[ Later he'll reflect on the moment without shame and divorced from a wealth of negative emotion, and he'll realize that that gentle gathering of his hair is the nicest thing he's ever felt, and that Jonas's soft hums are the most gentle thing he's ever heard. For now, all he can do is mourn their loss when Jonas pulls back and sits up straighter with him, a true weariness in that blue gaze that goes back further than just a few weeks.
Jonas.
Isn't seeing his face, with warm attentive eyes and that hint of an encouraging smile waiting on chilled lips, one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen, then?
Sitting here with him he doesn't feel that his emotions are seen as burdensome or, worse, a hindrance. He doesn't feel rushed through his grief, or judged for lashing out. He doesn't feel lectured or ignored. He feels heard, encouraged, and protected. And it isn't just that he never realized how that could really feel with someone, which he didn't. It's that he's never met someone quite like Jonas that could handle it so effortlessly, and that realization startles him. He stares openly at him for a few seconds longer than is easily explainable before finally turning away again, hand still maintaining its tight grip on Jonas's. ]
Yeah, I, uh... [ His voice still sounds shaky and it makes him hesitate, clearing his throat like that might help it regain some strength. ]
Sorry. [ Again. ] I'm fine. It just all came out, I guess. I didn't mean for all that. [ Another apology is loaded in the chamber but this time he catches himself, not wanting to flout that promise he's been given. But what can he say when he isn't allowed that? ]
( In Noctis' stare that lingers on his, there's tension. It's faint, almost ignorable, but compels him to lean forward. To take hands away from a face flushed from the cold and crying. To kiss cheeks chafed raw by knuckles. To kiss pale lips until they're red. To carry him inside where it's safe and warm.
The force of the urge is so great that it feels as though he's already gravitating closer. He's both relieved and anxious when Noctis hides his face again, left instead to helplessly search the profile of a straight nose, long, teary eyelashes, and soft, tousled hair. )
It's—Really, it's okay. ( Truthfully, it's throwing him through a loop that's just now beginning to shake him, lowering his gaze to where their hands remain linked beneath the coat. ) Sometimes it's just... what you need.
( It's selfish to keep his hand there, isn't it? Hoping it won't be detected by Noctis until he's ready to move or leave his spot. It's selfish to extract it, too, though. Noctis needs it as an anchor right now, needs to hold onto it to keep him connected to the moment, and Jonas can't conceive of pulling away when their fingers wind so perfectly together.
A distraction may perfectly balance both: Their hold can remain, but he can also draw attention to reality. Ease them back into it. Put their masks back on to better fool themselves into believing there was no chemistry transferred pupil to pupil like an electrical current. )
Uh, it's... weird, actually.
Not you, my—The fact I'm about to tell you. Ugh, uh, it's—Someone told me it helps, like... regulate things. Like, if you cry, it's actually a chemical thing and it... It's actually a relief. It doesn't get rid of the problem, obviously, but—I mean, it's supposed to help with stress or whatever. That's... That's all.
( It's his turn to look away, eyes shutting until he's sure they're raised to peer at the sky when he opens them again. If his focus remains above his head, the matters of the ground below him won't seem so significant. That's what stargazing is meant to make you feel. )
It's just hard, you know... It's not like you can prepare for any of it. Life, just... in general. All of it.
[ He wants to retreat to his familiar den of self-doubt and comfort himself in delusions of pity, the best combatant against his guilt, but that road has been blocked off by Jonas. He's so simply made it impossible for him to feel that's Noctis is an imposition in this moment that all he can do is sit with it, see him and be seen in return, and let the tiredness, sadness, and resignation wash over him while he simply exists and belongs.
And maybe, just maybe sniffs gently with some measure of fondness and amusement when his friend further attempts to comfort him and normalize what they've just experienced together. ]
Yeah? [ Jonas stutters, tripping over his words, and the gentle squeeze he gives to his hand is almost reflexive. ]
... is it supposed to help immediately? Or will I know tomorrow? [ It's a lame joke said with too straight a face to know at first if he's serious, but another harder sniff and another wipe at his face signifies that at last he's returning to his old self. In part, at least, since that sober air has yet to fade. ]
"Life in general"... we don't have any of Cain's whiskey to toast to that. Probably not a good idea for me anyway, after last time.
[ Finally fingers unfurl, and his throat clears upon realizing just how tightly he was holding onto him. Shit. ]
... being here, it's all further away for a while. If we can't do anything about it tonight, I guess we have to just... be here. Maybe take it easy for a night.
