Untitled Nonsense


Seph stayed in his room for nearly twelve hours, waiting for security to come collect him, but no one came. When he finally dared emerge, it was nearly three in the morning and the labs were long since deserted.

He crept into the main area nearly on tiptoe, glaring a little at the soft beep the doors emitted when he waved his keycard at them. But no one seemed to be lying in wait for him; it looked like everyone had fled after the incident that afternoon. Seph made his way to the back and saw that the floor was still a landmine of pipettes and broken glass, so he went to the storage closet and found a broom and some gloves.

The glass from the overturned test tube racks had gotten everywhere. He was a little amazed by the scope of it. If I wait another two hours, he thought, the janitor will take care of this, but he was too ashamed to let someone else clean up his mess. He clumsily chased bits and shards from underneath several tables, cringing when he stepped on the ones he didn't see. There were sploches of dried blood on the floor in one spot. Seph grabbed a wet sponge from sink and got down on his hands to knees to wipe it up.

A door opened by the lab's front desk with another cheery little beep, and Seph froze, dripping sponge in hand. Footsteps found their gradual way around the various tables and racks, and Seph gazed sightlessly at the glare of the light reflected in the thin puddle in front of him. They stopped behind him, and his back stiffened.

"Thoughtful of you," Hojo said. His voice sounded very odd; Seph cast a meek glance over his shoulder and saw the barton's bandage wound around his head. Son of a bitch, Seph thought. He didn't quite make eye contact, and after a moment he looked down and back to floor in front of him.

He wanted desperately to be too proud to say he was sorry. I'm still mad at you, he thought hopelessly, but he saw that it didn't matter anymore, and that Hojo probably wouldn't even remember what they had been arguing about. Why did it always end up like this? He cleared his throat and resumed polishing a bit of the floor that was long since cleaned of the red smear. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said lowly.

"Hm? I suppose you were swatting at a fly and missed." Hojo pulled a chair over and sat down. "I would have thought you were too old for this, but I guess we need to have the talk where I tell you hitting people is bad."

Seph bristled but forced himself not to rise to the bait; he moved the sponge in a circular motion across the linoleum tiles. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said again.

"Then what were you trying to do?" Hojo asked, his voice turning sharp. "Is this some new variation on the scientific method you've invented? 'Here's my theorem, and by way of proof I present that if you disagree with me I will fracture your jaw?'"

Seph said nothing. He was fourteen and skinny. He could count the bones in his hands just looking down at them. He had no idea how this could have happened.

"Sephiroth," Hojo sighed, "I don't think you really belong here."

Seph stared at the floor for a moment longer, and then stood up awkwardly, his knees aching from kneeling so long. "You can't fire me," he said softly. "I quit." He lightly tossed the sponge into a nearby garbage can.

Hojo stood as well, looking far too pleased for a man with a broken jaw and bandaged hands. "I'm glad you feel that way," he said. "Don't forget to put that broom back when you're done."

Hojo made his slow way out of the lab, and Seph stared after him silently.