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Zack could be very verbal at times, and he had no qualms when it came to announcing the things that excited him. He would caper around the base, dancing on clouds, his aura practically a flashing sign begging for question. Then, when those questions were inevitably asked, Zack was ready to answer in jubilant, bouncing detail.
Because of this, Sephiroth was well aware that it was the young SOLDIER's birthday.
That didn't mean he was prepared for it.
Sephiroth set aside the book he had been reading, the emerald eyes slashing through his apartment like beacons in the dark. It was once again Saturday, their day off, and he was certain Zack would be pleased to see that his brainwashing was starting to take its hold. There wasn’t a computer in sight.
Actually, he hadn't seen Zack all day. His companions were making sure he lived the occasion to the fullest—and Zack had many companions, many of whom were actually willing to celebrate.
It was Zack who had even introduced him to birthdays in the first place. Yes, he knew what they were… but the boy had given them meaning.
Sephiroth shifted on the couch, and couldn't help but feel... useless. Inadequate. Zack had done everything in his consideration that day: he had come at night, stayed with him in the comfort of his quarters, and had chosen gifts swollen with love.
Sephiroth withdrew one of these presents from his pocket—a carmine cloth, fine and silky, mottled with stains dirt and grime… of use. He loved this cloth, much in the way that Zack loved his plush dragon, Muffin.
His gift. It was his birthday gift.
…Even if Zack's friends were more qualified, that was no excuse for him to ignore this special occasion. No, it wasn’t. He was Zack's companion—may that be out of hundreds. It was his responsibility to celebrate his birthday. Return the favor.
Though, stirring in his chest, Sephiroth knew there was more than that driving him.
He remembered the starlight glistening in his friend's eyes as cloth was unwrapped. He remembered the joy that set his face alight as his card was read. Zack had been grateful, happy, all because he was too.
Did... he crave the same feeling?
Sephiroth scowled at himself. Now he was back to square one; he was being selfish. There was no room for his own desires when it was Zack who was his priority. He should honor his friend's birthday, and honor him alone.
He would honor it—no matter how thin his knowledge of the subject may be. It was what Zack deserved.
These mental gymnastics were giving him a headache. Sephiroth rubbed his temple. But still, he knew his mission was clear. Emerald eyes drifted to the clock and were relieved to see that it only read 8:00. Most stores stayed open until midnight, rarely closing any earlier unless specific circumstances arose. He still had time.
Though, this would require going out, wouldn't it?
Knots twisted in the warrior's chest, lassoing anxieties he had no right to feel. The unwavering stoicism he had while rallying platoons was nonexistent when it came to visiting the local markets, burned to ashes below his feet.
In Genesis and Angeal's time, they knew to leave him be, the topic of extroversion as volatile as a bomb. In Zack's time, mundane errands were now lessons, and he was bound to them whether he wanted to be or not. Zack had dragged him out countless times… and he always survived, hadn’t he? Zack helped him ignore those godforsaken magnetic eyes and squeals, practically counseling him. (They literally can’t touch you, bud. You can destroy this entire place with a snap of your finger.)
Sephiroth couldn’t help but smirk at the memory, squeezing his cloth tighter. Yet another reason why he should honor Zack’s birthday: he had sacrificed so much for him in the past. He had given freely of himself, his safety, and his time. Befriending him in the time Zack chose to do, striving to overcome silver towers and gauze knife wounds to the back, had been nothing short of dangerous.
And if Zack could risk his well-being doing that, then he could buy his best friend a present at the nearest convenience store.
Hugging his coat around him more securely, Sephiroth, started towards the door, then thoughtfully eyeing Masamune where she leaned unruffled against the closet.
No, that was unnecessary. Monsters didn’t roam in the main sectors, and bringing her into a store would stir a tempest of unintentional alarm.
So, weaponry wouldn’t be needed, but Sephiroth double-checked for his cleaning cloth all the same before locking his quarters and shutting the door behind him.
x~x~ϞϞ(๑⚈ ․̫ ⚈๑)∩~x~x
The lights of the market were blinding compared to the smoggy darkness of Midgar's streets, like tearing open curtains in the heart of morning. Catlike pupils constricted in adjustment to the white-hot blaze, their jade coating indistinct and lifeless.
Ifrit, it was so bright.
The floor below him was snowy on solid ground, branching into several aisles stocked with various treats, beverages, and care products, all of which blended into the winter environment. His coat might as well have been a black hole.
"Welcome, S—!”
Malicious, tiny chimes had alerted his entrance, and now there was a clerk staring at him—in the most predictable, bug-eyed manner Sephiroth could ever imagine. He clearly wasn't going to finish his greeting, so offering a brisk nod in return, Sephiroth continued his trek into the sugary wilderness.
