CloTi Week Day 1: Acts of Devotion
Summary: As Meteor looms in the sky, Tifa pours her whole heart into caring for a broken Cloud in Mideel. Oneshot for Cloti Week 2025.
Tifa paused outside his hospital room, her hand hovering over the handle. She closed her eyes, breathed in once, twice.
And then she pushed open the door.
The rhythmic sound of machines beeping greeted her and the overpowering smell of formaldehyde nearly smothered her.
Cloud was propped up in his hospital bed, tucked underneath a blue-and-white striped blanket, slack-jawed. His half-lidded eyes stared vacantly ahead. Wires coiled like roots from his face, chest and arms, hooked up to various machines.
“Good morning, Cloud!” As Tifa drew closer to him, she noticed a thin trail of drool at the corner of his mouth. She grabbed a tissue off his bedside cabinet and cleaned his mouth. “How did you sleep last night?”
Cloud’s eyes fluttered. “…nnngrrh…” he gurgled.
“I stopped by that little free library near the inn yesterday to return Knights Without Honor and guess what I found?” Tifa reached into her knapsack and pulled out a book with an illustration of five kids standing on a cliff by a lighthouse as choppy waves crashed below. She grinned as she held it up. “It’s the Guardians of Lyria series! Remember when we read these books when we were kids?”
“This one’s called The Secret of the Lighthouse. I don’t think we read this one before. Or at least I haven’t. What about you?”
“Well it might be beneath your current reading level but there’s nothing wrong with revisiting your childhood. I’ll read it to you later.” Tifa tucked the book away and set her knapsack down. She eyed Cloud’s feeding bag. It hung limp and empty. “I’ll feed you right after I open the curtains, okay?”
She crossed the room to the window and pulled back the pale yellow curtains. Sunbeams poured into the room, painting bright golden stripes across the walls, the floor, and Cloud’s bed.
She left the room and walked down the hallway to the clinic’s medical supply storage room. She grabbed a bottle of canned liquid formula—checking the expiration date to make sure it hadn’t expired—along with a new feeding bag, a clamp, and a syringe. Back in Cloud’s room, she carried out his feeding routine. Her hands worked with steady precision as she prepared the new feeding bag, flushed the feeding tube with warm water, and started the pump.
After she was done, Tifa leaned over Cloud and inspected the skin around his nasal tube. No signs of redness or bleeding. She moistened a cotton swab with warm water and cleaned the edges of his nostrils.
“Alright, Cloud, I’m going to turn you over,” Tifa said.
Tifa gently rolled Cloud over onto his left side. He had to be turned every two hours to prevent bedsores—left, right, back, all day and night. She handled most of the schedule herself, from when she arrived at 8 a.m. until the nurse on duty during the night shift forced her to return to her room at the inn.
Tifa took a seat near Cloud’s bed. Cloud’s eyes were closed now. With the sunlight bathing his serene face in a soft glow, he could’ve passed for being in a peaceful slumber. But Tifa knew better.
