It does matter, I owed you an apology I get why you didn't want to talk to me about it There's no way I'm gonna push you to now, so if you don't want to go into it then it's okay Your choice matters to me and I haven't shown that at all to you
( He's been a bad friend, but he can improve. This feels like a chance to, and he's so grateful, even if he knows Noctis must be grappling with dread right now.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he breathes off some of the adrenaline leftover from his argument with Cain. )
But I just need to let you know that he was fucking wrong and he knows it And I'm here for you, Noct I'm not going anywhere okay?
[ The word is typed and sent before he can think better of it, no context to that demand. Just a desire to make this conversation cease, to break from this situation until he can convince himself of what he needs to. This isn't the first time he's pulled himself out of fantasies of lives he'll never live. And that's what this is, just another strange misstep that isn't who he is, but who he could be if he allowed himself to.
Cain wanted to win something, and he did. Some big fucking test... some overwhelming urge to show him up and take him down.
But he's haunted by the expression he'd just barely been able to see when he kissed him, long after he stopped trying to seize any victory. And more by the one he wore when Noctis shoved him away.
And why does it collide with his affection for Jonas so explosively?
He eases himself back against the rock wall, willing its cold to seep into him and knock him back to his senses as he slides down into a sit. ]
( When Noctis says "don't," Jonas doesn't. He waits, because that's what his friend wants. No consent has been given for him to talk, so he won't; that's how easy it is. That's how easy it's always been.
Yet, now, when he thinks about it, Cain's not the only one who forced Noctis into something. Hasn't he done that twice now? Telling Noctis he'd lay off on "helping" behind the scenes, promising he wouldn't talk to Cain. Against Noctis' will, he performed both of those actions.
Sure, maybe they aren't the same thing. Jonas hates that he's contributed to his friend's discomfort, however. )
He said you two were fighting and he wanted to win so bad that he touched and kissed you Like by force Which is never ever okay to do to anyone at any fucking time
[ So he told him. Maybe not the sordid details, but he revealed what twisted that spar into something much more violent, destructive, and impactful. Something that makes him look bad, like some kind of villain, and oh how his anger tries to convince him that his own thoughts completely mirror that image.
But for those two fucking expressions.
But for his own actions.
But for... Cain himself. Their talks. Their jokes. His interactions with others, whether he knew they were being witnessed by Noctis or observed on a public network in passing. But for his obvious impact on Jonas. For the fact that he has fun with him. That Cain's been opening up to him. That he enjoys him. ]
Seemed like enough to him. His hackles raise immediately at the suggestion that Cain could've done something else that he conveniently failed to tell him. )
I'll spare you the pity party he threw himself Besides that he tried to get us to stop talking to him and you agreed to win/loss conditions That's it though Then I basically just shouted at him the rest of the time
[ "Pity party"? Were he less controlled by his own mounting stress and discomfort he might find it in himself to be annoyed by those words, to question what he might've said that Jonas would label in such a way. As it is, his own sense of justice – towering, unflinching, and inconvenient – doesn't allow him to focus on anything but the fairness of the situation. Cain's admitted to his wrongdoing without admitting to any mediating circumstances that implicate Noctis. That isn't right.
But fingers are uncharacteristically unsteady when he attempts a follow-up message, a sound of frustration choked low in his throat at his first failure. His datapad is set down against smooth rock as his arm locks over his knees, forehead dropping to press into it. Pressure helps with the ache behind his eyes and they close, taking a few steadying breaths that leave Jonas in a crushing silence longer than he intends.
I'm not going anywhere okay?
It's still another minute before he turns his head, brow knit as he peers down at that glowing, waiting screen. He doesn't lift it when he composes his next message, keeping himself locked in that defensive posture like it might protect against his own honesty. And what it might mean to admit to it. ]
Everything he said was true. He just didn't speak for me
After everything, when he kissed me, I kissed him back.