Thankfully, there weren't many shoppers at this hour, barring the smatters of people perusing articles (and to his utter shock, he spotted at least three issues printed with his image). Still, even as he glided carefully past the occupied aisles, those few people turned to gape as if a grizzly bear had wandered inside.
"Oh my gosh..."
"Is that him..?"
"No way..."
Sephiroth bristled at these futile attempts at "whispers"... but then, his hand just fell into his pocket, squashing and surging all his impulses into the fabric. Just like a hand that had squeezed his arm.
Just keep walking, bud. Stares can't hurt you.
So that’s what he did. Sephiroth walked on, bubbled in his forcefield where all the spears bounced off and fell stiff on the floor. He was sailing down his desired aisle only seconds later.
It was a decent idea, if he did say so himself. Zack had many traits, most of which couldn't be molded into something physical. This was an exception.
16: Chips, pretzels, soda, candy, crackers.
Sephiroth paused, jade eyes scanning the castle of snacks and confectionery, contemplating on a diabetic brick before moving on to the next.
Barbecue chips.
Peanut-butter pretzels.
Toasted cheddar cheese crackers.
And why was so much cereal classified as dessert?
Goddess, how in the world did Zack ever choose? Or did he simply buy them all?
That was a disturbing thought.
Oh, there was something promising. His fingers reached out and crinkled against a small cyan box, inside of which were rattling with chocolate sandwich cookies. They were too rich for Sephiroth's taste (everything was according to Zack), although his friend seemed to take a lot of pleasure in dismantling the cookie and eating the cream inside. In Zack's unwritten code of law, that was the only proper way to eat them.
Everyone knew how much Zack loved them.
His soft smile curled into a frown, uncertainty countering his decision. If everyone was aware of Zack's fondness for sandwich cookies... then was it really much of a gift? What if his companions already bought him the same present?
He reshelved the sweets, suddenly very indecisive. Would Zack be disappointed if he honored him with something so... obvious? Would it even feel like a gift if he could easily buy it any other day of the year? What was he thinking, of course it was.
He should have known that food was too shallow. Food wasn't a gift, it was a necessity; it would be the equivalent of pouring Zack a glass of water.
Conflicted, Sephiroth exited the aisle, continuing to scan the low-hanging signs for inspiration.
No… Not there… Not that one…
He was frustrated to see he was nearing the wall now, with his options to satisfy his friend tapering into mere bar soap, school supplies, and—
Green eyes widened.
21: Plush toys and figures.
The last lifeline the store had to offer was none other than a phalanx of stuffed animals, all aligned tidily on the shelves, gleaming with obsidian eyes and artificial fur lustrous like fresh velvet.
Perfect.
Now Sephiroth was truly grateful that the store was practically vacant—although he was forced to bear the clerk's unsuccessfully-stifled chuckles as he entered the aisle. Which, based on design, was undoubtably designed for impulsive children and their swayed parents. Charming.
"The things I do for you," Sephiroth glared at the cloth bleeding from his pocket, even more grateful when he could slip behind an abandoned utility cart. Then he quickly returned to the task at hand.
Hopefully it was less hollow of a gift; plushes were another element of Zack's spirit that could be incarnated in reality. Muffin was someone very sacred to his friend, and as far as he knew, it was a toy he had befriended at a very young age. He also knew that he slept with him every night and that the dragon was tucked under his blanket for protection during daylight hours.
A smirk crossed Sephiroth's lips, wondering how many people even knew such an obscure fact. Surely not many.
Bah. He was being a child.
Now, the question was, which one would Zack like the most?
He considered the stuffed beagle, musing if Zack would find the parallel humorous... but then remembered the potential heartache Angeal's memory could bring, and quickly decided against it. He studied the dove—no, those had white wings as well. Beside it was a charcoal cat, much like Zack's hair but with the (eerie) mirroring color of his own verdant eyes, slitted pupils and all. "Warrior cat Seph" was a fond sobriquet of Zack's, and still he found the feline symmetry nothing short of hysterical. Perhaps it would be cute. A reference even.
Though... would it be selfish to get a gift inspired by himself?
Sephiroth quickly moved on, not wanting to take the chance of Zack finding his present egocentric.
The remaining plushes were more of the same: different breeds of dogs, different breeds of birds, different breeds of cats—even the lions and tigers still had those exaggerated, godforsaken pupils. The fish lacked an expression; the snake was too slithery to nestle with; the deer seemed adequate, although it was rather itchy to the touch.
And the soulless eyes of these creatures were starting to become unsettling. Sephiroth took a step back.
