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Mother Nature was having a fit that day, pummeling the streets of Midgar with raindrops so loud and fierce that She may as well have been jettisoning small bombs of water from the bruised clouds overhead. It was the kind of downpour that exploded more than it splashed, the acidic ammunition strafing the windshields of tardy buses and stagnant cars, and Ifrit watched in quiet satisfaction as those within were turned from drivers to devils amidst the clutches of this infernal traffic, watching as each and every person became possessed by some strange illusion that, somehow, abusing their horns and roaring various blasphemies would not cause the person in front of them to move even slower as a result of their own bitter, spiteful impatience.
All of which was why the sensible ones decided to walk instead.
“...Zack. You’re drenched.”
Standing in the heart of his friend’s office, bullets of rainwater dribbled off Zack’s uniform and onto the carpet, surely but steadily soaking it with a shallow puddle at his feet. The terrain of black spikes had been flattened to an ashy plateau; only his cowlick remained visible, and it did so by drizzling over the bridge of his nose like a string of black licorice.
Plop, plop, plop.
Sephiroth’s expression didn’t change.
“Is there a reason why you went out in this weather?”
Zack nodded emphatically, flinging pearls of liquid in the process. “The bakery down the street has chocolate chip bagels on Fridays.”
“…And you didn’t think to wear a raincoat?”
“I don’t have a raincoat,” Zack answered simply.
“A hooded jacket?”
“Lost it on the train.”
“An umbrella?”
“That I just forgot.”
A branch of lightning struck the window as he said this, the curtain of rain growing even thicker in suit.
Sephiroth just folded his arms.
“…Where’s the bagel?” he continued, studying Zack’s waterlogged attire in search of crumbs or a paper bag; he found nothing. “Were they out?”
“If by ‘out’, you mean I slipped on a puddle and gave it a bath, then yeah! They were out.”
Another flash of lightning set the sky aglow, a roll of thunder grumbling in its wake.
Sephiroth’s expression still didn’t change.
“…So what I’m hearing is that this was a failure on all possible accounts?”
“Pretty much,” Zack agreed, then tossed a wry smile at his reflection in the window. “…Looks like today’s gonna be a real wash, huh? So much for testing out those roller blades.” He paused for a beat, his mournful look then shifting into genuine consideration. “…Hey, do you think—“
“No.” Sephiroth had already returned to his work, a blur of gloved fingers typing away at the keyboard.
“But you don’t even know what I was gonna say!”
“I’m not resigning from my answer.”
Huffing, Zack opened his mouth—
“Please don’t go rollerblading in a monsoon, Zack,” Sephiroth reinforced, then watched with a vague twitch on his lips as Zack sealed his own, raindrops still rolling off every part of his body to feed the lake below. He leaned back in his chair and rolled back from the desk, leather arms settling back into a comfortable fold across his coat, thinking out loud now. “…How about you engage in something more appropriate for the weather?” he suggested. “And less likely to result in skeletal fracture.”
“…You mean like bicycle riding?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a movie,” Sephiroth clarified, remembering there was a (perfectly dry) cinema just down the sector. “You can even get confectionery.” Perhaps even bring back the leftovers, should there be any chocolates to spare?
Not that overpriced sweets seemed to be Zack’s priority right now. “...I dunno,” he mused, continuing to watch the roaring cascades outside. “Nothing really good is out; already saw everything that was decent, and everything else is pretty much just on…” His voice trailed off, momentarily lingering on this notion, before a sudden smile set his face alight. “Hey!” he started, eyes luminous with inspiration as they snapped towards the older SOLDIER. “I got an idea!” Then, before Sephiroth could question further, Zack hurried on to ask, “You got any plans tonight?”
Sephiroth needed a moment to catch up, slightly disoriented. “…Plans?” he eventually echoed, still trying to board Zack’s bullet train of thought, and it took another bout of silence for him to fully digest the question. “…No?” He did not mean for it to sound so uncertain, undecided. “I… I don’t believe so?”
“Sweet!” Zack immediately chirped, his smile becoming all the more electrified at that development. “Looks like you’re booked tonight, then!”
“...I am?” Sephiroth blinked, completely blown off the train at this point.
