Author's note: Prompt by Krystal Gryphon.

Zack whistled merrily as he made his way through Midgar. He loved days like this, when thick white mist filled the streets. It hid some of the ugliness, softened the edges. It distorted sound and lent a near mystical presence to the city.

Even at twenty-four, he was still susceptible to that atmosphere.

He wondered if Sephiroth would be expecting him. Zack visited often, and had made a point of coaxing him outside on days like this, but the vampire somehow always appeared the slightest bit surprised to see him. It puzzled Zack, but he shrugged it off. It wasn’t really any of his business unless Seph came right out and said he was dropping by too often, was it? And if anyone needed to escape into the mist, it was Seph.

Zack frowned briefly before regaining his good mood.

Seph might not love the mist the way Zack did, but damn if it didn’t make him smile when Zack ordered him out of the house.