Control- something Cloud has had taken away from him so much now, even without him knowing in the most dire cases- is absolutely something that helps return some semblance of stability to him when offered by Sephiroth. Control, agency, the choice to pull himself back together. Not just out of obligation to the Planet, or his friends, but for him. It is grounding.
Loss of control is, in many ways, a thread that connects Sephiroth and Cloud. The thought crosses the merc's mind vaguely as the painful haze begins to clear. He can remember- or maybe it isn't his own memory- when Sephiroth learned a horrible truth all too similar to his own. Of evil wrought from the very same source. How he broke down, and how Cloud's own living hell began. As much as it would be so easy to just continue to hate Sephiroth with all his being, and only remember the flames swallowing up his home...He cannot help but consider that perhaps his hero was suffering, too. It certainly does not forgive his actions, but at the very least, gives Cloud pause. In the end, it makes Sephiroth just that much more human in his eyes. Further teases apart Jenova, the monster, from the man standing before him with concern written ever-so-vaguely on his features. Against all odds and against all Cloud knows, Sephiroth seems to care about him. Again. It was not a one-off thing. That apology, and those gentle words ring as genuine.
How? How could he care this much? No amount of guilt or wish for repentance could ever bring a man to be this drawn to someone, not this organically. Could it?
They are still holding hands. Cloud decides to play it off, say nothing about it, and use Sephiroth as a brace. Even if the silver stays kneeling, he can reasonably hold on for most of the way, given their height difference. So he tries, slowly working his way to standing on wobbly legs. Once he's steady enough to feel confident, he lets go, and straightens up. He chalks up the pang he feels over their hands parting as another symptom of his loss of stability.
"...Guess so. Not the first headache I had to deal with." He pauses. "As if Hojo needed to give me more reasons to hate him. Now Red is gonna need to leave some for me when we kick his ass." If he gets home. Or, when.
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Loss of control is, in many ways, a thread that connects Sephiroth and Cloud. The thought crosses the merc's mind vaguely as the painful haze begins to clear. He can remember- or maybe it isn't his own memory- when Sephiroth learned a horrible truth all too similar to his own. Of evil wrought from the very same source. How he broke down, and how Cloud's own living hell began. As much as it would be so easy to just continue to hate Sephiroth with all his being, and only remember the flames swallowing up his home...He cannot help but consider that perhaps his hero was suffering, too. It certainly does not forgive his actions, but at the very least, gives Cloud pause. In the end, it makes Sephiroth just that much more human in his eyes. Further teases apart Jenova, the monster, from the man standing before him with concern written ever-so-vaguely on his features. Against all odds and against all Cloud knows, Sephiroth seems to care about him. Again. It was not a one-off thing. That apology, and those gentle words ring as genuine.
How? How could he care this much? No amount of guilt or wish for repentance could ever bring a man to be this drawn to someone, not this organically. Could it?
They are still holding hands. Cloud decides to play it off, say nothing about it, and use Sephiroth as a brace. Even if the silver stays kneeling, he can reasonably hold on for most of the way, given their height difference. So he tries, slowly working his way to standing on wobbly legs. Once he's steady enough to feel confident, he lets go, and straightens up. He chalks up the pang he feels over their hands parting as another symptom of his loss of stability.
"...Guess so. Not the first headache I had to deal with." He pauses. "As if Hojo needed to give me more reasons to hate him. Now Red is gonna need to leave some for me when we kick his ass." If he gets home. Or, when.