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„Do you want to see him one last time?”
Yes of course. Because they always wanted to see him, right?
No maybe not. Because it was so cruel, how he didn’t even look like himself anymore.
They went anyway, had held a cold pale hand, looked at whitened hair, gazed at a motionless face, small breaths barely visible. Genesis was withering away. The slow death didn’t suit him, he wasn’t pretty anymore, scared them almost. How could their Genesis end like this? How could life do this to him? Angeal knew he would hate it, would hate them for looking at this lifeless grotesque body.
They didn’t linger much. It was hard to stand.
Genesis didn’t last much longer either.
1st class SOLDIER Genesis Rhapsodos had suffered a shoulder injury in training due to a breaking sword, nothing to worry about it had seemed, until his body began the degradation.
Deterioration.
How the fuck was that even possible?
Sephiroth wanted to ask questions, find out who fucked up, blame someone, kill someone.
Somehow he didn’t.
Maybe later.
He had not anticipated how numbing death was. Sephiroth saw Angeal crying for the first time, witnessed big fat tears finally being shed and felt helpless. He barely noticed the wetness in his own eyes . Somehow a heaviness seemed to drag them down, deeper and deeper below.
It was quiet without Genesis. No dramatic gestures, snarky mean remarks, downright disrespectful jokes, no one quoting poetry, no philosophical rambling, no spark.
Sephiroth had never thought he would ever have a friend, would ever trust someone, feel more comfortable in someone’s company than he did in solitude. But then he also had not considered how fast all this could be lost again. When they had said there was no hope anymore, he had tried. Tried to prepare himself. But he had not figured out how to get ready for loss.
You cannot prepare a heart for its break.
Angeal had spent few years of his life without Genesis. They formed a bond when they were children, very different children indeed, somehow still fitting together so easily. He had played with Genesis by his side, became a teenager with Genesis by his side, they turned into adults side by side, left their home together, joined SOLDIER together, trained together, climbed ranks together. A fiery constant at his side, the one who made his mostly boring lifestyle more interesting. The one who dragged him around, rambled in his ear when Angeal was cooking. The one who, honestly, had kept Angeal kind of busy- stopping Genesis from burning documents he didn’t like, lecturing him until he (kind of) apologized for a few insults too many, giving him someone to vent to. He would do it for thirty more years, for a lifetime, for eternity. Angeal had been the responsible one, the friendly one, the disciplined one. But what was all that without someone challenging it.
Angeal had not really known loneliness, not until Genesis was gone.
The Loveless copy was in his pocket, until the fear of loosing it struck him. He knew the pages had softened from the frequent touches, but the edges were still fine and not a single scratch marked the cover. With his thumb he stroke softly over the small book. Genesis had read it to him so often, rambled about its meaning, that Angeal did not need to open it. But he also could not, could not bring himself to cast his eyes upon the piece of literature that had meant so much to Genesis. The book ended up on his bed, beside his pillow. A keepsake he would keep safe.
Genesis’ parents were ready to spend a fortune on his burial of course. Shinra was throwing some kind of memorial event. With a ton of quests he didn’t even like, thought Sephiroth. Sure, a lot of fellow SOLDIERs were sad, mourned the 1st class who had read Loveless to them. But Sephiroth couldn’t stand this, couldn’t watch Scarlet drink through all available beverages like she tried to nominate the best champagne, couldn’t stand to hear Heidegger’s laugh, simply left before he got to see Hojo, sickened by the mere thought of him possibly attending. The burial in Banora was different, somewhat tasteful. Too boring for Genesis, maybe, but this is what was left with him gone. The scent of apples stayed with Sephiroth for quite a while, what was once sweet had a tinge of bitterness now. The marble gravestone was just decadent enough. A dumbapple tree was not far. Genesis was back home. Way too soon.
Considering his occupation it would be stupid to assume Genesis would have valued dying an old man. He had hated aging, of course. Not that he really got to part of his life where one could speak of aging. But although a dramatic character he had liked life, enjoyed a thousand luxuries and indulged in his passions like the hedonist he was. Rightfully so.
The loveless adaptation would premiere without him.
Sephiroth had the ticket on his desk, remembered vividly how Genesis had given him the small paper, had not even asked. “You better write this in your calendar.” He had. Had thought that even if it would bore him for hours, he could see Genesis smile, would find warmth in his chest. He would have liked to make this memory.
Sometimes Genesis was everywhere. In this ticket. At training. At the theatre posters. Beside him at the table, enjoying some pie. In the elevator, complaining about his day.
But mostly Genesis was gone. The ticket would never be redeemed, he would never challenge Sephiroth again, would never surprise him with his dramatics, never fascinate him again.
After all only memories were left.
But memories are cruel. They blur together. Some get eternally lost.
In the evening after the burial they had talked about Genesis reading Loveless, and his velvety reading voice reciting the poem echoed in their heads, the most saddest kind of beautiful sound. We will remember that, we could never forget, they might have said.
But time knew little mercy. Recalling the exact voice got harder.
At some point, they still remembered he had recited the verses often, and so beautifully. But it was a bitter realization, that the echo had fallen silent.
He was truly gone when they had to read Loveless in their own voices.