( After waiting for as long as he can bear, Jonas begins to type out a reassuring message to Noctis. Mostly to ask what he means by that, but to gently inquire about the situation while leaving it entirely up to Noctis to respond to him or not. He expects a hurried correction when the following texts do finally come. Something angry or something sad—two of Noctis' most prevalent emotions, he's learning.
What he gets is entirely different.
His stomach roils, and he feels as if he might be sick. Noctis putting his actions on a par with Cain's leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but that's disturbing for an entirely different reason. This disgust comes from the powerful excitement he derives from the statement, which makes muscles from head to toe tense at once.
He shoves up off his cot in alarm, refusing the feeling with a scowl. No... this isn't Noctis' fault, not when the body can act traitorously against higher reason. )
Hey, it's okay Kiss or no kiss, it doesn't matter You're not at fault here Noctis He didn't ask you for your consent and he knows that's wrong You didn't do anything bad You know that right?
[ The response is so antithetical to what he expects and what he thinks he deserves that he doesn't feel a sense of relief. He feels a sense of panic, of obligation, because now he has to fulfill that punishing role that Jonas isn't assuming. ]
You don't get it
Everything you know about me and everything I know about you both and you don't think I did something wrong? That's gotta be a joke
( Fuck. Saying the same thing over and over isn't going to work; Noctis won't believe him if he's caught in a spiral. What can he do to stop that?
Where words fail, presence usually makes up for them. If he's allowed right now. )
I don't know how you're feeling right now Not good I'm guessing It must seem like this crazy huge thing looming over your head So thank you for telling me Like that was brave and I'm serious about that I'm not going to think of you any differently I just want you to know that you're you Noct You'll be safe with me always, okay?
Can I come see you right now? I know that probably sounds horrible to you but we don't have to talk about it or anything We could be totally silent and just like Exist in the same space I just want to keep you company
[ I'm not going to think of you any differently I just want you to know that you're you Noct You'll be safe with me always, okay?
His head turns again, face buried back into his arm to wet his sleeve with tears that prick his eyes with such a suddenness it overwhelms him. There's nothing Jonas could've said to target and soothe deep insecurities more effectively, and again there's silence from him. His whole life he's heard about what he isn't, and every day has been an exercise in trying to hear it less. Fewer words correcting his behavior means he's closer to meeting expectations. His own. His friends'. His father's. His country's. Now everyone's. The list gets longer and longer and advocates for him, just him, a twenty-year-old boy, have grown scarcer.
Now he's being forced to face one of his clearer failings in a while. A stark reminder of how he hasn't measured up, and where he may never be what he was expected to be, and Jonas doesn't give a shit.
( "No" comes and Jonas resigns himself to aloneness, at least for tonight. He feels a bit defeated and more than a little bit tired, lying back on his cot to stare at the rippling ceiling of his tent.
Then he gets another message. And another. They vibrate in his hand and he reads them, immediately sitting back up.
He wants him. Not there, but here. Relief swells, and he berates himself for acting too quickly and with an unnecessary melodrama. )
I'm in my tent, you can totally come over here I was reading about these stupid bugs lol
We can make like hot drinks and stuff when you get here
( Rising with renewed purpose, feeling tender and trying not to let that affect him, he unmakes his bed. Throws his sleeping bag off-kilter, kicks his things around to make the place look more lived in, and flaps the fluffy comforter he dragged here from his ship into a pile on the tent's tarpaulin floor.
[ It's laughable after everything they've just talked about, but... that helps. Jonas being Jonas helps, especially if Noctis is going to try to be Noctis.
It's all he sends before he wipes his face and stands, abandoning that makeshift training area for Jonas's tent. He's there in a matter of minutes, facing down a closed entrance he's unsure about disturbing. Only a moment's hesitation takes control of him, however, before he's lifting one of those flaps to see the nest that awaits them both.