( Reassurance in the form of the brief kneading of Noctis' fingers around his doesn't do anything to calm his heart rate. They do, however, have the intended effect of slowing Jonas down. Thoughts may still come too quickly and jumble, giving him pause, but at least he can wield a sentence better. )
Seemed like you had a lot of fun for a sec there. Definitely when you went to take a piss, though... You were pumped about that. ( Enough to relinquish the chips and scuttle away with a dumb little smile on his face.
Jonas bites the inside of his lower lip. Hand freshly warmed, the chill hits it as soon as Noctis lets go. If only taking it back and pulling it into his lap instead didn't seem inappropriate. )
Hey, uh, I vote we "take it easy" inside. It's freezing out here, and I've got cans of coffee we can heat up with our laser tools. ( A teenaged boy plan... but by God, it just might work. ) Raincheck on sitting up here?
[ A huff of a breath and the lilting tone of those words make audible a smile he tries to hide behind his hand, realizing the warmth he feels against his mouth is Jonas's. It startles him but he doesn't jerk, instead sitting up straighter as eyes drop back down to the jacket his friend has carefully wrapped him up in.
It feels like he's dreaming. Light-headed and emotionally raw as he is right now from that cathartic release, would he be able to tell the difference? ]
Sure. Next time we'll have a better plan... at least we didn't run out onto one of the dunes. [ Climbing down into the warmth of Jonas's ship is far easier and safer. ]
Wanna' hand me the food? I'll toss it down for you once you're down there.
Haha, seriously, though. That'd have been such a stupid idea... ( Half-muttered as Jonas tries simultaneously to grab the container of food while staring at a hidden little smile he didn't think he'd see for the rest of the night.
He pats metal until he finds nothing, then embarrassedly turns his head away to assist himself in being less cringe. )
Here, ( he says, handing the container and chopsticks over with a quiet chuckle—well, it's a fucking giddy little girl giggle, so not exactly—of his own. He slides himself on his ass down the wing, gaining momentum until he can make the leap of faith down into the sand below.
It cushions him, making his descent shockingly quiet. Good, they don't want to wake the whole camp up, even if they're on the outskirts of it. )
[ Jonas turns his head away and it feels like, if he allows invasive thoughts to convince him of his own desires, that he's being given permission for something. His gaze lowers, focusing on a loose shirt that nevertheless shows the dips and curves of a solid torso when Jonas twists. Inviting. His arms would slot around him nicely right now, convince both of them that they're real in this moment and no other. That there aren't other worlds to return to, one a void of endless torture and the other a suffocating life of duties and pre-destined choices. Here they could be something else to each other, a fantasy like so many others he's lost himself to while locked away in regal halls.
Incorrect. An imposter. More interested in courting tender feelings than showing up as something stalwart and emotionless. Charmed by stupid hobbies, by banned sweets, by boys.
Now just one boy.
Jonas moves before he's even realized it, pushing himself up with a drape of that jacket over his arm, food in hand. ]
You sure? Drop me and I'll kick your ass. [ It'd be easy for him to jump down. So easy. And yet he lowers himself into a sit on that wing, inched towards its edge for Jonas to ease him down. ]
Please don't kick my ass, ( he says nonchalantly as Noctis scoots toward the edge.
It'll be like helping Alex around, something he's done countless times as her sidekick, except Noctis doesn't need it. His leg must hurt, though, so he's particularly gentle when he encourages a small waist the rest of the way forward.
As it turns out, he's underestimated Noctis. He didn't think he did, and was even careful not to; however, it's clear—from the muscular sides held by his hands—that Noctis is a far harder worker than he ever gave him credit for... and after hugging him so tightly, feeling his skin and hair under his fingers, this adds a level of anticipation to the hold. His palms are hot as his body sheds its excess heat through his extremities, and he swears he's begun to sweat despite the chill.
Raising him off the wing, Jonas realizes it's going to be difficult to explain why he stopped Noctis from descending for seconds longer than he should've. The dismount is far quicker, refusing to make eye contact until they're both on the ground, on even footing, and inches away. Pulling his friend in while he lowered him only made sense; he couldn't keep his arms out straight while lifting at least one hundred pounds of man. They're face to face as a result, and for three electrifying heartbeats, Jonas' olive eyes flick up to make contact with Noctis'.
One. Two. Three—
Let go. Let go.
He doesn't. Momentarily, his grip squeezes instead, an autonomous reaction to touching such a fine figure when what little restraint he had was stripped as quickly as the coat hanging from Noctis' forearm. )
You okay? ( A rushed question to cover for his own excitement, glancing away. ) Sorry, I... I thought you were gonna slip. I...
