Even if you were my type, I respect you too much, as a friend and colleague, to think of you that way.”

“I see,” Sephiroth replied solemnly. “Does the same go for Genesis?”

“Yeah, sure, I respect him too much, too,” Angeal snorted. “Seriously, though, me and Gen have known each other since we were little kids. If there was gonna be anything romantic between us, there would have, by now.”

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

“Well, now that I think of it, I’m having trouble envisioning what type of person you would be interested in, romantically.”

Angeal shrugged. “Dunno. I guess I like happy people. Cheerful, upbeat, outgoing. Also, down to earth and unpretentious. So, you know. Pretty much the opposite of you two motherfuckers.”

“A cheerful, down-to-earth person does sound right, for you,” Sephiroth smiled. “I hope you find someone like that, one day.”

“Thanks. By the way, what makes you want to go out with Gen? I mean, I get that he’s a top-tier piece of ass, but he’s so…weird.”

“I don’t mind that he’s weird. I suppose I just feel drawn to him.”

“Yeah, like a moth to a hell-firaga,” Angeal chuckled, slapping him companionably on the back. “Watch out you don’t get burned.”

“Angeal, since we’re on the general topic, may I ask you something personal?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you…have you ever…”

“You trying to ask if I’m a virgin?”

Sephiroth nodded sheepishly.

“Not since I was fourteen. Banora is a pretty place to visit, but it’s as dull as ditchwater to live in. Gen grew up on the hill, with his fancy toys and cars and a pool and all that shit, but most of us were dirt poor. There wasn’t a whole lot to do without spending money we didn’t have, so when we got bored of the swimming hole and stealing apples, we got up to fucking.”

“We?” Sephiroth asked, bewildered.

“Me and the other kids my age. We swapped around a lot. It wasn’t really serious between any of us, just teenagers being teenagers.”

“How…how many times have you done it?” 

“Times? I can’t count. I had three or four partners, back then. Nine or ten, if we’re also counting after I joined SOLDIER.”

Sephiroth was stunned. “But how do you even find so many people to do that, with?”

“Well, I fuck girls and boys, so I have twice as many options,” Angeal grinned.

“And how do you approach them? It all seems so…frightening.”

“I don’t have to approach anyone. They come to me.”

“Strangers come to you and offer to have sex with you?”

“Yep. Us Firsts are at the top of the food chain, Seph. Everyone wants a taste. You’ve had those kind of offers too, right?”

“No. Never.”

“Huh.” Angeal rubbed his goatee musingly. “I wonder why that is.” 

“I don’t know. I’m physically attractive, am I not?”

“According to Midgar Magazine, you’re the Sexiest Man on the Planet. People are probably just scared to approach you.”

“Mn. You may be right. I have been told I’m intimidating, due to my height, my lack of expression, and always being armed.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve never been scared of you,” Angeal offered. “When I met you, you were still a scrawny little beanpole.”

“I wasn’t scrawny, I was lean,” Sephiroth contended. “I was within the normal weight range for my age and height.”

“Yeah, your height of five-foot-four.”

“You were only five-foot-eight.”

“Which is the average height for adult males.”

“I’m taller than you, now.”

“And getting even taller.” Angeal eyed him appraisingly, then frowned. “You’re still too thin, though. Have you been eating enough? Do I have to cook proper meals for you and make you eat them, again?”

“I’m not allowed to gain any weight. They’re photographing me for some kind of promotional campaign, next month. I have to be in peak condition.”

“Can you even put on fat, if you want to?”

“Not any significant amount. I wish I could, though,” Sephiroth sighed, looking fretfully down at his bare chest. “The marketing people say it’s visually appealing, but I dislike seeing my muscle fibers so clearly beneath my skin. It looks grotesque, to me.”

“Fucking bastards,” Angeal growled. “I hate that they make you stay at an unhealthy weight, just to parade you around in the press. As soon as we retire from SOLDIER, you’re gonna live with me. I’ll cook you three full meals a day and no one will make you work out. We can become fat old men, together.”

