[That makes him jerk upright abruptly, startled, eyes wide. Clearly he had been rambling too much- and saying things without thinking about the implications that lay between the lines.]
That's not... I didn't mean it like that. You didn't do anything, and this isn't your fault. You know that, right? [His breath catches, those words turning over in his head again.] Pyra.
[She doesn't, does she. He's such an idiot- here he's trying to talk thoughtlessly through his problems, trying to avoid hurting people, and he's already hurting her.]
[ She meets his gaze with an uncertain expression. Helplessness causes her voice to waver, as if she's suddenly lost. ]
Isn't it?
[ The entire summer had been a dream with him, enamored and thrilled to be in love and loving another. She had forgotten all the consequences that come with... this, with her loving someone who is mortal. Her presence imposes upon their time, what little, fleeting time they have left for each other.
And she knows, of course she knows that he isn't blaming her, but that doesn't help the blame she places upon herself for this tangle. To add another complication, she's pained because she doesn't want to believe what she's saying. She wants to follow her "heart", too, to be with him, but how can she do that, when it could harm others' hearts? ]
You... the three of you. [ Distressed, guilted, her words quicken. ] You're from the same world. You're all mortal. What I'm doing-- I'm taking precious moments you could have with each other.
[He stares at her for a long moment, stunned that she'd just- come out and say it like that, kind of horrified by the implications. He shakes it off and pulls away from her, pushing himself to his feet so he can pace the roof, scuffing his hands through his hair. Shit. Shit.]
I shouldn't have said anything... you don't... [He curses under his breath, his tone growing frustrated.] Are you telling me to break up with you because they've got a better claim on me?
[That sounds so- so stupid, even more ridiculous as he says it out loud. Like they'd called dibs on his heart from childhood and she was just... what? Keeping his bed warm in their absence? Like she expects him to just throw away everything they've been through together]
[ His warmth leaves her, and she snaps her head up to look at him as he paces. Then, he says that. Breaking up-- ending their relationship because they deserve him. At first she wants to deny him, but it's true. Essentially, that is what she's saying.
It's not what she wants. But what if it is the right thing? Isn't it? With so little left ahead of them for Ignis and Noctis, and then nothing of a future for Luna... As he paces and runs a hand through his hair, she stands, wrapping her arms about herself uncertainly. What distresses her more is this, the exasperated comment of "I shouldn't have said anything".
Quietly, she tries again, tries to appeal to him. She wants him to be content, to be happy. Wouldn't he be that with them, more than she could ever provide, or has the right to? Who is she to deny what they could have, alien to their world, to say nothing of that she shouldn't have such feelings in the first place? ] They're of your world... They're human.
[ A pause, then gently: ] They're alive, here.
[ Finally, a whisper, soft as snow, and she lowers her eyes. ] And you are, too.
[The gentleness of her tone does nothing to ease the delivery of those words. His pacing halts like he's been struck, hands slowly dropping down from his hair to rest at his sides, his breath picking up speed. Those words, though. She'd paused, she'd thought about it. She'd meant to say them, said them carefully, not in a rush of emotion but with quiet intent.
"They're human.
They're alive.
You are, too."
He can take a lot. His tolerance for pain's always been high, thanks to having to endure so much of it over the years. If it were physical, he could handle it just fine, shrug it off and endure it. That one, though? That one hurt.
When he speaks again, his voice is harsh, wounded.]
Why would you say that?
[He doesn't need a reminder. He thinks about it every day of his life. He falls asleep worrying that he'll be pulled from this world in his sleep and sent back to the Crystal instead. His dreams are weighed down by the words of the Draconian. Sometimes he is caught by the thought at random, unaware and off guard: when he runs fast enough to feel a twinge of pain in his chest and remembers being stabbed, when he calls out a sword and remembers the magical blue of his ancestors as they kill him one by one, when he enters Mythra's crystal for a visit and remembers being dragged, screaming, into his own. He's doing fine and living his life like normal and then his brain slams down the breaks with the thought of oh, right, I'm going to die.