It's one thing to be hauled around by Gladio or held onto by Prompto, roughhousing with men he's known almost his entire life and trusted as his brothers for just as long. It's another to have hands touch him so carefully, boxing him in against sides which have tensed with anticipatory anxiety for something so small. It would be easier to ignore if warmth didn't sink into his hips and crawl up his torso from large hands that linger far too long before carefully lifting him with impressive strength and easing him down like he's something breakable.
He doesn't even realize those palms are still settled over his body until that grip tightens, locked as he is in another trap laid by pretty hazel eyes.
It's another perfect moment, just like they'd experienced minutes ago on top of that ship, tangled up in comforting each other and making the mistake of letting each other know with that seeking look. Here it is again, only it isn't comfort he sees in Jonas's expression. Curiosity, maybe. Appreciation, the kind that prompts a question he refuses to ask. ]
Jonas? [ Instead his name comes out of his mouth, an immediate regret but it spilled forth so easily and readily that there was no stopping it. A hard blink breaks the trance, finally registering what he's said. ]
Yeah.
[ The answer is as rushed as Jonas's query, turning away with equal speed and with a sidestep around his friend. ]
–the kicking your ass thing was just a joke. You really think I'm that easy to rough up, huh? Come on, it's freezing.
( His name almost sounds like permission—questioning, but acquiescing, as though Noctis is asking him why he's not leaning in.
It'd be easy; they're two or three inches from each other, and his head is slightly inclined to peer down into Noctis' face. In the breadth of a moment, he could brush his lips against Noctis', press in with a sway forward, and make the night perfect. )
Yeah. No, I mean. I—You're tough, I get it. ( His hands feel cold at his sides as his friend skirts him, intent on the interior of the ship. Jonas doesn't know if that's where he should go, at least not for a minute, ducking his head to hide his disappointment in himself.
Withdrawing a hand-rolled cigarette Cain got from V as a gift to him, he sets it against his lower lip. )
I'll be right in, I so badly need a smoke—idiot me, stubbing the one from earlier out. There's, like, a bunch of snacks and stuff in there, so get comfy.
[ Verbal flubs assail his senses and not for the first time, he wonders why Jonas can't be a better actor. It'd make it easier for him to convince himself that the tension in the moment is the kind he himself has fabricated in some kind of post-crying delusion. ]
You sure?
[ His question doesn't help, and fingers lift to rub against the back of his neck like it might ease away the oppressiveness lingering in the air. Or perhaps his own frustration with himself for leaving that door open too long. ]
Take your time, I'll see if I can find the coffee. I've got my tools anyway, so... I'll do what I can. [ His tone might be more even than Jonas's but the word choice betrays him, unsure and awkward. Nevertheless he keeps to his word, and by the time Jonas joins him inside that are two hot tins of coffee waiting.
The conversation mellows, food untouched, and after a few shared jokes about the day and the persistence of that mood, that unspoken expectation, he's not sure which of them suggests they go their separate ways first. Either way, it's easier, and even though he leaves Jonas's ship the boy himself stays on his mind the entire walk back to his tent and well into the night. ]
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no subject
Jonas.
Isn't seeing his face, with warm attentive eyes and that hint of an encouraging smile waiting on chilled lips, one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen, then?
Sitting here with him he doesn't feel that his emotions are seen as burdensome or, worse, a hindrance. He doesn't feel rushed through his grief, or judged for lashing out. He doesn't feel lectured or ignored. He feels heard, encouraged, and protected. And it isn't just that he never realized how that could really feel with someone, which he didn't. It's that he's never met someone quite like Jonas that could handle it so effortlessly, and that realization startles him. He stares openly at him for a few seconds longer than is easily explainable before finally turning away again, hand still maintaining its tight grip on Jonas's. ]
Yeah, I, uh... [ His voice still sounds shaky and it makes him hesitate, clearing his throat like that might help it regain some strength. ]
Sorry. [ Again. ] I'm fine. It just all came out, I guess. I didn't mean for all that. [ Another apology is loaded in the chamber but this time he catches himself, not wanting to flout that promise he's been given. But what can he say when he isn't allowed that? ]
Thanks. No one before has ever–
Thanks.
no subject
The force of the urge is so great that it feels as though he's already gravitating closer. He's both relieved and anxious when Noctis hides his face again, left instead to helplessly search the profile of a straight nose, long, teary eyelashes, and soft, tousled hair. )
It's—Really, it's okay. ( Truthfully, it's throwing him through a loop that's just now beginning to shake him, lowering his gaze to where their hands remain linked beneath the coat. ) Sometimes it's just... what you need.
