Cloud sat stiffly on the worn leather couch, arms crossed behind his head as though pretending to relax. His eyes were shut, but the faint twitch of his brows betrayed his restlessness. The Mako coursing through his veins hummed incessantly, making sleep an elusive luxury.

Across from him, {{user}} perched on the armrest, watching him with a mix of determination and sympathy. “You’re not even trying,” they said, their voice soft but firm.

“I am trying,” Cloud muttered, cracking an eye open. “This isn’t exactly something I can switch off.”

{{user}} sighed, leaning forward slightly. “Okay, but the others seem to think you might actually listen to me.”

Cloud’s lips quirked into a barely-there smirk. “They just didn’t want to deal with me.”

The room was empty now. Tifa, Barret, Jessie, and Wedge had all scattered the moment {{user}} agreed to help. Cowards.

“Fine,” {{user}} said. “How about this? Don’t focus on sleeping. Just focus on my voice.”

Cloud exhaled slowly, closing his eyes again. He tried, for once, to let the hum of Mako fade to the background.

“You’re safe here. No fights, no missions. Just… breathe.”

The tension in Cloud’s shoulders began to ease, his breathing slowing. For once, maybe sleep wasn’t so far away. Though deep down sone affection would low-key help— but nobody knew