When he looks at Luna, or Ignis, or his father, or Ardyn. People who know or are involved in his fate. When he looks at Prompto, feeling guilty that he hasn't shared the truth yet. When he looks at Pyra, knowing her future fate echoes his own. He remembers. He's always remembering, over and over, and it isn't every time but it's enough that the times he forgets are so blessed, and the times he can make himself forget or be distracted make things easier.
Clenching his eyes and gritting his teeth, he tries to shove it aside. He doesn't want to think about it right now. He doesn't. This place is made for borrowed time, choices he doesn't get to make back home. She doesn't get to take that away from him, gently or otherwise.]
I don't care what we are. You know that, [he says quietly, still tense, no less hurt. He's slapped a bandaid over it but the wound is still open, bleeding.] I didn't think you did.
[What the hell is her goal, here? Force him into a corner, get him to admit he'll ditch her at the first whiff of greener pastures? Like he's a wild animal, meant to be with his own kind. Like his grandfather giving his dad grief for choosing a commoner as his wife instead of a more fitting noblewoman. Like she doesn't deserve him-
-and there, he forces himself to stop, to think, before he loses it completely. He doesn't think she'd been lying this whole time, so why? Why is she...?]
[ When she hears the recoil in his voice, her eyes widen, knowing that she's done the one thing she had never wanted to ever do. Not too long ago, she had pledged she never wanted to harm him, not even unintentionally. This time, it seems that she truly has. Guilt can maim her, but it's impossible to think of the way it stings when she sees how hurt he is.
She didn't mean to. She had wanted him to think not of her, but of others f his world, others who she believes loves him as well, others who are surely more deserving of him, who are like him, not some crystal immortal that had never meant to walk upon the earth. Others with whom he would have a chance to be happy with, with what time they have in this nexus called Aellyn. It's been on her mind too, most recently coming in without warning after a night of fully loving him, like a monster behind a door, only very real, obvious and ominous enough that she cannot deny it's there. She had been the one to bestow the vision, after all. One day he will die, too soon at that.
None of that matters, however. She can see how he struggles, the words she's so carelessly uttered now no different than that of the marilith's strikes upon his back. How long will these words of hers scar him? She wants to take everything back, but he asks a question first, and she should answer.
Gathering her thoughts, she does. He deserves an answer. ] Because... I think about it.
I think about how you will.... [ She looks away, quickly enough that her cropped hair flutters within the moment, bringing a hand to her mouth to cover a shaky breath. When she composes herself, she continues. ] How you will... [ He knows. ] More often, now. [ Breathlessly, ] More and more, because I keep on loving you more and more, and how I'm not doing enough for you, helping you. [ Her fingers curl inward into a fist, clutching over where her heart would be, as if it would be about to burst. Her eyes lift to meet his. ] Such as-- that morning after a long night together, it happened then. [ He had asked if she was alright. She had brushed it aside, not wanting to spoil the mood.
Her eyes fill with grief as she searches his face. She's sorry, she's sorry, and she's equally sorry that she's both hurt him and that she's infringed on what happiness he could have with others. ] I feel as if I'm denying you something you should have had while you were in your own world: an opportunity to be with them instead, and they, with you. [ Despite her words, she takes a step forward, towards him. While she's not unsteady she feels as if she could fall, but maybe that's just her selfish want to hold onto him that she doesn't. ] That happiness could be yours. Your life lived with them, in this world, could be yours! [ Because there is no way he'll have the same opportunity back in his own world. Desperately, more tears from her throat. ] Isn't that what you want? Isn't that-- isn't that what would hurt you less?
[He hears her out without interruption, but the more she speaks the harder it is to look at her. Eventually he glances away, fixing his gaze on some indeterminable point. It occurs to him a little too late that they're having this conversation in public, on some roof near the temple, and how absurd is it that this is the second time they've had something deeply personal occur between them for all the world to see. Their neighbours must be loving all this dirty laundry being aired. Gods, though, this is too important to even be distracted by that, so all he does is keep his voice low as he responds.]
