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It’s not fair, the way your mind plays tricks on you.
You cling to his confession of love in your memory. He has committed to being with you. You know he would never, ever betray you.
And yet, you cannot help it. Every one of his adorers that you meet is either more beautiful, more intelligent and charismatic, or more successful and interesting than you are. You’re conscious of your every flaw as they light up with adoration for him.
You also know that if they knew of your connection to him, they would tear you apart. All that maintains the Silver Elite fan alliance is the shared understanding that everybody is in the same position.
That is, of course, why your relationship is secret. He knows it and you know it, that it’s for your own safety. You’ve discussed it together and agreed, more than once.
But as they cling to his arm and giggle, an icy hand grips your heart.
How can he not see it? How long before he figures out how much better he can do? Is your relationship really a secret for your safety, or so he has an easy exit when he’s done with you?
What’s worse, you know it’s just your own insecurity. It would be better if the problem was rational, because then you could reassure yourself with all of the evidence that he loves you for who you are. You know that. You thought you were comfortable with it.
Maybe if it was rational you could tell him. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel so clingy and possessive.
But what do you say? “I don’t trust you”? “I have secret fears that you really hate me” … how could you admit such a horrible thing?
So you stay silent while you scream on the inside for him to please…just…notice. Notice how much pain you’re in. The knowledge of your own foolishness and weakness keeps you from opening your mouth. So you try to ignore your dry throat when somebody else squeals about how much they love him, the famous First Class SOLDIER Sephiroth.
You lean into the feeling, you let it tear away at your heart and hurt you because you’re sick of being so selfish and stupid and you wish you could just make up for…
…for just being you.
==
“You’ve been quiet.”
Sephiroth says this gently. The pain has been eating away at you all night but you’ve been putting up the bravest face you can.
“You’ve been just as quiet,” you answer. You smile a little. Sephiroth has a talkative streak but is typically quite comfortable with silence or with letting you dominate the conversation.
His brow knits.
“That’s not what I mean. It seems like something is bothering you.”
The arrow hits its mark and your false smile breaks.
“I’m sorry,” you answer out of habit.
Sephiroth gets up and moves to sit next to you and hold you to him.
“Tell me,” he commands. His voice is gentle but there is no room to argue.
“I…” you start, but you struggle to speak. The fears play over in your mind and hold you back. You can’t look at him.
In his warm embrace, his strong arms protecting you, you find the strength to admit the truth.
“I get jealous when I see you with your fans. Or…or other people at work.” You continue without interruption or objection. “I don’t mean to, it’s not that I don’t trust you…” You trail off, not sure what else to say.
He strokes your hair.
“It seems like this has been bothering you quite a bit,” he says. He doesn’t sound angry at all. You can feel tears coming, tears you’ve held back for too long.
“It shouldn’t,” you insist, and your voice breaks. “It’s nothing.”
“Stop, it’s not nothing. You should know,” he says, “that I get jealous too.”
“You do?” You’re shocked. Why and how would Sephiroth get jealous?
“…When I see you with Zack. He makes you smile. His jokes make you laugh. He’s friendly and warm,” and Sephiroth pauses to settle on how he wants to continue. “And he talks about more normal things.”
You’re shocked. Sephiroth has never said any of this to you before. He thinks that you might leave him? That you might think you can do better?
“So,” he continues, “I understand. I can reassure you as often as you like, all I ask is that you tell me.”
You press your face against his chest and hug him with all of your strength.
“I don’t love Zack! I love you! You’re the only one I want! He can’t even… he doesn’t hold a candle to you. Nobody is like you! But I’m just…”
“Just what?”
“Just…me. I’m not interesting or special.”
“You’re wrong. Nobody holds a candle to you, my love,” he says, petting your hair. “Not any of the women who admire me. None other than you. I love you, and only you. As you said, you are the only one I want, and nobody is like you. And I will tell you as many times as you need to hear it.”
You stay in his embrace and try to catch your breath. You try to stop crying but the tears just keep coming.
“And don’t apologize,” he adds. “Don’t say such things about yourself. If not for you, then for me. I think highly of you. You are special to me.”
You stay with him for a long while. Neither of you speaks, but the lack of words is more comfortable. Finally, you catch your breath. You stop yourself from saying you’re sorry again.
“Feel better?” he asks.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Good.” He gives you a kiss on the forehead.