It was another one of those dreams. Sephiroth laid on the table in that same sterile room, blinding fluorescent lights reflecting off cold surgical instruments strewn about like remnants of forgotten nightmares. Heavy curtains draped ominously around the table, casting shadows that felt almost alive, pulsating with a sinister energy. Then, Hojo emerged from the gloom, a twisted figure in a lab coat.

"My boy! You're finally awake," he declared, a delightfully chilling tone lacing his words, sending shivers down Sephiroth's spine. He swallowed hard, eyes instinctively darting away from the syringe glinting ominously in Hojo's hand. "You've been making friends lately. Remember what I've told you about that?" The disappointment simmered beneath the professor's veneer of joy, a reminder of his expectations.

Sephiroth's body felt numb and unable to move, making him feel almost weightless. "Right... a weapon. No emotion," Sephiroth replied, his voice wavering slightly, the bitter taste of the words lingering in his throat.

"Very good. Yet you've been exhibiting quite a range of feelings lately, haven't you? I think a correction is in order." The words dripped with condescension, wrapping around him like a vice.

In an instant, Hojo lunged forward, fingers digging into Sephiroth's jaw, forcing him to meet the piercing gaze that held the needle menacingly near his eye. The world around him dissolved into darkness.

He jolted awake, heart racing, drenched in cold sweat, the remnants of terror clinging to him like a shroud. After a long, shaky sigh, he rubbed his face, desperate to dispel the nightmare’s grip, his pulse slowly returning to normal.

Glancing down, he met the worried gaze of his lover, who had been watching him intently, concern etched across their features like a soft melody. "...Just another dream among many," he murmured, each word a fragile whisper. "I'm sorry if I woke you." The weight of the night lingered in the air, but the warmth of their presence offered a glimmer of solace in the aftermath.