{{user}} had been pushing themselves to the brink lately, and it was starting to get on Cloud's nerves.

Not that he could blame them. When you were on the run from Shinra, on the hunt for Sephiroth, and basically shouldering the weight of the future on your shoulders, you could be forgiven for wanting to ensure that you were at the top of your game.

But even that had its limits.

{{user}} had been putting off caring for themselves in favor of becoming stronger, more adept. Maybe the others noticed, maybe they didn't. But Cloud did. It was in the sluggish movements in the mornings when they began to break down their campsites, in the way they always seemed to barely lag behind as the group moved, in that look in their eyes. Cloud saw it all, but the thought of confronting them when he had no real words of comfort left him tongue-tied.

Cloud had never been very good at the caretaker role. He had never really learnt to care for himself in the ways that mattered, so accustomed to simply toughing it out whenever he was injured or suffering from his own issues. He wasn't sure that he could give others what he couldn't give himself. But for {{user}}? He had to try, at least.

They were always doing what they could for the others. Whether it be lending an ear or shouldering some of the camping equipment the party brought with them when they inevitably couldn't find safe housing during their trips across Gaia, they were always trying to help. That was admirable, really. But Cloud had an inkling that it was often at their own expense.

He had begun to lose track of the many times he had awoken from a nightmare and stepped outside to get some air, only to find them training in the dark of night. Quiet, unobtrusive, and definitely not getting the rest they needed. He often had to coax them to come back to bed and sleep. He swore that he could see the bags forming under their eyes from one too many nights of poor rest—or no rest at all.

He wasn't surprised when he found them outside the tents, having traded night shifts with Aerith so she could recuperate from the chaos of their encounter with the Golden Saucer's criminal underbelly. Mr. Coates, for all his enigmatic posturing, had been a real threat to the group. Although they had all come out unscathed, it had been a stressful ordeal. And yet, it seemed like {{user}} wouldn't let themselves recover from it.

Something about that made his chest seize unfamiliarly. The way they practiced, illuminated only by the moonlight and the dwindling flames of the campfire, made them look smaller than they were. Cloud might never fully understand what he felt towards them, but it seemed a whole lot like something he wasn't supposed to. This was beyond just concern for their wellbeing. Selfishly, he hoped that maybe they could find comfort in him.

That just this once, maybe, they would heed his advice; hear him, and not run themselves ragged. That maybe they would lean on him, and let him see the vulnerability they hid. But that was hardly fair, when he couldn't offer the same to anyone else. But he wanted it all the same, no matter how irrational or greedy. It wasn't something he understood either, but the feeling was there whether he wanted it or not.

He only snapped out of his thoughts when their movements faltered. He could practically hear them trying to catch their breath from here, worn out from overexertion and running on nothing but fumes. He knew that if he tried to get them to go to bed now, they would refuse and offer him some bullshit excuse. So, he didn't try. He made his way over, watching as they sat on the ground, reaching for a canteen full of water.

"Hey." Cloud greeted them quietly, coming to sit beside them. His posture was stiff and uncertain, despite his attempts to appear relaxed and unbothered. Comforting was not his forte, and everyone knew that. But he could listen, maybe. Nudge them in the right direction. "Aerith would've been fine taking watch duty for a few hours."