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[ Ignis told him that he loved him, and it's when his breath hitches as if in surprise? disbelief? sorrow? that Pyra's hand steadies the one grasped in her own, while his other clenches the fabric of his pants. It's not so surprising, she thinks, for another to love him. Of course someone else would. Whether that be Luna or Ignis or someone else entirely. He's so easy to love, to fall for... He doesn't realize that.

Ignis could have had him, all that time ago. The two of them could have had each other for a few blissful months. Then, perhaps, Noctis wouldn't be expressing such regret. What is she doing with him, when the time he has in his world with his brothers is so short, and the opportunity here had been so great to account for time lost.

What strength, Ignis has, to have told him. He had said such important words, words that Pyra is too afraid to speak now, for all of her preaching of saying things before they are lost.

Gently, ] Is that so unbelievable? That he did--.... does, still.

...Kinda, yeah.

[There's little sense in denying it. He can scarcely believe she chose him, nevermind someone like Ignis who's seen him at his worst over the years. Heard every childish tantrum, every visceral and unnecessary fight, watched him stumble his way through responsibilities over the years. Ignis sacrificed so much time, effort, and energy for him, at the cost of whatever dreams he could have had for himself had he, a small child (with no idea what he was getting into), not pledged his service to another. He'd lost his eyes for their mission to regain the crown for Noctis, a spoiled and petulant prince who didn't want it to begin with. He should have wanted so much more. He deserved so much more.]

Ignis... he's good at everything, and he made it look effortless. He could've done anything, been a politician or a chef or an ambassador- whatever he wanted. Instead he picked... this. Prince babysitter. And even after everything he's done for me, when he finally said what he did want, I couldn't give it to him.

[How selfish can he get?]

[ She won’t stand for it, him disparaging himself as if he isn’t worth having the affection of another. And from the way he describes Ignis, it’s obvious that Noctis admires him. The way that Pyra sees Noctis as wonderful and capable of anything, Noctis is saying that exact same thing of Ignis.... ]

You... [ He is worth loving, she wants to say. He is worth choosing, over and over again. He is worth adoring, he’s so easy to adore— she’s right here, she loves him.... but she can’t say that, not to prove some point that she’s lovable. It would be in poor taste in light of learning of Ignis’ confession and departure, not to mention what sweet, admiring words Noctis is saying here if Ignis. ]

...did not have to answer him, at that time. [ Anyone could have seen he was a wreck. ]

And, isn’t it saying something— that for all of what you think he could have been or had, he chose you over all of that? [ She continues, gently. ] I know... it sounds as if you feel you are less than that. But to Ignis, you are more. You are more wonderful than any success or feat or others who you think are more worthy than you.

[His brows furrow at that, listening quietly, growing increasingly unsure, though the trade-off is he looks slightly less miserable.]

You... [He hesitates, glancing sidelong at her.] You think it's okay? That I didn't answer?

[It's not like he expected to be scolded - well, maybe, since she's the one who tells him he ought to let people know he loves them - but the idea that he might not have been in the wrong hadn't occurred to him. He'd thought it was a weakness of that time, an inability to return an affection that Ignis so richly deserved, even if the man could absolutely do better. He'd worried, after he returned the affections of Pyra, that it would be viewed as some slight against someone he does love, so very dearly, and has for years. He just- he couldn't.

Was it not wrong?]

[ It’s not quite what she means, so she corrects gently. ]

I think... you did what you could at the time. I think that— he would have appreciated an answer. But... [ She shouldn’t speak for Ignis, but even with only knowing a bit of the man with his kind and patient ways, she believes he would have understood Noctis’ struggle. ] He would have understood.

[ That doesn’t make it right, as he may well know, but it will mitigate the guilt. ]

He loved you. And [ Quietly, she draws a breath. ] you... loved him, didn’t you?

