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Final Fantasy VII: Angelic Threnody	By : DarkSeraphim1 Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1315 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core, Before Crisis, or Dirge of Cerberus. I do not profit from the writing and/or posting of this fic. I am just a humble fan paying tribute to another's wonderful creations.

Chapter List
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Chapter Two
       ‘My soul, corrupted by vengeance, hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey in my own salvation, and your eternal slumber.’ -Loveless, Act IV

            For the first time in years, he was granted the sensation of solid ground beneath his feet. Sephiroth smiled faintly at the almost forgotten feeling, rocking back of forth on booted feet, his deprived senses heightened to an astonishing degree. The wind played with his overlong silver hair, tossing it to and fro, sending shivers racing across skin that for eight long years had felt absolutely nothing. The fresh spring breeze was accompanied by the unmistakable scent of Banora Whites, and a pang of nostalgia hit, so strong that it was all he could do to remain upright. While he and Genesis had never actually shared Banora’s ’dumbapples’, he and Angeal had, and it was one of his most cherished memories.
            He felt a pang at the thought of their steady, long-dead friend and quickly thrust it away. Now was not the time to be distracted by such emotion. There was too much to be done. He closed his eyes just long enough to hunt out another, subtler, more distinctive scent, and his knees nearly buckled as he found it. Spicy, faintly sweet, with the hint of cinnamon he remembered so well, yet it carried an undercurrent of darkness that he had always associated with Genesis, and that darkness stirred him to the depths of his own blackened soul.
            Genesis.
            “I’m home,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering open as he sighed with contentment. What was left of Banora surrounded him in a veritable forest of vegetation. The ‘dumbapple’ trees had regrown, their quick growth probably due to the high levels of mako that coursed beneath Banora’s earthen roads. They arched improbably high overhead, each bearing more of the sweet fruits than they ever had in the past. Some of the trees twisted in their ascent, curving over the remains of Banora’s buildings, incorporating what once been metal and wood into their mako-laced trunks.
            Sephiroth reached up and snagged the closest apple, not bothering to check for imperfections before lifting it to his lips. He sank his teeth into the sweet fruit, laughing softly as the juice caused his taste buds to explode, wondering why he had never sampled the delight with Genesis when he had had the chance. He chewed happily as he strode through the remains of his lover’s hometown, charmed once again by Banora’s stunning simplicity, although he could see why Genesis had so longed to escape it.
            This simple, lovely little hamlet was too quiet, too plain for his passionate, vibrant friend. Genesis Rhapsodos had been meant for greater things. The tranquil life of a wealthy landowner wasn’t for him. Genesis had yearned to be a hero, to be seen as something more than he believed he was. Instead, he had taken second place to a man he had envied as much as he’d loved.
            And Sephiroth had been too arrogant to see it. Not until the end, when Genesis had bluntly claimed that he had stolen what rightfully his, had Sephiroth had even an inkling that his very existence had thwarted his lover’s ambitions. To this day, Sephiroth didn’t know what he could have done to change things. Genesis had meant everything to him, and he had never tried to hide his feelings. Well, not more than he normally had. He hadn’t been the most open of men, and perhaps, that was what had doomed his relationship with the fiery SOLDIER.
            If only. . .Sephiroth sighed, this time a bit sadly. Yes, he had been arrogant, both in his own abilities and in his power over Genesis. He had been so certain that, no matter what problems rose between them, he could fix them by simply kissing his lover into submission. In hindsight, he knew that using Genesis’ own passionate nature against him had been a mistake. He had left the other man feeling as though he were a puppet, dangling by strings his coolly passionate lover controlled with embarrassingly little effort.
            He smiled wryly at the thought, only absently noting that he was drawing closer to the orchard Genesis’ parents had owned, thinking of all he had never revealed. If only Genesis had known how strongly he affected him, how close he had come to losing control during their fights, how hard it had been to keep his own cold fire banked in the face of the other’s overwhelming ardor. Would Genesis have treated him more kindly, had he been privy to the truth? Would he have understood that Sephiroth’s need to be loved was nearly as great as his own? Or would he have scoffed and dismissed such a notion, assuming that the great general was merely paying lip service to his own emotional needs?
