Don't put words in my mouth. I have my own, and I'd like to use them. ( Though it's said calmly, the fact it comes up at all makes Kaladin's state of mind obvious.
He takes another moment to quell a rising temper. )
I left you suddenly and at a bad time. And I spoke dismissively to you. I... I regret it. I am sorry, Noctis.
[ So that's it. An apology not for refusing to speak with Noctis after putting an invisible burden on them both, but for how he decided to refuse.
Kaladin's right. It's not acceptable. ]
Then what do you want from me?
Accept your apology, act like everything's normal even after you made it obvious you're hiding shit from me? You shut me out before I could even talk to you, but that didn't stop you from jumping in with Jinx. I don't–
[ He's still angry over what he views as hypocrisy, judged for his own cowardice not even a day before and now here Kaladin is making his qualms so apparent without backing them up. Why the hell did he have to be so obvious then?
And why the hell does he have to be so obvious now?
Realization hits him hard, a gut punch in high altitude, and only briefly the lights of a broken city dim not just due to his implant's shifted focus. His body locks up as his mind drifts away from a moment that overwhelms him, suddenly forced face to face with a stark reality he'd been denying. Kaladin needs to know himself. He questioned things earlier. It wasn't Luna, but Noctis's engagement itself that brought about that questioning.
He feels unsteady, needing to be just as sure as Kaladin does before he can even come close to verbalizing his own suspicions. ]
Whatever that means... [ But it's muttered quietly, the result of built up frustration that's being vented through a meaningless statement. ]
Look... do you need to ask me anything, Kaladin? Anything you need to clarify from earlier. [ Even forcing out those words through a tight throat rattles him. ]
( His past relationships came to him easily but were each difficult to let go of.
Laral was the childhood crush, persisting into his early teens. They weren't devoted to one another, but they shared an understanding, however brief it felt. Then Tarah came into his life, and she fit into it so perfectly he thought he'd know her forever. They got the timing wrong, too; she left him behind in his grief at the border conflicts to be with her father. In the empty years that followed, he met his close friend, Shallan. These were his most enduring feelings for a woman, which ended in her committing to her betrothal to Adolin—despite his occasional attempts, often encouraged by Shallan, to intervene on their oaths. After that came Lyn, a partner who was steadfast and honest. The arguments that pushed them apart were his fault, but together they admitted even the worst ones were assistive in their growth.
Shallan was the first who made him suspect he was ill-suited for romance. He mistook his affection for her to be intimate when all he needed was support. But when Lyn offered hers, he could not return it. He then suspected he didn't deserve romance.
All of the women in his life were perceived as partners before they became his friends. Lucky, as it was perhaps the greatest outcome, but also a constant reminder of his failings of the heart.
But Noctis was first perceived as his friend. He was standoffish at first, then became welcoming. He knows him now as one of his best friends, gentler than most men he's come to know and just as loyal, though with the volatility commonly indicative of their gender. This isn't a mark against him; he's combative but willing to listen. Defensive, but not prideful. Taunting, but playfully so—though his teasing has reached and exceeded what is comfortable.
And it's pushed into territory Kaladin's only known with women.
So, once more, he faces a similar struggle—but the fiancé Kaladin wants to pursue is male. It frightens him as much as it intrigues him. It makes him scrutinize their past interactions, as well as the interactions he's had with men besides Noctis. Perhaps arrogantly, he even considers how many men—and who among them—might've been interested in him. Emotionally. Physically.
It's an overwhelming flood of foreign potential that makes his anxiety spike and simultaneously ball up like a rock in his gut. Is it so very different? Is it feminine, or embarrassing, or strange? These questions pale in comparison to the one Noctis prompts him to ask now. Noctis isn't foolish; he must know now what this is about. It's a possibility that makes Kaladin feel hot and shaky as he forces himself to speak. )
[ Romance and sexuality were always foundational aspects of what was required for him to be successful in his role as a king, not avenues for him to explore independently. In time, as he knew from childhood, he would be expected to choose a wife of suitable standing or be assigned one should he linger too long in his decision.
So being told that he would partner with the Oracle, Lunafreya, his friend since childhood, wasn't any surprise. Their years apart hadn't been marked by dates or flirtations, neither on his side nor hers. Of that he's certain. Who would willingly put themselves in the path of the heir apparent when all that was guaranteed was rejection? Even if Noctis himself had strayed too far in his obsession with normalcy, Ignis and Gladio were never far from his side. Any girl that got too close would be summarily dismissed.
