sephiroth, “tol alien boy”, SOLDIER first class. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
supersoldier) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
finalflight2020-05-14 12:15 pm
supersoldier) wrote in finalflight2020-05-14 12:15 pm
supersoldier) wrote in finalflight2020-05-14 12:15 pm
no subject
[he'll miss the dog.]
[but that chapter is long swept behind him—for a few weeks now, really. he's back with sephiroth, and they made the decision to have cloud move in with him, in an apartment which is not quite the same as the one from before, but it's all too similar in its interior design. after all, this is sephiroth he's dealing with. it makes cloud's heart burst anytime he thinks that the man is back, that those five years could easily dissipate from his mind if he focuses on the present. he likes the comfort brought forth from it, from knowing that he gets to come back from working his hours at the seventh heaven to sephiroth, who sits on the couch reading a book; or sephiroth, taking a stab at dinner; or sephiroth, opening the door and greeting him home, almost like he knew cloud was on the other side trying to get the key. it's routine—it's normalcy. he likes sharing his time with the man, and relearning everything about their relationship all over again.]
[for now, cloud's reassured that he had made the right choice. for now, cloud's willing to welcome sephiroth back.]
[it's late in the evening when cloud returns to the apartment, having decided to take a detour for some groceries and grab some food from the wutai restaurant pushed to a corner in the slums of sector 3. it's greasy stuff, full of sauce and sodium, but cloud likes their beef. he's made sure to pick out sephiroth's favorite, too. said assortment of food and groceries is in paper bags that hang from his arms as he maneuvers the door open, way too intent on multitasking—toeing off his shoes, grabbing the key, closing the door, and pulling up his bomber jacket.]
[he ends up with his shoes haphazardly by the shoe rack, lightly kicking the door closed, and the keyring held in his mouth as he walks in towards the nearest table—where he notices, surprised, a vase with flowers; white and yellow lilies... and that would explain why it smells so sweet.]
Sefffipeh?
[calling out in a jumble of slurred puffs and jingling keys, elbowing a nearby lightswitch on.]
no subject
It’s good to have Cloud with him, to know he will return at the end of the day, coming through the door to greet him like clockwork. To spend their nights together, quiet, complete, their lives finally running parallel after having gone astray for years. Things are they should be — were it not for the gratitude that bores into his chest, a conciliatory want to please Cloud to make up for the lonesome pain he caused with his departure.
Sometimes, it’s hard to know how to show it, beyond his natural want to be near. Signs of affection in larger displays are foreign to him, never a man given to overt romanticism, and he has so little experience to draw upon. But flowers— flowers have their own language, don’t they? They might say what he cannot; portray what he cannot, in their starburst array of carefully chosen arrangements.
Yellow and white lilies, in this case, spilling over the rim of a plain, white vase as if eager to brightly greet Cloud.
Sephiroth comes into view seconds later, his greeting a simple reach to free the keys from the other man’s mouth, another hand offering to take a bag or two.]
No one here goes by that name.
[Sefffipeh.]
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You came anyway.
[he said what he said.]
[sending another glance at the flowers, he finally adjusts his jacket properly on his shoulders, cloud starts making his way towards the kitchen, socked feet and all, and sets down the bags onto the counter. it's easy enough for him to turn, hand flat on the surface, and pointing over out towards the entrance hall.]
Where did you even get flowers from?
[cloud may or may not still be thinking about how there are... flowers in the apartment, and he doesn't want to rush to romantic conclusions, but—...sephiroth really isn't one for buying flowers on a whim, even if they are pretty scarce around midgar. feeling maybe a little flustered that he's giving away how much interest he has in them, cloud glances back towards the bags and gestures noncommittally.]
I brought dinner, so you don't have to try and burn us down again.
[sephiroth's a pretty darn good cook, by all means; cloud just likes to poke fun at this skill he himself clearly does not possess. except when it comes to omelettes. cloud can do the best omelettes.]
From the Wutai place. You hungry?
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[He accedes, setting down the bags to where they can be tended to by Cloud later, and crossing past just enough to hang the keys back in their proper place. The metal jingles with each step as he places them back on the keyring.