It's messy, warm, disorganized, and inviting. Like Jonas. And it makes shoulders relax as he steps across the threshold, careful to avoid that comforter while he still wears his boots. ]
Hey. [ He's still in his outfit from their earlier travels, though now that white shirt looks worse for wear – marked with dirt, dust, and now a few dark patches from sweat and tears he'd hurriedly cleaned off his face. ]
( Doesn't take Noctis long to get to him, which is great but for the water still boiling in his little kettle. It should be done in a couple of minutes, and then they can have tea, instant coffee, hot cocoa, whatever.
Anything to make this experience more comfortable. Because the high level of discomfort Noctis must feel right now has to be counteracted in some way, and his presence alone is rather nervous on its own.
When his friend enters, Jonas is already standing, turning to face him with bugs on his datapad. He was reading about them. Sort of. More like looking at pictures to distract himself from his discussions with both Cain and Noctis. )
Oh, hey. God, brr... Yeah, you had a way better idea; I can feel the cold air. C'mon, sit wherever.
( Waving at his temporary homestead, he continues worrying over the kettle with a crouch and a hunch. )
I've got a bunch of stuff. You want hot chocolate? Or, like--You liked coffee, right? There's that...
[ At Jonas's reaction he catches himself, almost immediately turning to ensure that tent is fastened to keep the warm air from escaping, only then choosing to ease himself down onto the very edge of the cot. It keeps a solid distance between them as he leans over to work at his boots, raising one shoulder in a stiff shrug. ]
Yeah, it's not so bad when you're moving. In here, though... [ Meaningless filler words trail off as he kicks off footwear, eyes on Jonas when he turns his back. ]
Coffee, sure. Thanks. [ His gaze then trails to that datapad and the pictures on its face, certain his friend wasn't lying but seeing them just takes him back to their last conversation as a group. How obvious it had been that Jonas wanted to share something silly with his friends. ]
... hey. Are you guys okay? You and him. You said you fought.
( Noctis withdraws, and Jonas fills the space for him. His mother would do that; upset, not wanting to talk much, she'd clean just to be near him. Fold his clothes, hum, make his bed with him in it, which always got him smiling under the covers.
He can't do that for Noctis now, but he busies himself making their coffees. Wanders away to grab dehydrated milk and sugar for them to add in. Comes back with a thermos to offer him.
His friend smells like sweat, but it's so different from his own that it's more of a novelty. He's dirty, too, which means he was doing something active. Training, no doubt. Or running supplies. )
No, we aren't. But we will be, ( he adds quietly, finally taking a seat next to Noctis when they're both ready to talk. ) I'm still mad at him. It was a stupid fucking thing to do.
He promised me he'd make a real effort this time, though. To really change. He wants to, and... I want to see him do it.
( Looking over after sipping his coffee, still smelling of the cigarettes he smoked before and during their conversation, Jonas studies Noctis for a moment.
Then offers him a hand. Sets it between them, open and available. )
[ Just watching Jonas helps. The way he bustles around, tending to creature comforts that will make their conversations easier. It's thoughtful, and a natural inclination to downplay the necessity for such a thing – "it's fine, don't worry about it" – doesn't come to him now. That's a lie.
And Jonas is being honest.
He's here weathering this with him, and he was here weathering it with Cain earlier. If he can make that effort, and Cain can promise to do the same, does he want to allow himself to be left behind? In some childish world of denials and avoidance?
It's obvious by his expression that the news of Cain's desire to change leaves him with conflicting feelings. He's... angry still, so angry, hurt by his own stupidity and their recklessness with each other. But he wants to believe it. For Jonas's sake, of course; that's always been obvious from the beginning. Their relationship means a lot to both of them, and he wouldn't want to rob his friend of that. But... for Cain too. From their conversations he'd seemed so ready for a new start, to break away from past disappointments and leave a difficult life behind him to create something new.
He'd want to know that he achieved it.
