Standard disclaimers apply. No, I don't own Final Fantasy VII, if I did, it would feature much bishonen nudity, along with Sephiroth visiting Cloud each time you spent a night at an inn. With cut scenes. Yummy cut scenes.
*ahem* Now that I've disturbed you sufficiently, on with the story. And do I even ~need~ to say that this is Yaoi? Flames not appreciated, comments, complements and constructive criticism yes.
And yes, I ~know~ I'm being overly-dramatic with my word choice. I wanna, so there. And my muses went on strike for my other fics, and demanded I write this one. Ungrateful little #@&$%. . .
[Dreaming of You]
"Green is not so bad, once you get used to it," the figure mused, "but it ~would~ be nice to have some variation."
He didn't know whether he spoke out loud, or simply in his mind. Didn't know, and didn't care. Either way, it really didn't matter, trapped in the Green as he was. Always the Green. Couldn't whoever decorated this place think to add more color? It was all Green, every Green from light to dark, mixed with white. Not that it was bad. The Green and the white were comforting. His own colors, those he'd possessed since birth. It was like being wrapped up in a part of himself. True, there was the 'other' portion, but that had been mercifully burned away by the Green.
Was this what it had been like for him those years ago? This sense of comfort and protection, this warmth? But that probably lacked his own boredom. "Truly, after a year of doing naught but floating inside eternity, the thrill does wear off. And how I do miss him."
He smiled wistfully. "I'm getting rather poetic, aren't I? But truly, how can I not when I spend much of my time contemplating what I'd say or do, should I be released from my heavenly imprisonment? Ah, but to be able to hold you once more, and whisper those words and phrases I've so finely tuned inside fantasy . . ."
His cat-slit eyes fluttered shut, the silver lashes trembling slightly with the movement. He imagined once more holding him, that body, so much more slender than his own, pressed up against him. The soft silky texture of skin beneath his callused fingertips, feeling the smoothness only slightly marred from scars. That being not an imperfection, but rather yet another subtlety to memorize and caress.
That liquid sensation, whenever he ran his long fingers through those delicate strands. The feeling of his face buried inside of the ethereal softness, trailing down to kiss that sweet neck, gentile, always so gentile with him. Had to offer that gentleness to atone for the way he was. The coldness, the impassive gaze of one who knows that, had he wished it, those who presumed to order him about could be easily . . . dispatched.
But no, that love, that softness, it all somehow made it alright. That even though he was a man of utter ice, he could be fire as well, if so he wished. No, not fire, it was too consuming, too destructive. He had been sunlight, then. But that was incorrect, as well. That's right, he was moonlight. Cool but bright, welcoming yet shadowing. And of the night, the dark. The other had been sunlight, the day, the sweet gold of the sun and blue of the sky. Gentile warmth timidly requesting to be let inside. Never, ever harming of his own will.
"But later, I became fire. Consuming, obliterating, with a light that drowned out that simple warmth that I so craved. Nearly obliterating the very Planet. Him."
Ah, but regrets were such tantalizing things. The hope for redemption, even knowing one's time has passed, that the precious and fleeting chance to obtain that ultimate peace. But still, the desire never left one, wasn't he proof of that?
Of course, those gossamer bonds that tied one's heart towards hopes had no effect on those who never desired salvation. Now that he though of it, he'd seen one such spirit, while contemplating the Green some time ago.
It had been a petty, arrogant man, whom he'd known quite well. More than he wished, at any rate. And he knew that for this one, the Green held no promise of eternal salvation, of everlasting peace. A soul such as that could never be content with such things. More a pity, that hatred of paradise.
"Paradise? No, not quite. For though it is certainly tranquil, I am not quite happy at this time. There is slightly more to my paradise than what is provided here. And while I must admit that watching does have it's pleasures, it lacks the tangible. The sensation of touch, the closeness both mental and physical, the pure feeling of life, of living. This, nothing but life itself can provide."
"But who am I speaking to? Whomever would listen, I suppose. It matters not, for the one who's ears I would most like to reach is not here. Not yet. And so, I must wait."
His eyes, the Green of his environs, closed gently. A slight smile touched his soft-petal lips, as he whispered a few more words before once again loosing himself in the great consciousness of the Green.
"But dream of me, will you not?"
Aya: Ok, I made it pretty obvious the where, when, and whoms without saying, but if you don't get it, think a bit harder. It's not really all that difficult. O_o
Anywhoo, hope ya like it! *tries bribing her muses with chocolate*