( It's selfish to keep his hand there, isn't it? Hoping it won't be detected by Noctis until he's ready to move or leave his spot. It's selfish to extract it, too, though. Noctis needs it as an anchor right now, needs to hold onto it to keep him connected to the moment, and Jonas can't conceive of pulling away when their fingers wind so perfectly together.
A distraction may perfectly balance both: Their hold can remain, but he can also draw attention to reality. Ease them back into it. Put their masks back on to better fool themselves into believing there was no chemistry transferred pupil to pupil like an electrical current. )
Uh, it's... weird, actually.
Not you, my—The fact I'm about to tell you. Ugh, uh, it's—Someone told me it helps, like... regulate things. Like, if you cry, it's actually a chemical thing and it... It's actually a relief. It doesn't get rid of the problem, obviously, but—I mean, it's supposed to help with stress or whatever. That's... That's all.
( It's his turn to look away, eyes shutting until he's sure they're raised to peer at the sky when he opens them again. If his focus remains above his head, the matters of the ground below him won't seem so significant. That's what stargazing is meant to make you feel. )
It's just hard, you know... It's not like you can prepare for any of it. Life, just... in general. All of it.
no subject
And maybe, just maybe sniffs gently with some measure of fondness and amusement when his friend further attempts to comfort him and normalize what they've just experienced together. ]
Yeah? [ Jonas stutters, tripping over his words, and the gentle squeeze he gives to his hand is almost reflexive. ]
... is it supposed to help immediately? Or will I know tomorrow? [ It's a lame joke said with too straight a face to know at first if he's serious, but another harder sniff and another wipe at his face signifies that at last he's returning to his old self. In part, at least, since that sober air has yet to fade. ]
"Life in general"... we don't have any of Cain's whiskey to toast to that. Probably not a good idea for me anyway, after last time.
[ Finally fingers unfurl, and his throat clears upon realizing just how tightly he was holding onto him. Shit. ]
... being here, it's all further away for a while. If we can't do anything about it tonight, I guess we have to just... be here. Maybe take it easy for a night.
no subject
( Reassurance in the form of the brief kneading of Noctis' fingers around his doesn't do anything to calm his heart rate. They do, however, have the intended effect of slowing Jonas down. Thoughts may still come too quickly and jumble, giving him pause, but at least he can wield a sentence better. )
Seemed like you had a lot of fun for a sec there. Definitely when you went to take a piss, though... You were pumped about that. ( Enough to relinquish the chips and scuttle away with a dumb little smile on his face.
Jonas bites the inside of his lower lip. Hand freshly warmed, the chill hits it as soon as Noctis lets go. If only taking it back and pulling it into his lap instead didn't seem inappropriate. )
Hey, uh, I vote we "take it easy" inside. It's freezing out here, and I've got cans of coffee we can heat up with our laser tools. ( A teenaged boy plan... but by God, it just might work. ) Raincheck on sitting up here?
no subject
[ A huff of a breath and the lilting tone of those words make audible a smile he tries to hide behind his hand, realizing the warmth he feels against his mouth is Jonas's. It startles him but he doesn't jerk, instead sitting up straighter as eyes drop back down to the jacket his friend has carefully wrapped him up in.
It feels like he's dreaming. Light-headed and emotionally raw as he is right now from that cathartic release, would he be able to tell the difference? ]
Sure. Next time we'll have a better plan... at least we didn't run out onto one of the dunes. [ Climbing down into the warmth of Jonas's ship is far easier and safer. ]
Wanna' hand me the food? I'll toss it down for you once you're down there.
no subject
He pats metal until he finds nothing, then embarrassedly turns his head away to assist himself in being less cringe. )
Here, ( he says, handing the container and chopsticks over with a quiet chuckle—well, it's a fucking giddy little girl giggle, so not exactly—of his own. He slides himself on his ass down the wing, gaining momentum until he can make the leap of faith down into the sand below.
It cushions him, making his descent shockingly quiet. Good, they don't want to wake the whole camp up, even if they're on the outskirts of it. )
Alright. C'mon, I can help you down.
( Holds his hands up. Come to meeeeeeeee )
no subject
Incorrect. An imposter. More interested in courting tender feelings than showing up as something stalwart and emotionless. Charmed by stupid hobbies, by banned sweets, by boys.