Finally, however, he ran out of miniature plushes to assess, and all that remained were the ones of seemingly much higher quality, but VERY large in size. They were crammed into the lowermost shelf, each one of the four they had to offer the non-hyperbolic size of a wagon.
His options were fortunately narrowed down too: a dog, a cat, a bird, and a dragon were the potential occupants of his friend's bedroom.
Another dragon? Would that be too repetitive? Perhaps not, actually, considering Zack said they were his favorite animal.
His mind made, Sephiroth bent down and pried the reptile from its cumbersome position, the wall quaking with how much force he genuinely needed to apply in order to free it. Whoever stocked these were not of sound mind.
Thankfully—and Sephiroth was prepared for most situations—but thankfully he was not the accidental cause of an inanimate wildlife avalanche. Realizing this, Sephiroth heaved a sigh of relief, straightening with the dangling weight of a bicycle now his arms. Its arrowed tail spilled down the side of his coat, racing the streams of mercury where they both managed to kiss his knees—an admirable length. The wings were heavy and flexible, silky and boneless, and the horns were straight yet as buttery as their color. Overall, he assessed, a very decent plaything.
Finding equilibrium in his awkward stance, Sephiroth started towards the clerk.
"Excuse me."
The counter shook as an oversized dragon was plunked atop, jolting the clerk and sending his eyes darting towards the plushie—and then to the General towering above it. Sephiroth, coral under stony cheeks, waited for the bewilderment to fade before continuing.
"Will you help me with this purchase?"
The man stifled a blink or twelve, reaching for his barcode scanner. "...Oh, o-of course, Sir."
Sephiroth nodded in approval, and as he was groping through his pocket for the appropriate amount of Gil (fortunately, he was paid more than enough for the costly toy), his mind drifted elsewhere... feeling as if he was missing something. He replayed his own birthday, mentally watching the events unfold and check-listing the traditions Zack had adhered to.
A pastry? Zack was surely destroying his insulin already.
A gift? Well, that was the dragon, wasn't it?
Oh.
Sephiroth shifted, and this time, tasted words before they were spoken. "Would you care to point me in the direction of wrapping paper?" Although the prospect still seemed ludicrous to him (why put care into wrapping the present when it was just going to be torn apart...?), he wanted to try and mirror the experience Zack had given him.
Even if some aspects were next to pointless.
Once again, this sent the clerk into a numb blinking spell; Sephiroth had to bridle the snarl this time, beginning to really damn each and every newspaper in the store.
"You'll find some in the crafts aisle, Sir." The cashier finally pointed to an irksomely obvious sign just diagonal of them, his finger flimsy. "Just keep walking and you'll find it."
x~x~ϞϞ(๑⚈ ․̫ ⚈๑)∩~x~x
The strips of gold winking under Zack's door was a good indicator that he was home by now. Sephiroth rapped his knuckles against the wood, listening to the rustling sofa and frivolous footsteps as the lock quickly unlatched.
"Hey, Seph!" Zack's greeting rang throughout the corridor, sapphire eyes bright. “Missed you today."
He hid his amusement at the chocolate freckling Zack’s cheeks. "May I come in?"
"Always!" Zack immediately bounced aside, shutting the door before following him into the den. The clock read 11:35.
Sephiroth idly scanned the apartment, noticing several DVDs glimmering under laminated veneers and even an unboxed gaming system. He joined Zack on the sofa when his coat was tugged.
"How was your day?" the brunet wanted to know, crossing his arms behind his head.
"Uneventful," Sephiroth half-lied. He cleared his throat, contemplating an appropriate way to break the ice. "I believe 'happy birthday' is what most people would say now." It wasn't actually a sarcastic remark; he had asked the clerk what people tended to say on the occasion, though Sephiroth gladly accepted Zack's smirk in evasion.
"Aww, thanks!” Zack beamed. "You remembered!”
Sephiroth scoffed, lightly drumming his skull. "How can I not, when you've beaten it into my head?"
"Well, excuse me." Zack folded his arms, pouting, but it quickly melted into a broader smile. Sephiroth couldn't help but chuckle.
"Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Sure did!" Zack chirped, a trace of wistfulness flashing through his eyes as he lolled into the cushions. "Eighteen, man, that's crazy. I still remember grade school!"
Sephiroth couldn't relate, though he did his best to paint an accurate image based on Zack's anecdotes. From his perspective, grade school could be best summarized as bagged lunch, long division, and glue sticks.
"Are you insinuating that you don't act like an elementary student?" Sephiroth deadpanned, cloaked arms folded.
