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They happened so suddenly－Zack’s wings.
The day started as normal as possible in Shin-Ra: standard drills, training, paperwork, assessment, same monthly Mako boosters and cellular enhancers. Everything had been so standard, so usual. Though there had been something… off. An extra dosage of enhancers for Zack. It’s not uncommon to get an extra here and there, Sephiroth knows this (being the main recipient for extra enhancers himself).
Though he had no idea the day would end so…
Red.
“Are you well?”
Sephiroth’s eyes break away from the television, glance to the side. Zack sits on his couch all huddled up under a blanket, a strange pale flush to his cheeks even beyond the blue hue of the television program. If not for that hue, even his eyes would be just as leaden as his face.
“Nn, yeah, just a little cold is all.” Zack dismisses with an uncharacteristically weak grin.
“You are never cold.” He responds matter-of-factly. And it is true－in the 4 years he’s known Zack, never once has he felt cold.
“Guess there’s a first time for everything, huh?” Zack grins, his lips faintly tremble from the weight of holding up his facade.
Sephiroth hardens his eyes, narrowing the blue glow from the television in them to mere slits. He does not like it when Zack hides things from him. They’ve spent too many nights in the others’ flats, too many nights under the roof of an inn thousands of miles away from home base, too many battles back-to-back, too many shared meals, too many shared spaces and beds, too many solemn, joyous, tense, precious, quiet, energetic moments between them for this kind of dismissive ‘I’ll be alright’ attitude to remain.
While it is still movie night, Sephiroth can’t focus on it knowing something is off with Zack. His hands call forth the remote from the coffee table and he presses pause. The colorful characters freeze mid-battle, frozen in time until specified to resume again.
“What ails you, Zack?” Sephiroth firmly, yet earnestly asks. If anything, he’s always direct.
“It’s really not that big a deal, Seph, I just got the shivers is all.” Zack attempts another trademark smile of his but it falls undeniably short, right on its face.
He still won’t open up. It’s uncomfortable. Sephiroth hates the squirming worry that festers in his gut when Zack won’t tell him what’s troubling him. Hard to believe after everything he’s seen and done, there are things that even get under the Great Sephiroth’s skin－it’s always Zack; him and his need to put others’ emotions and well-beings before his own. Selfless to a fault. If slapped would simply turn the other cheek with a smile. Reckless kindness－something he both cherishes and scorns.
He reaches up tentatively, a bare hand against his cheek. Skin is clammy, yet flushed at the touch. It is much more than a simple case of the shivers.
“You know how I feel about this behavior, Zackary.” Sephiroth coolly reminds. A concern mixed with dislike.
The facade cracks. “…” Eyes glance to the paused television. “…I know…” He exhales, exhaustion bleeding from the cracks in his front. “…You have enough to worry about already, so I just...”
“Your well-being is the upmost of importance to me, so you know.”
A weak but true laugh. “I know…” There’s less dejection when saying it now. He shakes his head faintly. “I’m sorry, Seph. Force of habit.”
“So, again, I ask, what ails you?”
“I… haven’t felt right… since my enhancements.” Zack admits with his eyes still off to the side, staring at the paused movie.
“You’ll clarify?”
“I’m freezing but I’m burning up too. I’m shaky and nauseous and everything feels so sore. My back hurts real bad too, like I pulled something. I’ve just－” Zack’s thumb goes to his mouth and he starts to chew on his nail. “－I’ve never felt like this after enhancements before and… I’m worried.”
Sephiroth moves his hand, pulls Zack’s hand away from his mouth and holds it in his own instead. “You will be alright.” He assures.
That finally gets Zack’s dull eyes to break away from the television and lock back onto him.
“I’ve had many enhancements that have made me feel quite ill myself, similar to your symptoms now. You will recover and you will be alright.” Sephiroth reaches up with his other hand too, cupping Zack’s flushed, clammy face in his tender, callused hands. “If worst comes to worst, you know I am here and will do anything in my power to help you or ease your suffering.”
A true, small, Zack-Trademark smile pulls at his lips and he doesn’t appear as queasy for a moment. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ve got you, the Great Sephiroth himself, looking out for me, I’m touched.” He softly giggles.
The squirming worry dissipates hearing some of Zack’s usual pep return. “Is there anything I can do to assist your recovery, Zack?”