Zack’s nod was even more vigorous than before. “How does a movie night sound?!” he proposed, much to Sephiroth’s eye-widening surprise, which quickly prompted him to elaborate with: “You and me, chilling at my place, staying up real late to watch a movie?! Any movie! Ooh—and we can order in dinner, too; remember that pizza joint I kept yapping about? With the thick crust? I checked the other day, and they actually deliver here! I can finally get you a slice without having to drag you there against your will...!”
Noticing his friend’s bafflement, however, Zack slowed down a bit, and realized with a jolt of self-imposed stupidity that he wasn’t even considering the most important factor: Sephiroth’s comfort in all of this. He knew better than to shove Seph into unfamiliar situations, that there was a fine line between introducing him to things he himself enjoyed and lassoing Seph up in his shenanigans like some kind of stubborn Chocob...
“Alright,” Sephiroth decided.
...o?
Oh.
Oh.
Oh!
Thoroughly surprised, Zack’s own eyes launched into saucers now. “R-really?” He did not mean for it to sound so uncertain, undecided. “I-I-I mean, there’s no pressure! Really! I know things are just starting to cool down, and—”
“No,” Sephiroth interrupted, and did so much gentler now, his voice soft with genuine consideration. “...It’s alright, truly.” With it already being established that he had nothing else scheduled, what reason was there to deny a night with his friend? He enjoyed being at Zack’s apartment, from the various times he visited; a cozy, homey oasis among the deserted upper floors, and one that was much more lived in than the quarters he had for almost a decade now.
Not to mention the promise of pizza, and receiving said pizza without causing a building the size of a shoebox to nearly implode from overcapacity.
He also had those comfy, heavy blankets.
Sephiroth’s eyes softened.
“I’d be honored to join you for a film.”
Hearing the raw sincerity in the man’s voice, Zack’s sheepishness was quickly assuaged, squished like a bug under the weight of his smile. “...Yeah?!” He perked up again, eagerness reigniting like a phoenix. “Y-you actually wanna come over? Tonight? And hang with me...?!”
At last, Sephiroth’s cool expression began to thaw, revealing the smirk he’d been bridling for far too long now. “I’m not resigning from my answer,” he cemented, and couldn’t deny how nice it felt to hear Zack cheer so loudly, to watch him react so enthusiastically over his decision. The sheer warmth of knowing he was the key factor in Zack’s excitement.
Leave it to First Class Fair to make the most feared soul in SOLDIER feel so incredibly, wholly wanted.
“Woooo!”
...So wanted, in fact, that Zack needed to express this by—
“Hahaha! Yes! I love you, man! C’mere!”
“Wait, Zack! You’re still—“
Squellchhhh!!
By the time Sephiroth had fully dried off (hair dryers did not cooperate with him, as many unspeakable instances had proved), he was sitting on Zack’s couch, watching as the younger SOLDIER flicked on the TV and opened one of the many platforms presented on the menu. Waterfalls were still crashing against the window, gusts of wind still screeching and baying beyond the darkened panes; the traffic outside had slowed to a wormlike crawl.
He started to feel very bad for their hapless pizza deliverer.
“…Shit.”
At that, Sephiroth immediately snapped back to the present, a silver brow arching in response to his friend’s sudden cuss. Little things could reap such a swear from Zack’s sugary-sweet vocabulary (at least, from what Sephiroth could gauge in public; for all he knew, Zack had cursed every blasphemy in the book after dropping his bagel in the rain).
“What’s wrong?” Sephiroth frowned nonetheless, following Zack’s taut gaze to the television—which, at the moment, seemed to display some kind of Login screen, with obnoxious red letters informing Zack that, quote, Oops! That ain’t quite it! Try again or reset your password to watch your favorite movies on Mulu~!
Ah, so even streaming platforms had the potential to be condescending dullards.
How fun.
“Gaia, damnit…” Zack growled now, and Sephiroth watched as that infuriating message appeared over and over and over again, respawning like a digital cockroach with every click of the “LogIn” button—which, for the record, was never satisfied, no matter how many different combinations of •••••••••••••• (he had no intention of invading Zack’s privacy by paying close enough attention) was inputted into the password bar, and it was only a matter of time before Sephiroth began to get a sinking feeling that the remote in Zack’s hand was only a handful of not quite it!s away from being launched into the screen like a battery-filled rock.
