Synopsis: While training as a Shinra doctor under your uncle Gast’s influence, you are tasked with caring for Sephiroth, the company’s most valuable soldier. As experiments and missions tear at his humanity, you become his only refuge; clinging to stolen tenderness in a world that was never meant to let both of you be human.
Multiple-Chapter Work || AO3 || Prologue.
This story contains themes of medical experimentation, torture, psychological abuse, self-harm, and suicide. It also explores trauma, grief, and loss. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Please take care of yourself, and do not hesitate to step away if any part of this story becomes distressing.
Chapter TWs: Trauma, grief, emotional manipulation, loss, guilt, death references and distressing authority confrontation.
𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒.
You were asked so many times it left a print in your mind that time nor god’s hand can erase: why weren't you there for him? No one did ask out loud: you heard it under their tongues, you've seen it in their eyes and none of your super senses could've ignored it. It may have been years, but recounting everything made it start all over again: the first arrow, the first kiss, the first love and then— the first trip over the cliff of your life.
“What are you thinking of?”
You averted your gaze from the ceiling to him just as he spoke; his voice always hauled you from your thoughts no matter how deep you were in them. It was for your own eyes to see how Sephiroth’s had that unworldly wonder in them— it was not the color, not the feline shape, but the jollity in them that didn't need to be screamed or laughed, he was just happy inside.
He looked happy.
“Something” you smiled.
“Which is?”
At your chest rested his head, still looking up at you, green lenses reflecting your image in them; fingers of a hand in his hair, the other securing his elbow to your side. It was one of those rare moments when everything was alright with the world; no experiments, no check-ups, and surely better, no missions— even for a little while.
You mentally worded before saying “How I don’t dream much when I'm asleep”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Not really” adjusting your position a little while holding him still, you continued “But it's strange how out of all times in my life, when I didn't see anything in sleep, to recently see… visions” you weren't sure whether the last word was correct in its sense; it was artificial to try and relate to something that wasn't tied to you like it's tied to others.
“Of what?” He asked ever so sweetly— your sweet Sephiroth, the way you remembered him, not as he was told by Shinra.
“You”
The word dropped low from your lips and hooked his eyelids up— so slightly another eye can't catch except yours; you thought sometimes that he wasn't in full control of his own face threads. He didn't say anything for moments, slowly seeping the mere word ‘You’ and its possible interpretations. He was a smart boy, given less credit than he deserved and more weight than he could have carried. He moved even closer; muttering too close to your face “What do you see?”
The smile stitched itself across your face, involuntary and sudden like a good memory. you held a lock from his bangs and twirled it between your fingers and the way it ringed your digit; hair holds memories indeed.
“I've seen you one night extending your wings” you mimicked the gesture of a bird ready to fly with an arm, the other cradling him still “Floating high… so high I only saw you like a satellite, Moon's snow and sky dark” you lowered your arm again to hold his shoulder “I called out to you but you didn't hear me”
He laughed— laughed, really laughed; a short-lived joyful sound you memorized all of its strings. If only the human memory could record you'd hear his laugh for an eternity.
“I have only one wing”
“I know” you pushed back his bangs behind his ears “In my dream you had two”
He leaned into your palm “Why do you think that is?”
“I don't know” whispering “Dreams are silly most of the time. They don’t mean anything”
The quietness of after hours painted everything in a prismatic peace, nothing mattered now except this feeling of amity. your hand brushing his head, seeking bliss from his very existence. The pause wasn't bothered as he started “Do you think…” a winter night weathered his lilt “I could ever really have two?”
The movement of your hand froze. You blinked at him, he wanted an answer.
“You already have”
His eyebrows knit “I only have one”
“No” your hand moved again, channeling the tenderness eating your nerves into the act of comforting him “You have one others can see, and one you keep to yourself.”
He went as still as water underground. You don’t remember any words after that, just the way he lifted your hand from his shoulder, held it with both palms; they were warm, a heat you've never felt in any other human being– none of them held a candle to what Sephiroth had. It was for your own senses to feel and internalize, not to be told and shared— Adam would've kept his paradise pure if he was given a second chance, why tarnish what you held so precious to your heart?
You gently tapped the sides of his arms, asking permission. His expression was neutral, staring, just staring, till a slow, small smile curving up his mien, nodding: a yes. Just as that, you took him in your embrace and heavens, you'd be glad to have your ribs tangled with his as far as the time would end. Time stopped, the universe went silent, only the echoes of his pulse atop yours: leisure, shy and full of life. His scent fills your lungs the way the light fills the planet; consuming in love and all air to roses. His arms rose, demurely mirroring the manner of yours on his back, short hair tickling your cheeks.
