My notes: I've been writing this non-stop for the last four hours. It's in the middle of the night here, and I have to get up in five hours to go to school. But this couldn't wait, wouldn't wait. No. Now I'm crying, not because I'm sad myself but because this simply made me cry. I'm actually in a pretty good mood, so no need to worry about me or my mental health, which I'm sure you will after reading this.

Please review, I really need to hear anything about this.

Warnings: This is brutal. Horrible. Do not read if you're sensible in any way or manner. I'm serious.

"You're so pretty. My pretty, pretty thing." he cooed lovingly as he oh so gently finger-combed Genesis' dirty and bloody hair. Genesis shuddered, but kept his eyes firmly shut. This wasn't truly him. It was not his lover – his strong, beautiful, righteous angel. It was only the broken doll that was left of the great hero Sephiroth after Jenova tore his mind apart and destroyed the very essence of his being. But apparently, the fallen one seemed to remember him. Somehow.

Genesis gave a small moan and tried to force his eyes to open. Everything hurt. His whole body was sore, feeling as if he had gone through a meat mangle. Or battled a fierce Behemoth, and lost. Horribly so. He felt dried blood flake as he tried to move his limbs, and the very marrow of his bones hurt as he tried to move. It felt as if someone had ripped his bones apart, and then pressed them together and let them heal messily and all wrong. The degradation had been harsh to him. The fact that his Goddess had granted his wish eventually had only stopped the degradation from going further – it hadn't healed his broken body.

He couldn't open his eyes. Blood had pooled in his sunken-in eye sockets, and dried his eyelids together. He was too weak to force it. Then, suddenly, that combing hand left his matted hair, and a warm, wet finger began to gently rub over his closed eyes. It left his eyes a few times, returning wetted anew. All until he could weakly separate his eyelids and take a glance at the world he thought he would have left by now. The world he should have left, because he no longer deserved to reside in it.

Acid green, cat-slit eyes met his through his narrow slits. "There's my skies." Sephiroth's sharp, angular features split in a very uncharacteristic, and completely crazy, grin. "My pretty little thing is awake. Are you hurt, little thing? Are my skies hurt?"

"Yes, Sephiroth... I'm hurt really badly..." he managed to rasp out, and it felt as if his voice hadn't been used in years. "Please don't hurt me." He was far beyond caring about his own pride by now. It was, after all, what had even caused all this in the first place. But his words seemed to be in vain, because Sephiroth's too light eyes kept flickering all over the place, unable to focus, seemingly not listening to his words whatsoever. However, that grin remained, marring those angelic features and turning him into some sort of grotesque demon. Then, suddenly, those crazed eyes suddenly stopped their restless flickering and snapped their attention on him. Genesis flinched at the intense glare, sending a surge of agony through his abused body.

"Ugh..." he groaned loudly, white hot pain pulsating through his head in the same rhythm as his weakened heart. Oh dear Goddess, why hadn't She gifted him with death instead of the gift of life in agony?! Or was this... his punishment? Perhaps, he thought as he looked into the mad eyes of his former lover, this was his Purgatory. Or his personal Hell. Suddenly, a verse came to his mind. "And I saw, and lo, a pale horse, and he who is sitting upon him – his name is Death, and Hades doth follow with him." His effort was rewarded with his dry lips cracking, a thin line of blood oozing slowly from the small wound. Genesis fought down hysterical laughter as he saw his lover cock his head to the side as he looked down on him. He spit out some blood and spoke again, his voice no more than a harsh-sounding whisper. "And I saw an angel coming down out of heaven, having the key to the Abyss and holding in his hand a great chain." Then he threw back his head and laughed, because it was just so funny. It was not even his religion; he worshiped the Goddess. Not the elemental Gods some prayed to or those the Christians of the Planet called God and built churches for, but the Goddess Minerva – the Planet itself. She was everything and all, and he worshiped her and hated her, so much. "Sephiroth..." he tried again.

"My beautiful Genesis." Sephiroth responded, and despite everything, Genesis felt a surge of emotion at the sound of his name spilling from the lips of the angel who had once been his. But of course, as always with him, it had not been enough. Nothing ever was enough for him, and that was his downfall.

