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By the time the school bell rings out the first day of classes, Sephiroth's head is abuzz with figuring out how to fit all of his assignments into his already busy schedule. Shinra Academy sets a demanding pace and it doesn't wait to gain momentum after the holidays. It surges ahead and leaves anyone in the dust who hasn't yet mastered themselves and time management.
He's so deep in thought he would have collided with the person who suddenly appeared in front of him as though deliberately planting themselves in his path if his reflexes hadn't kicked in. He swerves and glides smoothly out of the way, barely brushing shoulders.
"You're just going to keep ignoring me?" the person asks. They didn't even raise their voice over the din of lockers banging and students talking, but Sephiroth makes out the words anyway. He's pretty attuned to that voice.
"Rufus?" he asks, turning around.. And sure enough, Rufus is standing in the middle of the hallway, untouched by the throng of students that's jostling against Sephiroth left and right. "I didn't see you there."
"Clearly."
As usual, Rufus looks as perfectly coiffed and pressed as though he just stepped off the pages of a campus ad. He doesn't seem entirely real like this. Certainly not like he just sat through an entire day of classes like the rest of them. Sephiroth would certainly feel crumpled himself if his uniform weren't stiff enough to smother any kind of individuality, such as having emotions.
"Come," Rufus says and resumes walking. "My driver is waiting."
Sephiroth falls into step without thinking, drawn to Rufus like iron filings to a lodestone. Their relationship has been like that for as long as Sephiroth can remember: Rufus leads and he follows, no questions asked.
Lately, however, questions have at least arisen. It's probably why he chooses to quibble over the most meaningless of things.
"Your driver is standing by. Waiting implies expectation of something, and I sincerely doubt Nadia cares whether she's driving you somewhere or not. Her hours are the same no matter what she does."
"Remind me again why you aren't in the Debate Club, too?" Rufus asks and nonchalantly separates a strand of Sephiroth's hair to twirl between his fingers, inspecting it as though looking for split ends.
Sephiroth sweeps his hair over back over his shoulder and out of Rufus's grasp. "Because a) I have enough on my plate, and b) it's dreadfully boring. I argue enough with Hojo as it is."
"Since you insisted on exactness just now, let me point out that debating isn't arguing. It's laying out facts and weighing them against each other. You might learn a thing or two."
"Debate only works between equals," Sephiroth says, throwing Rufus a sidelong look, "and as long as Hojo is my legal guardian, he'll always have the last word."
Rufus shrugs. "Either way, let's get out of here already. You can lament about Hojo on the way."
There are many strange things about Rufus Shinra, but none of them are quite as eerie as the transformation he undergoes when he sheds the guise of a Model Student. It's as if he shrugs it off along with his jacket and the resulting change is staggering if you know him well. Or even if you don't, Sephiroth supposes: his perfect posture degenerates into a slouch and his amiable, if somewhat vacant, expression makes way to one of vague annoyance and ennui. As though he blamed the world at large for boring him to death.
Sephiroth tries not to take it personally. It comes with the privilege of being a spoiled rich kid.
Or so he tells himself. Because truth is, he wants Rufus to find him entertaining, wants to be his one and only exception to the rule that everything is a drag. It's distracting to think about. It means that even when he's with Rufus, the one person he thought he could be himself around, he can never truly relax. Part of him always feels the need to perform. To please.
Perhaps that is why he never says anything when Rufus spikes the refreshments brought up by one of the maids, even though alcohol clouds his judgment and makes him consider doing stupid things.
Like kissing Rufus, for example.
He has no idea where that thought came from but ever since he noticed the desire about a year ago it has burrowed deep and seems not to be going anywhere. He can handle it, most of the time, but it's become more and more difficult to ignore. Especially since Rufus started going to the Academy as well. Before that, school was a time of respite of sorts, if not from thoughts of Rufus then at least from his presence. Now, Sephiroth keeps running into him in the hallways. Worse, he keeps seeing Rufus flirt with the girls on campus.
That... stings. Sephiroth never had any illusions about being anything other than a friend to Rufus, but it's one thing to be aware of it and quite another to have it confirmed so vividly. He has come to terms with the one, but that doesn't mean he has to like the other.