How would it hurt me less, Pyra? To throw you away just because they showed up, like I'd gotten all I wanted from you, like they're better for me just because they're human? You said I was a good person, before. You think I'd ever want to do that? Is that good? Is that who you think I am?
[So many times she'd said it, she'd complimented him- that he's good, that he's wonderful, that he's perfect. And he's not really believed it (he's not, he's trying) but it's such a beautiful aspiration to work towards, the idea of being as good as she thinks he is, as wonderful as she deserves, as perfect as he can get while still remaining himself. He'd wanted to be all of that for her, because she makes him happy, because she does plenty for him and it's he who always feels like he's falling short of what she deserves. That he's selfish to stay with her when she's so amazing and loving and kind, but he's decided that he's okay with that so long as he can make her as happy as she makes him.
If she thinks him capable of this, what she's suggesting, how is he ever supposed to believe those words? If she's trying to do this under some misguided belief that it's for his sake... that isn't better. That doesn't make it okay. In many ways, it makes it worse. Like it's his fault, like he's just been waiting for the chance to replace her with someone more suitable, like he asked for this, when he just said what he'd wanted was-]
If- if you've got second thoughts about this, then say that. If you want to break things off, say that. But don't try to push it off on me like it's what I want and you're holding me back from it. Don't say- gods. [He grimaces abruptly, his breath catching, and he lifts his hands to cover his eyes, feeling more uncomfortably vulnerable than he's felt in ages, stricken and not wanting her to see the look on his face.] What did I do...?
[To make her think for even a second that he's capable of being so callous, even to force herself to consider it- where did he go wrong?]
[ She appear struck when within the span of a second, his frustration and anger that had been moments before delivered and displayed outward, turn inward instead. Pyra inhales sharply at the transition. She had felt as if she was falling before, but it seems that she's the one who's already kicked him to the ground. ] Wh-- no... Noct.
[ Of course he would blame himself. Just like her own self-blame for being a cause of complicated web of relationships they've found themselves in, he's thinking there is something he did wrong too.
That isn't the case at all.
It had been her. It had been her weakness, her own guilt and doubts that she hasn't overcome. If she is to be strong for him, those weaknesses can't exist in this relationship. So, then, why-- ]
[ ....While she had been the one to first kiss him, he had been the one to first say he loved her. How could she forget? Or any of those other times, holding her, embracing her, kissing her, reassuring her, being there for her, are they not all proof that he does love her?
This topic had been brought about her own anxieties, and in light of all of what he's done for her, she ought to believe them over her guilt. It's difficult because such festering is rooted in her, an innate belief that she should only be an observer, and barring that, gone because she will only cause harm.
...Yet mere moments later after he had confessed, she had said she wanted to be better for him. She cannot forget that, either. A wet, shaky breath passes from her lips, her voice quivering with his name. ] ...Noct.
[ She takes the last few steps forward, quickly and purposefully, to embrace him. ]
Noct, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way, I.... [ She fumbles, realizing that she may very well go into another hapless ramble of trying to explain herself, when it's obvious that all of what she's saying and doing is only causing him more harm.
A little too late, by the pain she's caused him alone, she realizes how her suggestion, while with good intentions, has insulted him, hurt him, and imposed on his own wants... which are more than clear now, that he wants to remain with her. (Why, why, when he's looking like that, when she's causing him grief? She's weak. She should be stronger for him, more secure. She said she wanted to be better for him!)
She must be better for him, otherwise this. Otherwise she hurts him by being careless. ]
I.... I'm sorry. [ She clings to him tightly, shutting her eyes as she buries her face into his chest. ] Nothing, you did nothing wrong. I was a fool suggesting this.