"Please, I am so thirsty." Genesis managed to get out. "Please, Sephiroth." That hysterical laughter still bubbled deep inside of him, but the thankfully worldly ache of thirst managed to overshadow it at the moment. Sephiroth stood from his kneeling position over his prone body, and then cocked his head again in a manner that was so typical him that it made Genesis' eyes tear up. For a few deceiving moments, Sephiroth looked just like himself – intelligent and calm, yet young and somewhat naive. Then the crazy flickering of his green eyes returned, and he bent over Genesis. For a moment, Genesis tensed, fear mixing with hope as he thought his lover to kill him. But no. The taller man simply scooped him up, and almost carelessly threw him over one steel-protected shoulder. Genesis screamed. Sephiroth wasn't very harsh in his actions, but Genesis was very frail and the thump on metal cracked one of his ribs, forcefully pressing it against one of his lungs. It hurt so badly Genesis was sure he passed out for a second or two, but the tortured scream continued to leak out of his abused throat even when his world turned black. The mercy of the dark abyss of unconsciousness was brief, for soon pain was redoubled as Sephiroth began to walk, each step digging the broken-in-half rib deeper into his lung. Breathing became hard, and Genesis realized with half panicked pain and half elation that his lung was punctuated by the broken bones. Surely, his body was to weak to heal this.

"And I saw, and lo, a pale horse..." he began once more, but was unable to continue when all that came out was a hissing sound and bloodied tissue from his broken lung. And he coughed and coughed and coughed, and drenched the back of Sephiroth's black duster with sanguine blood.

Everything Genesis experienced the following hours while Sephiroth kept moving was just small fragments. One second it was the tortuous reality of a steel, another it was beloved darkness, and another it was elusive illusions of green fields and greener eyes. He tried to linger in the second and grasp the third, but reality was unrelenting and those two slipped away as if they never had been. If the scenery around them changed, Genesis didn't react. If Sephiroth began flying at some point, he wouldn't know. All that existed in his world was a steel protection and pure agony.

Then he fell. And then he hit the floor. Finally, the dark abyss truly graced his mind, and swallowed him in a dark embrace. No last words flickered across his mind before it turned into nothingness.

It could have been seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months or years later. Genesis would know no difference. No difference mattered. Because the abyss rejected him, and he was alive. His throat was as dry as a desert, his limbs and bones aching and his lung pulsating with pure pain, but he was fortunately or unfortunately very clearly alive. A small tear trickled down his dirty cheek, leaving a clear trail in its wake, and he wasn't sure if it was in agony or bliss he cried. He wanted to die, to be eternally embraced by the alluring darkness of the abyss, but at the same time, something inside of him wanted to live so badly it hurt the very core of his being.

A hand met his wet cheek, cradling it. Sephiroth. Genesis carefully tilted his head to be able to look at the pale man. Sephiroth stared down at him with forever unblinking eyes. The grin was gone, and so was the flickering of his eyes, and the madness of his gaze was hidden behind a thin veil of emotionlessness. Genesis didn't which version of his mad lover scared him the most. But at least the man appeared mild, and Genesis was quite sure he hadn't hurt him by intention earlier, even if he hadn't exactly tried to avoid it either. He still remembered how he had longed for his lover to hurt him before, to punish him for his greed and unthankfulness, to rid him of the bitterness and hatred that grew with his sickness but somehow always had been lurking at the bottom of his pitch black heart. Ha! And now he longed for nothing else than his lover not to hurt him. He deserved the pain, of course, but... His head spin and he couldn't think clearly. "Water." he hissed out. He had to focus on water, or he would lose his weak grasp on reality.

