↳ ffvii (final fantasy seven) one shots || vol. 1

geostigma || scenario - rufus shinra

anonymous asked: A scenario of Rufus and him dying of Geostigma and then getting a cure with either a reader's or oc's reactions before and after the cure. I loved your last reply to my ask. You're great!

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I

An involuntary sigh slips past your lips as you pour the beige slop into the bowl, pursing your lips into a thin line as you place the pot back on the stove, hand subconsciously moving to the knob to make sure you had turned the gas off. Picking up the bowl and spoon you sigh again, turning around and walking out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom where Rufus lays in bed, his pale skin tainted by the black sores of the rash. His eyes follow you as you make your way over to his side, sitting down on the stool you had placed beside the bed, balancing the bowl with the spoon in it on your lap. As you lean over to take the flannel off of his forehead, he opens his mouth to say something, but closes it quickly, watching silently as you dip the flannel in the bowl of water on his bedside table, wring it out and then return it to his forehead.

"I brought you some porridge," you say as you lean back. "Do you think you could manage some?"

You watch as he attempts to push himself upright in the bed, his elbow giving out underneath him after a tense moment of shaking, and he lets out a long sigh as he looks desperately towards you. Your heart aches for him, and you place the porridge precariously onto the small table with the bowl of water, adjusting his pillows until they're upright, winding your arms around him. For a moment you make eye contact, and you hope he doesn't see the pity in them, and you haul him up quickly, making sure he's supported before pulling away.

Grabbing the porridge from the bedside table, you stir it around as he shuffles in his spot, trying to find a comfortable position. Once the shuffling stops, you spoon up some porridge, blowing on it before lifting it to his lips. For a moment he hesitates, before taking the spoon and, with some effort, swallowing the porridge. As you scoop another bite, a choked laugh escapes him, and you raise your eyes to him.

"This is pitiful."

"You can't help it, you're sick."

"I'm not sick. I'm dying. And I can't even feed myself."

You're silent for a moment as you process his words. "But you can't help it."

He feels guilty all of a sudden, perhaps mainly because he was the person who helped cause this, and not only had he suffered greatly for those actions, but now everyone was, including you. You had abandoned your job, one of the few left after Midgar had fallen, in order to care for him. And he was dying, with no way to repay you except for the fortune he had inherited from his father, but now it was merely numbers on a slip of paper, no physical evidence to prove the fortune existed.

"I'm sorry."

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry I have to burden you with my death."

There's a tense silent, and he studies your face carefully. He watches every emotion flip across it, from ones he can easily to some he's never seen before, and he feels the oily claws of guilt claw at his insides again. You are the single person in his life he loves, truly loves, and he's done nothing but cause you pain, cause you anxiety. He can't even begin to fathom what it's like to go to sleep with someone dying beside you, let alone waking up in the morning and holding your own breath and waiting to hear his shallow inhales.

"You're not going to die."

Your tone is firm, and for a moment he's almost convinced, but he knows just as well as you do that there's no cure for it, and having Geostigma, especially as bad as he does, it's a sure death. But he holds his tongue, reasons that just because he doesn't have hope doesn't mean he should dash yours. So he stays silent, nods, and accepts the next spoonful of porridge.

"I won't let you."

II

It seemed ironic that the thing that would heal him would be the think his father had spent his entire life using and abusing, unbelievable that the lifestream would even consider healing him considering his role in Shinra. He felt almost bitter about it, but that feeling soon disappeared upon seeing the joy on your face, and he willingly embraced you, making sure to hold on tight and squeeze you that little bit harder than he normally would to prove his strength had returned.

"Why are you crying?" he asks, bemused, wiping away your tears with the pads of his thumbs as you peer up at him through your eyelashes. You give him a watery smile, pursing your lips in an attempt to stop the tears from falling, the relief washing over you inexplicable.

"I told you I wouldn't let you die," you eventually choke out, and he chuckles, leaning forwards to press his forehead to you.

"Yeah, you were right."

He gently presses his lips to yours, soft and tender, but somehow pouring all of his love into it. He lingers for a moment, before pulling away and staring deep into your eyes. Love hits him like a tsunami, almost knocks the breath out of him as he realises despite all of the pain and suffering you've endured, you've stuck by his side. Relief consumes him too, relief that you'll no longer have to worry about what could happen, no longer have sleepless nights where you lay awake and count the seconds between his breaths. He's grateful to have you, and although he has nothing to repay you with, he still feels the urge to express it.

"Thank you. Thank you, for staying by my side and believing in me. I don't deserve you."