Perhaps if he comes here again, you will be ready to tell him how you feel. [ What held him back during the time, she wonders, after all her gentle suggestions that he should? Guilt and sorrow, perhaps. Or that he was with her, who has somehow impeded upon what they could have had. ]

And there are still those who you can tell you love them. Your father. Prompto. Ardyn... [ What to take away from this is that “I’m a failure at saying I love you” but “I can do better, starting now”. ]

[He gets it, he thinks. Not wrong, but not right, either. He could have done better, could have given Ignis more than a non-answer. His response had more or less been "not now", but he'd never had the courage to follow up on it, instead opting to dodge around the issue, conversing on topics of anything else when he visited the other Caelum house. And now any opportunity they had is gone, perhaps for good. He's not certain if Ignis would tell him back home, if he'd risk it affecting Noct's resolve. Even Noct isn't sure whether or not it would. He'd... like to believe it wouldn't. Ignis of all people understood the value of duty, and of keeping promises.

The last part of what she says stings in ways that he knows she doesn't mean, but he can't help feeling it. She's right. Of course she's right, as she so often is. He should be telling people before it's too late. He didn't tell his dad enough before he died- probably hasn't said it since he was a child. He didn't tell Luna, dancing fearfully around it, not wanting to pressure her or open himself to be judged or rejected. He didn't tell Ignis or Prompto or Gladio, who've done so much and sacrificed everything for him. Even Ardyn here, who hates himself, who probably needs to hear it from him of all people, who ought to know he isn't hated by Noctis, the way he is now. And Pyra... gods, Pyra.

Drawing a little away from her, he drops his head to his knees and hugs them close to himself, mumbling something completely unintelligible.]

[ This is the first he's drawn away from her in grief. She wonders if she has said too much, if perhaps he'll give her a sign so that she might take back what she said if it hurt him further. Perhaps attempting to reassure him that Ignis might return had been the wrong thing to say. Or maybe it was the suggestion he has others he still loves here-- yes, that must be it. To imply a focus upon others takes away from the grief he can work through. No one could make up for the loss of Ignis, no one.

Realizing that she had been clumsy in her words, she apologizes. ]

Oh, Noct... I'm sorry. [ She slips her hand out from his, instead setting it upon his shoulder. ] I'm so sorry. He should be here with you.

[ She's sorry for many things in her life, and seeing him curled over into himself, mumbling something inaudible, as if in pain-- as if a piece of his heart has been carved out of him-- is awful. If only, if only Ignis was here, he would be able to comfort him more, feed him a dessert he liked, thrown a pun about, and take care of him, make him smile. She can't do any of that, but she'd trade herself for Ignis for Noctis's comfort, any day.

Then he would be happy, and how wonderful it is when he is happy. Like the sun shines brighter, like the night is warmer, like the colors of the world are more vibrant... Ignis is returning to a world where Noctis is not there, where it is dark. If only, if only he was here. ]

[Oh. Oh, no, she-

He lurches upright again, eyes wide as he stares back at her. She must think- gods, he really is hopeless with this, isn't he? This is what causes his grief in the first place. His stupid, useless inability to just say it, to tell people, to share and feel and speak rather than fumble through and pretend that people will understand him better than he understands himself, until it's too late, until they're gone and the words carve a hole in his heart all over again. Stupid, so stupid. He needs to start here, now, before he screws everything up and regrets again, like he's regretted so much, over and over.

This time, it'll be different.

He reaches his hands up, taking hers in both, clutched tightly as he leans in. His expression is odd- conflicted, still grieving so obviously, but with an intensity he rarely shows.]

No, that isn't- I didn't mean it like that. I just... I said...

[It's different, be different, she makes him feel brave so be brave-]

I said, [he tries again, and this time, his voice isn't a mumble,] I love you.

[ His final three words spoken to her cannot be denied as a mistake, a stutter, or her mishearing, for the intensity in his gaze and the conviction in his voice confirms he means them: I. Love. You..

She blinks. A breath escapes her in her silent shock, and it's enough surprise that she brings a hand up to her parted lips. He loves her. He's said he loves her. He's said he loves her and is looking at her as if awaiting an answer, a reaction, and all she can do is stare at him in surprise, so unexpected it is to hear such words pass his lips, said in his voice, and given to her...

Pyra hopes that he's said these words to others of his world before her. And if not, she hopes so desperately that he'll be able to say them soon to all whom he loves. But what a way to inspire him to speak; he's saying them now because he can no longer say them to Ignis. She's sorry for that still, and between the fluttering joy she feels at hearing them and the sorrow she feels for him having lost Ignis, her eyes are misting considerably, and no amount of blinking can clear her vision. ]

H-he.... Ignis would have loved hearing that, I'm sure. [ As much as his father would have, as much as Ardyn or Prompto would have, too. Her voice cracks with emotion. ] I know that, because--

Because I love hearing them, too. [ Her eyes raise to his, drop, then raise again. Her hand tightens within his, and she swallows. ] Because-- Because...