That coffee is taken, left black despite Jonas's offerings, and he sits in silence for a few long moments. He's hunched forward, elbows on his knees, and fingers twitch against the thermos as he looks back at that hand with lowered eyes. He wants to take it. But– ]
I will be. [ Instead he mirrors what Jonas said, body language newly anxious. ]
For a while now, I guess... it feels like everything's happening so fast that I'm missing it. That when I slow down I'll realize how insane everything's become. Here. On Eos.
( His hand is left there between them, waiting. It hasn't been refused, only reconsidered. And when Noctis is ready, it'll be available—because Noctis made it available first. )
Yeah? ( A neutral, encouraging word. He doesn't know what to say.
Then listen, says his mother. Jonas knows he's not her, but Noctis told him he's half of her. That's all he needs to pretend.
Noctis' life has been one expectation after another. Necessary high standards for a prince born into a kingdom at war. Is it any wonder he's always tired? He can't even live out loud, because to the public, he must fit the mould they've already made for him. Forget orientation, though it's the most obvious thing to hide... but even his hobbies, his interests, the things that make him the happiest...
They're all unacceptable.
What kind of world have humans created for themselves? On Noctis' star. On his planet. Here, on Epsilon-355. What kind of world would Noctis create after returning to Eos? A better one, undoubtedly. A more inclusive one. A kind one.
It just goes by so quick that I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about it. Bad, I guess? [ His snort's derisive and brief, lifting that coffee thermos for a too-hot sip whose burn he welcomes. ]
That feels like all it's been. Since I left the city, at least. Something bad, something worse... and no chance to think about any of it. At least back there I had my friends who'd keep my head on straight.
Here it's you guys.
[ That hand still isn't taken but he turns his head, blue eyes locked on Jonas's. His expression is different now. Not sad or even self-reflective, but stern. Determined, almost. ]
I don't wanna' keep acting without thinking so much that I fuck that up too.
Yeah, I... I think I kind of get it. Like, not in the same way, obviously, but... I don't know. ( Holding onto his coffee until it cools somewhat, Jonas shrugs a shoulder. ) Not getting the chance to slow down. When things snowball, you can't stop it; it all just... builds up.
( Into something massive, unmanageable. Too big for how small they feel most of the time.
But when he sees Noctis' resolution, he wonders if he's projecting. Because this isn't the uncertain boy he held on the wing of his ship. )
You don't have to do all the heavy-lifting in this relationship yourself, you know. We can both pay attention. Call each other on it if we're, like... rushing or... not living enough.
[ Jonas doesn't know what he's trying to say. He doesn't know what he's trying to say, so how could he? He sits up straighter even as arms continue to brace against his legs, body language uneasy and filled with untapped energy for which he has no outlet. ]
( Noctis asks something of him, and it sounds layered, like there's a meaning beneath it he can guess at but can't confirm on his own. Why does it feel like that's backed him into a corner?
The paper-thin amount of water left in the hot kettle simmers itself into vapour, one last dying hiss until it grows silent in the tent.
It's the fucking desert. There's nothing to make noise out here, and the only living things around—they and the caravaners—are quiet tonight. He swears he can hear his own heart beating. )
Yeah. Yeah, I... Of course I am—every second of it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I get why you didn't want to talk to me about it
There's no way I'm gonna push you to now, so if you don't want to go into it then it's okay
Your choice matters to me and I haven't shown that at all to you
( He's been a bad friend, but he can improve. This feels like a chance to, and he's so grateful, even if he knows Noctis must be grappling with dread right now.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he breathes off some of the adrenaline leftover from his argument with Cain. )
But I just need to let you know that he was fucking wrong and he knows it
And I'm here for you, Noct
I'm not going anywhere okay?
no subject
[ The word is typed and sent before he can think better of it, no context to that demand. Just a desire to make this conversation cease, to break from this situation until he can convince himself of what he needs to. This isn't the first time he's pulled himself out of fantasies of lives he'll never live. And that's what this is, just another strange misstep that isn't who he is, but who he could be if he allowed himself to.
Cain wanted to win something, and he did. Some big fucking test... some overwhelming urge to show him up and take him down.