            Perhaps, he thought as he came to a sudden, abrupt stop, he would soon find out. There, in the overgrown orchard, standing before a dilapidated windmill, was a figure he knew all too well. Tall and slender, the graceful lines of his back were not concealed by the atypically dark clothing he wore. Much like his own chosen attire, Genesis was clad from neck to foot in smooth, supple black leather. It was so unlike his usual scarlet attire that Sephiroth found himself frowning as he took a step forward.
            “So, you came.”
            That rich, smooth, cultured voice washed over him, whisking him back to a happier time, one where this man had writhed beneath him, that unforgettable voice breaking as passion overtook them both. Sephiroth inhaled sharply, drawing on every ounce of self-control he possessed, and he kept his feet rooted firmly to the ground.
            “Yes,” he answered at length, wincing at the awkwardness of his tone. He had never been good at verbal expression, and it had never been more evident than now, as he desperately sought the eloquence that had always eluded him. “Genesis...”
            “Mmmm?” That auburn head lifted slightly, sending smooth strands of fiery hair dancing across those narrow shoulders, longer than he had ever seen them. “And why, pray tell, did you come?”
            Sephiroth’s frown deepened at the careless question. “For you,” he said finally, forcing himself to be open, intentionally leaving himself vulnerable. “I came here for you.”
            “Did you?” Genesis tilted head down, only the faintest hint of mako-blue eyes showing as he peered over his right shoulder. “Why now? Why not eight years ago, when I truly needed you?”
            Sephiroth couldn’t contain his flinch at the pain those words caused. “I was... not myself that day,” he whispered, his too-deep voice harsh with guilt.
            Genesis turned then, and Sephiroth gasped as sunlight played over those utterly beautiful, wholly masculine features. “And just who were you?” he asked, his voice taking on an edge. “Will you use Jenova to excuse your betrayal of me--of us?”
            He bit back the angry retort that sprung to his lips, for it truly didn’t matter who had betrayed who first. It couldn’t, not if he wanted to eliminate the distance between them. “No.” His voice was low, nearly inaudible as he spoke, though Jenova had made her presence known in his mind that day. “You had hurt me, broken my heart, shattered my world. I wanted to hurt you in return.”
            A faintly bitter smile graced those mobile lips. “At least, you admit it.”
            Sephiroth closed his eyes briefly. “How can I not when it is true?”
            He heard the whisper of leather on grass and opened his eyes. Genesis was walking towards him, his stride slow and utterly graceful, much like the cat Sephiroth had long ago likened him to. He was power and heat and everything sensual, a blazing inferno hidden behind soft, glowing azure blue. Sephiroth could only stand and wait, watching his approach with need so great that it was nearly pain. It had always been like this, he thought absently. Genesis had to only look his way and his body reacted. That much, at least, had not changed.
            The older, slightly shorter man came to a halt just out of arms length, a move calculated to torment, to tease, as was the come-hither smile. This, he was also familiar with. “You left me to rot,” came the hurt, bitter words, hidden beneath a deceptively pleasant tone. “Why should I trust you, now?”
            Sephiroth released a slow, quiet breath. “I have changed,” he murmured, his cat-like green eyes locking onto the other’s. “I am not the same man who turned you away.”
            “No?” Genesis’ smile changed, becoming cold, as he took a step back. He raised his left hand to his face, his beautiful eyes closing, and Sephiroth somehow knew what was coming. A large, feathered wing sprung from Genesis’ left shoulder, black as sin, its feathers thick and full and beautiful, as beautiful as the man himself.
            Genesis’ expression showed challenge as he lowered his arm and smiled wolfishly. “Now, tell me you would not turn from a monster such as myself, one you yourself left to rot?”
            Sephiroth could only shake his head, wishing he were able to shed tears, as he saw the damage his angry yet carefully calculated words had caused. “I am sorry,” he said in a strangled voice. “I never meant--”
            “Tsk, tsk,” Genesis scoffed, cutting off the emotional, honest confession in mid-sentence. “Surely, you don’t expect me to believe that? After all, your words were designed to wound, were they not?”
            “Yes, I‘ve admitted as much.” Sephiroth could only step towards him helplessly, reaching out with a suddenly trembling hand, determined to show him what he would not allow to be spoken. “Genesis, please--”
            Genesis knocked his hand aside, stepping out of reach once again. “No, no, Sephiroth, you don’t get to touch. You lost that right a long time ago.”
