( 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.
... then tell me something. Because maybe it's me that doesn't get it.
[ His own heartbeat is matching pace, rapid and strong, unsure if he's about to rush into one those exact mistakes he's just described. But right now he feels like he's been pushed into rapids, starting with that fight in the desert and culminating in tonight. With Cain's honesty, his own exposure, and Jonas's patient understanding of both. And fighting back against the current is starting to feel impossible. ]
Back on Earth... is how you treat me the way you treat a friend? That night when we were– Maybe it's that I'm from Eos.
Maybe it's that I'm as naive as Cain thinks I am. But that was off. You have to know that. [ He stands suddenly and without warning, pacing a few steps away from Jonas, coffee abandoned on the floor where he sat. Arms cross at first before they drop almost as fast, cycling through attempts to hide some semblance of his discomfort in a practiced pose but he can't hold any of them right now. ]
... I was gonna' ignore it. Like I was gonna' ignore what Cain did. So tell me I'm crazy and that I can.
( The muscles of his jaw clench in pulses, biting back his immediate defensiveness to prepare a better answer. )
Noctis. Hey, I'm... I'm not going to lie to you, man, but are you—Is this even okay to talk about right now? You... You just went through something, I'm—I don't want to just... ( Take advantage of that? Use it as a springboard, actually, to do whatever the hell he wants?
All that's on his mind is how violently Noctis will react if he catches him by the wrist and pulls him back down onto the cot. )
You're not crazy. You're not, you're right, but I'm not gonna sit here and, like, double down on what you just went through. I want to keep you company. This—I didn't ask you over to... to do anything.
Maybe that's what he needed to hear. He feels like he is, circling a drain and being inundated by just the right words from Jonas every time he needs to hear them. Even with this. It's enough to drive him insane with some mixture of aching fondness and confusion, and having to sit with those feelings unacknowledged by him is making him question himself.
His head's shaking by the time his friend finishes, quietly dismissing those last words before he can finish getting them out. ]
I didn't think that. I don't think that.
But what is that... I went through something? I did when I got here too. And before that. So did you. What am I supposed to wait for to ask you about it?
( Anxiety has begun to rise in his chest like the heat in his face, blushing overtly in the small space with Noctis. It's involuntary, a chemical reaction that makes blood pool in every affected area, and he wishes he could claim it was just his cheeks. Just his ears. Just his neck.
It isn't. It sinks deeper, filling his stomach. And deeper, dripping molten hot into his gut. )
No... Hey... It's your choice. You can ask anytime, Noct, I-I just wanted to make sure you were okay first. I'm not trying to chase you off, or... ( He's right that there's no easy time, but surely there was a right time. One Jonas missed when he was too busy chasing Cain's tail instead of considering what he actually wanted from his friends.
Not entirely friends. More. Best friends? More. )
It was off, but not in a bad way. Not to me. ( Eyes widen slowly into a nervous look away, fingers curling tightly around a coffee he's all but forgotten about. ) The way I treat you... It's not how I treat anybody I don't like. Like, romantically. Flirting and... daydreaming, I guess. It was fun, at first.
Then we sat on my ship. And... I saw you.
You opened up to me, we talked, and it was beautiful, ( Jonas says in low tones, gravely serious when he doesn't want a single second of this to get misconstrued. ) You... You were. You are.
[ When they first arrived and he first saw Jonas, he saw someone wading through troubles that Noctis didn't want to share. He offered him a lifeline, just enough for him to get to shore on his own, and then he focused back in on his own goal. Home. Eos. Something that feels a million miles away out here on some spit of sand that's done little more than try to punish him.
But Jonas kept coming back. And coming back. And coming back. And the more he felt his need to help him grow, the more he was able to confess his own burdens. Because that's what defined them both. Burdens. Jonas, a victim of chance, with his life stolen and made a mockery of before he could ever set out on his own. Noctis, a victim of destiny, without free will or recourse in a life that didn't have to be stolen because it was never his.
Here and now, he isn't thinking about what Jonas went through. He's not thinking about the invisible crown over his head.
He's thinking about a kind boy who's admitted to flirting with him. Him, because he's someone he's chosen to like. That nervous energy has stilled when he looks back at him, arms resting at his sides even if fingers have still balled themselves into loose fists. His expression has twisted into something almost uneasy, a vulnerable openness settling between them even now. ]
... you are too.