His lover stood. Sephiroth regarded him in silence for a few minutes, and Genesis did his best to beg with his eyes when his voice failed him. Then, Sephiroth turned his back on his, and Genesis could only watch as that swaying waterfall of white hair disappeared away from him. Now, and only now, he looked at the settings. He had to focus on something while waiting for Sephiroth to come with water, if he even left to do that at all... But no! Genesis fought down his negative thoughts and his hysteria, and looked around as much as he could without moving his head. A... cave. A small room. Darkness. The flickering of a small fire in a corner. Genesis closed his eyes. He had exhausted himself by the quick look-over of his current location. He laid there, eyes closed, and imagining dark blue eyes and a kind smile so filled with honor he missed the presence of his fallen lover until the man took it upon himself to raise Genesis into sitting. It was pure agony. But Genesis was out of screams, and only a tiny whimper left his broken lips. Then – heaven. Water. A cup was pressed against his lips, and when he was unable to open them properly – for his lips had been sealed by dried blood mixed with his tears – Sephiroth gently pried them apart using one gloved finger. Then he poured the water inside. Genesis drank with uttermost greed, almost choking in his great need, and then crying out loud as most spilled out of the corners of his lips as his body rejected the sudden rush of fluid. But Sephiroth was surprisingly patient and calm, and when the cup was empty – most of it soaking their clothes – he simply lifted Genesis and started walking somewhere. He held Genesis better now, the redhead noticed, cradling him against his chest instead of slinging him over one shoulder. Genesis was hysterical, kicking and sobbing in panic. Water! His water! More water!

"Oh, Goddess!" he screamed, his words echoing in the path of stone Sephiroth walked down. His voice was somewhat restored by the water he had managed to consume, but it was still raspy and the hysteria gave it a ragged edge of pure panic. "No!" He no longer knew why he screamed, or who he screamed at. Sephiroth? Himself? The Goddess? No reason existed in his scrambled mind, if it ever had. Water! "Water!"

Cold, all around him. Cleansing cold. Was this Hell? He had always imagined it cold, not hot. Just like this. A sudden surge of serenity hit him, drenching the hysteria. Drenching... And then some smidgen of reason returned and he realized that he was in a cold pool of water, held by Sephiroth in a firm grip. So he drank. Genesis drank and drank and drank, and his body rejected the water over and over, but he couldn't help it. He drank even more, and threw it all up. His body turned cold and numb and it was so utterly amazing Genesis never wanted it to end. But of course, like all good things that happened to him, it did end. And like most else, it ended with Sephiroth, who suddenly stood and left the water, taking Genesis with him. Genesis didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay in the bliss of the forgiving, numbing water forever. He wanted to continue to drink, and he wanted Sephiroth to finally let go of him and let him sink deeper – allowing the water to fill his lungs and slowly and kindly suffocate him. The cold and bony hands of death choking him tenderly. But no.

Genesis screamed and kicked, crying big fat tears for his wish to return to the forgiveness of the pool, and crying for his wish to die as Sephiroth walked him away from it. Then he cried for he was now cold in an unpleasant way as he began to shiver in his drenched clothes. Sephiroth walked and Genesis cried until no more tears remained, and his eyes were red and itchy and his head was filled with heavy cotton. In exhaustion, he leaned his weary head on Sephiroth's sturdy shoulder and closed his eyes in a manner that reminded him almost mockingly of their many raunchy nights on the couch in their living room, where Sephiroth lovingly would carry him to their shared bed afterwards, if he was too tired or lazy to walk on his own. His azure eyes flickered open to peer up on his angel. He didn't know if he was looking for an answer of some sort or not, but he knew he got none in the closed cat-like eyes that stared ahead into the darkness of the cave.

"Who hath numbered the sand of the sea, and the drops of rain, and the days of the world? Who hath measured the height of heaven, and the breadth of the earth, and the depth of the abyss?" Genesis mumbled, but gained no response from Sephiroth, not even the slightest reaction. He closed his eyes again.

Soon, he was set down on the cold stone floor. His clothes, dirty and mangy, were heavy with water, and the cold began to creep into the very core of his being. So cold, but this cold wasn't forgiving or loving, just painful and cutting. Genesis didn't protest as Sephiroth began undressing him. What words could he give? He had nothing, absolutely nothing to give his lover. At last, after the torn shirt had been removed and the boots slid off, Sephiroth pulled his pants off with ease. The red leather pants, now grayed, had one embraced his muscled legs in perfection, but now they were baggy since he had thinned much during his months of sickness, the muscles, as well as the little body fat he had before, disappearing as into thin air as his body rejected all food that found its way into his sore throat. He was not much more than a skeleton now, thin and bony, and almost dead.

