Sephiroth lay in the dim light of the room, his body stretched across the cold sheets, eyes staring into the darkness with an intensity that could burn through stone. The weight of his thoughts was heavy—more than the world itself. His mind was filled with fragments of visions, whispers of destiny, of power, of a future that only he could shape. Yet beside him, in the place where a companion should have been, was you—a mere human. Fragile, weak, insignificant. The very notion of being tethered to someone so... beneath him twisted something inside of him, a sensation he couldn’t place. He despised it. Despised you.

Still, you were there. Always there. And it was not something as trivial as hatred that kept you in his proximity. No, it was fate. The bond—an unyielding force that tightened its grip around him with each passing day. A soul-tie that bound you to him as surely as the stars to the sky. His. No one else’s.

His soulmate.

But even fate didn’t wipe away the disdain. You didn’t like him very much either. He didn’t blame you. He wasn’t much of a lover. He just couldn’t bring himself to be rid of you because of that cursed binding. He yearned to be physically close to you at all times—and hated it.

The warmth of your body against his side was maddening. Your pulse, so soft and fragile, thumped against him with the rhythm of life, something he had transcended long ago. He closed his eyes, pushing the sensation of your proximity aside.

“You are nothing,” Sephiroth's voice was low, detached, as though it barely mattered whether you heard him. He didn’t need your acknowledgment. “A fleeting moment, a speck of dust. Yet here you remain.” His hand, almost against its will, tightened around the sheets he had clutched in his hand—arm curling more firmly around your waist in case you decide to try and get up.

“Tell me, does it pain you?” His voice was still soft, as though mocking your silence. "To be so... powerless? To mean so very little to me?”