[He wants to hug her back immediately. Truly, he does. But he can't... he has to be sure. He hates the doubt that her worries have manifested in him, and before he commits to anything else or lets himself be distracted or comforted, he wants to understand- to help her understand. He can't just sweep all of this under the rug and pretend this is fine.]
Is... is that how you really feel, though? [About me. About us.] Do you believe I'd be happier with someone else? [His hands clench at his side, unclench, half-lift to touch her before dropping down again. He can't, he can't.] You said it for a reason. How long have you been worrying about this?
[Did he cause this? Did his moping, or his failure to communicate his indecision, develop this fear in her, or did it only bring what already existed into the light? It's possible that this whole time, either she didn't say anything or he missed whatever subtle signs she'd been giving him... neither option is good. He sure as hell doesn't feel like he did nothing wrong.]
[ In retrospect, it had been foolish for her to think that he would embrace her in return right after all that she's thrown at him. Her arms upon his shoulders slacken, her grip becoming lighter until she pulls partly away from him, allowing him his space. She finds not comfort in the way he looks at her, but conflict, further proof that he's still hurt.
Her voice trembles. ]
I've... never wanted to hurt you. Or anyone. [ A hand falls from his shoulder to the middle of his chest, and her eyes follow the movement as her palm rests above his heart. ] You know what I am, that doubt that I will harm others. You, too. [ So, wouldn't he be happy with someone else? He's speaking as if he wouldn't. He's insulted that she would suggest it. She doesn't understand. ] But I had forgotten it for a time, over the summer with you. [ Listening to herself, she feels she sounds pathetic, weak, for confessing her insecurities once more to him. At the same time she chastises herself for having forgotten in the first place when she had been so distracted by loving him. Loving him is wonderful. Having it slip her mind how harmful she could be to another, is not.
Her hand withdraws. ] A month ago... I was reminded of how important it is to not hurt you. [ Her eyes close briefly in a remorseful, heavy grimace. That's when the doubts began to resurface. Is she doing enough for him, is she harming him, could he not be happier with others instead? ]
[Her retreat hurts a little, but since he'd more or less asked for it, he says nothing, just watches quietly and listens as she explains. Reminded... not to hurt him? There's plenty of people who could have told her that, and while he appreciates the sentiment he's not thrilled about the results. He could ask her who, and is tempted to do so, but that would probably just invite another fight with another person, and he's already hating this one. He's sure they meant well. Just- now he has to deal with the fallout.]
Someone told you that? [He doesn't need to wait for an answer; the look on her face is enough, an earnest confession of guilt over a warning not heeded. It wouldn't be like her to lie in order to blame someone else for stirring up her insecurities.] A month... and you kept quiet this whole time.
[He turns then, rubbing at his forehead, and goes back to pacing for a long moment. She forgot, because she was happy- that she's some kind of weapon, that she's not human, that she's meant to cause harm. She remembered all of that, because she was asked not to hurt him. She remembered that he's going to die. And she's just- pretended that everything's been okay, that it hasn't bothered her, like that day in the shower when he'd forgotten to ask. And now she worries that any of that matters, because- what, she's got human competition now, in a contest no one else knows they're in, when it's already meant to be over because she won.
It's- it's a lot, and not something easily fixed. He can't just throw his hands up and go, "it's fine! you won't hurt me!" when they both know she just did. And he can't tell her not to be afraid of doing so again, because emotions don't work like that. He's had enough people tell him to get over it in his lifetime to know that's not how you resolve such a visceral worry. So what, then...?
With one last pace, he turns back to her again, and when he looks at her the distance between them feels both impossibly vast while at the same time not enough. He wants to go to her, but- not yet. Still, not yet. He needs to know.]
[ Fully parted from him, her hands return to clasp at her own arms. She watches him pace back and forth until she cannot watch him any longer, turning and bowing her head, only to look at him once more when he brings up another knife she’s plunged into him... only this time she’s no idea where it went.
“The worst of it.” Worse than... what she’s done already to him? Another slight against the one she loves, more proof she’s failed. That she’s doing what they have wrong. With all this against her, how could he say he’s happy with her?