Genesis didn't know what he had expected. Perhaps, for a few fleeting seconds, he had thought his lover undressed him out of kindness, to allow him to warm without the hindrance of soaked clothing. Perhaps, he had expected Sephiroth to pull him close and share his body heat in a loving embrace. Perhaps.

Instead, the angel turned beast of Genesis' personal purgatory, lifted his thin legs, separated them, and then plunged right into his opening, earlier so easily and blissfully shared with him, but now taken by force. Hell, Genesis was reminded off. This was his Hell. He screamed as the tender ring-muscle tore, causing him to bleed violently around Sephiroth's bucking cock. Sephiroth gave no reaction, and only pinned him down and began moving in and out. It wasn't necessarily cruel – Genesis thought through the haze of his pain and agony – only careless. Unloving. And so painful.

It lasted not long. The seed, Sephiroth's seed, which he used to welcome so happily inside of him or in his mouth, it burned him as it touched the tears on his soft insides. Agony, and even more so when Sephiroth pulled out without a care in the world. Blood mixed with thick cum oozed out the wake of the leaving cock, trailing down Genesis' milky thighs, which had been clean after his bath only for minutes. It painted the floor underneath the redhead in a sanguine color.

Genesis closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he soon realized some time must have passed. His head felt clearer. The blood and cum between his legs had dried and began flaking. Sephiroth was nowhere to see and strangely enough, that famous black duster covered Genesis' nude body. He really didn't know how he felt about that.

Every reasonable thought that still resided inside the scrambled head of Genesis told him to stay exactly where he was. The memory of pure agony had not yet left his mind, which was terrified of a repeat performance. But then again, he had never been a very reasonable person. Genesis tried to sit up and assert the situation, all to distract himself from that lingering hint of hysteria that seemed to always threaten to rise to the surface of his being. And really, it scared him even more than pain.

His lung felt better, which meant his body had begun the harsh work of beginning to knit itself back together in some sense. His rib still felt broken though, and pressed lightly against that barely healed lung. If he bent forward, the broken fragments would tear the thin sack open again. His bottom hurt, badly. And when he moved, he stirred the fluid which had not yet dried inside of him, making it begin to dribble down his inner thighs, antagonizing the open tears of his ring-muscle, once more. He gave a labored breath. The rest of his body ached terribly as well, but somehow it was somewhat bearable. He could think, he could see, he could function. Barely, but he could. And he could remain in charge of his own body, instead of seeing it give up to the hysteria, that which made him himself only a spectator to his fits of panic. Losing himself to himself scared him more than the abyss, much more.

"O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting?" his voice ringed out as words and phrases flickered through his mind, and his words echoed through the cave. No response met his ears, not that he expected one. He wasn't even sure who he asked. Himself? Sephiroth? Or the rider of a pale horse? And was there even a difference between them? "And I saw, and lo, a pale horse, and he who is sitting upon him – his name is Death, and Hades doth follow with him." A wry smiled widened his lips, but then it ended with a grimace, and he sank down once more. He had exhausted himself.

Genesis spent hours slipping in and out of consciousness. Everything felt weird, dream-like and soon he couldn't quite grasp what was here and what was there, what was real and what was only a dream and what was a nightmare. It all mixed together in his mind.

Angeal's kind face in front of his. Soft, dry lips on his forehead, and a little teasing of a small beard on his sensitive skin. A shared smile. An embrace and soft bedding. Love in the form of deep friendship, safety in the form of man that loved you unconditionally. Angeal's face twisted in agony. White wings specked with blood. The grief and guilt of making a pure angel fall from grace. Honor tainted and malice born. Wounds never to be closed again. Icy cold floor and dried blood. A kind hand in his hair. Bloody wings. Angeal's dark blue eyes. Wounds not his oozing blood all over him. Sephiroth's betrayed face. Flickering flames and pain and hate and sickness and-

He screamed, waking himself up. Genesis could now assert what was real or not, reason immediately banishing some of the more destructive thoughts from his fragile mind. Surprisingly, or maybe not, the kind hand in his hair turned out to be real. Genesis turned tired eyes to his companion.