He had never seen such a clear textbook example of “insanity” as Zack attempting to enter the same incorrect password with the hope of it somehow reaping a different result.
“Do you have your password written down somewhere?” Sephiroth dared to ask, opting it was about time for him to intervene in this infuriating cycle.
Not that Zack’s sigh of defeat gave him much hope. “...No,” the First admitted, sounding a little irritated at himself for not having such a backup plan intact. “Thought I’d just remember it, but, nope!” He collapsed back into the sofa, looking so utterly conquered by his forgetfulness that Sephiroth couldn’t help but rest a hand on his shoulder, hoping his presence could be something of a comfort.
“There, there, now. We all forget things from time to time.” Granted, Sephiroth rarely forgot things, but he was almost certain that his methods of compartmentalizing information were extreme in their own right. “You have a good mind nonetheless.”
The assurance was enough to earn him a soft, touched smile in return. “...Yeah?” Zack grinned. “You think so? My buddy Kunsel always said it’s like a wet floor.”
“Heh, why? Because you’re slick?”
“Naw, he just thinks everything slips from it… Wait—!” Somehow, Zack’s own comment seemed to trigger some kind of dramatic revelation, and Sephiroth could practically see the lightbulb blazing to life atop that charcoal head, the way those blue eyes sparked and widened as, before Sephiroth could even question what on Gaia he was thinking, he whipped out his PHS from his pocket and began furiously thumbing through his contacts, clearly planning to make an impromptu phone call.
Sephiroth canted his head. “Who are you c—”
“Kunsel!” Zack chirped, the phone already slapped against his ear by the time Sephiroth delivered his question. “Glad you picked up, man! I’m—oh, oh, yeah. I’m good. How are you? ... Ay, love to hear it ... Anyways! I’m here with Sephiroth, and—...yeah! Yeah he’s over right now! No, no, not for work ... Yeah, yeah, just chilling! ... Yeah, I know. Anyways! We’re trying to log into Mulu, and I— ... Yeah, yeah, I lost my password again ... Yes! I know it’s like a wet floor, man ... Yeah, yeah, yeah ... Whatever! Can you just fetch it for me? Somewhere? I know I gave it to... What? No? Not my email password, my—... No, not Amazolom... Wait, what? Why the hell do you even have my routing number? ... No, I lost my wallet ONE time! ... Okay, okay, fair enough ... Yeah, yeah, yeah ... Can I just have my password, please? ... Thank you! ...”
The remote was already in Zack’s hand again by the time he hung up, mouthing the password to himself, and Sephiroth practically watched as the First’s expression fell from relieved to really annoyed again, noticing in a newfound burst of irritation: “Wait... that’s the same exact password I inputted! What in the name of Shiva’s Shivering Tits is—”
“...Zack,” Sephiroth said calmly, his gaze having drifted back to the screen, “...look at your username.”
Raising an eyebrow, Zack obeyed his friend. “What? That much I know is...” And, in a matter of seconds, Zack’s cheeks had flared to a burning scarlet, his eyes widening into ocean-blue trenches as, humbled and ashamed, he all but muttered to the TV, “...oh.”
[Username: [email protected]]
[Password: ••••••••••••••]
Sephiroth’s hand returned to his shoulder. “Well,” he remarked. “At least you didn’t forget it.”
By the time they were successfully signed into the platform, the rain had become even more monstrous—so much so that, in a truly miraculous feat, ShinRa themselves had to send a weather alert to all their staff members, advising all personnel to remain indoors and return from any nightly patrols.
Sephiroth had never felt so bad for a pizza deliverer.
…Though, now that he was thinking about it…
Frowning, the man glanced at the window, enhanced eyes able to make out the contours of buildings that lined the nearby sector, and it was then that he began to wonder why a pizzeria no farther than eight minutes by foot was taking so long to arrive—harsh weather conditions notwithstanding. Didn’t they order long before the storm escalated into dangerous territory, anyway? And wouldn’t they receive some kind of cancellation notice...?