“I would like that,” Sephiroth said, smiling wistfully at the thought of a peaceful retirement, with his best friend and a lot of good food, and all the time in the world, to enjoy both. “Genesis won’t want to get fat, though. He’s very particular about his silhouette.”

“He’s not invited, anyway,” Angeal declared. “He can go be a snob in his big mansion, with an army of paid lackeys to tell him how beautiful he is.”

Sephiroth didn’t like the bitter edge he sensed in Angeal’s remarks about Genesis, sometimes, so he just smiled placidly and changed the topic, thinking secretly that he’d never choose either of them over the other, so they’d just have accept that they were all going to be together forever, and learn to get along.

Lazard did his best not to let it get blown it out of proportion, but there was no way around it. Shinra’s PR people had to be informed that the SOLDIERs First Class were going on an outing in public, without proverbial adult supervision and so, of course, the entire thing turned into a circus. 

Obviously, Shinra couldn’t let just anybody have the honor of seeing a play in the same theatre as their precious SFCs, so the entire venue had to be bought out and the seats assigned to the right people. 

The result was that, leading up to the night of the show, there was a (metaphorical, thank the goddess) bloodbath among the press and the wealthy elites, alike, all climbing over one another to curry favor, in hopes of scoring an invitation.

The three young men who had caused all this commotion were largely unaware of it, but their lives were also in a general uproar. 

First, the PR team chose the most posh, exclusive, wildly expensive restaurant in Midgar, so all three young men had to be fitted for tuxedos. The Firsts couldn’t be seen to look like stodgy old men, though, so they were put in hipper, less formal versions of the standard black-tie wear, each wearing a cocktail jacket in what the team had decided was their signature color (white for Sephiroth, cranberry red for Genesis, and black for Angeal).

Second, they were taken off all their actual assignments, and made to sit in the briefing room all day, listening to the PR team drill them on how to conduct themselves properly in every possible eventuality, including but not limited to, natural disasters, man-made disasters, gotcha questions from the press, terrorist attacks, and encounters with overenthusiastic fans. 

By the time Saturday night rolled around, Sephiroth was exhausted, irritable, and didn’t want to hear another word about this cursed outing. He was seriously considering faking an injury and getting the entire thing called off, but then he thought about the potential reward for ‘playing his cards right’, and found the will to carry on. 

“Not exactly what I had in mind, for a first date,” Genesis remarked, as they climbed into the armored limo, in the Shinra Tower garage. 

“I know,” Sephiroth said miserably. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Shinra can’t just let us enjoy anything.”

“Come on, cheer up, guys,” Angeal bluffly exhorted them. “We’re stuck doing this, now, so we may as well make the best of it. Try to have a good time.”

“Try to look like you’re having a good time, at least,” advised the PR coordinator, who was also climbing into the limo. 

“Who let you in here,” Genesis scowled. 

The woman ignored the comment and tapped at her data pad, looking very official. “There’s already a crowd at the venue, so remember: big smiles, wave to the cameras, stop to shake hands with no more than two fans each, and do not answer any questions, whatsoever. Got it?”

“Got it,” the three young men answered glumly, as the convoy of armored vehicles got underway.

Sephiroth’s trepidation increased, as they approached Loveless Avenue, but it really wasn’t that bad. Not if one ignored the mob of paparazzi with their disruptive shouts and flash-bulbs, the screaming fans that lined the streets behind the barricades, holding up signs made with markers and glitter paint, proclaiming ‘MARRY ME SEPHIROTH’ and ‘GENESIS IS MY GODDESS’ and ‘DADDY ANGEAL’, etc., and the army of Shinra troops and black-suited Turks, trying to maintain order.

After that night, Sephiroth found that he didn’t remember a single minute of the first half of the play. His hypervigilance was in full effect, and he was overstimulated to the point that he self-protectively detached his psyche and went numb, leaving his body on autopilot. 