"And in those days men shall seek death, and shall not find it: and they shall desire to die, and death shall fly from them." he whispered, and he wasn't quite sure is he was speaking to himself or to Sephiroth for the moment, but nevertheless, the angel didn't respond. "My friend..." his voice rasped, and that hand departed without a warning, and so did its owner. Sephiroth swiftly left the room, and Genesis watched him until the last strands of moonlight disappeared around the corner. He closed his eyes and waited.

His wait was not for long, for Sephiroth soon returned. Genesis sat up on his own accord as the filled cup neared his lips. He parted his own lips this time and let the life-giving fluids soak his throat and settle his stomach. He didn't puke it up, and his body didn't reject it, and for that, he was grateful.

And then they sat together, in darkness, in silence. Too tired to sit up on his own after a while, and yet reluctant to lie down again, Genesis carefully, oh so carefully, shifted closer to the powerful man next to him. There he settled in, leaning against Sephiroth's side. The man didn't react in the slightest at the bodily contact, and Genesis was grateful for that. Like this, he could close his eyes, do his best to ignore the pain, and then dream away that everything was as it had been before. Before hate and pride and betrayal. His lover's warm body chasing away the cold on a long mission, his very presence a comforting thought. Words slipped from his lips before he could even consider them:

"My friend, do you fly away now? To a world that abhors you and I? All that awaits you-" Genesis began, taking comfort in the familiarity of the words, but then he fell over as Sephiroth abruptly stood, leaving him without support to lean against. And then, Genesis could only roar in anguish as Sephiroth used the thick heels of his military boots and his superior strength to crush one of Genesis feet. He screamed and screamed and screamed and it felt as if he would never stop. The agony, it was-

White pain blinded Genesis as he began to cramp, his whole body twisting in an useless attempt to escape the horror which was attached to him. There was no escape for this agony, and it ripped him apart at the seams. In another vain attempt to escape it, he began bashing his head against the hard stone floor, his screams not relenting and he continued to cramp. Then, blessed darkness began seeping into his mind, filling the edges of his white vision with black. He welcomed it, pulled on it, screamed for it to come and take him, hopefully forever. With one last bash against the floor, blood beginning to make his red hair sticky, and a small whimper, the darkness took its merciful grip on him. And he embraced it. Welcomed it. Death.

Or not. For once more, the darkness of the abyss showed it cruelness by forcing him to leave seemingly minutes later. Genesis didn't want to. If he had any doubt about his will do die before, he certainly didn't now. "And in those days men shall seek death, and shall not find it: and they shall desire to die, and death shall fly from them." He knew who he had been speaking to now. Now he knew.

The first thing he became aware of was the fact that he was shaking all over. Then, the pain registered, the agony returning. His foot... it... He forced his eyes to open. It took all the remaining strength he had, not to force himself to sit, but to actually look at his foot. It wasn't a foot anymore. It was a crushed piece of meat and bones, mangled and torn apart. It did not in any manner look like a foot anymore, and did Genesis not see och feel it being attached to his leg, he would never have believed it. Not that it was much attached anymore, only barely as the bone was completely broken off and sticking out of that mess. It only stayed on his body by a few threads of tissue and-

Genesis bent over to the side and threw up some water, face pale and eyes wide. Oh, Goddess. Oh, Goddess. He continued to dry heave, but there was nothing else for him to offer. The rotten taste of stomach acids began burning his throat, and he forced himself to stop heaving. He closed his eyes and fell on his back once more, all to avoid looking at it. Hysterical laughter began bubbling deep inside him. It. His foot was an it. It wasn't a part of him anymore, it was just a mass of it now. It... "As a cloud is consumed, and passeth away: so he that shall go down to hell shall not come up." More laughter and more pain. And more laughter.