“Alright, pal, whatcha thinking: rom-com, action, horror, musical~” Listing the menu’s various genres, Zack turned towards the man for approval, and a quiet curiosity eclipsed his expression as he caught those needled eyes piercing through the sheets of smog and rain outside, tilting his head in observation. “...You searching for something, pal?”
“Just the pizza,” Sephiroth specified, and his frown deepened a bit as he asked, somehow already knowing the answer, “...How long does it usually take to deliver?”
Zack shrugged, nonchalant. “I dunno, fifteen to twenty minutes...?” As he said this, however, the realization seemed to hit him like a plummeting brick, suddenly understanding his friend’s concern. “Erm, well”—he tried to stay positive—”I’m sure they’re on their way; must’ve been a busy night for deliveries, yeah.” A brief pause. “…Buuuut just in case”—he snatched his PHS off the coffee table, unlocked it, and dropped it into Sephiroth’s surprised hands like an intoxicated driver passing him a pair of car keys—“can you just check the receipt real quick? Make sure it’s all correct? Wanna make sure it’s delivered to the right wing of the building.”
Nodding in understanding (and, frankly, proud of the extra diligence), Sephiroth’s gaze fell to the device in his palms, scanning the digital receipt with all the meticulousness of a lawyer searching for loopholes; focused, serious, and unflinching.
One meat pizza, yes… correct… as was all the payment info…
It was only when he reached the bottom of the order that Sephiroth’s expression turned wooden.
“Well?” Zack blinked after a moment, still perusing the colorful library of Mulu movies amidst the silence. “Is it coming to the right wing?”
“…Yes.”
“Oh, phew! Prolly’ll be here any—“
“If you mean the right wing of an aircraft, that is,” came the completed, flat response.
Zack’s blink was one of confusion now. “…Heh? A what now?”
Remaining calm, Sephiroth merely held the phone up for Zack to see, his countenance straighter than an airplane runway.
“Rocket Town,” was all he said.
“What? What about Rocket Town?”
“…You had it delivered to Rocket Town.”
“What?! No, I didn’t—“ Snatching the phone back, Zack ballooned the address with his fingers, and Sephiroth watched in that same stone-stiff manner as Zack, much like the aforementioned airbag, deflated against the cushions like all the oxygen had been stolen from his lungs.
He swallowed.
“…oh shiva.”
Sephiroth, now resigned to the fact that they were most certainly not getting that pizza tonight, shifted his priorities into lifting up his friend, knowing there was no real reason to tease Zack on the matter any further.
“I’m sure it’s quite a common mistake.”
“Rocket Town?” Zack emphasized, dropping the PHS into his lap. “Dumb ol’ autocorrect… inputting ‘Shera’ instead of ‘ShinRa’. I don’t even know how that happened.”
“…Well, in your defense, it’s absolutely absurd that a town across the ocean is even an option.”
Zack chewed on that for a moment. “…Yeah.” He had to chuckle a bit, unable to help but be a little amused by the sheer gravity of that nonsense. “Unless someone named ‘Shera’ is getting a free pizza~”
“Heh, don’t fret it; you’ll get a reimbursement once the order is properly declined.”
“Ya think so?”
Sephiroth gave an affirming, confident nod. “Of course. No pizza is delivered overseas.”
Meanwhile, in Rocket Town
“Ciiiiiid!” The door swung shut behind eager hands, just barely muffling the rumbles and whirrs of an aircraft taking flight outside. “Guess what? A helicopter just dropped off some pizza! Come down and grab a slice! It’s got beef on it!”
“What in the cinnamon toast fuck are you talking about, Shera?”
[This is a message to all ShinRa Personnel: We are currently working on fixing the power as we speak. Please utilize any mobile and/or battery-powered light sources in the interim (Note: This does NOT permit the casual use of Firagas; any unauthorized use of said spell will be recorded on the given SOLDIER’s permanent record).]
Cloaked in a room of rich, deep, and pathetically fallacious darkness, Zack snapped his PHS shut, staring listlessly at the extinguished TV screen as if it were a fallen man on the battlefield; his eyes empty, hollow, and full of numbing regret.
Sephiroth had never seen such a state of mourning before.
“…Well,” Zack eventually said, severing the awkward reign of silence that had stretched between them, “…this sucks.”
Sephiroth offered a quiet hum of acknowledgement. “…It’s certainly unfortunate, yes.”