“Oh sweet boy…” you whispered, spilling it in his ear “...You're more than what they say about you”
“You're more human than all of them combined…”
“Doctor Faremis!”
The unmistakably nasal voice peeled you off from your reverie— who wouldn't be other than the Jykyllian embodiment of modernism, the great Professor Hojo?!
You didn't bother to stand, merely putting down a leg from the other and straightening your back across the chair “Yes, Professor?”
His gaze was to be followed, not seen: anyone barely saw his eyes behind the dark glasses— that was in fact a favor he did to everyone around him, not like they were a ray of sunshine to be spared sight “Still spending your nights here?” he asked, tone color of burnt wheat “Old habits die hard, I suppose”
Why not you? You chewed the retort back to your throat, maintaining the calmness “Someone has to make sure the equipment is functioning.”
“Always so responsible” He strided along the small room, judging the white wall as if it wasn't supposed to be there. The pause allowed your imagination to picture things that could take you to the disciplinary committee: him choking, beaten to death or shot with arrows, images of a saint-Sebastian-esque divine punishment. He must have sensed what you were thinking as he cut the cord of silence short “Y'know…Sephiroth used to sleep better when you were around…”
Your heart clenched for a second, beat troubled by the mere memory. However, you can't let that show “I wasn't aware you tracked his sleep pattern so fervently” you replied.
He chuckled “Why wouldn't I?” he gestured his hand around the room, an amused smile drawn up his comportment “After all, he was my greatest achievement. I monitored everything about him. You name it—” He counted on his fingers “Nutrition, stress levels, blood pressure, brain activity, bone and muscle structure… He was such a winning horse”
“Was…” you reflected, looking at the pale floor.
He tilted his head, mock-confused “Still uncomfortable with that word, Dr.Faremis?” he took a small step towards you, sighing theatrically “Such a shame really, all that potential and power, all that hard work and investment” He turned abruptly, giving the ceiling a sharp eye dagger “Wasted.”
Your legs sprung with a sudden electricity, standing up on their own “People aren't investments.”
“Oh?” he laughed, turning back to you “Then what was he to you, Dr.Faremis?”
“a human being.”
“Ah…” he pointed at you, shaking his wrist as if you were a student “That explains it”
You scoffed “explains what?”
“Why you failed to see what he truly was” the words landed like Ivy drops: softly and so poisonous.
“I saw exactly who he was” you tilted your head to the side, still staring at him “He was a human, a man, a person—”
“How sentimental.” He leaned closer “Tell me…do you ever wonder if things would've turned out differently… If you'd been more…” he moved his hand in a thinking matter, choosing the word “...Logical?”
“...What are you implying?” a bottle of ink shattered in your ribs. you knew this was heading somewhere you didn't want to go to.
“You've been here for thirteen years, Dr.Faremis. yet you always forget what I tell you” Hojo circled around, checking the room —more like looking for something to analyze— as he dropped so very casually “That attachment clouds judgment.”
Your lips sewed themselves together.
“You had to learn that the hard way. Your dear uncle had to learn that the hard way. I don't know what's running in your family line so both of you had to be…mushy, if I dare say…” The man took a good look at you: standing, and out of defenses. Knowing how valiant you can be, he added fuel to the fire “Don't get me wrong, I respect Professor Gast, but it was a good ending for him to leave Shinra. He had one job yet he chose to complicate it. same as your mistake.”
“My uncle tried to save him…” You murmured, sharp as a razor “I did as well”
Exasperated, he exhaled “Save what? you only drove him to his end.”
The muscles in your knees withered. Warmth pooled under your eyelids, gathering like rain drops in a pond. The amphora filled itself again and washed your heart with the same feelings haunting you ever since: guilt, sorrow, loss and an ache that settled like a bird with a broken wing. In such times, you sought the punishment you yearned for yet never came; left to be munched and feasted upon as years passed, till you pay nature's debt yourself. you sank back into the chair, face bleak as a blind man's eyes.
a ghost of a smile danced on Hojo's lips. Satisfied, he headed out as he delivered the last whip hit for today “Let yourself sink back in if needed, Miss Faremis. that'll help you in life.” then the heavy emptiness of after a storm.
Only after his steps faded away, you let the tears run free; the luxury of warmth and catharsis with thorns you were unworthy of; it should dwell inside and kill you. sluggishly, you got up and laid on the bed— his bed: his scent of balm and leather lodging in a lobe within your skull; unforgettable. You pulled out the dark feather from your sweater's pocket, your solace for staying the night along memories and shapes of a past you dearly loved but treated you ruthlessly as company.