Those words mean so much to those who love you.

[A part of him wishes he'd saved it for a happier occasion, something that wouldn't feel quite so bittersweet, undercut by the sting of losing a dear friend. But that would just end up as another excuse to not say it- to put it off in perpetuity for the sake of finding "the right moment". The truth is, there probably isn't the right moment for anything. It's either reciprocated or it isn't, and it's as simple as that.

He watches her, his posture a mix of steady and unsure, wavering between the two, but by the time she's done his shoulders are hunched in relief. She loves hearing them... it isn't an unwelcome sentiment. He'd wondered if perhaps it was too soon, if words like that are far too loaded when friendship becomes romance, and he's not even certain what manner of love this is, just that it is and he won't miss this opportunity again. She deserves to hear it, to have it.]

I'm sorry... if you were waiting for it. I know I take too long, and...

[And it's true. Ignis would have loved to hear it. Luna would have loved to hear it. He doesn't know what value his love might carry with it, but if it means so much to those he cares about, there should be no fear or shame in saying it aloud. He'll try harder. He'll keep trying harder, from now on.]

[ She wasn't waiting, she wishes to say. She was only hoping, for him expressing it was the most she'd ever hope for. Everything else-- kisses, embraces, the time he chooses to spend with her when he wishes-- are all gifts in of themselves. He gives too much, and this time he's beaten her in giving something she had hesitated to say to him, despite how often she encourages him to say them to others. I love you has been at the forefront of her mind for a while, for days, weeks, and at least since they had shared their first kiss. When she feels, she falls, and while the descent is not something she can stop, she can temper expressing them.

But that her hypocrisy laid bare.

Nonetheless she asks quietly, as if seeking permission: ] I... was waiting to say it to you, too.

....I can say it now, right?

[He blinks at her in return, surprised, though in retrospect he probably shouldn't be. She always seems to feel so much more intensely than he, so it makes sense that she might have felt it at the same time, if not before. Perhaps it's just his self-doubt getting in the way again- that he ought not be worthy of love from someone like this. He'd felt unworthy of Ignis, too.

Still, the thought of hearing it... he can't help that spark of hope fluttering in his chest, suddenly.]

You can say whatever you want, whenever you want.

[ It blurts out of her as soon as he gives her permission, intense and desperate, as if she's been holding it back for a long while: ] I love you.

[ There's a pause as she draws her breath, her free hand pressing tightly over the edge of the deck they sit upon, not to hold herself back, but to find a way to ground herself because she feels as if she's already floating away. This seems surreal. This is happening, inopportune circumstance aside. ]

...I love you. [ She repeats again. ] The way you smile. The way you sometimes smile mischievously, the way your eyebrows do that-- that thing when you're thinking really hard or working, the way you take time to style your hair the way you want it to be, the way you always listen, the way you surprise me every time you're insightful or notice something new, the way you can talk and... and talk with empathy and care and love, how you fight and how you push on-- [ The more she continues, the more breathless she sounds. Her cheeks are as red as roses during their first bloom. She's flustered, but she does not stop. She knows she's rambling, she's done it before in front of him, but she's been holding back so much of what she's wanted to say to him.

And now she gets to say it. ]

I love your eyes. I love the way you hold me, I love how you kiss becaue you kiss so wonderfully, I love how you take time to relax, I love how you always seek to understand, I love how you do understand, I love-- I love your you eyes, I love your smile, [ She repeats, quieter now. ] I love you.

[....Well. That was an answer. That... sure was an answer.

He's overwhelmed, obviously. It goes without saying, shows clear as day on his expression, completely flummoxed by how not only did she return it in kind, she's bombarded those antsy insecurities like she knew every single one of them was there, tearing down walls of worry inch by inch with every declaration, placing herself firmly like a shield between him and whatever was holding him back before.