“Well…” A guilty look edges into his eyes. “I know it’s movie night… but could I just go lay down for a bit? I think some sleep will set me right.”
“We have movie night once a week, Zack, no need to feel guilty about missing one.” Sephiroth dismisses with a soft grin. “Go, rest. I’ll join you shortly.” He removes his hands from the other’s face, allowing him to break away.
“Okay.” Zack smirks.
He’s slow and creaky when he stand from the couch, but he manages on his own just fine. He gives one last tired smile and a coy wave before he slowly shuffles his way to the bedroom.
Sephiroth doesn’t move until he hears the bed creak and Zack settle, as though if he moved Zack would suddenly change his mind about resting and insist they finish movie night. Only then does he stop the movie completely and rewind the tape. They can simply finish this one next week. Though knowing the other, he’d probably be adamant about finishing it tomorrow to make up for tonight.
Always was and always will be that way, but Sephiroth doesn’t mind it. Zack is a deck full of wildcards, it’s no wonder Sephiroth drew his hand and kept the packaging. He’s a kind person, a fierce fighter, a gentle soul, an electrical bundle of energy, a nurturing spirit, a wonderful partner. That will never change.
The VHS tape rewinds completely and once done the VCR spits the tape out. Sephiroth takes it, puts it back in its casing. The spools are still warm to the touch. He clasps the case closed and slides it back where it was before, maintaining the alphabetical order he prefers to keep them in.
Then he clicks the power button on the TV remote and the whole box goes dark as does the living room. The only source of light comes from the stove-top light in the kitchen, just enough to light the floor and path of the living room, outlining the furniture in black. He heads to the kitchen to turn the light out, bare feet brushing across the linoleum of the small, rectangle shaped room.
Feeling a touch thirsty, he pops open the fridge and claims a half-drank bottle of water he opened earlier in the day, taking a few sips to satiate his thirst. While he’s here he might as well grab some water and medicine for Zack, in case he wakes in the middle of the night and needs it. Perhaps even a small serving of unsalted crackers to accompany it. Should help his nausea should he still possess it.
He grabs a new bottle from the fridge before closing it, shuffling over to the cabinet above his stove to grab some extra strength cold and flu medication (as anything less than extra won’t work on a First-Class). Then to the cabinet next to it he procures a half-sleeve of crackers already halfway eaten, leaving 5 in the package. That should surely be enough.
Though before he can do anything else, a set of sounds that fill him with dread echos throughout the flat. A low, sharp sound, multiple quick drawn breaths, whimpers increasing in volume after each breathy gasp.
Then a high-pitched, cut-off cry. A burst. Splatter. Screaming.
Zack.
Practically throwing the items down, Sephiroth jolts, rushes to the bedroom. Something feels off. Wrong. Bad. Very bad. He tears into the room with Zack’s name on his tongue, but it dies and dissolves at the sight.
Blood splatters the wall behind their headboard, soaking the curtains in crimson. It’s all over the sheets, the bed, it’s all over Zack. He’s screaming, hands crossed over his chest, attempting to grab as his shoulder blades. And there. There…
Wings.
Two curled, crumpled in, wings of creamy white with ashen tips sprout from his back, coated in bloody flesh and crimson like a butterfly attempting to break from the confines of its cocoon. One is quite large and sturdy, but the other seems so small and crooked. The faces of Angeal and Genesis flash through Sephiroth’s head; their wings. How did he not realize it sooner. How did he not. He should know better. He knows the signs before they sprout. He knows. He has his own. He should know better than anyone.
He moves without sound, closing in swiftly. Ignoring the blood, ignoring the flesh, Sephiroth charges right in, grabbing hold of Zack’s arms tightly.
Zack’s head snaps up, tears trailing down his cheeks. The only color to his face is some blood splattered on it from the initial eruption.
“Seph, Seph Seph Seph!! It hurts it hurts!!”
Sephiroth embraces him tight, as tight as possible without wounding him further. “I’m here. I know it hurts. You will be alright.” He placates as calmly as possible, but his voice is ice in his ears.
This is not the brand of Hojo’s work, no, this is Hollander’s. He’s not sure which is worse; knowing Hojo wasn’t in charge of Zack’s boosters, or knowing Hollander was. Either way, Zack had been tampered with. Tampered with in a way that caused so much stress, grief, and sorrow onto his old friends. Tampered with in a way that they started to dwindle, in a way they would have completely degraded away if Sephiroth hadn’t forced Hollander and Hojo’s hands to intervene and save them.
