He could feel them crawling in his head. Long sharp legs poking into his brain as they crawled across it. Pincers dragging along its surface, tasting for food. Webs spun, entrapping him. He could hear them hissing, a high pitched growl. They screeched, crying for escape. But there was none. They were trapped in his head, just like how he was trapped with them.
Sephiroth leaned against the crumbling wall, clutching his head. The scratching and whining. It wouldn’t stop. It hurt. He dragged his nails down, welcoming the distracting pain. He could feel warmth sliding down his to his chin.
He couldn’t remember where he was, or what he had been doing. His back pressed into the dull grey bricks, hands grasping at the book shelves. Green. Too much green. His body moved and he couldn’t keep up. His mind stayed behind and his feet took him outside the lab.
His plea was met with silence. His arm burst with warmth. He found his orders. The warmth spread to his chest. He found his purpose. He found someone to love him.
“There was one SOLDIER named Sephiroth, who was better than the rest, but when he found out about the terrible experiments that made him, he began to hate Shinra. And then, over time, he began to hate everything.”