He remembers, back when they'd exchanged those first kisses, his concern that she might not truly want him, that he was deemed worthy of it only by merit of sharing a face with the one she missed and wanted to be with instead. It was nothing against her, of course, but rather a question of why would someone choose him, when someone as cool and strong and certain as Somnus was there first to give her the sort of understanding that few could offer, who accepted her hand without hesitation and shared his space with her. Why, why, why, he'd wondered.

Because of the way he smiles, is her response. Because of- eyebrows? Because of grooming habits, because he listens and speaks and is kind - not too soft, not cowardly like Gladio said, not unfocused or sleepy or lazy but good, because he's good and she's okay with all of that-

He wants to cry, suddenly, pitifully, for all he's lost and all he's gained, for the kindness in her words and the love in her eyes, for how deeply and truly he believes her and all that she's saying. For the love she's expressing, words spilling from her lips like she'd been full to bursting. Like she, too, had been waiting for the right moment and here it was, when he's reached a low enough point to realize that these things truly must be said before it's too late. She'd been waiting. He always keeps people waiting.

Instead he leans in, pressing his lips against hers, hard and fierce and brief, murmuring as he pulls back.] I love you. [It's so- freeing, suddenly, to say it. Like that first kiss, knowing she felt it, wanted it, a dam bursting and allowing him to feel it. Another kiss, softer, less desperate.] I love you for that, how you can go on and on like that, how you can just- say that. [How she can build him up, and up, and up when he's feeling so low, how she's there to warm him when cold misery and lonely thoughts sink their claws into his head. How she can think on the spot a dozen things she loves about him, when all he can offer is,] Thank you. I love you. I do.

[ By the time he kisses her, she's crying, herself. By he second kiss, she's smiling. Happy, sad, bittersweet, joy, sorrow, overwhelmed she gives back his kiss with one of her own, fierce and powerful and as desperate to convey her feelings as her words had been. Her hand upon the deck lifts his chin, cheek, and then to the side of his head, running fingers through his styled hair-- ]

I love you.

[ She parts from him to parrot his words, pressing her forehead to his as she lets out a choked laugh, so deeply emotional that at last, perhaps, she considers herself just a step more towards being human, for no one but someone who is human could make such a sound. ]

I love you because you are so good. [ Good in the way very few could be, and the way she could never be. He's honest, sincere, genuine and true to himself. He can pose as royalty, but he can peruse his own interests. He can see his mistakes and learn from them, he can admit to his own flaws, his need to improve. He can laugh at himself, he can joke with others. How is he so good?

It's almost unfair that someone like him exists only to perish. It's unfair how deeply she is in love with him, that almost makes her want to throw caution and rationale away to want to change-- everything for him.

When she opens her eyes, she gazes into a sea of blue, his blue, and loses herself to the stars reflected in them. ] Everything you do... everything that you are...

You're dazzling.

[Oh gods, oh jeez. He laughs weakly, the sound short and soft and muffled against her cheek as he leans in again, dragging her in to hold her.]

Don't cry, don't cry, c'mon. I'm not so dazzling that you have to cry about it.

[He turns his head, kissing whatever tears he might find off her cheek. He knows that isn't why, but he'd rather she laugh than cry over this. Even if it's joyful tears, he'd rather just see her smile. She's still complimenting him, but there's no need for it; he really can't keep up at all, still reeling from that first round she'd delivered swiftly enough to leave herself breathless. He's already happy. The sorrow of losing Ignis still lingers, of course, the same way he misses Gladio and Luna and home, gods he misses home so badly. But he has moments like this here, not there, where pain and death and a long sleep await him. Here he can hold her (which she loves) and kiss her (which she loves) and smile back at her (which she loves). Right here, right now, he does all of these things in order.]

You dazzle me too, you know that? I don't even know what to say anymore. You're so far ahead I might never catch up.

[ Her head tilts into his kisses at her cheek, taking away her tears with his lips. His affection is a balm upon the ache of her heart for him. By the time he pulls away, she's smiling, bringing up her free hand to wite at her opposite cheek. ]

I think the same thing about you, you know.

It's as if-- [ She takes another breath to steady her voice, unable to hide back her awe. ] Sometimes, I think... you're untouchable.

[ But here they both are, both existing, and both doing the same thing they've done with each other before with exchanging gifts without the other knowing they'd be given one: they're thinking the same of each other. Dazzling? Her? His touch, kiss, and smile is what she needs to be reassured. ]

I'm just... so happy that you're here.