"Something is off about you today," Rufus says as he slips back into his seat after getting them another refill. He's already looking kind of droopy, but still manages not to spill anything on the textbooks they've spread out in front of them, although Sephiroth has yet to concentrate on a single paragraph in them. "But I can't quite put my finger on it."
Sephiroth's shoulders tighten. He can't be that obvious. He's managed to get this far without tipping Rufus off, surely he hasn't become careless in the two or three weeks they haven't seen each other.
"It's not your hair," Rufus continues and reaches out to twirl a strand around his finger. "I would have noticed that."
Sephiroth's scalp prickles, his heart races. He keeps forgetting how much he loves having his hair played with until Rufus casually touches it. At which point Sephiroth wants to forget everything he's ever taught himself about self-control to simply melt into the sensation and have Rufus continue to run his fingers through his hair.
But that would be gay and not something guy friends do, no matter how long they've known each other, so Sephiroth combs his own hand through his hair to casually dislodge the strand Rufus is twirling.
And then he sucks in a breath because Rufus's fingers alight on his jaw. Sometimes Sephiroth wonders if Rufus is just this inappropriately touchy-feely when he's drunk, or if this is pure malice. On some level he must have noticed how godsdamned starved for touch Sephiroth is or Rufus would not get away with brushing his thumb below Sephiroth's bottom lip.
Sephiroth's thoughts trip over themselves.
"Open your mouth," Rufus says, quite conversationally for something so charged.
"Is there something in my teeth?" Sephiroth asks, because Rufus has been looking at him funny all day, and because he's frantically trying to defuse the situation.
To no avail. Rufus actually shoves his thumb past Sephiroth's lips and Sephiroth is so shocked he doesn't even do anything about it. Like bite down, for instance.
A dumfounded "what the fuck?!" is the most he manages and it comes out rather muffled.
"What the fuck indeed," Rufus says, eyes now feverishly intent on Sephiroth. "You asshole. You went and got your tongue pierced and didn't even think to tell me about it?"
At last, Sephiroth does remember that he has teeth and uses them. Rufus yanks his hand back.
"What the fuck, man?" Sephiroth asks and wipes his mouth. "You don't do that."
"If you'd have opened your mouth like I told you, I wouldn't have had to." Rufus shrugs as though what he said was the most rational thing in the world. Well, maybe in his world it is. "At least now I understand why you wouldn't pick up your phone these past two weeks."
"For what it's worth, Hojo confiscated my PHS," Sephiroth says sullenly and arranges his textbook so that its edge is parallel to the desk's. "Technically, I'm still grounded, so I have to get home before he does."
"Surely the pursuit of knowledge is a noble undertaking he can make an exception for."
"If Hojo quizzes me, I'm busted. I have yet to absorb a single thing from my reading."
"Blame it on me," Rufus suggests and swirls the liquid in his cup that is more rum than tea. "Say that you spent the entire afternoon teaching me about, I don't know, the citric acid cycle or something else you know by heart. Hojo already thinks I'm stupid and wouldn't be surprised to hear that my father is too proud to admit the same and hire a private tutor, because gods forbid, what would the people say if they found out I'm not the perfect son we all pretend I am?"
"Sounds familiar."
"Yeah, because anyone on campus will tell you a version of the same."
"Guess we're all just miserable fucks."
"Except that some of us have the balls to defy our old men in the most creative ways," Rufus says with more than a hint of awe in his voice. "I mean, hot damn, I still can't get over it. Show me for real this time? I promise to keep my hands to myself."
Sephiroth rolls his eyes, but he can't find it in himself to deny Rufus the request now that it was actually phrased. Still, he feels silly sticking out his tongue at Rufus, far enough that the barbell is visible -- the last time he'd done so he must have been twelve and received a scolding afterward for his childish behaviour. Retracting his tongue is just as laborious and awkward since he's not entirely used to the piercing yet, but he hopes it got the message across.
"There," he says. "Happy now?"
Rufus is sitting very still, and for a moment Sephiroth thought he must have done something wrong. He watches Rufus for a sign as he downs his cup and sets it aside, almost comically deliberate.
"Make out with me," Rufus says finally.
"What." Sephiroth couldn't have been more surprised if Hojo knocked on the door to apologise for being a piece of shit to him all these years.
"I want to know what it's like."
