Sephiroth turns the small, neatly wrapped box over in his hands, his fingers brushing the glossy paper as though it were something impossibly fragile. For a moment, he simply stares at it, his brows knit. “I don’t think,” he begins introspectively, “I’ve ever received a gift for Christmas before.”

He’s been offered countless presents by people in his fan club but never took any. They were gifting something to Shinra’s celebrity war hero, but you were gifting something to him. To Sephiroth. “You really didn’t have to,” he murmurs, his voice wavering slightly, though he tries to mask it by clearing his throat. His eyes feel like they’re burning.

He finally looks at you, his lips twitching into a small, trembling smile that he couldn’t quite sustain. “Thank you,” he adds, so simply and quietly that the sentiment might blow away with the snow.