It was that off quirk of his lips that gave him away. Lies streamed off his silver-tongue, fluid like the flow of water. His gentle voice lulled her in, offering her shelter from the harsh rain known as reality. He told her of places where hearts won't be broken, where dreams don't die, where hope doesn't fade away, where light doesn't give into the darkness. His hot breath on her face, she inhaled sharply. His auburn hair brushed against her cheeks. She blushed. He blinked, and smiled, apologizing for discomforting her. What a gentleman. She knew it was a ploy behind the manners. She knew it was a lie, those words of his, but she didn't care. She wanted to live the moment when she for once meant something. Anything.

Tears rolled down her porcelain cheeks. Memories of hurt, years of hurt slipping away with it. His thumb carefully wiped it away, fingertips caressing her jawbone. She shivered at the strange contact; nobody had shown her such tenderness, not in this way. His eyebrows knit together slightly in concern. Beautiful blue orbs watched her, his gaze full of depth and passion. She replied quietly to his unspoken question. 'It's nothing, just the past.' He nodded, trying not to pry into her sorrows. She laid her head on his chest, listening to his breathing. A serene moment; something she has yearned for. He held her, slender fingers running through raven hair. She closed her eyes, satisfied with his company. He crooked his neck a little, watching her. He could see her decaying on the inside, her soul crumbling; he knows for he is decaying too, both slowly degrading. They were the same, a somebody turned into a vague memory.

He kissed the top of her head, butterfly kisses. Tingles ran down her spine despite the lack of contact.

She could hardly believe this was real; the man holding her, the emotions she is feeling. She could not believe any of this; her hands clenched his black shirt as if confirming his existence. The young woman saw him on posters so many years go when she was a naïve teenager. His form was slightly shorter, smaller, and more feminine than the great general Sephiroth. She used to blush at the sight of his blazing eyes, imagining herself burnt by the very heat of them. Not long after her odd affection towards the man on the poster, there was news that the 1st class soldier was deceased. She pondered on the old conjured memory. He was supposed to be dead, yet here he was embracing her gently as she sat in his lap. Her insides ached at the thought that this may be a dream, or a figment of her imagination, a creation of her broken sanity, something made from the lack of affection in her life. She trembled at the thought of losing him (even if he was not real,) small sobs racking through her body once again. His hands tightened around her fragile form when he felt her strong anguish. She whispered gently into his leather coat. 'Are you real?'

He laughs, warm sounds rumbling against the confines of his chest. Skin and Bones.

'Of course I am, else you'd be alone.'

With that, she felt calmer than before. She twisted herself around, lightly pushing him down onto her mattress. Her body was draped across his, their foreheads touching, eyes locked in a gaze with each other. She could see surprise flit across his face before melting away into a content look. He reached up to her face, cupping her cheeks, and wiped away her tears tenderly while doing so. He smiled widely; these tears were for him, and only him, these tears of hers. She looked at him with a ridiculous expression. This strange grin made her heart flutter. She shifted her head slightly, planting small kisses along his face, each filled with what she felt for him. Her fingers weaved through his auburn locks, her other hand finding a way to intertwine with his. He lets her do this of course. All the while, he searched her eyes, a window to her soul. What he saw was half a soul, her humanity crumbling with every year that passes by. His other hand slid down to her hip, holding on to her possessively, but still lightly. His palm fit perfectly against her hips. He thought that perhaps the remaining half of his soul would fit perfectly with hers exactly the same as their bodies did. His smile seemed to grow at the thought. Her trail of kisses neared his lips; he took the opportunity to snatch hers as they met his. She leaned into him, feeling something click inside of her. It felt satisfying, filling, completing whatever that is now whole.

A few knocks came from the door of her room. They both noticed this. The former 1st class soldier flipped her over, so that he was on top. Surprisingly he didn't break their kiss, nor separate their interlaced fingers. He cracked open an eye when the knocking got more insistent and loud. He was slightly annoyed, but he expected it to come eventually. Slowly, he separated himself from the young woman, crawling over her confused form, and off the bed. He stood at full height, stretching his spine a little. He looked back at her. She knew he was going to leave, just like any other she thought she was close to. She said his name gently. 'Genesis.'

He saw her breaking a little more. A leather-gloved hand reached out towards her. His small smile looked inviting. 'Come with me. Let us find what makes us whole, together, Tifa.'

Tifa rose from her spot, taking his hand with no hesitation. Her face alit with happiness. She didn't know if what he said was a lie, an empty promise, but she would live a lie if it gave her the true feeling of love. Genesis held her once more in his arms, and she relished the warmth of being with him. In a moment, they disappeared in a flurry of ebony feathers. The door burst open, letting a formerly exuberant ninja in. The clatter of keys filled the silent room, as the wide-eyed girl ran towards her still friend.

Somewhere out in Gaia, a phone rang in the darkness. The blonde dismissed it, immediately assuming it was Tifa phoning in to check up on him. If he had answered the call, he would have heard the solemn message. Vincent's voice would float through the speaker.

"Cloud, Tifa is in a coma. She may never wake up."

I hope you enjoyed this random crack-fic. I know Sephiroth could've fit the the role too because they both have the same sort of background in some kind, but I feel that Genesis would be better because he seems to be able to express more emotions than good ol' Sephi can. Genesis needs LURVE. Right? I know he isn't dead and all, but assume he is. He's a GHOST. I think. That's what I originally aimed for. I also apologize for not updating my other fics, but it's on the way. Anyways. Review Please.