I... haven't ever said that about a guy. But I think I've wanted to.
psa: i have received express permission to non-con this tender hand-hold
( It isn't easy to know what to do now that everything's out in the open. He has a pretty good idea, though.
He shared his innermost feelings, and Noctis, without similar preamble, reciprocated. Now, they're left in a warm environment, together but distant, waiting for the other to make a choice. But Jonas has already made his, setting his coffee aside on the floor with a shallow dip forward.
His hand raises from where it was resting on the cot, and it's offered out again to Noctis—a beckon for him to sit. To refuse the anxiety and join him. )
I... came out to my mom and dad during a car ride to another state. Somewhere we used to visit a lot, hours and hours away. And it was so early into the drive, we were just quiet, like, because nobody knew what to say. It was so awkward, man... ( He laughs quietly, then sucks in an uneven little breath, glancing over to Noctis for reassurance that it's okay to keep going. )
So, my dad spoke up first, actually, which surprised me back then. Not because my dad was mean or anything, it just seemed like something my mom would jump on first. He told me I'd always be his son and smiled at me. Like, looked back at me in the rearview mirror. But... before he did, he made eye contact with my mom first.
It was so weird, it was, like... the only time he seemed genuinely harsh on her. The most accepting woman ever. And obviously, my mom... being my mom... She was really happy after that. I just—I remember that look my dad gave her, and it's stuck with me. And it'll stick with me forever.
( Fingers spread beneath Noctis' when his hand is finally taken, warm, and far softer than a pair weathered by training. )
He was protecting me. Making sure she'd speak up and say the same. I only—It took me years to figure that out.
My family made me feel safe. Safer than I ever felt in Westedge—that shitty town I grew up in. And I never really felt scared after that. Nervous, sometimes, yeah, but... for a while, I was good.
( Squeezing, pressing in, his thumb slides against a knuckle, feeling the bone.
This bone has borne and withstood cataclysmic force, as has the body attached to it. Something as wonderful as love shouldn't be another bad thing in a sea of bad things Noctis has to fight against. There has to be an island somewhere for him to rest, or won't he sink? Drown? )
I want you to know what that kind of freedom feels like. With me, with Cain. Here, on Eos, wherever you want.
[ The words "came out" immediately fill him with dread, and later he'll feel grateful that they were used so early. The longer Jonas speaks the easier it is to slow his own breathing, and to find solace in a gentle handheld that feels like his lifeline. Only Jonas wades in with him to give it to him, and stays in the moment at his side.
The touch encourages him to step closer to him as his brow furrows with the story's first unexpected outcome, having heard so much about Suze by now that he feels the same. Her acceptance, that of a motherly figure Noctis can scarcely remember but can kindly imagine, seems like a non-negotiable. And by the time Jonas explains his father's intent Noctis has finally sat next to him, firming up his hold on his hand as if by offering comfort to a younger Jonas, sitting nervously in a car with his family, he might find some of his own.
He wants to. ]
... "Benjamin", right? I wish I could meet him too.
[ He's always been a more distant figure in Jonas's stories. Not a negative one but a quieter one, and it means Noctis latches onto the memory more immediately. It's something new about someone he cares for, and such a vulnerable recollection lets him see just who it was that formed the foundation for the young man sitting with him. Someone kind, thoughtful, and earnest. ]
Thank you. [ The words are quieter but heartfelt, and as much as eye contact feels like a terrifying prospect when he's being more honest than he thinks he ever has, he pushes for it to make sure he really hears him. ]
... I never talked to my old man about this. Or... uh.
Sorry... not him, but not anyone else either. If I told him what I was thinking back then he wouldn't have reacted like either of your parents. He wasn't cruel either, not even close, that's so– Shit. H-he just couldn't. 'Cause he wanted to protect me too.
I have responsibilities. It's weird, I guess. Knowing those, sometimes, feels safe too. There's no wondering about what's okay. Me feeling the way I do, with... [ Fuck. Why is it still hard to say it? Embarrassment is climbing high in his chest and making it hard for him to focus, squeezing Jonas's hand again when he looks away. ]
Guys. That's never gonna' be okay there. I thought if I could change myself then I wouldn't even have to talk about it. But when I tried, it didn't work as easily as everything else I was fixing. Here... it's just gotten worse. [ With Jonas. With Cain. Now it's like an alarm blaring in his head. ]
... but maybe here it is okay. And I don't need to hear that from someone else if I can hear it from you, at least.