            It was all Sephiroth could do not pounce and force the other man to acknowledge his feelings. He struggled with his more dominant instincts, which clamored for him to claim what was his, and damn the consequences. But that had been a part of the problem before, and he was determined not to repeat those mistakes. His gloved hands clenched into fists at his side, then opened as he finally forced his unruly emotions to calm.
            “ Koneko,” he murmured, using the pet name that had alternately infuriated and pleased the other man, depending on his mood, “don’t do this. Don’t tear us apart again.”
            “Don’t call me that!” That mocking, infuriating calm was gone now, replaced by the furious fire Sephiroth remembered so vividly. A sword appeared in his right hand, the ruby blade glinting dangerously in the twilight. “Don’t you ever fucking call me that, again!”
            Sephiroth could no more hold back his smile than Genesis could his anger. “I’ve missed you, Gen.”
            “Fuck you, Sephiroth!” Genesis rushed him, intent on doing as much damage as possible, only to scream with outrage as he smoothly stepped out of the way. “Fight me, gods damn you!”
            “No,” Sephiroth responded smoothly, dodging yet another strike intended to take his head. He refused to call Masamune, refused to give into the anger that was slowly coursing through his own veins. “I will not fight you, Genesis. Never again will I do anything to harm you.”
            “Bullshit,” the redhead spat heatedly, “as if you could do anything but!”
            He continued to dodge, trying to reason with his furious lover. Never one to see reason, Genesis continued to attack, fully intent on handing him his head if he could. Sephiroth could only hope that the other man’s stamina would give before his own, or Genesis was going to do something that they would both regret.
            Night began to fall, the chorus of rousing crickets heralding their own dawn, when Genesis finally began to tire. He stumbled, the Rapier lashing out in a weak strike as his hand trembled. “Damn you,” he rasped. “I won’t let it end this way.”
            “But it must,” Sephiroth whispered in return. “It must end, so we can begin anew.”
            Bitter laughter spilled forth, tainting those beloved features, echoed in the bright azure eyes which had haunted him for so long. “There is no ‘anew’, Sephiroth. There are no second chances, not for us.”
            “And why not?” he questioned, his voice uncharacteristically gentle as he took a daring step towards him. “Have we not suffered enough? Don’t we deserve the chance to be happy?”
            “Happy.” Genesis shook his head, tears glittering in his own eyes, as he choked out, “You don’t understand, Seph.”
            “Then, tell me.” Sephiroth lifted one gloved hand to cradle the side of his beloved’s face. “Help me understand why you believe we can’t be together.”
            Genesis’ eyes closed, a tear slipping past the silky confine of his lashes, even as he leaned into the touch. “My soul, corrupted by vengeance,” he quoted, much to his lover’s growing dismay, “hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey in my own salvation, and your eternal slumber.”
            “Genesis,” he whispered with the horror of growing realization, “no.”
            Shimmering azure eyes locked on his, regret and determination mixing in their mako-infused depths. “I’m sorry, Seph.”
            It took a moment for the pain to register. Sephiroth looked down to find the Rapier lodged in his stomach, the hilt resting against torn skin and leather. He watched numbly as Genesis pulled it free, stumbling back, crying freely as did so. Sephiroth could only clutch at the wound, remembering a similar one, dealt by a young boy in a mako reactor a lifetime ago.
            Perhaps, a part of him had known that it would come to this, perhaps he was still lost in his own madness. Either way, he would not deny Genesis what he needed to complete his own redemption.
            He looked up at his lover, his killer, and smiled gently. He would give Genesis all that he could in the last minutes of his wretched existence. He forced his own wing into existence, the smile widening at Genesis’ shocked gasp. “You were never the monster,” he rasped, and offered Genesis the one thing he had always yearned for. “To become the dew that quenches the land, to spare the sands, the seas, the skies, I offer thee this silent sacrifice.”
            He slumped to the ground, his pale green eyes slowly fluttering closed, his last sight of Genesis, arms and wing flung wide towards the suddenly turbulent sky, screaming his grief to a world that truly did abhor them.
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Final Fantasy VII: Angelic Threnody