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The street was empty, lamps flickering low, the boards of the walkway creaking under their boots.
They walked back to the inn in silence, and Zack felt like a man marching to the gallows. Even so, he didn’t say a word until they were at the inn, in their room, away from any prying eyes and ears.
He sat on the bed for a while, silent. He had known he wouldn’t have gotten away with it – knew Sephiroth would have found him anyway and he had been pretty clear about telling Zack to stay away, to keep himself focused on the plan.
He stood up, restless, pacing up and down the room. “You didn’t have to make a scene,” he muttered.
Sephiroth didn’t look up at him, going through their notebooks. “You were gambling.”
“Yeah, and?” Zack’s voice was low, unsteady around the edges. “We’re s’posed to be keepin’ low, remember? What’s a few hands of cards?”
Sephiroth’s gaze lifted. Slowly.
The silence that followed made Zack wish he hadn’t said anything at all.
Sephiroth turned to face him, expression unreadable in the room’s dull light. “You weren’t keeping low,” he said quietly. “You were drawing attention.”
“It’s just a game, Seph.”
“You cheated.”
Zack blinked. “That’s not—”
“You cheated,” Sephiroth repeated, and the calm in his voice was worse than shouting. “You think no one notices when a stranger takes a sheriff’s money in a town this small?”
Zack clenched his jaw. “Nobody cares, alright? It’s pocket change.”
“You’ve been distracted ever since we came here. Restless. Forgetful.” He paused, long enough to make Zack look up again. “And soft.”
The words landed quiet, but heavy. Zack looked down at his hands, distantly seeing them shake. “If this is about Cloud—”
“It is.”
Zack’s jaw flexed. “He’s not a problem.”
“He is a problem,” Sephiroth said, still calm. “You’ve let him too close. You were supposed to make him comfortable enough not to look twice at us, not—” His eyes cut toward Zack, sharp. “—not start thinking of him like a friend.”
Zack's heart thudded against his chest. He opened his mouth to deny it. He didn't think of Cloud as anything - he was just keeping him close to keep an eye on him, to keep him distracted. His presence, his badge, made him and Sephiroth look more trustworthy. That had been the plan. It hadn't even been his plan, he was just following Sephiroth's orders. None of it had meant anything, the touches, the kisses - he just knew how to use his charm, that was all. And it had worked, hadn't it? Cloud had practically been melting in his hands every time.
He thought of the look in Cloud's beautiful, wide blue eyes when he had asked, 'What is this?'. The way his guard was right back up when Zack had dismissed him, dismissed his feelings, even as the leather band rested like a cuff, like a claim, around Cloud's wrist. And yet, Cloud kept seeking him out. And yet, Cloud kept letting him kiss him, take more and more from him, even though Zack didn't deserve it.
He thought about how hurt Cloud had looked in the saloon, when he had called Zack out for avoiding him. How he had stayed, asked Zack to teach him poker, as if that would help him understand him better. Cloud shouldn't have wanted to understand him better, shouldn't trust him at all. He should want to stay as far away as possible. But Zack was selfish, and he wanted, and he took and took because that's all he knew.
He couldn't understand how someone so beautiful could be so lonely. So desperate for connection that he let himself be treated so horribly. Zack was horrible. He always had been.
He finally looked up, meeting that cold gray stare. “He isn’t a threat. He doesn’t even know what we’re doing. That’s the whole point. If he doesn’t know, he doesn’t have to die.”
Sephiroth’s expression didn’t flicker. “You’re naïve if you think ignorance buys mercy.”
“He's just a kid!”
“That’s not the point.”
“Yes it is!” Zack snapped, stepping forward. “That’s exactly the point, Seph! You think me talkin’ to him's the worst thing I’ve done? If he doesn’t know, he’s not a threat. His father–”
Sephiroth’s hand moved faster than Zack saw it coming.
The shove wasn’t hard enough to throw him off his feet, but it hit sharp — fingers catching his collar, driving him back against the wall of the inn with a loud thud.
Zack exhaled hard, the breath knocked out of him.
“You think ignorance keeps people safe?” Sephiroth hissed, so close Zack could see his reflection in his eyes. He put more pressure on where he had grabbed Zack by the collar – the knuckle of his fingers digging into his skin in a way that was sure to leave a bruise. “You think if you smile at him and play teacher, he won’t notice what we are? What we’ve done? What you did?”
It cut. It cut no less every time Sephiroth reminded him what he'd done. What he'd caused.
He knew by then, Sephiroth would never be the one to give him the forgiveness he craved.
Zack swallowed, his voice rough. “You don’t have to threaten him.”
“I’m not threatening him.” Sephiroth’s tone stayed smooth — frighteningly so. “I’m reminding you where your loyalties lie.”
Zack didn’t answer. His jaw flexed, his hands stayed at his sides. He could’ve hit back — once, he might have. But not now. Not when every scar, every saved breath, every time Sephiroth had pulled him out of fire or blood still echoed like a debt he couldn’t repay.
A wrong he could never make right.
Sephiroth’s grip tightened. “You forget what we’re here to do, and I will make sure you remember.”
Then he let go.
Zack staggered a half-step and stumbled on the floor, head bowed. The bruise would bloom on his collarbone like a perfect reminder.
For a second, neither moved.
Then Sephiroth adjusted his coat, as though nothing had happened. “Get some sleep,” he said evenly. “We leave at dawn.”
Zack didn’t look up. “Yeah.”
“And if you want to play saviour, keep your stray from asking questions.”
Zack remained where he was, looking down submissively. “Yeah,” he repeated simply.
He waited until Sephiroth’s footsteps faded towards the bathroom before letting out a slow, uneven breath.
He stood up, grabbed his tobacco and left the room, slamming the door behind him in meek defiance despite everything. He just really wanted to smoke.
He hated how quiet the night was – how easily everything inside him folded back into obedience.
He’d tell himself it didn’t matter. Sephiroth was wrong. Cloud didn’t need to know, and he’d be safer for it.
But the image of Cloud’s face — curious, unguarded, looking at him like he was something good — wouldn’t leave him alone.