Ode to the Sun, Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core (Sephiroth/Genesis) Title: Ode to the Sun Author:sphinxofthenile Rating: PG Warnings: Light angst. Word count: 520 Prompt: Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core, Sephiroth/Genesis: Pampering - Being a spoiled brat, he was used to certain luxuries. Summary: He had so little that meant so much. A/N: Beta read by the lovely gothicdragon752.
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Being a spoiled brat, Genesis was used to certain luxuries. There was no denying that his parents’ money couldn’t get him friends - only enemies - and could fulfill all his needs - except his dreams. He had grown to despise them for thinking otherwise. He downright hated them when they hinted that Angeal’s social status did not make him a suitable best and only friend to their son. Yet, he could only look down on their materialism because there were all these small things he never questioned about his life.
Like the maid who kept his room clean and orderly, even though it infuriated him when many times he broke and scattered things in a careless fit of anger to find everything the way it was a mere few hours later. It was so much like their life, too much fake perfection and covering up of ugly truths. It made him feel sick and irate, this power to render his efforts useless and wipe out all evidence of his protests like they had never been. But in the end, at least he did have things to break instead of breaking in himself.
Or there were the pets he had, Pégasos, the thoroughbred riding chocobo he got for his sixteenth birthday and Persephone, the smoky blue Persian, always keeping him company through the numerous hours spent curled up in a chair of their library. As it happened, there was no other library in the vicinity of a hundred mile radius, and looking back, Genesis could only feel blessed, even though he was the only one who ever opened those tomes.
But oh, there were so many other things he took for granted, like the fragrant grass and the blue sky he could watch for hours on end if he so wished, the stars, the clouds, the birds. The flowers that never bloomed in Midgar, the air that was clean and fresh, the sunshine that was beautifully hot kissing his skin, the butterflies that danced around in the summer breeze, the soft, soothing rain and the beloved apples from the orchard.
It made his home sickness so much worse in the beginning. He felt like the smog and the eternal night of the city was slowly sucking out his life, even though he would never admit missing the town he felt bitter about calling his home. But despite everything, he still felt sorry for Sephiroth, who had no such issues himself, but neither any idea what he was missing.
But that will have to change, he swore silently. The next time they were both on a leave, he will take Sephiroth to Banora, show him what it was like to live without a few thousand tonns of steel pressing down on them like an ever haunting threat of suffocation.
“What are you thinking of?” there came the low murmur interrupting his thoughts, and his fingers slid back into endless silver hair, working out tangles and massaging more shampoo into the heavy mass he adored.
“Nothing,” his lips curved into a small smile at the pleased almost-purr coming from his lover.