Tampered with in a way that made the composed, level-headed General seethe.
But he bites his anger down as best he can, focuses on soothing and consoling Zack, holding onto him tight to distract from the initial onslaught of pain. He dare not let him go right now. Dare not. Until he stops panicking and howling, he will not let go. So he holds, and comforts, and consoles, and then does it some more, and then some more, and some more even after that until Zack has screamed his pained way to fatigue.
“Seph…” His broken, raw voice cracks, a frog taking over his voice box. So winded, so exhausted. “Seph…!” He whines, hiding his face in his shoulder and weeping.
“I have you, Zackary, I have you.” It’s the only thing he can say.
But it’s a phrase he knows soothes the softest; lets him know he’s in good, capable hands that will never turn him away. So he holds. He does not let go.
”Hollander was in charge of your enhancers.” Sephiroth states.
He’s cast a Curaga spell on Zack, taken away any pain that might have remained, cleaned up the blood, threw the sheets into the wash and changed the set, and now he’s washing off any blood and flesh still clinging to Zack in the bath with the adjustable shower-head.
“Yeah…” Zack’s voice quietly agrees. “Said Hojo was in the middle of important tests and couldn’t be bothered, said he got permission to do them instead.”
Sephiroth listens intently, taking great care to wash these new sprouted wings. Gentle soap to cleanse the blood, gentle spray to wash it down the drain, gentle touch to smooth out those new, downy feathers.
“Conniving weasel.” Sephiroth can’t stop the insult from slipping past his lips. “Why didn’t you reschedule your enhancers?”
“Hollander said… that I’d get something I’ve wanted for a long time if I let him administer them.”
No. Surely Zack didn’t mean－
“I guess he was right though.” Zack’s wings flicker timidly.
“You… wanted wings.”
The very things the common folk symbolized as monsters. The very things that drove Angeal to such initial sorrow. The very things that drove Genesis to pursue his own truths deeper, toe the edge a little more. But also… the very things that Zack challenged the symbolism of. He should have know. Zack often used to say how badly he wanted wings of his own.
“I didn’t know it was going to be so painful.” Zack laughs with none of his usual enthusiasm.
“Why did you want them?”
“Someone once told me… wings symbolize freedom for those that have none. And I guess it inspired me in a way… I wanted to match the people closest to me. I wanted to…. symbolize their freedom… I guess…”
Reckless kindness.
Sephiroth can’t stop the breathless chuckle. “You hopeless fool.” His tone swells with adoration despite the insult. “Though, I’m touched.” He mirrors Zack’s former words back at him, fingers gingerly trailing across those downy feathers bubbly with soap.
Zack copies the breathless chuckle. “Guess I got ahead of myself though… I can feel one is, a bit messed up.”
“I suspect it has to do with the variances in Hollander’s enhancers versus Hojo’s. They clashed, inharmonious...” He says as he trails his hands across the smaller, more crooked wing. It’s like one of Angeal’s wings, and the other, stronger one is like one of his own. “But it found a way to settle, I suppose.”
They are quite the sight; a mix of everyone Zack has ever loved and cherished embedded in his back. (Though Hollander will have hell to pay for pulling this stunt behind his back.)
“Freedom…” Sephiroth muses softly, watching as the soapy water cleanses the blood and skin from those beautifully colored wings. “Where on Gaia did you hear something so whimsical…” He asks himself. He can’t stop the action of planting the softest of kisses to the base of those wings.
“Someone…” Zack bashfully mutters with a voice just as quiet.
“You’re a kind-hearted fool, Zackary. But do not go through with Hollander’s ideas again.”
“I worried you, huh…?”
“Undoubtedly.”
But during their next movie night, a wing of black and wings of white and gray curl around them warmer and softer than a fleece blanket. Zack taking to curling into Sephiroth’s mighty wing and hide his face behind their feathers during scary parts. And Zack’s downy feathers are the softest things Sephiroth had ever touched. He spends nearly the entire movie petting them.
And during bedtime they nestle together wrapped up in the feathery cocoon of the other－as one. A hand through black spikes, a smile. His most cherished, kindhearted fool.