“You’re a weakness,” Sephiroth says, fingers tightening around your neck. He can feel the ghost of his grip around his own. Soulmates. He sneers at the very idea. How can he share his pain with someone else? How can he feel yours?

“I should kill you.” He wants to, his fingers twitch like he will, but he doesn’t. He knows he can’t and he hates it. Hates how his soul is tied to yours. He’ll have to keep you locked up somewhere. No one else can touch you, lest they use you to get to him.