[ tseng exhales something that might have once been related to a laugh, but now just comes out a quiet breath of amusement. it's not funny, to think about rufus dying—it's not in the slightest. but gods, it's so very like him to ask something like that. tseng almost wants to say, is that an order? but for once, for once in the entire breadth of his life, he wants nothing more than to leave aside orders and duty and talk to rufus. not rufus shinra, president of the shinra electric power company, but rufus, who he had been young with once, and next to whom he had grown into the man he is now.

with some effort, tseng lifts his hand from the bedsheets. there's a needle in one wrist and a pulse ox on one finger and he can do little more than lean it so his knuckles rest against rufus' back, right between his shoulderblades where the seam of his suit jacket sits straight and pressed. rufus looks so sharp, right now, like he could cut tseng open if tseng touches him wrong. ]

If you don't let me, then I won't go. [ what else is he supposed to say? tseng pauses, takes a long moment to consider the words. he isn't entirely sure how to give voice to the tangle of feelings inside his chest. ] Would I let you... Who lets a hurricane make landfall? I couldn't stop you, if you were determined. But I can promise I won't make it easy.

[ no, no, that's not quite right. it's all true, of course, but it's not quite right, it's not the crux of what tseng means to say. what he means to say is this: ]

And you should know that if you go, I'm going with you.

[ the company will endure, or it won't. the turks will endure, or they won't. but for tseng, whose very existence is wrapped up inexorably in the beautiful, inexorable man at his side, what else could tseng hope to do? he presses his knuckles into rufus' back and then lets his hand drop again, too tired to keep holding it up. healing from surgery sure takes it out of you. ]

So don't go getting any bright ideas until you're ready for me to follow you into the dark.