But he's haunted by the expression he'd just barely been able to see when he kissed him, long after he stopped trying to seize any victory. And more by the one he wore when Noctis shoved him away.
And why does it collide with his affection for Jonas so explosively?
He eases himself back against the rock wall, willing its cold to seep into him and knock him back to his senses as he slides down into a sit. ]
What did he tell you
cw: sa mention
Yet, now, when he thinks about it, Cain's not the only one who forced Noctis into something. Hasn't he done that twice now? Telling Noctis he'd lay off on "helping" behind the scenes, promising he wouldn't talk to Cain. Against Noctis' will, he performed both of those actions.
Sure, maybe they aren't the same thing. Jonas hates that he's contributed to his friend's discomfort, however. )
He said you two were fighting and he wanted to win so bad that he touched and kissed you
Like by force
Which is never ever okay to do to anyone at any fucking time
no subject
But for those two fucking expressions.
But for his own actions.
But for... Cain himself. Their talks. Their jokes. His interactions with others, whether he knew they were being witnessed by Noctis or observed on a public network in passing. But for his obvious impact on Jonas. For the fact that he has fun with him. That Cain's been opening up to him. That he enjoys him. ]
Is that all he told you?
no subject
Seemed like enough to him. His hackles raise immediately at the suggestion that Cain could've done something else that he conveniently failed to tell him. )
I'll spare you the pity party he threw himself
Besides that he tried to get us to stop talking to him and you agreed to win/loss conditions
That's it though
Then I basically just shouted at him the rest of the time
no subject
[ "Pity party"? Were he less controlled by his own mounting stress and discomfort he might find it in himself to be annoyed by those words, to question what he might've said that Jonas would label in such a way. As it is, his own sense of justice – towering, unflinching, and inconvenient – doesn't allow him to focus on anything but the fairness of the situation. Cain's admitted to his wrongdoing without admitting to any mediating circumstances that implicate Noctis. That isn't right.
But fingers are uncharacteristically unsteady when he attempts a follow-up message, a sound of frustration choked low in his throat at his first failure. His datapad is set down against smooth rock as his arm locks over his knees, forehead dropping to press into it. Pressure helps with the ache behind his eyes and they close, taking a few steadying breaths that leave Jonas in a crushing silence longer than he intends.
I'm not going anywhere okay?
It's still another minute before he turns his head, brow knit as he peers down at that glowing, waiting screen. He doesn't lift it when he composes his next message, keeping himself locked in that defensive posture like it might protect against his own honesty. And what it might mean to admit to it. ]
Everything he said was true. He just didn't speak for me
After everything, when he kissed me, I kissed him back.
Not long. I ended it. But he didn't tell you
no subject
What he gets is entirely different.
His stomach roils, and he feels as if he might be sick. Noctis putting his actions on a par with Cain's leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but that's disturbing for an entirely different reason. This disgust comes from the powerful excitement he derives from the statement, which makes muscles from head to toe tense at once.
He shoves up off his cot in alarm, refusing the feeling with a scowl. No... this isn't Noctis' fault, not when the body can act traitorously against higher reason. )
Hey, it's okay
Kiss or no kiss, it doesn't matter
You're not at fault here Noctis
He didn't ask you for your consent and he knows that's wrong
You didn't do anything bad
You know that right?
no subject
You don't get it
Everything you know about me and everything I know about you both and you don't think I did something wrong? That's gotta be a joke
I lost my head completely
no subject
I would never joke about something like this man
You did not do anything wrong
no subject
no subject
no subject
Forget it
I'm not making sense rn anyway. It was wrong. Both of us were. I was trying to keep you out of this shit
no subject
Where words fail, presence usually makes up for them. If he's allowed right now. )
I don't know how you're feeling right now
Not good I'm guessing
It must seem like this crazy huge thing looming over your head
So thank you for telling me
Like that was brave and I'm serious about that
I'm not going to think of you any differently
I just want you to know that you're you Noct
You'll be safe with me always, okay?