Or any boy.
There was no effort to shield Noctis, either, from awareness of same sex relationships. It was one more thing to accept as a gracious ruler who'd nevertheless be required to produce heirs, and one more thing for a confused and inexperienced teenager to overhear in empty school hallways. Girls whispering excitedly about a shared date. Boys laughing as a playful shove turned into an intimate hand-hold. Back then, gender hadn't mattered. He'd been so lonely that any of his fantasies just involved being seen. Being wanted. Appreciated. By anyone. And each was more terrifying than the last. He hadn't needed Gladio or Ignis for those dismissals, not when he was the most qualified to keep himself isolated.
Now, it's different.
No one knows to keep their distance. No one guards him when he can't guard himself. And, most crucially, that figure in his fantasy not only has a gender, but he has a face. ]
The honest truth?
It wasn't my choice the first time. It still feels like that. [ He steadies himself with a quick breath, chest still tight and face flushed in some mix of frustration and apprehension. ]
My old man told me I was getting married the day before I left the city for my wedding. The– everything happened before I even got close. Then the wedding got called off.
And now here I am. Trying to tell you what the hell I even am anymore.
( That quick breath in Kaladin's ear compels him to grab along the side of his head, but his fingers push into his hair and find nothing beyond it. The implant in his eye is wired to his brain, just as Noctis is, and the forceful removal of either would paralyze him.
He doesn't want that, so he listens.
To the truth. To the pain. To the uncertainties. )
You don't need to force yourself, Noctis... Not for my sake. What you are is you. That's enough, and it always has been.
[ At the core of him is a starving, lonely child, and those words are like unexpected sustenance that wrenches him agonizingly to the surface. The boy who sat alone before, during, and after class. Who stood before tutors, guards, and a king who found him wanting. Who listened to all those around him forging new bonds with such unfettered joy like there was no possibility that those bonds could hurt them. That boy is enough?
His face drops into his hands as he tries and fails to convince himself that it's wind that agitates his eyes and sparks that burn, tears springing up against palms that dig forward but still fail to hide the alert of active conversation or mute Kaladin's breaths. Noctis's own turn shaky for a moment in spite of how he tries to stifle them, stress welling inside a body that feels too small to cage all of it.
Within seconds he suddenly pitches back, lying flat against rusted metal with legs dangling over air, reddened eyes staring upward at a cloudy sky. ]
Don't say stuff like that to me right now... all it's doing is messing with me.
Do you not get what you're doing? You can't even let me be pissed at you?
( He knows exactly what he's doing: Making the Almighty's own mess of their situation. They're standing in the wake of a couple of heavy admissions yet all he has are more words—the incorrect ones.
Not for the first time, Kaladin considers taking Noctis far from this place. Nowhere in particular, just elsewhere. Up in the sky, over the sea—away. Instead, he listens to his friend cry, gritting his teeth against a strong swell of overprotectiveness. It thickens his throat, and the ache sets in soon after. )
Go ahead and be pissed at me, ( he challenges, voice a barely restrained growl. ) You think that'll stop me from defending you from them and yourself?
Tell me that you should be left alone tonight, Noctis. Swear it to me, and I won't come to find you.
[ The single huff of a choked laugh isn't a pleasant one, exasperation resulting from emotions driven to a fever pitch. It forces him to realize just how tentative his hold on his carefully crafted facade has truly been since his arrival, now that the person offering him the most stability is the one creating the most conflict in him. ]
Why the hell are you asking me?
Do you need space? You want to talk now? You want me to swear anything when you're the one who needs time?
( The laugh does it, misinterpreted as a mockery. It must be designed to cut him down, as that's all that pairs logically with Noctis' following questions.
He sucks a sharp breath inward. )
I want you to stop punishing me!
I tried to apologize. I tried to talk it through. I tried to push myself past what I wanted, and you still— ( His teeth make an audible click at how forcefully he cuts himself off, disgusted by how raw he sounds.