His smile, though, is knowing the whole time. Cloud is not subtle about how his glances at the flowers, pinned at them for a moment, then pretending that nothing is out of the ordinary. It amuses him, to think that he can pretend that this bright arrangement -- those lilies with their smiling faces -- is just the usual background noise of their apartment.]
The flowers are from a local florist shop; I always pass it on my way back home from work. Do you like them?
[A glance over his shoulder, looking at the other man with soft, assessing eyes.]
They're for you.
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[casting a glance at the flowers again from the doorway, something in him clicks—suddenly.]
[he moves over towards sephiroth, unable to parse how he feels exactly about the softness in his eyes. it's been weeks since they've been living together, years before they had seen each other last—]
Sephiroth.
[—and they had been intimate exactly zero times since.]
[but cloud stands here, now, in front of the man, expression serious and holding at his forearms. this is perhaps not the reaction sephiroth was going for, but who knew it took only this gesture to get cloud to snap.]
I need you to fuck me. [his cheeks are warm, but his eyes are steady.] I can't take this anymore.
["this" being cloud's misinterpretation that sephiroth did not want to be intimate with him...? boy.]
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Sephiroth stills, blinking, looking as though he’s just been splashed in the face with cold water, while the admittedly very lizard part of his brain sends electricity up and down his spine.]
I...
[They’ve been living together for weeks and apart for years, and his body’s reaction to Cloud’s “request” is almost comically embarrassing, his heart already kicking its tempo up a notch or two. It’s only through the application of his steeled will does he manage to form words as a reply, his mind wheeling to process just what happened; the wording behind Cloud’s deadpan bluntness.
It isn’t the response he expected from flowers, for certain. (He won’t complain.) But he had kept himself restrained during the time they’ve been together for the sake of not overstepping boundaries, to not make assumptions about what Cloud did and did not want. He had no right, after disappearing like he did. It seemed tactless to hone in on physical intimacy when he didn’t seem particularly interested in pursuing it. Had he been wrong? Or are their wires still getting crossed?]
“This”? [What] The flowers?
[brain rebooting]
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[equally so, cloud's brain is putting his one braincell on overdrive, a rather confused expression glossing over his features as he tries to understand where talk about the flowers is coming from. was he not clear enough?]
[he grabs at sephiroth's arms, at his wrists, stepping forward.]
It's been so long, I get it. [here we go. the intricacies of cloud's minds for sephiroth to witness.] Is it because you think of what I might have done with Rufus? We never had sex. [that's what it is, isn't it?] It shouldn't matter, anyway. I'm with you, now, and I—
[his grip tightens around sephiroth's wrists.]
You don't want to?
[has sephiroth resigned himself to a life of celibacy in those five years??]
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Of course I want to.
[Did that sound too overeager? Too breathy, as though his body has kicked itself into overdrive at the very prospect of pressing himself close to Cloud again, feeling him again in the way they used to? Focus is difficult to hold onto when faced with that possibility, but Sephiroth manages, keeping his look fixed on Cloud’s expression. Green eyes search blue.]
Rufus has nothing to do with it. [It’s a dismissal of that name, mentally and verbally. He has absolutely nothing to do with anything right now.] I thought you didn’t want to.
[Cloud can likely feel the muscles in his arms cording, his fingers curling in some autonomous reflex that is indicative of guilt, the faintest, threadbare anxiety born of his five-year departure.]
And I had no right to ask for it.
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Are you telling me— [the realization floods him, as he feels sephiroth recoiling back to that spot of guilt and shame, and his own hands move to deter fists from forming, keeping sephiroth's palms open and warm beneath his hands.] —that all this time we just assumed we were okay about it?
[stupid—foolish, really, the both of them.]
[comes to show that there are still obstacles in their relationship worth exploring, regardless of the five year gap (perhaps especially because of the five year gap).]
Sephiroth.
[hopefully grounding, cloud lets go of sephiroth's hands and presses his own against the curve of the taller's man waist, taking a few steps closer.]
We're together again. [—and that's everything to him—] I don't want to waste any more time just because we think we need the space. Because of, uh, penance, or whatever.
[he doesn't need sephiroth beating himself up over something that, while shitty, can be repaired together. he frowns and looks up, his lips pinched just so into a pout.]
Y'know what I mean.