At that moment, lightning split the sky, punctuating their defeat like a mischievous god of fate.
Zack’s stomach was louder than the following rumble of thunder.
“You should eat,” Sephiroth advised, turning calmly towards his friend. “It’s getting late.”
“…I don’t have much,” Zack admitted. “Not without a microwave, anyway.”
Sephiroth processed this. “…What about snacks?”
“What about them?”
“Well, certainly those can be eaten without being heated.”
Zack tossed him a wobbly smile, realizing the man was being serious. “…Are you actually giving me permission to eat junk food for dinner?”
“It’s better than nothing, no?”
Zack huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s true…” His face then fell again, realizing the implications of their conversation, the way they were quite literally resorting to eating cheese chips and pretzels for dinner instead of the promised pizza. He couldn’t help but feel immensely guilty at the thought. “…I’m sorry, Seph. Really. This, uh… did not go the way we planned, obviously, and…” He rubbed his neck, mako-fueled eyes drifting to the shadowy carpet below, vaguely illuminating it in faint puddles of blue. “…You can go now, if ya want. I’m sure we can find another day to do this, maybe, if shit doesn’t hit the fan again anytime s…”
He trailed off, however, as a gentle hand descended onto his shoulder, and Zack glanced up with shameful eyes to meet those that couldn’t be any different, that gazed into his own with all the steadiness of a boat on still waters; soothing, assuring, and without a single ripple of doubt.
The silence didn’t even last a heartbeat.
“…What if I don’t want to leave?”
Hearing this, Zack could only stare, teetering between being utterly nonplussed and breaking into a relieved, heartfelt, yet incredulous smile. “…R-r-really?!” He eventually managed to say, even though Sephiroth’s decision was as clear as clean water. “You still wanna stay…?!”
Regardless of its obviousness, Sephiroth was happy to confirm it with a slow, smirk-budding nod. “…Unless you want to kick me out, of course.”
“N-n-no! Not at all!” The light had begun to rekindle in Zack’s eyes, flaring like a cozy campfire in his heart. “Of course you can stay! I-I-I just… well… I dunno! Thought it was kind of a waste of a movie night, now that we can’t actually watch…”
Sephiroth was already shaking his head, silver bangs swaying with the motion. “Do you really think I agreed to come over for the movie itself?” he asked straightly, sincerely.
“…Well, uh—“
“Me?” Sephiroth emphasized, nearly giving way to another chuckle. “Who has not watched a film in its entirety in an unquantifiable amount of years?”
Under any other circumstances, such a comment would have been downright depressing, should anyone have tried to dissect it for the potentially dour connotations.
…Under these circumstances, however?
There wasn’t a shred of sadness to be seen.
“Aww, Seph.”
Watching Zack’s expression melt into a touched, grateful smile, Sephiroth decided to press on, enjoying the act of smothering his friend with words of praise and kindness.
It was actually much easier to do than he ever thought.
“…I enjoy your company, you know,” Sephiroth carried on, his eyes softening against the velvet darkness, and was surprised at just how smoothly the words left him, the way his chest didn’t twist or tighten with anxiety. “…I always do. No matter where we are.”
That earned him an even broader, doughier, brighter smile. “Aww, shucks…” Zack beamed. “You’re gonna make me cry, man... Really...”
Ah! A perfect sign that his assault was working just fine.
He was just about to continue when, not even accompanied by a lightning bolt this time, Zack’s thunderous hunger threatened to shake the apartment, and Sephiroth’s visage returned to that of a gentle counselor. “I do think you should eat something, though; go see what you have. Please.”
“Alright, alright...!” It was clear that Zack didn’t need much more convincing, a blade of light already cutting through the apartment as he flicked on his phone’s flashlight and slid off the couch, guiding himself to the adjacent kitchen. “What do you want to eat?!” he called over his shoulder, and the sheer rigidness of his question told Sephiroth that, despite Zack himself being the (openly) hungry one, Sephiroth was indeed going to be having a backup meal as well—no protests, no drama, no Nothing.
It filled up his heart.
“...Do you have breakfast food?” Sephiroth ultimately decided, opting for the meal genre that he was least picky about and most likely to eat in full.
