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The sun’s shining bright through the branches of the trees towering above them, scattered along a meadow not far from the Banora orchards. The apple trees were tiny compared to them, an efficient size for the fruits to be picked by humans who, despite all technological advances, still have limitations in this field.
These trees are called poplar trees, Sephiroth was told. Biology classes appear in his memories, images and textual descriptions from the database detailing the classification of the tree, its lifespan, its leaves and means of reproduction. Sets of data, of which some fragments come to the surface now, but they seem to have no point. Those words did not describe these trees. Back then when he learned about them, he had no idea what it would be like to stand so close to them.
He feels oddly… small. Looking up at the highest branches is like staring up at a tall building, but the difference is that the top of a building doesn’t move. The trees do. Like some kind of fabric, the wind makes them bend and bow, even great distances, as its strength grows. The numerous leaves reflect the sun in all different ways, and as their angles change it resembled a set of mirrors placed on the branches.
And they are loud.
Sephiroth is used to various mechanical sounds. He even has some memories of being scared of them, early on, when he did not know what made those sounds. By now every one of them has been catalogued in his brain, and, existing in the Shinra building he knows what to expect to hear. They don’t come as a surprise.
Here, however… everything is flowing, changing, and at the most unexpected moment, as the wind rises up, it’s as if a giant machine is powering up. But nothing is moving, nothing is going anywhere, it is just the wind among the leaves.
It makes him tense. Makes him glance through the branches, searching for something that may cause danger. Makes him alert. So many unexpected noises out here. Chirps from above. A crack of a branch as Genesis runs off, urging him to follow. A damned bird startling him as it sets off just seconds before Sephiroth walks by it, startling him. He hates being surprised.
One thing he hates more is feeling weak… And how ridiculous it is that he is scared in the presence of some trees?
Hopefully Genesis will have enough of this place soon and they can start getting back. They’ve spent quite a lot of time in the orchard as well, after all. They have work to do tomorrow. They’ve already skipped trainings today – however, all the running around probably did account for some kind of physical activity, yet it still bothers him that he didn’t train properly. Every missed day compromises his performance in the following, and he can’t afford to let his skills rust.
At least Genesis likes silence… Sometimes. Sometimes this silence means he goes on chanting poetry without end, but other times it really is just that. Silence. And being here seems to have made him calm.
Sephiroth turns his head to face Genesis now, who seems to be lost drinking in the sight of the forest – which he must have seen thousands of times, since he grew up here. But now it has been… months since he came home. And he brought Sephiroth with him, for his birthday, and showed him the places that were important in his childhood. The orchard, of course. Their house. Hiding places, where they built stuff with the other kids when Genesis managed to sneak out to meet them. Places they’ve been with Angeal…
It must be odd to have memories like that. This is the place the two boys have seen as kids, day after day, while Sephiroth was… probably…
He does not want to think about where he was or what he was doing.
Maybe it was really worth it, accepting Genesis’ invitation. Even though at every moment he feels Angeal should be here. That the minor inconvenience that he wasn’t allowed to come this time is the only thing leading Genesis to show him around this time. That Genesis is probably still pissed and sad that his childhood friend has to be away.
Yet when Sephiroth looks at him, he looks happy. At home. Gazing up at the dancing trees in awe like a child, his eyes glistening vibrant blue, the ends of his eyelashes are the same colour of red as his hair, he has noticed it before but in this clear sunlight it is really visible.
A cloud must have hovered over the sun, as all colour seems to have been drawn from his vision, as it goes dark, vibrant greens turning dull and Gen’s hair looking more brown than red.
Sephiroth shifts his vision back to the tree, and just as he does, it starts to move, bend, and whirr as its leaves resonate with the wind, it is loud and almost as if some ancient entity were screaming inside it.
He can only hope that the wind was so loud that his high-pitched gasp couldn’t be heard.
Nor the breath he let out shakily, trying to calm himself down.
But no noise can hide the sensation of his knuckles softly touching Gen’s hand as his body tensed up, jumping from the sound…
He clenches his fist, then slowly releases it – at least he should appear to be calm –, moving his hazy eyes to the ground, staring at his feet, his face growing hot with shame. He can swear he feels Gen’s eyes glance at him. Shit. How pathetic he is. He should just turn around and-
Suddenly he feels Gen’s hand touching his, the boy’s fingers sliding between his. Sephiroth’s eyes go wide. Controlling his heartbeat is a failed attempt. He instinctively turns his eyes to their now folded hands.