( It's a story shared by so many, yet padded with what Jonas considers a more torturous reason why. There isn't punishment for what his society and father, the late King, might see as unacceptable, there's denial for a "higher purpose." To contain and compact feelings until their skin is diamond hard and "more capable" of leading.
Jonas can't naysay it because he can't understand. He wants to fight it, but he knows it's not his battle. The warm, bruised hand in his has to be enough right now; he can pour all of his acceptance into it and hope the Noctis feels an iota lighter than before.
So, when Noctis squeezes anxious fingers around his, he covers them with another hand. Enclosing it, ironing into it his parents' love as well as his own. )
That... That means a lot to me. I, uh... I'll tell you again and again, just whenever you need me to. When you don't, too.
This is hard, what you're doing right now. Infamously. Like, some people never say it. And I'm proud, you know... to be one of your people. The guy in the know. I'm proud of you for telling me, too. You're...
( Amazing.
Not solely for having the courage to sit here and do this, but for being forced, in a way, to acknowledge and accept it in himself. He knows they have a community here; once Cain measures up to the man he wants to become, he might share, too. There shouldn't be aloneness accompanying love. Jonas hates that that could ever be true. After watching his parents interact, he knows what love should look like.
And, he thinks, it might look like this. Them, sitting here together, comforting one another. Yes, it's the thrills of risking it when you're unsure of the other person's feelings, and yes, there's the tight, queasiness in the stomach experiencing powerful attraction, but it's also how their hands feel together right now.
Firm, encompassing, warm. It's safety. Trust. Knowing that someone cares about you enough to be here.
One hand comes away then, once he's certain it's heated enough to withstand the chill of the cold desert night. It's better placed on the center of Noctis' back, rubbing one circle until it simply braces him in his hunch forward. )
I'm sorry you never got to say it at home. Like, that you had to hide it. It must've--It must be painful, still.
[ None of his familiar defense mechanisms can shield him from the rawness of the moment because dismissal of himself would be dismissal of Jonas right now, and that's unacceptable. So he sits and allows such meaningful, unfamiliar praise to wash over not just himself but a confused young boy who'd sat alone in the Citadel and wondered for hours on end what was wrong with him and how he would systematically hide that from the rest of the world for as long as he could.
When he nods it's curt, jaw locked and chin stiff until Jonas's hand comes to rest against his back and melts away tension that had kept him together as much as it had locked him up. He exhales all at once, breath shuddering out of his lungs as he turns to direct a blurry gaze at the floor of that tent. ]
It's okay. [ The words aren't convincing but he needs to say them, maybe just for himself. ]
... sorry. You'll tell me to shut up and that it's fine... but I didn't come here for this either. To lay everything on you.
Maybe you were right. [ He glances back, hand turning in Jonas's to grasp at his palm. ]
And we can just sit together for a while. We don't have to talk about anything.
[ With so much in the air between them now known and quietly waiting for acknowledgement, the tension feels lessened instead of heightened. Their earlier conversation isn't going anywhere, just like this one isn't. And the weight on his shoulders finally feels a little lighter. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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
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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
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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?
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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. )
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[ 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. ]
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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...
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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.
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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?
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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.
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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?
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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.
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( 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.
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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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[ His own heartbeat is matching pace, rapid and strong, unsure if he's about to rush into one those exact mistakes he's just described. But right now he feels like he's been pushed into rapids, starting with that fight in the desert and culminating in tonight. With Cain's honesty, his own exposure, and Jonas's patient understanding of both. And fighting back against the current is starting to feel impossible. ]
Back on Earth... is how you treat me the way you treat a friend? That night when we were– Maybe it's that I'm from Eos.
Maybe it's that I'm as naive as Cain thinks I am. But that was off. You have to know that. [ He stands suddenly and without warning, pacing a few steps away from Jonas, coffee abandoned on the floor where he sat. Arms cross at first before they drop almost as fast, cycling through attempts to hide some semblance of his discomfort in a practiced pose but he can't hold any of them right now. ]
... I was gonna' ignore it. Like I was gonna' ignore what Cain did. So tell me I'm crazy and that I can.
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Noctis. Hey, I'm... I'm not going to lie to you, man, but are you—Is this even okay to talk about right now? You... You just went through something, I'm—I don't want to just... ( Take advantage of that? Use it as a springboard, actually, to do whatever the hell he wants?
All that's on his mind is how violently Noctis will react if he catches him by the wrist and pulls him back down onto the cot. )
You're not crazy. You're not, you're right, but I'm not gonna sit here and, like, double down on what you just went through. I want to keep you company. This—I didn't ask you over to... to do anything.