Now just one boy.
Jonas moves before he's even realized it, pushing himself up with a drape of that jacket over his arm, food in hand. ]
You sure? Drop me and I'll kick your ass. [ It'd be easy for him to jump down. So easy. And yet he lowers himself into a sit on that wing, inched towards its edge for Jonas to ease him down. ]
no subject
It'll be like helping Alex around, something he's done countless times as her sidekick, except Noctis doesn't need it. His leg must hurt, though, so he's particularly gentle when he encourages a small waist the rest of the way forward.
As it turns out, he's underestimated Noctis. He didn't think he did, and was even careful not to; however, it's clear—from the muscular sides held by his hands—that Noctis is a far harder worker than he ever gave him credit for... and after hugging him so tightly, feeling his skin and hair under his fingers, this adds a level of anticipation to the hold. His palms are hot as his body sheds its excess heat through his extremities, and he swears he's begun to sweat despite the chill.
Raising him off the wing, Jonas realizes it's going to be difficult to explain why he stopped Noctis from descending for seconds longer than he should've. The dismount is far quicker, refusing to make eye contact until they're both on the ground, on even footing, and inches away. Pulling his friend in while he lowered him only made sense; he couldn't keep his arms out straight while lifting at least one hundred pounds of man. They're face to face as a result, and for three electrifying heartbeats, Jonas' olive eyes flick up to make contact with Noctis'.
One. Two. Three—
Let go. Let go.
He doesn't. Momentarily, his grip squeezes instead, an autonomous reaction to touching such a fine figure when what little restraint he had was stripped as quickly as the coat hanging from Noctis' forearm. )
You okay? ( A rushed question to cover for his own excitement, glancing away. ) Sorry, I... I thought you were gonna slip. I...
no subject
It's one thing to be hauled around by Gladio or held onto by Prompto, roughhousing with men he's known almost his entire life and trusted as his brothers for just as long. It's another to have hands touch him so carefully, boxing him in against sides which have tensed with anticipatory anxiety for something so small. It would be easier to ignore if warmth didn't sink into his hips and crawl up his torso from large hands that linger far too long before carefully lifting him with impressive strength and easing him down like he's something breakable.
He doesn't even realize those palms are still settled over his body until that grip tightens, locked as he is in another trap laid by pretty hazel eyes.
It's another perfect moment, just like they'd experienced minutes ago on top of that ship, tangled up in comforting each other and making the mistake of letting each other know with that seeking look. Here it is again, only it isn't comfort he sees in Jonas's expression. Curiosity, maybe. Appreciation, the kind that prompts a question he refuses to ask. ]
Jonas? [ Instead his name comes out of his mouth, an immediate regret but it spilled forth so easily and readily that there was no stopping it. A hard blink breaks the trance, finally registering what he's said. ]
Yeah.
[ The answer is as rushed as Jonas's query, turning away with equal speed and with a sidestep around his friend. ]
–the kicking your ass thing was just a joke. You really think I'm that easy to rough up, huh? Come on, it's freezing.
no subject
It'd be easy; they're two or three inches from each other, and his head is slightly inclined to peer down into Noctis' face. In the breadth of a moment, he could brush his lips against Noctis', press in with a sway forward, and make the night perfect. )
Yeah. No, I mean. I—You're tough, I get it. ( His hands feel cold at his sides as his friend skirts him, intent on the interior of the ship. Jonas doesn't know if that's where he should go, at least not for a minute, ducking his head to hide his disappointment in himself.
Withdrawing a hand-rolled cigarette Cain got from V as a gift to him, he sets it against his lower lip. )
I'll be right in, I so badly need a smoke—idiot me, stubbing the one from earlier out. There's, like, a bunch of snacks and stuff in there, so get comfy.
no subject
You sure?
[ His question doesn't help, and fingers lift to rub against the back of his neck like it might ease away the oppressiveness lingering in the air. Or perhaps his own frustration with himself for leaving that door open too long. ]
Take your time, I'll see if I can find the coffee. I've got my tools anyway, so... I'll do what I can. [ His tone might be more even than Jonas's but the word choice betrays him, unsure and awkward. Nevertheless he keeps to his word, and by the time Jonas joins him inside that are two hot tins of coffee waiting.
The conversation mellows, food untouched, and after a few shared jokes about the day and the persistence of that mood, that unspoken expectation, he's not sure which of them suggests they go their separate ways first. Either way, it's easier, and even though he leaves Jonas's ship the boy himself stays on his mind the entire walk back to his tent and well into the night. ]