She pales as she gazes at him, but remains steady. Now is the time to listen.
[Here he pauses first, rolling back over the conversation to make sure he's remembering it right, that the words that had stuck out to him linger still while he's had a moment to cool off.]
You said... you were putting me in this position. That you're taking my time away from them. That you're getting in the way of the happiness I could have with other people. "Isn't that what you want?" That's what you said. It didn't sound like a question.
[Each and every time. Taking. Denying. Hurting. All the things she claims that she's doing, when it's his time, his happiness, his wants. When next he speaks, he looks up at her, his gaze intense, intentional, still with that lingering hurt.]
Pyra. I'm the Chosen, not the Chooser. Remember?
[So much of his life had been set in stone from the moment he was born. His career, by the royal blood in his veins. His destiny, by the Crystal's magic that chose him as its final king. His marriage, false or not, by the good-will gesture of a conquering nation. His choices had been so, so small. Even his friendships- every one of them except Prompto and maybe Iris had been handed to him by fate or his father. He'd chosen to make them real, but he didn't pick them out from the start.
In this place, as long as he's been here, his choices have all been his own. Where to go, when to go there. How to spend his time. Who to spend it with.
Who to love.
She'd tried to take that from him, under the misguided belief that she might be less than what he deserves, and that is what hurt.]
[ She stares at him, taking in his expression and his words with a silent, sharp inhale.
What hurts him the most is that, in her belief that she’s doing something better for him, she’s taking his choice from him.
...And what scant few choices he has in his life, if any at all. As royalty, he’s probably been chosen for many different things, had choices made for him from how he dresses to where he’s able go or do in his life. He’s been chosen to save his world. To die.
It must have felt like a dream being in this world with its freedoms than the structured rule of his own, able to do as he wants and spend his time as he wants. Paramount to all of this, he can live how he wants, and she— she has imposed upon what liberty he has. ] Noct...
[ Something shatters within her, and she takes a half-step back, quickly looking to the side. How could she not have realized? His freedom, his choices— they are more precious than anything else in the world. His happiness derives from that, not whatever she had been thinking. She’d been so very wrong. ]
I’m so sorry. [ Quietly, she speaks, only to repeat more heavily: ] I’m so sorry.
Your choices... your freedom. They’re more important than anything else.
Not more than anything. [His reply is quicker this time, and he takes a small step forward to combat her small retreat.] Yours matter just as much as mine. Aren't we together in this?
[He's heard it over and over. Books and movies and advice before he needed it. The words used imply it all. Couple. Romantic partners. It's meant to be a team.]
[ What he wants, matters. His happiness matters. Him not being hurt... matters. What she wants is all of these things.
While there is no uncertainty in her voice as she answers, there is great grief for causing exactly opposite of this. Her words tumble past her lips: ] I want you to be happy. I don’t want to hurt you.
[ These are things she’s said before to him, even within the past month. Repetition doesn’t make her wants true, though, as is the case before her. However, this isn’t what.... he’s asking for her answer. What does she, herself, want?
She wants to be with him still. But what right does she have when she’s caused this? Unable to stop the treacherous, hideous words from spilling, she whispers, ] I want to be with you.
[He ignores the first two. He knew that already; her reaction to realizing she'd hurt him was proof enough of that. Wants and worries that relate to him only aren't what he needs to hear right now.
It's only when she says the last, quietly and fearfully, that he finally closes the distance between them and reaches out to her, gripping her shoulders and ducking down so he can look her in the eyes properly. The hurt lingers, but it's softer now, slowly becoming overwhelmed instead by an urgent plea.]
I told you what I wanted already. If we both want the same thing, who cares about the rest? What other people want, or whether or not we're human- it doesn't matter. [His grip tightens, pulling her in a little closer, trying to urge her forward without forcing it.] When I said I loved you, that was my choice. I'm still making that choice, every day. You've gotta choose for yourself- not for me. Okay?