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Maybe that's what he needed to hear. He feels like he is, circling a drain and being inundated by just the right words from Jonas every time he needs to hear them. Even with this. It's enough to drive him insane with some mixture of aching fondness and confusion, and having to sit with those feelings unacknowledged by him is making him question himself.
His head's shaking by the time his friend finishes, quietly dismissing those last words before he can finish getting them out. ]
I didn't think that. I don't think that.
But what is that... I went through something? I did when I got here too. And before that. So did you. What am I supposed to wait for to ask you about it?
When everything's easy?
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It isn't. It sinks deeper, filling his stomach. And deeper, dripping molten hot into his gut. )
No... Hey... It's your choice. You can ask anytime, Noct, I-I just wanted to make sure you were okay first. I'm not trying to chase you off, or... ( He's right that there's no easy time, but surely there was a right time. One Jonas missed when he was too busy chasing Cain's tail instead of considering what he actually wanted from his friends.
Not entirely friends. More. Best friends? More. )
It was off, but not in a bad way. Not to me. ( Eyes widen slowly into a nervous look away, fingers curling tightly around a coffee he's all but forgotten about. ) The way I treat you... It's not how I treat anybody I don't like. Like, romantically. Flirting and... daydreaming, I guess. It was fun, at first.
Then we sat on my ship. And... I saw you.
You opened up to me, we talked, and it was beautiful, ( Jonas says in low tones, gravely serious when he doesn't want a single second of this to get misconstrued. ) You... You were. You are.
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But Jonas kept coming back. And coming back. And coming back. And the more he felt his need to help him grow, the more he was able to confess his own burdens. Because that's what defined them both. Burdens. Jonas, a victim of chance, with his life stolen and made a mockery of before he could ever set out on his own. Noctis, a victim of destiny, without free will or recourse in a life that didn't have to be stolen because it was never his.
Here and now, he isn't thinking about what Jonas went through. He's not thinking about the invisible crown over his head.
He's thinking about a kind boy who's admitted to flirting with him. Him, because he's someone he's chosen to like. That nervous energy has stilled when he looks back at him, arms resting at his sides even if fingers have still balled themselves into loose fists. His expression has twisted into something almost uneasy, a vulnerable openness settling between them even now. ]
... you are too.
I... haven't ever said that about a guy. But I think I've wanted to.
psa: i have received express permission to non-con this tender hand-hold
He shared his innermost feelings, and Noctis, without similar preamble, reciprocated. Now, they're left in a warm environment, together but distant, waiting for the other to make a choice. But Jonas has already made his, setting his coffee aside on the floor with a shallow dip forward.
His hand raises from where it was resting on the cot, and it's offered out again to Noctis—a beckon for him to sit. To refuse the anxiety and join him. )
I... came out to my mom and dad during a car ride to another state. Somewhere we used to visit a lot, hours and hours away. And it was so early into the drive, we were just quiet, like, because nobody knew what to say. It was so awkward, man... ( He laughs quietly, then sucks in an uneven little breath, glancing over to Noctis for reassurance that it's okay to keep going. )
So, my dad spoke up first, actually, which surprised me back then. Not because my dad was mean or anything, it just seemed like something my mom would jump on first. He told me I'd always be his son and smiled at me. Like, looked back at me in the rearview mirror. But... before he did, he made eye contact with my mom first.
It was so weird, it was, like... the only time he seemed genuinely harsh on her. The most accepting woman ever. And obviously, my mom... being my mom... She was really happy after that. I just—I remember that look my dad gave her, and it's stuck with me. And it'll stick with me forever.
( Fingers spread beneath Noctis' when his hand is finally taken, warm, and far softer than a pair weathered by training. )
He was protecting me. Making sure she'd speak up and say the same. I only—It took me years to figure that out.
My family made me feel safe. Safer than I ever felt in Westedge—that shitty town I grew up in. And I never really felt scared after that. Nervous, sometimes, yeah, but... for a while, I was good.
( Squeezing, pressing in, his thumb slides against a knuckle, feeling the bone.
This bone has borne and withstood cataclysmic force, as has the body attached to it. Something as wonderful as love shouldn't be another bad thing in a sea of bad things Noctis has to fight against. There has to be an island somewhere for him to rest, or won't he sink? Drown? )
I want you to know what that kind of freedom feels like. With me, with Cain. Here, on Eos, wherever you want.