[ Eyes shut tight in response to a shout that he wants to run from... but that's only one instinct. The other is to meet it head-on, and it's that one which is stronger with Kaladin as he suddenly braces a palm against steel and pushes himself back up. He's sore. Bruised. But it's his new friend that taught him those were feelings best felt with another. ]
Punishing you? No, don't tell me to forget it, that's bullshit!
If... if you're holding back even half of what I think you are right now then how am I supposed to be around you without thinking about it?! Do you think I'm stupid or something?
I'm the one trying to give you what you want. So if you need time then yes, I should be alone.
No! You're not stupid. I don't think that. Stop speaking for me!
( Even taking a sip of Stormlight can't help him quiet the breaths he takes now. They stem from panic, not a need for air. He doesn't have to use his lungs when infused, but even the euphoria in his chest from drawing on his spheres can't distract him from Noctis' words.
If Noctis is angry at him for taking time and angry at him for not, what's the correct choice? What does he do? )
I'm trying to respect this—you! But it's all... it's all getting messed up. I'm... I'm messing it up!
( His past relationships came to him easily. But the one he shares with Noctis—in whatever form it's taking now—will never be described that way.
Pushing his hands into his hair, Kaladin panics and cuts the connection. )
[ Their emotions reach such a fever pitch so quickly when they're put together – fire and wind, storm and thunder – that the sudden end of that call on the back of a howl of wind startles him. A breath is drawn deep as eyes rapidly search his surroundings before bringing up the implant's interface, having to see for himself that the connection was severed intentionally and that nothing worse happened to Kaladin.
It's at once a relief and a slight, too worked up to see it as more than abandonment – even at his own insistence.
But clear air and the shedding of more hidden tears – angry tears, confused and frustrated and ugly – through eyes squeezed tight join to provide some semblance of relief as the night grows colder, his own hurt given enough space that he can start to replay Kaladin's words in his head.
He's tired and he doesn't know what to do. And it's clear that he isn't alone. ]
( Overwhelmed, Kaladin lets the text rot. He's incapable of decision-making, terrified of failing to communicate again.
He hides in his room like a coward instead of facing what he's already accepted. All he had to do was provide Noctis with an answer to the unasked question between them. In wanting to be practical, to give himself time to think for once instead of rushing in, Kaladin avoided the path of least resistance: Being direct with his feelings.
Even a confused confession would have been better than their current reality. That's his fault.
Inadvertently or not, he's placed the responsibility of pursuit on Noctis. That's his fault. Why, then, is he so angry? )
[ That hour is full of self-reflection he doesn't want but desperately needs. The urge to reach back out again is powerful but Kaladin has been trying to draw a line in the sand. One he'd ignored when it was obvious he was intimately involved, and that's something he still struggles to reconcile, but re-establishing contact so soon could easily be another overstep.
At the same time, each recollection of the tone of his voice carries with it more pain and regret. It worries him.
And therefore, given enough opportunity to think about what he might say, he responds almost immediately. ]
( There's a scant difference in the amount of light he sees when he closes his. His room is almost totally black; the only source of a weak glow is the pouches of spheres tied closed on his bed.
He sits on the floor against the wall, resting an elbow on his bent knee. )
Please forgive me for my outburst I want to do right by you I've been saying all the wrong things lately
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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He takes another moment to quell a rising temper. )
I left you suddenly and at a bad time. And I spoke dismissively to you. I... I regret it. I am sorry, Noctis.
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Yeah, you did. [ Though he doesn't interrupt and his tone is measured and quiet, the response comes right on the heels of that apology. ]
Are you gonna' explain to me why?
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No.
I can't, ( he adds quietly. ) I'm not ready.
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Kaladin's right. It's not acceptable. ]
Then what do you want from me?
Accept your apology, act like everything's normal even after you made it obvious you're hiding shit from me? You shut me out before I could even talk to you, but that didn't stop you from jumping in with Jinx. I don't–
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That's all you wanted to say, right?
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I'm not ready. ( He says each word as if it were its own sentence, ensuring he's listened to. )
I need time. I must be capable of addressing you with more certainty.
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And why the hell does he have to be so obvious now?
Realization hits him hard, a gut punch in high altitude, and only briefly the lights of a broken city dim not just due to his implant's shifted focus. His body locks up as his mind drifts away from a moment that overwhelms him, suddenly forced face to face with a stark reality he'd been denying. Kaladin needs to know himself. He questioned things earlier. It wasn't Luna, but Noctis's engagement itself that brought about that questioning.