What he did remember, was about halfway through the ordeal, when he felt a warm pressure and glanced down, to find Genesis surreptitiously squeezing his hand, in the little space between their seats. Sephiroth held tightly to that comforting hand, and made it through the rest of the play, without any more defensive dissociating.

Dinner was less grueling, since the restaurant didn’t allow press to come in, and the atmosphere inside was relaxing and intimate. He ate what Angeal ordered and didn’t taste a bite of it, but Genesis kept holding his hand, under the table (which was lit with candles and covered in a linen tablecloth, just as he’d wanted), so Sephiroth considered dinner a success.

When they returned to Shinra Tower, the three were still a little high on the excitement of the evening, and after they changed out of their suits, they met in the training room, to hang around on the giant, simulated Junon cannon, and enjoy the fake view, as was their habit. 

At least, they were supposed to. After Genesis and Sephiroth arrived, Angeal sent a text saying he was bushed, and wasn’t joining them. It was such an obvious ploy to give them privacy, that even socially oblivious Sephiroth understood it. 

“So, here we are again,” Genesis said awkwardly, tucking his hair behind his ear. 

He was wearing a loose, black sweater that hung off one shoulder, and his thermal leggings. Sephiroth, who rarely saw him in anything but his signature crimson, was stunned. The black set off the brilliant copper in his hair perfectly, and made his golden-ivory skin seem to glow. 

“You look so beautiful in black,” he blurted out, then looked away, embarrassed. “N—not that you don’t, usually. It’s only that…you look especially good. In…in that black sweater.”

Genesis arched an auburn brow. “We went out tonight, dressed up to the nines, tens, and elevens, and now that I’m at home, in my schlubby, laundry-day clothes, you finally want to compliment how I look?”

Sephiroth nodded earnestly. “I like this better. It’s more…you.”

“Well, I do have excellent taste in textiles,” Gensis sniffed. “This is handwoven cashmere, from the wool of Nibel mountain goats.”

“It’s so soft,” Sephiroth murmured, stroking the arm of the sweater. “Much softer than a dog.”

Genesis blinked. “A…a dog?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing. Nevermind. Shall we sit down?”

They made chit-chat about the play Sephiroth only partially remembered, for a while, but Genesis seemed to be getting increasingly agitated, and kept fidgeting and jumping up to pace around. Finally, he stood in front of Sephiroth, with his feet planted and his hands on his hips. 

“Sephi. My friend. I have been as patient as a man can be, but I can no longer persevere, and I must ask. Are you ever. Going. To GODDAMNED KISS ME??”

Sephiroth looked startled. “Was I meant to initiate it? I was afraid to seem too eager.”

Genesis lower lip trembled imperceptibly. “No. It’s fine. If you don’t want to now, it’s totally fine. It’s not like I’ve even care. I was just about to say I’m too tired, anyway. So. I—I’m leaving. Goodnight.”

As he turned to run away, he was caught by the arm and yanked back. Sephiroth used a touch too much force, though, and he slammed face-first into his ample chest.

“Ow,” said Genesis voice, muffled by Sephiroth’s uniform turtleneck (which for some reason, he only wore without the rest of the uniform, which in turn, he only wore without the sweater).

“Sorry. I’m not very good at modulating my strength.”

“Hmph,” Genesis replied, with his face still buried between Sephiroth’s absurd pectoral muscles.

“Gen.”

“Hm?”

“Have I played my cards sufficiently?”

Mako-blue eyes emerged from the cleft in his chest and peered up at him. “I guess.”

“Then, may I—”

Before the request was all the way out, his mouth was stopped by Genesis, who pressed his lips to Sephiroth’s like it was the opening move of a duel. They drew apart and looked at one another, wide-eyed, then pressed together again, this time more softly. 

