He cradled the plush toy near his chest and managed a faint, faint smile.

Fittingly, the sun had set and now, comforting darkness enveloped the room, with the only thing permeating the cloak of shadows being his glowing, emerald eyes. Pupils dilated reflexively, though there was nothing he wanted to see. The images were in his mind, and only in his mind.

A random accident concerning an éclair led Sephiroth to meet the albino man in the town near the headquarters. Sephiroth could still see it, the fascinating expressions that Cecil had when he was trying to be not afraid of Sephiroth’s intimidating presence and properly apologise for his mistake, though it was not entirely his fault for making Sephiroth drop the pastry. It reminded him of the chocobo he had bred back in SOLDIER, and had henceforth mentally equated Cecil to an albino chocobo.

His hand tightened around the plush toy, but he forced it to relax once more.

Sephiroth had agreed to accompany Cecil for lunch after those tense, awkward apologies, seeing as both of them had not had their midday meal. Cecil had chosen an exotic-looking restaurant, and he had gone along with his suggestion, displaying the spot of affection he had for the younger man unwittingly before they left for the restaurant.

The restaurant was foreign to the both of them, and upon setting foot into the restaurant, they realised that they had no idea what they were supposed to expect. They accepted the suggestions given by waitress, and promptly understood the meaning of ‘biting off more than you can chew’. It was not as much as about the size of the portion, it was about the food itself; the only thing that seemed edible to Sephiroth was the flatbread and the rice served. The stew that accompanied the staple foods was too spicy for his liking; chillies and spices swam amongst vegetables and some meat in the curry, and he could barely stop himself from wincing whilst he ate, before he decided to just fish the ingredients out from the curry and leave the gravy alone. However, Cecil was a good companion, after he got over feeling guilty for suggesting this restaurant. He told Sephiroth that, no, he was not a scholar, but instead, a field medic and a sentinel, then shared stories and information about his hometown, Lunaria, and about the people that he had left behind. Sephiroth, in return, gave reluctant bits about his past with SOLDIER and ShinRa, opting not to tell Cecil anything related to his less-than-comfortable childhood, though Cecil was certainly intrigued by the absence of Sephiroth’s last name.

Sephiroth had insisted on paying for the meal, against Cecil’s protests, because it was rare to have someone who could understand him, and despite of what they know, remain friends with him. Cecil got his small revenge afterwards; he had seen Sephiroth looking intently at a plush chocobo, and had slipped off, while Sephiroth was paying for the meal, to buy one for him.

It was all very good fun, but he should have known that it would not last. Nothing ever did.

After that, Cecil was gone.

It was as if he disappeared off from the face of Gran Pulse, and no matter how much Sephiroth tried, Cecil just was no longer around. No goodbyes, no explanations. All he had left was the plush toy, faithfully sitting atop his bedside table every day. That was the damning object that led him to hold on to hope, that maybe, Cecil would remember the plush toy and come back, one day. Maybe, just maybe, he would remember Sephiroth and come back, alive and whole in one piece, tugging at his sleeve to get his attention. He would make sure to smile more, so that he would not be so intimidating anymore. He knew, he knows, it was his fault that Cecil went away. It was always, always, his fault.

As long as there was that one percent of hope, of some chance, Sephiroth would wait, because he had to apologise for whatever that he did, or did not do. He had to.

And thus he did, against his nature. There is no use in fighting for a lost cause. That was what he would have said, before.

Of course, he knew about Project Stasis from his still-existing comrades afterwards and understood that the Cecil he knew would not be coming back. Still, he waited, because Cecil was not dead, Cecil was not somewhere out of reach, Cecil was alive somewhere and even if he had forgotten when he woke, Sephiroth would make him remember.

But would he remember? More importantly, could Sephiroth even bear to see Cecil again? Could he be as cruel as to unload all his emotional baggage onto…someone whom he did not know any more?

And yet…yes, he could. Yes, he would. He would, would he not?

And then again, who was Cecil anymore? Would he still be seeing the same kind and gentle chocobo who wore jewellery? Not likely.

The announcements today morning told him of the awakening of two volunteers from the Project, and one of them was Cecil.

Somehow, he was relieved that his wait was over. However, this also signified that he could no longer hold on to his memories of the Cecil he knew. He did not know Cecil. Not anymore. Not from this point onwards.

He smiled, because it was better than letting himself fully understand the consequences of Cecil’s awakening. Because it was better than crying. Because, why would he use a negative, forlorn expression to remember his interactions with Cecil? They were good memories, and they deserved a smile; Cecil Harvey deserved a smile from him, even if he was saying goodbye to all of them.

It did hurt. It hurt to admit that he had failed, that he had to bid farewell. It hurt to acknowledge the fact that his albino chocobo was gone forever and he would not be coming back anymore. He still did not understand why Cecil left, and it confused him and left him bitter. But not today. Today, he was going to be gracious and unselfish and finally, let Cecil go.

If there was a God somewhere, he thought as his eyes bored a hole into the windows, if there was a being more powerful than I am somewhere out there, he let out a shuddering breath, I…I want to go back to the days when I could still see him. I don’t want to forget anything.

From this point on, he did not know Cecil. Not anymore.