Can I come see you right now?
I know that probably sounds horrible to you but we don't have to talk about it or anything
We could be totally silent and just like
Exist in the same space
I just want to keep you company
no subject
I just want you to know that you're you Noct
You'll be safe with me always, okay?
His head turns again, face buried back into his arm to wet his sleeve with tears that prick his eyes with such a suddenness it overwhelms him. There's nothing Jonas could've said to target and soothe deep insecurities more effectively, and again there's silence from him. His whole life he's heard about what he isn't, and every day has been an exercise in trying to hear it less. Fewer words correcting his behavior means he's closer to meeting expectations. His own. His friends'. His father's. His country's. Now everyone's. The list gets longer and longer and advocates for him, just him, a twenty-year-old boy, have grown scarcer.
Now he's being forced to face one of his clearer failings in a while. A stark reminder of how he hasn't measured up, and where he may never be what he was expected to be, and Jonas doesn't give a shit.
Of course he wants to see him. ]
No
I don't want you out here
[ In the cold. Near the water. ]
Where are you?
no subject
Then he gets another message. And another. They vibrate in his hand and he reads them, immediately sitting back up.
He wants him. Not there, but here. Relief swells, and he berates himself for acting too quickly and with an unnecessary melodrama. )
I'm in my tent, you can totally come over here
I was reading about these stupid bugs lol
We can make like hot drinks and stuff when you get here
( Rising with renewed purpose, feeling tender and trying not to let that affect him, he unmakes his bed. Throws his sleeping bag off-kilter, kicks his things around to make the place look more lived in, and flaps the fluffy comforter he dragged here from his ship into a pile on the tent's tarpaulin floor.
Now it looks cozy. Now it looks welcoming. )
no subject
[ It's laughable after everything they've just talked about, but... that helps. Jonas being Jonas helps, especially if Noctis is going to try to be Noctis.
It's all he sends before he wipes his face and stands, abandoning that makeshift training area for Jonas's tent. He's there in a matter of minutes, facing down a closed entrance he's unsure about disturbing. Only a moment's hesitation takes control of him, however, before he's lifting one of those flaps to see the nest that awaits them both.
It's messy, warm, disorganized, and inviting. Like Jonas. And it makes shoulders relax as he steps across the threshold, careful to avoid that comforter while he still wears his boots. ]
Hey. [ He's still in his outfit from their earlier travels, though now that white shirt looks worse for wear – marked with dirt, dust, and now a few dark patches from sweat and tears he'd hurriedly cleaned off his face. ]
no subject
Anything to make this experience more comfortable. Because the high level of discomfort Noctis must feel right now has to be counteracted in some way, and his presence alone is rather nervous on its own.
When his friend enters, Jonas is already standing, turning to face him with bugs on his datapad. He was reading about them. Sort of. More like looking at pictures to distract himself from his discussions with both Cain and Noctis. )
Oh, hey. God, brr... Yeah, you had a way better idea; I can feel the cold air. C'mon, sit wherever.
( Waving at his temporary homestead, he continues worrying over the kettle with a crouch and a hunch. )
I've got a bunch of stuff. You want hot chocolate? Or, like--You liked coffee, right? There's that...
no subject
Yeah, it's not so bad when you're moving. In here, though... [ Meaningless filler words trail off as he kicks off footwear, eyes on Jonas when he turns his back. ]
Coffee, sure. Thanks. [ His gaze then trails to that datapad and the pictures on its face, certain his friend wasn't lying but seeing them just takes him back to their last conversation as a group. How obvious it had been that Jonas wanted to share something silly with his friends. ]
... hey. Are you guys okay? You and him. You said you fought.
no subject
He can't do that for Noctis now, but he busies himself making their coffees. Wanders away to grab dehydrated milk and sugar for them to add in. Comes back with a thermos to offer him.