He feels unsteady, needing to be just as sure as Kaladin does before he can even come close to verbalizing his own suspicions. ]
Whatever that means... [ But it's muttered quietly, the result of built up frustration that's being vented through a meaningless statement. ]
Look... do you need to ask me anything, Kaladin? Anything you need to clarify from earlier. [ Even forcing out those words through a tight throat rattles him. ]
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Laral was the childhood crush, persisting into his early teens. They weren't devoted to one another, but they shared an understanding, however brief it felt. Then Tarah came into his life, and she fit into it so perfectly he thought he'd know her forever. They got the timing wrong, too; she left him behind in his grief at the border conflicts to be with her father. In the empty years that followed, he met his close friend, Shallan. These were his most enduring feelings for a woman, which ended in her committing to her betrothal to Adolin—despite his occasional attempts, often encouraged by Shallan, to intervene on their oaths. After that came Lyn, a partner who was steadfast and honest. The arguments that pushed them apart were his fault, but together they admitted even the worst ones were assistive in their growth.
Shallan was the first who made him suspect he was ill-suited for romance. He mistook his affection for her to be intimate when all he needed was support. But when Lyn offered hers, he could not return it. He then suspected he didn't deserve romance.
All of the women in his life were perceived as partners before they became his friends. Lucky, as it was perhaps the greatest outcome, but also a constant reminder of his failings of the heart.
But Noctis was first perceived as his friend. He was standoffish at first, then became welcoming. He knows him now as one of his best friends, gentler than most men he's come to know and just as loyal, though with the volatility commonly indicative of their gender. This isn't a mark against him; he's combative but willing to listen. Defensive, but not prideful. Taunting, but playfully so—though his teasing has reached and exceeded what is comfortable.
And it's pushed into territory Kaladin's only known with women.
So, once more, he faces a similar struggle—but the fiancé Kaladin wants to pursue is male. It frightens him as much as it intrigues him. It makes him scrutinize their past interactions, as well as the interactions he's had with men besides Noctis. Perhaps arrogantly, he even considers how many men—and who among them—might've been interested in him. Emotionally. Physically.
It's an overwhelming flood of foreign potential that makes his anxiety spike and simultaneously ball up like a rock in his gut. Is it so very different? Is it feminine, or embarrassing, or strange? These questions pale in comparison to the one Noctis prompts him to ask now. Noctis isn't foolish; he must know now what this is about. It's a possibility that makes Kaladin feel hot and shaky as he forces himself to speak. )
... Are you? Engaged?
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So being told that he would partner with the Oracle, Lunafreya, his friend since childhood, wasn't any surprise. Their years apart hadn't been marked by dates or flirtations, neither on his side nor hers. Of that he's certain. Who would willingly put themselves in the path of the heir apparent when all that was guaranteed was rejection? Even if Noctis himself had strayed too far in his obsession with normalcy, Ignis and Gladio were never far from his side. Any girl that got too close would be summarily dismissed.
Or any boy.
There was no effort to shield Noctis, either, from awareness of same sex relationships. It was one more thing to accept as a gracious ruler who'd nevertheless be required to produce heirs, and one more thing for a confused and inexperienced teenager to overhear in empty school hallways. Girls whispering excitedly about a shared date. Boys laughing as a playful shove turned into an intimate hand-hold. Back then, gender hadn't mattered. He'd been so lonely that any of his fantasies just involved being seen. Being wanted. Appreciated. By anyone. And each was more terrifying than the last. He hadn't needed Gladio or Ignis for those dismissals, not when he was the most qualified to keep himself isolated.
Now, it's different.
No one knows to keep their distance. No one guards him when he can't guard himself. And, most crucially, that figure in his fantasy not only has a gender, but he has a face. ]
The honest truth?
It wasn't my choice the first time. It still feels like that. [ He steadies himself with a quick breath, chest still tight and face flushed in some mix of frustration and apprehension. ]
My old man told me I was getting married the day before I left the city for my wedding. The– everything happened before I even got close. Then the wedding got called off.
And now here I am. Trying to tell you what the hell I even am anymore.
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He doesn't want that, so he listens.
To the truth. To the pain. To the uncertainties. )
You don't need to force yourself, Noctis... Not for my sake. What you are is you. That's enough, and it always has been.
