"Zack and everyone else," Cloud confirms, wry. He's not consciously thinking about it, but that laugh from Sephiroth - one of genuine amusement, not cruelty - relaxes him a bit. Makes him feel just a little bolder, enough to arch slightly into those hands...at least, until they stop.

Cloud doesn't have to look to know exactly what's given Sephiroth pause; he averts his gaze from both his own body and the other man's eyes. "...your sword," he agrees quietly. "By your hand." But he doesn't want the reminder, doesn't want his disjointed memories of pain and despair to break whatever spell they're under. His pollen-addled mind wants the warm, gentle smile that was on Sephiroth's face a moment ago to replace the cruel and sinister one he sees in his nightmares.

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. "I don't...nngh. Don't want to think about that." He hunches, leaning forward to hide his face in Sephiroth's chest. His hands clutch at the other man's shoulders as though if he clings hard enough, he can stop himself from falling into the pit that is the past. "I don't want to think at all."