Zack looked as if a bowling ball had been dropped on his toe. "Jerk," he whined, slapping Sephiroth's arm and just shy of striking steel with his bare hand. "For your information, old man, the guys were begging me to drink!"
Another thing Sephiroth had never done; alcohol was bitter, and his metabolism purified any of its effects before they even entered his bloodstream. He didn't find the prospect of making a fool of himself particularly amusing, either.
A silver eyebrow quirked in genuine curiosity. "Did you indulge?" It was odd how he had a preferred response; did he even have the right to?
Zack rubbed his neck, sheepish chuckles slipping. "Well... I tried one sip, coughed, and kinda but totally ordered a milkshake instead."
Although Sephiroth's expression remained unchanged, his soul relaxed after its sudden tensing.
There was no need for Zack to grow up too fast.
Yet, he was staring at the boy—the man—before him, a legal adult with the heart of a zestful child. Someone who braced the world imploding around him, felt the shards dig into his back, but emerged from the rubble untouchable. His scar, scissored by a ghost now, gleamed under the light of melted chocolate. Puppies didn't eat chocolate, just like how adults may see it as nothing more than sludge... but that never stopped Zack. He never let the starlight fade; he never let the moonlight be eclipsed.
And Sephiroth couldn't be prouder.
"Seph?" Zack blinked. "Whatcha thinking about?"
"Nothing," Sephiroth shook his head, straightening before Zack could press any further. "I have something to give you."
"Really?" Zack's face somehow brightened. "For me?!"
It was an obvious question, so Sephiroth disregarded it; he did, however, begin ferreting through his pocket. "When it was my birthday, you bestowed this gift upon me.” He withdrew the cleaning cloth, holding it under Zack's eyes so each and every stain could glitter in Mako-blue. Gold that wasn't gold at all.
"Aww!" Zack nearly squeaked. "You still have that thing?"
"Of course I do," Sephiroth assured, taken aback by Zack's... surprise. "I never let it out of my sight."
Zack cupped his cheeks in his hands. "Oh man, Seph, you're gonna make me cry on my birthday! Stop!"
Sephiroth considered humoring himself and doing the opposite, but ultimately decided that torturing his friend wasn't very in tune with the holiday. Besides, there were more important matters.
"My point is," he continued, returning the cloth," I couldn't let this day pass without returning the gesture. I have..." Sephiroth shifted. "A present, with the same manners as the one you gifted me."
Zack's eyes widened. "You didn't have to do that!"
"And you didn't have to do the same to me," Sephiroth countered, his fingers grazing the wrapping paper in his coat.
"Yes I did!" Zack exclaimed. "It's different!"
"How?"
"Y'know! Like, if I had, well..." There was clearly no argument prepared. "It's, uh—“
"Exactly," Sephiroth stopped him there. "I'm also afraid you do not have a choice." And before they could run in any more circles, Sephiroth revealed a small crinkled bundle of cyan, scintillating like the crystallized shape it resembled. "Zack, my friend." He held it out for the other to take. "Happy birthday."
It took some coaxing before Zack actually accepted the gift, unfreezing, rubbing his eyes so that no mist escaped.
"I... apologize for my wrapping," Sephiroth ducked his head. While Zack's gift had been meticulously and flawlessly prepared, his was nothing but unsymmetrical and sickly, loose tape dangling like peeling skin.
Though, that was all remedied by Zack's honest, unmistakable smile.
"It's perfect," he assured, drawing an equally sincere grin from Sephiroth. The warrior watched, emerald eyes expectant as Zack tore apart the (perhaps excessive) layers of paper, unwinding ribbons of tape and letting them pile up like transparent hoses.
Finally, raking his nails one last time, the gift was unveiled.
It was a dragon, much like the one at the store, with one pivotal difference: that being that it was handmade. Orange fabric swathed the toy's frame, stitched together in careful knots that served as the creature's spikes, laddering down its back. These sewings bound its tail together, flexible and sturdy with the aid of a straw implanted inside, as were the bones of its wings. Cotton swabs were used as makeshift horns, claws and nostrils drawn with marker, but its eyes and fangs separately incorporated with milky textile.
Zack was speechless, his mouth falling agape and eyes struck with lightning. The feline pupils had blown into saucers, twin obsidian orbs watching as his friend ran through the toy's felt—clumsy, loose, unprofessional, but intact all the same. He swallowed, gloved hands wringing.
"You... made this, Seph...?" Zack's voice sounded miles away.
Sephiroth slowly nodded. "I know it's not as... polished as gifts tend to be," he admitted, and the more he spoke, the more he realized his original choice may have been more appropriate. Goddess, did he actually attempt to emulate a toy rather than get a bona fide one? Did he actually abandon a high-quality toy in favor of manipulating his medical skills? Apparently he did, and apparently—
Apparently, it didn't matter.