Warm. Somewhat sweaty and really soft. Genesis applies cream to his hand every morning and every evening, and after every training session, he remembers.
The wind shakes the branches above them again, and Sephiroth feels himself squeeze Gen’s hand. What is happening?
The squeeze is returned. The warmth of it – in contrast with the cold breeze – makes him shiver. Seph closes his eyes for a moment, deep breaths, deep and slow. His heart is about to jump out of his chest, he can hear it even through the sounds of the growing storm.
He can’t hide forever and he certainly can’t run away. It would be most unbecoming of him to do so. So he forces his face to turn to the side a bit.
Genesis is smiling. Not a mocking smile at all, and, well, why would he want to mock him anyway while holding his hand? He looks up at Sephiroth, expectantly, turning on his heels to face him fully. His other hand twitches for a second as if wanting to move, but then it stays by his side.
‘So, are you going to kiss me?’, he asks in such an easy tone that it completely takes Sephiroth off-balance.
What…
The mako green-blue eyes mirroring his own stare up at him, blinking once, twice as the cool wind blows a few red strands in front of them. Genesis stands there with his halo of red, flowing hair as if in a movie.
That’s what he means? Kissing him here in the midst of the birth of a storm, the wind caught in his hair and coat? The dramatic idiot…
Then you do not think I’m pathetic? You’re not thinking of Angeal every second you’re with me? Is this what you wanted all along?
The laughs, the glances, the teases. He might have known… he should have known this was why Gen wanted him here all alone. And during these hours, was he thinking of-
‘Or do you want me to kiss you?’ Gen tilts his head to the side, and Sephiroth imagines Genesis grabbing his neck and pulling him closer for a kiss.
He should reply though. With… words, preferably. That seems impossible as his throat is dry and his thoughts are forming a clamour he can’t make sense of. Is this really-
If he does nothing, the moment will break. The chance will go away and possibly never come back. The blue-greens are expecting an answer from him and all he can do is stare wide-eyed and red-faced, his hold on Gen’s hand growing weaker…
Finally, he pulls his hand from Gen’s hand only to place it upon his shoulders. It feels familiar, like during training, before putting all his weight and strength into moving the other boy around or tackling him to the ground. He is used to that. And to the resistance that follows, the resistance he needs to fight.
He is not used to pleading eyes melting into his own. He is not used to the uncertainty of attempting to kiss someone when you’ve never done anything of the kind before.
First, he touches his forehead to Gen’s, gazing into his eyes until Gen closes them. Then Seph closes the distance between their lips.
His fingers awkwardly wrinkle Gen’s shirt as he holds onto his shoulders as if keeping him at place, when it is himself that he keeps in place, more like. He parts their lips, opening his eyes for a second. This was nothing. Genesis must not settle for something like this. What Genesis means by a kiss must be much more…
Before Seph could mentally finish the sentence, Gen pulls at his coat to bring him closer again, this time kissing him back with his lips partly open, his tongue exploring Seph’s mouth after a few tentative movements, and the only thing Seph can do is try to follow.
Where on Gaia did you learn…
Yet he has no time to think, as he has to keep up. He never thought this could feel so much similar to a fight. He needs to react, his blood seems to boil despite the air being cold, and his body feels like it's on fire. Familiar... yet... entirely different. Melting. He is... exposed, placing all his trust in Genesis. He feels weak as the desire to touch him more and more stir and begin to take over the worries. After a while he responds to Gen's motions more quickly. In time he may even surprise him. He learns fast... And this isn't the last time this is happening, is it?
Only when Genesis finally lets go of him, only their noses touching, their eyes finally meeting again, does Sephiroth realise how he has forgotten the cold and the screaming wind around him. The wind, it gets into his hair and picks it up. Gen reaches out with his hand to brush through the silver locks. Panting, Sephiroth attempts to read his features.
A smile grows on Gen’s flushed face, as he raises an eyebrow, questioning.
‘This shall suffice as a birthday gift.’
Hah. A birthday gift. The red jasper earrings lying in Sephiroth’s pocket that he saved for the family dinner.
He replies with a smile, much less confident than Gen’s.
‘A storm’s coming. We should go home.’ Genesis announces with a coy smile as he dances back, extending his hand to reach for Sephiroth’s arm. ‘Come on’, he turns back to look over his shoulder, his smile happy and proud as he pulls Seph to follow him.
Seph’s stomach turns as he takes the first step forward. Goosebumps, contrast of warm and cold. He shivers and pulls his coat tighter. He looks up at the marbly grey sky and the first raindrop lands on his cheek.