"Don't you have girlfriends for that?" Sephiroth asks, voice rising in the onset of panic.
"None with tongue piercings." Rufus waves his hand as if to shoo away Sephiroth#s doubts. "What's the big deal? It wouldn't be the first time we made out."
Except that last time was years ago, when Sephiroth didn't yet have to deal with the most idiotic crush on the most idiotic boy. Back then it was actually for shits and giggles, and because they could -- not because one of them wanted to get their rocks off and the other was too weak to say no.
"I have to tell you something first," Sephiroth says, and oh gods, is he really going to go through with this?
"That doesn't sound good. But go ahead, I'm curious." Well, no shit.
Sephiroth gathers what vestiges of courage he has left. Better to rip the bandaid off.
"I think... I think I might be gay," he says and prepares himself... for what exactly he doesn't know, but he expects there to be something.
Rufus stares at him. "You think... you might be?"
"Don't be an ass." Sephiroth would kick him if he dared to move at all. "I just came out to my oldest friend about something deeply personal that in some parts of society is viewed as shameful and wrong. Who knows, if Hojo found out, he might keep me busy until I'm thirty just so I don't even think of boys in that way."
"That's just what I mean. It's an awful chance to take on think and might."
"Oh." Some of the agitation Sephiroth was feeling ebbs out of him. "Well, this is all new to me, okay? I can't be the leading expert in the field all of a sudden. I'm figuring it out as I go along."
"'Leading expert in the field'," Rufus snickers. "Field of what? Homosexuality? Gayness? It's cute that you can't even say it."
"Oh, screw you." He shoots Rufus a warning look. "And spare me he innuendo just to have the last word."
"Fine, fine." Rufus holds up his hands in an appeasing gesture. "But that doesn't change anything about my request."
"You still want to make out?"
"What, you think I'd chocobo out just because you 'think' you 'might be gay'?"
Sephiroth rolls his eyes. Ostentatiously. "No, just... I don't know. Some people get weird about it. As though it might be catching or something. I'm not saying you would, just. Full disclosure, okay?"
"Noted," Rufus says solemnly before breaking out in a grin and patting his knees. "Now, if you would be so kind as to move your backside over here."
"You want me to sit in your lap?"
"You're gay, which means I don't have to take a turn playing the girl. So..." He pats his knees again.
Sephiroth raises an eyebrow. "I'm still taller than you, you know."
"As you keep reminding me at every turn."
"If it's true."
Besides, his ergonomic desk chair, while roomy, isn't meant to accommodate two people on it. Even if they folded them back, the armrests would be in the way of his knees, unless he awkwardly sat side-saddle, which he doesn't want to subject himself to.
"We can relocate to the bedroom, if you prefer," Rufus says with his most daring smile. "Height differences don't matter so much if we're both lying down."
"Woah, compromise," Sephiroth says and jumps up. He doesn't think he can make out with Rufus and lie in his bed at the same time, knowing that what they're doing is not supposed to mean anything. "I'm just going to sit on the desk and you can stand in front, how's that?"
"Acceptable, I guess."
Rufus slaps his armrests and heaves himself upright, rather more laboriously than usual. He sways and for a second, Sephiroth thinks he might keel over backwards. Instead, he walks right into Sephiroth's arms and all but collapses into them, resting his forehead against Sephiroth's shoulder.
His skin is hot against his own, as though he's burning up, but Sephiroth doesn't think it's the anticipation.
"If you throw up now, I swear I'll punch you," he says and means it.
After all the excitement and the nervous sweating, he found that he actually wanted to make out with Rufus, even if it's a shitty idea, even if it's going to hurt more than it helps, even if it's just a blip they'll both either forget or pretend to have forgotten the next day.
"No need to resort to violence so soon, I'm fine," Rufus reassures him as he noses his way up Sephiroth's neck. "But gods, your hair smells amazing. I could drown myself in it."
The twin sensation of Rufus's breath tickling his ear and his left hand moving up Sephiroth's right thigh to his hip sends a shiver down his back. With his other hand, Rufus brushes Sephiroth's bangs out of his eyes before he kisses him. It's just a press of lips, over too soon, and then another, a little longer than the first. It's so much gentler than Sephiroth had imagined; it's so much like a real kiss that he fears his heart might explode from sheer overwhelm.