Tears were suddenly cascading from Zack's eyes, and in-between blinks, he was glomped with monstrous, asphyxiating force. "God darn it, Seph..." Zack sniveled, "I said I didn't want to cry."
Sephiroth blinked.
He had broken him.
That was not supposed to happen.
When he returned to his body, taking control of his arms and speech, blinks were still the only thing he could seem to manage. "You... you like it?" What he truly meant was, you like it to this extent?
Zack burrowed deep into his coat, hot mist streaking a platter of dough. "It's perfect.” He clutched his buddy tight, truthful, unwavering. "I've never gotten anything like it." The brunet drew away to study his gift more thoroughly, toying with its wings and smushing his cheek into the mango fabric, his one rebellious lock flopping over his nose. "I’ll never let it out of my sight, Seph.”
All the fissures were sealed with the cement of Zack’s promise then, massaging his heart and soul. Sephiroth’s lips blossomed with a warm, true smile.
Mission accomplished.
"I'm glad you’re satisfied," he said, chuckling as Zack proceeded to throttle the dragon with a hug—for once being someone other than himself.
Zack rested his chin between the horns, gazing at his friend with a derpy smile and glistening eyes. "It looks just like Muffin!"
"That was the intention."
The brunet grinned. “Hey, I know! He can be Muffin's long-lost brother, Stuffin!”
It was pretty farcical considering that inanimate objects couldn't have blood relatives (and why would his brother’s name need to be obligatorily similar?)… but it was also the epitome of Zack in every possible way. And, for the sake of not molding himself into Hojo, Sephiroth played along.
"Maybe," he smirked. "Though he would have some explaining to do."
Zack burst into a chuckle, bubbly glee exploding as he sprang forward and rethrew his arms around the warrior. This time, however, the gesture was returned wholeheartedly.
Sephiroth enveloped his best friend in an embrace of his own, savoring the warmth pressed against his chest, breathing to the steady rhythm against his ear, and pillowing his head against the bed of charcoal. He clutched his tourniquet tight, clutching with the unfaltering trust that it would never break.
"What would I do without you..." Zack mumbled into his shoulder, the comment so celestial and silklike that Sephiroth could hardly process it… beyond the fact that Zack’s feelings were mutual.
The words sparked his heart, as well as a memory. It was something Sephiroth had heard before. Once before…
His birthday card.
Stiffening, Sephiroth realized he had forgotten one. Then he hadn't returned the favor—not entirely, not if he couldn't give back something still safe and sound in his nightstand drawer.
"What's wrong, pal?" Zack blinked upon feeling his friend tense.
Guilt swam through Sephiroth's eyes, but there was no dodging the question. "...I've forgotten your card.” Obvious thorns jabbed into himself as he admitted this. "I apologize for not fully abiding by the tradition."
But then, to Sephiroth's amazement, only a muffled chuckle was his response. "Seepph, what are you talking about? There are no traditions."
"...There's not?" The warrior sounded genuinely surprised.
"Of course not!" Zack sank further into his buddy's arms. "Everyone celebrates differently, and everyone shows their appreciation differently! Like how I hug you, but you don't maul me when I do."
This was clearly laced with humor, and although smirking, Sephiroth did muse over his friend's reasoning. It made sense, for once. Yes, Zack was more transparent with his affection, but that didn't take its value away. Likewise, Zack received his messages... and understood them every time.
"Quite wise of you," Sephiroth chuckled, deciding he was satisfied with the explanation.
"Yeah? Well maybe I'm growing up after all." Zack let his eyes fall shut.
Fondness rippled in the jade waters, squeezing tighter, the boy who dreamed of being a hero so different now... but so unchanged. That was the beauty of it.
"And y'know what?" Zack continued, drawing Sephiroth’s attention. "Those cards never get to the point, anyways.”
"Hmm?"
"They're always so cryptic. Never actually say what the person means."
Sephiroth hummed. "Maybe I could make my own card, then. Say what I wish to say."
As far as Sephiroth was concerned, there was only one appropriate thing to say. It twisted his throat into sandpaper, struggling to mouth a trio of words that had never left his lips, had hardly ventured through his mind. Words he thought he might have known once, but had been taken away, their meaning warped and changed into something nearly nonexistent. Now, someone had championed them; Zack had earned it. His soul sang that it was true, and Sephiroth knew it, too.
"…Zack?"
"Yeah, bud?"
Cocooned in warmth and gratitude, Sephiroth closed his eyes, saying what should have been said without ever needing an occasion.
“I… I love you.”