His friend smells like sweat, but it's so different from his own that it's more of a novelty. He's dirty, too, which means he was doing something active. Training, no doubt. Or running supplies. )
No, we aren't. But we will be, ( he adds quietly, finally taking a seat next to Noctis when they're both ready to talk. ) I'm still mad at him. It was a stupid fucking thing to do.
He promised me he'd make a real effort this time, though. To really change. He wants to, and... I want to see him do it.
( Looking over after sipping his coffee, still smelling of the cigarettes he smoked before and during their conversation, Jonas studies Noctis for a moment.
Then offers him a hand. Sets it between them, open and available. )
Are you okay?
no subject
And Jonas is being honest.
He's here weathering this with him, and he was here weathering it with Cain earlier. If he can make that effort, and Cain can promise to do the same, does he want to allow himself to be left behind? In some childish world of denials and avoidance?
It's obvious by his expression that the news of Cain's desire to change leaves him with conflicting feelings. He's... angry still, so angry, hurt by his own stupidity and their recklessness with each other. But he wants to believe it. For Jonas's sake, of course; that's always been obvious from the beginning. Their relationship means a lot to both of them, and he wouldn't want to rob his friend of that. But... for Cain too. From their conversations he'd seemed so ready for a new start, to break away from past disappointments and leave a difficult life behind him to create something new.
He'd want to know that he achieved it.
That coffee is taken, left black despite Jonas's offerings, and he sits in silence for a few long moments. He's hunched forward, elbows on his knees, and fingers twitch against the thermos as he looks back at that hand with lowered eyes. He wants to take it. But– ]
I will be. [ Instead he mirrors what Jonas said, body language newly anxious. ]
For a while now, I guess... it feels like everything's happening so fast that I'm missing it. That when I slow down I'll realize how insane everything's become. Here. On Eos.
no subject
Yeah? ( A neutral, encouraging word. He doesn't know what to say.
Then listen, says his mother. Jonas knows he's not her, but Noctis told him he's half of her. That's all he needs to pretend.
Noctis' life has been one expectation after another. Necessary high standards for a prince born into a kingdom at war. Is it any wonder he's always tired? He can't even live out loud, because to the public, he must fit the mould they've already made for him. Forget orientation, though it's the most obvious thing to hide... but even his hobbies, his interests, the things that make him the happiest...
They're all unacceptable.
What kind of world have humans created for themselves? On Noctis' star. On his planet. Here, on Epsilon-355. What kind of world would Noctis create after returning to Eos? A better one, undoubtedly. A more inclusive one. A kind one.
Hazel eyes soften, low-lidded. )
Do you... worry a lot about that?
no subject
It just goes by so quick that I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about it. Bad, I guess? [ His snort's derisive and brief, lifting that coffee thermos for a too-hot sip whose burn he welcomes. ]
That feels like all it's been. Since I left the city, at least. Something bad, something worse... and no chance to think about any of it. At least back there I had my friends who'd keep my head on straight.
Here it's you guys.
[ That hand still isn't taken but he turns his head, blue eyes locked on Jonas's. His expression is different now. Not sad or even self-reflective, but stern. Determined, almost. ]
I don't wanna' keep acting without thinking so much that I fuck that up too.
no subject
( Into something massive, unmanageable. Too big for how small they feel most of the time.
But when he sees Noctis' resolution, he wonders if he's projecting. Because this isn't the uncertain boy he held on the wing of his ship. )
You don't have to do all the heavy-lifting in this relationship yourself, you know. We can both pay attention. Call each other on it if we're, like... rushing or... not living enough.
no subject
Are you? [ suddenly ]
Are you paying attention to it?
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The paper-thin amount of water left in the hot kettle simmers itself into vapour, one last dying hiss until it grows silent in the tent.
It's the fucking desert. There's nothing to make noise out here, and the only living things around—they and the caravaners—are quiet tonight. He swears he can hear his own heart beating. )
Yeah. Yeah, I... Of course I am—every second of it.
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psa: i have received express permission to non-con this tender hand-hold
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