They were both new to this, so it was clumsy and awkward, but they sort of got the hang of it. When their tongues touched, Sephiroth hummed low and soft, in his throat. A big arm tightly encircled Genesis’ waist, and a weapon-calloused hand worked into his hair, as the kiss deepened. 

When they finally drew apart, they were breathless and flushed with heat. Sephiroth’s slit pupils were blown big and round in his blue-green irises. Genesis’ hair was tousled, his eyes were watery and unfocused, and the tip of his nose was tinged with pink. 

He became self-conscious, under Sephiroth’s rapt gaze, thinking he must be a mess, but he had no idea that he’d never looked so logic-defyingly gorgeous, as he did at this moment, blushing and disordered from being kissed, for the first time. Sephiroth, in turn, also became self-conscious, in the face of such overwhelming loveliness.

Suddenly awkward, they both looked away, dabbing their wet, kiss-bruised lips with the backs of their hands. Sephiroth kept stealing glances at Genesis. He wanted to kiss him again, but he didn’t dare.  His head was still spinning with euphoria, and he was afraid to do something stupid and spoil it all.

When Genesis reached out and he felt that warm, reassuring pressure, holding his hand, his chest ached and his stomach fluttered, with all the uncertainty and elation of the first bloom of young love. It felt like a beginning.

If only they’d had more time to be innocent children, together. To learn to love and be loved. Before what people called 'the schism in the SOLDIER top ranks.' Before they were driven apart by forces beyond their control.

But they had that one night. Sephiroth never forgot it. Not while he lived, at least. Though the flame of his life was to burn brightly and briefly. 

It was that night, in his mind, when he lay awake on his cot, in his steel-walled quarters, racked with anxiety and confusion, stomach twisted into knots, choking alternately on abject grief and bitter resentment, unable to even weep for his missing friends. Agonizing over why. Why they’d left him. Why they hadn’t asked him to go with them. Why they hadn’t even told him. 

It was that night on his mind, when he refused to be the one to hunt them down. When he kept up a strong and steady façade, for his subordinates, and went numbly about the motions of doing his job, because that was all he’d ever had. It was all he’d ever been. A SOLDIER. A weapon. A tool. 

It was that night, on his mind, when his young replacement teammate remarked that the three of them must have been close friends. He wasn’t so sure, anymore. Do friends pry open your shell and tear down your guard, only to abandon you, without so much as a goodbye? Do friends break your heart? 

He wanted to ask that young SOLDIER these questions, but his tongue wouldn’t form the words. He was too humiliated by his inability to understand why he’d been abandoned, yet again. He couldn’t bear to lower the mask, and let that hopeful and bright-eyed youth see that Shinra’s hero was nothing but a walking mass of hideous wounds, repeatedly shattered and shoddily patched back together. A coward and a failure. And soon, a monster. 

It was that night on his mind, when Genesis spoke those cruel words, blithely driving in the knife of betrayal, to the hilt. When, in pain and confusion and anger, he spoke what would turn out to be his last words, to his only remaining friend. After all, what did it matter? He was never really a friend. He was not even a human being. 

You will rot.

It was that night she purged first from his mind. As the strands of memory were severed, he felt himself become light, relieved of the burden of love and the pain of loss. Purified of human attachments.

Friendship was a gibberish term, with no useful definition. Hope and love were tools for manipulating lesser beings. Beauty and truth were alien concepts. 

All living things were reduced to their biological functions, and categorized in terms of usefulness. His eyes became a tool for analysis, without appreciation.

The only colors left to him were blue and gold. The blue in one specific pair of eyes. The gold of one specific head of hair. These, she was either unable or unwilling to erase. All the rest of the vast spectrum of visible light was reduced to efficient, uniform monochrome.

He couldn’t see the color of blood, anymore, though he could smell the chemical composition that would cause it to reflect that frequency of electromagnetic radiation. 

He paused. Hadn’t there used to be something that color? A long coat? A lock of warm and silky hair? A wall of billowing flames? But, no. That was all useless nonsense, from before.