He heard a cabinet open, another one close; the rustle of clumsy hands ferreting through the various items within them.
“I finished off all my cereal,” came the apologetic answer, followed by some more rustles and crinkling. “Gimme a sec! I’ll be right there.”
As his friend returned to the den, however, Sephiroth found himself struggling to puzzle out what exactly he was carrying, unable to fully see (or smell, if it even had an odor) what he settled on for dinner.
Not that he needed to wait very long to find out.
“Bon appétit!~”
Unceremoniously, he felt the featherlight weight of a paper plate sag into his hands, the odorless waft of room-temperature air that their meal was emitting.
Sephiroth gave it another sniff.
“Zack?”
“Yeah.”
“This is a slice of bread.”
“It sure is.”
“...Just bread?”
“It’s pre-toast!” Zack clarified, quite proud of this culinary accomplishment. “Gotta make do without the burnt part, that’s all. Toast without toast.”
Considering this, Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, studying the raw square of carbohydrates like an ancient riddle. “Mmn...” he started, the slyest of ideas snaking its way into his mind, “but what if we could toast it?”
Zack was just about to take a bite. “You got a battery-powered toaster on hand?”
“...No,” Sephiroth admitted, his smirk all the more mischievous in the dark, “...but I do have my materia.”
Zack could hardly believe what he was hearing. “You serious?!” he asked, baffled by his friend’s willingness to break the crystal-clear rules, yet Sephiroth’s smugness was contagious; he broke into his own playful smirk. “You wanna stain your permanent record? Really?”
Sephiroth scoffed, all the more impish. “Do you really think they want to blemish their ‘hero’s’ flawless image...?” Mulling on this for a moment, he then added, kinder, “Or dare to oppose me when they try to stain my dear subordinate’s?”
That earned him a rich, bubbly laugh. “Damn, pal! Who knew you liked to abuse your power so much? Maybe you are a lil’ spoiled~”
It was a bit of an oxymoron, really, how the “insult” made Sephiroth’s heart burst and bloom, how it filled him with such an inarticulable, beautiful sense of gratitude. “...Heh,” he said, rumbling with warm chuckles now, “the audacity to say that to your superior’s face; for shame, Fair.”
“Nope!” Zack was quick to counter, unapologetic. “Can’t pull that card on me~”
“Oh?”
“Yeah!”
“And why’s that?”
“‘Cause we’re off-duty~”
“Hmph, alright then...” Sephiroth considered this notion, utterly unbothered. “I suppose I’ll just have to throw you under the bus; you can consider your innocence rescinded.”
“What?! No!”
“Mmnhmm. I’ll even say it was your idea to casually use Firaga for culinary purposes.”
“Alright, alright, alright! Fine! I take it back.”
“...Do you really?”
“Nope, not at all!~” However, melting back into a smile now, Zack was quick to add, “...But only because you really aren’t my commander right now.”
Sephiroth canted his head, ever amused. “...No? Then what am I?”
Preparing himself for another tease or quip, he hadn’t expected Zack’s voice to soften the way it did, to dip into such warm, tender sincerity.
He hadn’t expected himself to feel so overcome.
“...Just,” Zack said, delicate yet unflinching, balancing a glasslike truth on his tongue, “...my best friend.”
Somehow, it seemed as if they’d grown even closer after that conversation, the precious bond between two juxtaposing SOLDIERs growing all the more unbreakable as, side-by-side on the sofa, plates of golden toast in hand, they found solace in watching some simple MuTube videos on Zack’s PHS, binging through a plethora of animal shenanigans, media analyses, and even some comical reviews of the films they were debating on watching that night (most of which, much to their amusement, turned out to be pure garbage).
“...Okay! We really dodged a bullet with that one, huh? Who even writes these things?!”
“What? The talking starfish that saves the world doesn’t appeal to you?”
“Not when it’s also a musical.”
Neither even noticed when the power turned on again, so engrossed in each other’s company, and so cozy under the blanket that Sephiroth had wrapped around them both.
“ You’re not really gonna throw me under the bus, are ya?”
“Heh... the executives are going to have to speak with me if they want to punish my best friend.”
Which was also likely due to them falling asleep before the power even returned, the storm quelling at last.