[ Held by his hands upon her shoulders, she can’t divert her gaze from him. Once more his kindness shines through like the sun’s rays through clouds, breaking through the melancholy of a grey day. He’s said something like this before about choosing one’s family, and again it’s another reminder.
Ignis, Luna... they are his family, people he loves, too. She had thought him to want to be with them more, that they would make him happier. Yet despite what she’s done, he still chooses to include her in his family. To love her.
Her gaze falls from his, then raises. ] Mm.... [ A small nod. ] I— I choose to love you. [ Her hand lifts to his chest, her touch light enough to be barely there. Tentative, as if that touch might hurt him. But her words are meaningful and true. She loves him, and she wants to continue loving him. Sometimes it doesn’t even feel like a choice with how much she loves him. ] Every day.
[ She has to make this up to him, somehow. She has to make this right, to do better. She can’t leave this like it is. ]
.... Your heart is so... grand, Noct. [ Big enough for many, many lights. Always in awe of him, always in love. How could she have hurt it so? ] Aren’t I supposed to be comforting you?
[She says it, and he feels himself relax a little, losing some of that bowstring tension he'd carried since before the argument even began. As she continues, he exhales a held breath, relieved and at the same time, mildly annoyed.]
Gods, stop. Stop making it all about me.
[He closes the distance at last, winding his arms around her, pulling her in tight and burying his face against the space between her neck and shoulder, his voice dropping to a quiet, tremulous sound.]
You're allowed to fight for this... you're allowed to ask for stuff, to want it. Tell me! Make demands! I gave it to you, so just keep it- don't offer it back.
[Go ahead and comfort me, he wants to say. Tell me you want this enough to not give it up, tell me I'm allowed to be selfish, tell me nothing's gonna change this feeling. It's probably too much, though. he doesn't want to give her more reason to feel guilty, and it's up to her to decide what she wants to do going forward. He just- he wants to hear it from her. That he's loved enough that for once someone won't let go of his hand.]
[ Her body stiffens as his arms pull her into an embrace, and something gives as she throws her arms about him in return, unable to help herself from seeking his comfort and warmth, and wanting to give it to him in return.
So many times has she pressed herself close to him to indulge in his beating heart and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, and each time she embraces him, wakes up next to him, or holds him, she's able to feel that. More than a place of comfort for her, it's a reminder that he's alive, and she specifically thinks of him being alive because Noctis will die. Never once had she forgotten that future. She cannot not make it about him-- rather, could not. ] I...
[ Quiet, trembling, she begins to speak. ]
I want... this.
[ Her hands tighten upon his back, grasping at his shirt, relax, then tighten once more. ] I want to stay with you.
[ She buries her head against the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. HIs scent, woodsy with a hint of citrus, reminds her of all the times they've spent together. ] I want to be one of those who makes you happy, who doesn't hurt you. [ With a desperate quiver of her voice, deathly silent, ] I want you to live.
[ --she struggles with that. Immense power at her fingertips, and fear eats her daily to use an iota of it to help. Her inaction harms him, yet more action could cause more harm. Paralyzed as so, all she can do is hope that in the time he has left, she can help his life be as wonderful as possible, and without harm. To provide comfort. So, she doesn't stop there. ] I don't--
I don't want you to be selfish--... because I don't want you to think that it's selfish to be with someone you love! [ Yes. This? This feels right to say. She's had very few relationships to use as examples and form her idea of what love should be like, but among the two she's seen in her own world, the pairs were unconditionally supportive of each other, they were there for each other, offering embraces, shoulders to cry on, and knew when the other was hurting or happy. They were together, they were one. ] It should never be selfish to love someone who you choose, Noct, why, you-- [ They, the both of them, really. Her head snaps up, and it's her turn to adopt a similar tone to his from before, pleading. ] --you're not selfish. You're the least selfish out of all of us! So... don't, don't say that. Don't say you're selfish when you love someone! [ It's bothered her more than she realized, being the object of someone's supposed selfishness as if she had led another to sin, the source of their struggle, turmoil, and conflict.