He lets out an embarrassing sound as Rufus buries his fingers in his hair and cups the back of his head. Sephiroth's own hands sit demurely on Rufus's shoulders, unmoving, as though he's afraid that if he touches Rufus, he will sober up and call this off for the insane idea that it is.
He realises that he's lowkey panicking, that he's not really in the moment but rather apart from it, dissecting each and every one of his reactions. It's not until Rufus flicks his tongue against his own that something inside Sephiroth finally fritzes and he stops overanalysing everything. All he can focus on is Rufus: his tongue in his mouth, curling against his own; his fingers in his hair, tugging ever so slightly; his hand on his waist, burning through the fabric of his trousers; how he would love that hand to slide lower to grab his ass, but how at the same time he doesn't dare move to adjust his grip.
It's as though he believes that any movement on his part might snap Rufus out of whatever elaborate fantasy he had to concoct to be able to kiss Sephiroth this thoroughly -- as though he wasn't kissing Sephiroth at all. Whatever it is, Sephiroth doesn't want to think about it. He just wants to sink into this moment and forget everything else.
And Rufus makes it so easy. His breath hitches whenever Sephiroth's tongue curls against his, and he outright moans whenever Sephiroth's piercing brushes against the inside of his mouth. It makes Sephiroth grow bolder, makes him gently tug at a handful of Rufus's hair, makes him slide his other hand down the expanse of Rufus's back. The fabric of his shirt is the slightest bit damp from sweat, as Sephiroth's own clothes must be as well. He'd love to take them off so he could feel Rufus's touch on his naked skin, but he's not entirely sure he wants to find out what would happen if he did.
He vaguely remembers the teasing offer to relocate to the bedroom and make out there, and a surge of heat swirls through him. A part of him would have wanted an ill-advised makeout session in Rufus's bed, where there is no telling where they might have stopped, and another part is relieved that they did not go. This is better, this is safe. Or safer, at the very least.
It's enough that Sephiroth winds his legs a little too tightly around Rufus's waist, or that he grinds himself ever so slightly against Rufus's hips. He's vaguely aware of how ridiculously hard he is -- how hard both of them are if he's not mistaken -- but his trousers are tight and there's no room for him to grow. Which is for the better. He shouldn't be thinking about getting off when Rufus is around, anyway.
Which, for some reason, reminds him that it's getting late.
"Shit," he curses into the kiss. "I have to go."
He is loath to break this off, but the sooner they do, the slimmer the chance of them coming up with even more inane ideas. It's difficult enough to put a stop to this when he has good reason to leave; he doesn't want to know where this would lead if they had all the time in the world. (A lie. Of course he does.)
"You could stay over if you wanted to," Rufus suggests
"House arrest, remember?"
"Since when do you bow to Hojo's so-called authority?"
Sephiroth would love to fixate Rufus with a disapproving stare but he's entirely too woozy to manage anything of the sort. "If I did that, I wouldn't be here. But playing along for a while means I get him off my back sooner, and we can go back to ignoring each other's existence."
"Can't argue with that logic," Rufus says and nods sagely. Or maybe he's keeping himself from nodding off, Sephiroth can no longer tell.
Now that the adrenaline and the alcohol is wearing off, Sephiroth feels weighty like a stone, and just as cumbersome. With effort -- and a certain measure of embarrassment -- he unclenches his legs from around Rufus's waist. Politely, neither of them mentions the very obvious tent in the other's trousers that are revealed when Rufus takes a step back and collapses into his chair.
Sephiroth gathers his textbooks in silence, trying very hard to ignore Rufus, who is watching him like a hawk.
He is just about ready to leave when Rufus suddenly says, "You need to work on your technique, by the way."
"My technique?" His first thought, as usual, is kendo but his forms are flawless and anyway, Rufus wouldn't be able to tell if they were not.
"Kissing."
"Oh yeah?" Sephiroth frowns down at Rufus, who is unfazed. Then again, Sephiroth has no more energy to spare to put some frost into his stare.
"Yeah."
"And I suppose you are now going to offer to share your expertise."
"Your future boyfriend will thank you for your diligence."
Sephiroth huffs and shoulders his bag. "Good night, Rufus." And before he heads out of the door he adds, "I'll think about it."