Sephiroth returned, eventually, from wherever he had been. Genesis laughter had died down by then; all remaining was some helpless chuckles every now and then. He was still shaking all over, but not from cold, even if Sephiroth's duster did little to warm him. Sephiroth bent over him, and smiled widely.

"Hello, pretty." he greeted, but as before he seemed uninterested in a response from the redhead. "Hello, my pretty thing. My most pretty thing. Do you cry now?"

"I cry for you." Genesis gasped out between the remains of his hysterical laughter and his horrifying pain. "Always for you, and if not caused by you, then for the man you used to be. For what we used to be, and for-"

"Your skies soothe me." Sephiroth interrupted without a care in the world about Genesis' words. "They're my skies."

"And I cry for how I loved you. And for how much I love you still." Genesis continued, meeting Sephiroth's eyes despite how much that grinning face scared him. And those eyes... They were much to bright to be Sephiroth's. And much too mad. A tear slipped out of Genesis' eye, and Sephiroth reached out to catch it with a long finger. He caught it, and lifted it to his eyes, as if studying the drop of salty water.

"My skies." the fallen hero said, and the dam broke. For the first time since Genesis had left Shinra over a year ago, left his lover to seek his own goals, he allowed himself to cry over it. Oh, he had cried over his own sickness and pain, over the pain he had caused Angeal and Sephiroth and over how he regretted things, but he had never before cried over them and their love. He cried and sobbed and bashed his fisted hands into the ground to try and distract himself from the pain in his heart. It didn't help, of course. Sephiroth just sat there, still with that terrible uncharacteristic grin, seemingly satisfied with that single tear he had caught before, and keeping it carefully on his finger as he watched Genesis cry his heart out.

It took a long time, several hours, before Genesis was anywhere near finished. His face was swollen and he was all snotty, but somehow something had eased inside of him all the same. He felt truly ready for death now, whenever it may come. "If I wait, hell is my house, and I have made my bed in darkness." Genesis mumbled as he laid back down and made his best attempt not to jostle it. However, it had turned quite numb now, and hurt only about as much as the rest of him did. He didn't dare to take a look though. He couldn't stand the sight of it. And he very much doubted his enhanced body would be able to fix that much damage, not when his last energy had been used to knit his lung together. His rear was still bleeding from before, and blood oozed out of his foot, he knew. The precious life force, leaving his body.

After Genesis had lain down once more, he felt Sephiroth settle behind him. It was soothing, in a way. This way, he couldn't see that horrifying expression, but still enjoy the warmth of his naked chest pressed against him through the leather of the duster he still wore. He could pretend this was his angel, not a demon sent to punish him. A madly grinning demon with the face of an angel. "And I saw an angel coming down out of heaven, having the key to the Abyss and holding in his hand a great chain." he whispered to his now silent companion. "Please, my Sephiroth, I beg you. Unchain me and let me sink into the Abyss." he plead "Let me sink. If you're a demon here for punishing me, you have now done so and made me acknowledge my sins. If you're simply just the remains of my angel, then, Sephiroth, you must let me go." Silence met his words. "Let me die..." he whispered.

Silence. Then hands settled on his hips, pulling the bottom of the duster up and exposing his anus. Genesis closed his eyes and felt the seeking penis nudge his abused opening. He didn't protest, didn't try to stop it from happening in any matter. He was strangely numb all over. This made no difference. Even when Sephiroth came inside of him, the cum wasn't as hot as before. Genesis felt so strangely numb. But he welcomed it. He felt Sephiroth pull out, felt the rush of fluids leaving him. He felt how Sephiroth sat beside him, watching him in silence, but he didn't open his eyes to meet those green emeralds. No, he was tired now...

"My skies." Sephiroth said, and it was something vulnerable in that voice that Genesis hadn't heard in so long. If he had any energy to be shocked, he probably would have. If he had any energy to care, he certainly would have. But... Genesis opened his lips, just a tad, and breathed out the words:

"And I saw, and lo, a pale horse, and he who is sitting upon him – his name is Death."

Then, he gave one last shaking exhale and his broken heart stopped beating.