[He makes a faintly disagreeable noise at that, drawing her back a little. Untouchable... she's said a few things that in retrospect make him wonder and worry, and he'd rather deal with it than let it fester. He's left so many things unsaid already.]

Stop... stop doing that. I know you don't mean anything bad by it, but I don't want to be on a pedestal or anything. It's just me, okay?

[He's been on a pedestal for most of his life, as prince or Chosen or whatever- living under the weight of expectations too heavy to lift sometimes. He doesn't want or need it from her. He doesn't want her to think she doesn't deserve at least as much as him, if not more. He closes his eyes for a moment, then looks back at her, brows furrowed and serious.]

Don't think you need to be worthy of me or anything. What we've got going is good for both of us.

[ She wants to argue that she's doing no such thing: he is that incredible to her... yet, she considers his words. The root cause of her feeling unworthy is that she feels she cannot match is goodness, the same goodness that's brought tears to her eyes, a smile to her face, and the feeling of having a heart. ]

That's not fair... because at the same time, I feel you really don't know how wonderful you are. [ Her hand falls from the back of his head to his shoulder. ] I can't match your light, Noct, but I love being by it.

[ But he's saying that she's good enough for him. He's said he loves her. She believes that-- the proof is here-- as much as it contradicts how unworthy she feels. How strange.

So, she amends: ]

I think--... What I'm trying to say is that... I want to be better for you.

Edited 2020-08-05 02:34 (UTC)

You don't have to be that, either.

[He leans in, bumping his forehead against hers and keeping it there, simply wanting to be close and soak in her presence.]

Just be you. That's all I want.

[They can sit here running circles around one another about how the other is wonderful and kind and good, fine, whatever. But it's not a bar that either of them should have to set and stick by all the time. There are going to be days when he's not wonderful. Her too, surely. The idea of her expectations of him remaining so high for so long is honestly terrifying.]

[ Just be herself...

They are different in this regard. She's had the luxury to be herself-- or what construct she has of herself-- this entire time, Mythra notwithstanding and some faded memories notwithstanding. Meanwhile, she presumes, he hadn't had that same luxury to be himself for a long while what with being a prince and having to keep up appearances. She knows he speaks from his heart that he doesn't want that anymore, he doesn't want others to need to pretend who they're not in front of him, just as he doesn't want to be anyone else but himself.

She also suspects that he's saying that she should be herself as she is right now. She doesn't have to think of herself as less. ]

Then you should know that the me that I am... loves you. [ With her forehead pressed to his, she closes her eyes. If he says that's enough, she can do that. She can be herself in that regard. That's easy, natural. Loving him comes so splendidly. ]

You should also know I've never been more myself than when I've been with you. [ Because she feels safe-- safe to laugh, to cry, to joke-- because he knows so much of her, because he's made her feel joy many times over. ]

[This time, his responding hum is positive, his hand sliding up to brush calloused fingers over her cheek.]

...I like that. [He likes hearing it, again and again and again.] Don't stop that part.

[He's seen the changes, big and small; how she's able to speak more honestly with him than she had in the beginning, share parts of herself she'd held secret so carefully. It's an honour to be trusted in that way, and that's something he never wants to break or misuse, even accidentally. As long as they're together, he hopes that she can always feel safe enough to be herself.]

[ As always, she leans into his textured touch. The reason she's able to be more open with him, to be herself, is not only because he understands and accepts, but because he listens. In this very unique regard among others in this world and her own, he's kind. ]

It comes with feeling brave....

But I think that-- you beat us to the point, this time. In saying "I love you".

[ She wanted to say it. She had wanted to say it for a very long while. ]

Well... you kissed first. It was my turn, I guess.

[He lifts his shoulders in a slight shrug.]

You can take the wheel for whatever's next, if you want.

I'm only happy that you said it.

[ Although she giggles at the end of it, relieved and satisfied, it's not as merry a sound as it could be. No matter what, this is still a bittersweet topic in light of the circumstances.

Him saying he loves her brings that topic back to the light: that it shouldn't just be her that gets to hear it, even if the meaning to others is less romantic. ] What's next is.... others getting to hear it, too.

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