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The touch encourages him to step closer to him as his brow furrows with the story's first unexpected outcome, having heard so much about Suze by now that he feels the same. Her acceptance, that of a motherly figure Noctis can scarcely remember but can kindly imagine, seems like a non-negotiable. And by the time Jonas explains his father's intent Noctis has finally sat next to him, firming up his hold on his hand as if by offering comfort to a younger Jonas, sitting nervously in a car with his family, he might find some of his own.
He wants to. ]
... "Benjamin", right? I wish I could meet him too.
[ He's always been a more distant figure in Jonas's stories. Not a negative one but a quieter one, and it means Noctis latches onto the memory more immediately. It's something new about someone he cares for, and such a vulnerable recollection lets him see just who it was that formed the foundation for the young man sitting with him. Someone kind, thoughtful, and earnest. ]
Thank you. [ The words are quieter but heartfelt, and as much as eye contact feels like a terrifying prospect when he's being more honest than he thinks he ever has, he pushes for it to make sure he really hears him. ]
... I never talked to my old man about this. Or... uh.
Sorry... not him, but not anyone else either. If I told him what I was thinking back then he wouldn't have reacted like either of your parents. He wasn't cruel either, not even close, that's so– Shit. H-he just couldn't. 'Cause he wanted to protect me too.
I have responsibilities. It's weird, I guess. Knowing those, sometimes, feels safe too. There's no wondering about what's okay. Me feeling the way I do, with... [ Fuck. Why is it still hard to say it? Embarrassment is climbing high in his chest and making it hard for him to focus, squeezing Jonas's hand again when he looks away. ]
Guys. That's never gonna' be okay there. I thought if I could change myself then I wouldn't even have to talk about it. But when I tried, it didn't work as easily as everything else I was fixing. Here... it's just gotten worse. [ With Jonas. With Cain. Now it's like an alarm blaring in his head. ]
... but maybe here it is okay. And I don't need to hear that from someone else if I can hear it from you, at least.
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Jonas can't naysay it because he can't understand. He wants to fight it, but he knows it's not his battle. The warm, bruised hand in his has to be enough right now; he can pour all of his acceptance into it and hope the Noctis feels an iota lighter than before.
So, when Noctis squeezes anxious fingers around his, he covers them with another hand. Enclosing it, ironing into it his parents' love as well as his own. )
That... That means a lot to me. I, uh... I'll tell you again and again, just whenever you need me to. When you don't, too.
This is hard, what you're doing right now. Infamously. Like, some people never say it. And I'm proud, you know... to be one of your people. The guy in the know. I'm proud of you for telling me, too. You're...
( Amazing.
Not solely for having the courage to sit here and do this, but for being forced, in a way, to acknowledge and accept it in himself. He knows they have a community here; once Cain measures up to the man he wants to become, he might share, too. There shouldn't be aloneness accompanying love. Jonas hates that that could ever be true. After watching his parents interact, he knows what love should look like.
And, he thinks, it might look like this. Them, sitting here together, comforting one another. Yes, it's the thrills of risking it when you're unsure of the other person's feelings, and yes, there's the tight, queasiness in the stomach experiencing powerful attraction, but it's also how their hands feel together right now.
Firm, encompassing, warm. It's safety. Trust. Knowing that someone cares about you enough to be here.
One hand comes away then, once he's certain it's heated enough to withstand the chill of the cold desert night. It's better placed on the center of Noctis' back, rubbing one circle until it simply braces him in his hunch forward. )
I'm sorry you never got to say it at home. Like, that you had to hide it. It must've--It must be painful, still.
Are you okay? Do you need anything right now?
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When he nods it's curt, jaw locked and chin stiff until Jonas's hand comes to rest against his back and melts away tension that had kept him together as much as it had locked him up. He exhales all at once, breath shuddering out of his lungs as he turns to direct a blurry gaze at the floor of that tent. ]
It's okay. [ The words aren't convincing but he needs to say them, maybe just for himself. ]
... sorry. You'll tell me to shut up and that it's fine... but I didn't come here for this either. To lay everything on you.
Maybe you were right. [ He glances back, hand turning in Jonas's to grasp at his palm. ]
And we can just sit together for a while. We don't have to talk about anything.
[ With so much in the air between them now known and quietly waiting for acknowledgement, the tension feels lessened instead of heightened. Their earlier conversation isn't going anywhere, just like this one isn't. And the weight on his shoulders finally feels a little lighter. ]
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