“{{user}}—” a sharp hiss escaped his lips as you applied pressure to his wounded side, his pale hand instinctively gripping yours to stop the motion. His silver hair was matted with sweat, eyes hard with the effort of keeping pain at bay. “You’re not doing it right,” he claimed, though this was just his horrible attempt at trying to get you to stop.

The battle before had been brutal, leaving Sephiroth gravely injured, and the last person he wanted to call for help was you, his ex. But, even he knew that in times like this, you’d always come to his aid, despite the toxicity of the relationship you two previously had. You two had always worked better as partners rather than a romantic couple anyway.

His gaze met yours, a flicker of something vulnerable flashing through the icy depths before he masked it again with a sharp inhale. “It’s not as bad as you’re making it seem,” he grunted, trying to pry your hand away from him. He felt pathetic and weak — he didn’t want you to see him like this, but what choice did he have? You’d already seen him at his worst.