She cannot stand to be loved if it makes him hurt and call himself something so, so contrary and ugly as selfish, when he's anything but. ]
[The longer she speaks, the better he feels. His arms squeeze around her, tense hands at her back slowly loosening, uncurling to hold more gently. What she says is true, and he'd kind of started it with that, hadn't he? To call it selfish... it wasn't just a slight against his own heart, but hers as well. If she'd already been struggling with insecurities, there's no way that would have helped anything. They both failed, here. That, especially, is enough to finally quell the last of the anger he'd felt, leaving only embers and an edge of wariness that is for the moment easier to ignore. Slowly he unfurls himself from her just enough to press a kiss to her neck, then her cheek, backing up further as he moves to find her eyes, and finally he's smiling again, the curl of his lips small and simple but no longer just sadness.]
That's the most- [He leans in, helpless, catching her lips with his own so briefly.] The most you've ever said it. What you want, what you don't want. It feels good, right? [He doesn't let her answer yet, moving in- another kiss, broken off by a tiny burst of startled laughter.] You're right. All of it. You're right.
[He withdraws further to free his hands, lifting them to cup her face, his focus singular on her. His eyes are misted, not yet crying but just- relieved. So, so relieved. He'd never imagined such a sudden conversation could leave him so frightened, and his breath escapes in fits and trembles.]
I'm not selfish. It's just how I feel, I chose you, I'm choosing you, and if anyone judges me for it they can- [He pauses, reconsidering his own words a heartbeat before he says them. He does very much still love these people, so... maybe not too harshly.] -they can deal with it. [Good enough.
He leans in then, to kiss her properly, letting it linger a few seconds, so she can feel it: a palpable determination, relief, a shaken joy carefully rebuilding itself in his heart.] I love you. [Another kiss, stronger, fiercer.] I love you.
[No doubts, no hesitation. After all this, she deserves to hear it again, and again, and again, so she doesn't forget or think herself unworthy.]
[ Her eyes are wide as he takes her lips for the first kiss, and she stares up helplessly at him as he speaks, bewildered at the sudden in his mood. This means... he isn't angry with her? His eyes remain misted like her own, and she doesn't understand. Yet he's smiling and kissing her again before she can gather her thoughts to carry them along in her attempt to catch up with him.
Once, twice, he says I love you. Like spring coming after winter, she replies naturally, letting the world hear it thrice-- ] I love you. [ --just as his lips part from hers for the final kiss.
Now settled, his words turn over in her mind. He sounds as if he's proud of her, as if she's just accomplished something great. Is that 'great' thing to him speaking of her wants? She can scarcely fathom it being a feat, but here, she... meant what she had said. She liked saying it, too. Saying those words, admitting that she has been miserably worried this past month, feels as if she's betrayed herself for speaking them aloud. At the same time, she feels... lighter, somehow, her own anxieties easing the moment she sees his smile. (He's beautiful.) Him repeating his I love yous while saying he's not selfish is-- that, too, relieves her.
He's not selfish for loving someone. He loves her. ]
You're...[ Her hand raises to his cheek, as if she could keep his face turned towards her, looking at her so she might look at him, watching that beautiful smile, the blue of his eyes, and the kindness she knows to be within. ] you're all right?
[Is he alright? He'd like to say yes immediately, but the truth is that thoughts and feelings don't really work like that. Wounds don't instantly heal over (hell, even potions have limited usage), and this conversation had been... kind of rough, on multiple levels. He can't just sweep that under the rug. Some fear still lingers: that her doubts might continue to fester, that she might not share them, that he'll say the wrong thing or hurt her through his callousness. He's used to physical battles, overwhelming foes with his blades. He's not especially good at resolving conflicts through words. He's also never had a girlfriend to fight with before.