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His face drops into his hands as he tries and fails to convince himself that it's wind that agitates his eyes and sparks that burn, tears springing up against palms that dig forward but still fail to hide the alert of active conversation or mute Kaladin's breaths. Noctis's own turn shaky for a moment in spite of how he tries to stifle them, stress welling inside a body that feels too small to cage all of it.
Within seconds he suddenly pitches back, lying flat against rusted metal with legs dangling over air, reddened eyes staring upward at a cloudy sky. ]
Don't say stuff like that to me right now... all it's doing is messing with me.
Do you not get what you're doing? You can't even let me be pissed at you?
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Not for the first time, Kaladin considers taking Noctis far from this place. Nowhere in particular, just elsewhere. Up in the sky, over the sea—away. Instead, he listens to his friend cry, gritting his teeth against a strong swell of overprotectiveness. It thickens his throat, and the ache sets in soon after. )
Go ahead and be pissed at me, ( he challenges, voice a barely restrained growl. ) You think that'll stop me from defending you from them and yourself?
Tell me that you should be left alone tonight, Noctis. Swear it to me, and I won't come to find you.
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Why the hell are you asking me?
Do you need space? You want to talk now? You want me to swear anything when you're the one who needs time?
You decide what you want, and don't put it on me.
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He sucks a sharp breath inward. )
I want you to stop punishing me!
I tried to apologize. I tried to talk it through. I tried to push myself past what I wanted, and you still— ( His teeth make an audible click at how forcefully he cuts himself off, disgusted by how raw he sounds.
Another restraint. Another stressor. )
Forget it. Forget it!
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Punishing you? No, don't tell me to forget it, that's bullshit!
If... if you're holding back even half of what I think you are right now then how am I supposed to be around you without thinking about it?! Do you think I'm stupid or something?
I'm the one trying to give you what you want. So if you need time then yes, I should be alone.
no subject
( Even taking a sip of Stormlight can't help him quiet the breaths he takes now. They stem from panic, not a need for air. He doesn't have to use his lungs when infused, but even the euphoria in his chest from drawing on his spheres can't distract him from Noctis' words.
If Noctis is angry at him for taking time and angry at him for not, what's the correct choice? What does he do? )
I'm trying to respect this—you! But it's all... it's all getting messed up. I'm... I'm messing it up!
( His past relationships came to him easily. But the one he shares with Noctis—in whatever form it's taking now—will never be described that way.
Pushing his hands into his hair, Kaladin panics and cuts the connection. )
1/2
It's at once a relief and a slight, too worked up to see it as more than abandonment – even at his own insistence.
But clear air and the shedding of more hidden tears – angry tears, confused and frustrated and ugly – through eyes squeezed tight join to provide some semblance of relief as the night grows colder, his own hurt given enough space that he can start to replay Kaladin's words in his head.
He's tired and he doesn't know what to do. And it's clear that he isn't alone. ]
2/2
Kaladin
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He hides in his room like a coward instead of facing what he's already accepted. All he had to do was provide Noctis with an answer to the unasked question between them. In wanting to be practical, to give himself time to think for once instead of rushing in, Kaladin avoided the path of least resistance: Being direct with his feelings.
Even a confused confession would have been better than their current reality. That's his fault.
Inadvertently or not, he's placed the responsibility of pursuit on Noctis. That's his fault. Why, then, is he so angry? )
2/2
Yes
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At the same time, each recollection of the tone of his voice carries with it more pain and regret. It worries him.
And therefore, given enough opportunity to think about what he might say, he responds almost immediately. ]
Are you okay?
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( There's a scant difference in the amount of light he sees when he closes his. His room is almost totally black; the only source of a weak glow is the pouches of spheres tied closed on his bed.
He sits on the floor against the wall, resting an elbow on his bent knee. )
Please forgive me for my outburst
I want to do right by you
I've been saying all the wrong things lately
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[ Getting a response at all is a relief. So why is his chest tight again? ]
Sorry too, my heads not in the right place rn
And we don't have to talk about it yet, that's not why I messaged you
But can you tell me where you're at so I know
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I know where your words come from
( The heart, as always. Noctis never means him harm. That's why he's so easy to forgive. )
I'm in the dormitory
In my room
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If I worried you then I regret not responding to you earlier
Are you okay
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