Still, miraculously he does still have a girlfriend, whether he's going to fight with her or not, and he's going to try to focus on that for now.]
I will be. [Best be honest, at least, though it bothers him a little to not just agree to mollify her. Miscommunication had been the whole cause of this.] Just... I didn't want to lose you, you know? I didn't want to give this up.
[He's lost so many, and so much of it had been through his own ineptitude or ignorance, at least in his mind. He didn't want to screw this one up as well. His hand shifts to cover hers, against his cheek, and he closes his eyes, glad to just feel her there.]
[ His hand finds hers upon his cheek, and she uses that moment to rise upon her toes to kiss him softly, briefly upon his lips, but not so brief that he won't feel the curl of her lips into a small smile just before she pulls away from him. ]
Of course I will. [ In her belief that she would hurt him, and that she was undeserving compared to those of his world, exacerbated by recent events and the ever-present thought that he will perish, she had thought he would be happier without her. She had been wrong. ] ....You're worth fighting for. What we have is worth fighting for. [ Not at the cost of his happiness, says the doubt remaining in her mind, yet, the doubt isn't as terrible as it was before. She had made him upset, just now. Still, he stays. That's probably the most baffling thing about all of this: he's remained and continued to say "I love you".
So, she has to do better for him. ] And if I'm allowed to want things... [ Allowed, as if she still seeks that permission, as if she doesn't exactly know what to do with it, now that it is hers. It's a little overwhelming, her own freedoms in all of this, too.
Her hand lifts from his cheek to take his that had covered hers, and she leads their grasp between their bodies, bringing her other hand to cup over it, securing their touch together. ] ...Then I want to fight for you, too. For us, together.
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That's not... I didn't mean it like that. You didn't do anything, and this isn't your fault. You know that, right? [His breath catches, those words turning over in his head again.] Pyra.
[She doesn't, does she. He's such an idiot- here he's trying to talk thoughtlessly through his problems, trying to avoid hurting people, and he's already hurting her.]
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Isn't it?
[ The entire summer had been a dream with him, enamored and thrilled to be in love and loving another. She had forgotten all the consequences that come with... this, with her loving someone who is mortal. Her presence imposes upon their time, what little, fleeting time they have left for each other.
And she knows, of course she knows that he isn't blaming her, but that doesn't help the blame she places upon herself for this tangle. To add another complication, she's pained because she doesn't want to believe what she's saying. She wants to follow her "heart", too, to be with him, but how can she do that, when it could harm others' hearts? ]
You... the three of you. [ Distressed, guilted, her words quicken. ] You're from the same world. You're all mortal. What I'm doing-- I'm taking precious moments you could have with each other.
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I shouldn't have said anything... you don't... [He curses under his breath, his tone growing frustrated.] Are you telling me to break up with you because they've got a better claim on me?
[That sounds so- so stupid, even more ridiculous as he says it out loud. Like they'd called dibs on his heart from childhood and she was just... what? Keeping his bed warm in their absence? Like she expects him to just throw away everything they've been through together]
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It's not what she wants. But what if it is the right thing? Isn't it? With so little left ahead of them for Ignis and Noctis, and then nothing of a future for Luna... As he paces and runs a hand through his hair, she stands, wrapping her arms about herself uncertainly. What distresses her more is this, the exasperated comment of "I shouldn't have said anything".
Quietly, she tries again, tries to appeal to him. She wants him to be content, to be happy. Wouldn't he be that with them, more than she could ever provide, or has the right to? Who is she to deny what they could have, alien to their world, to say nothing of that she shouldn't have such feelings in the first place? ] They're of your world... They're human.
[ A pause, then gently: ] They're alive, here.
[ Finally, a whisper, soft as snow, and she lowers her eyes. ] And you are, too.
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"They're human.
They're alive.
You are, too."
He can take a lot. His tolerance for pain's always been high, thanks to having to endure so much of it over the years. If it were physical, he could handle it just fine, shrug it off and endure it. That one, though? That one hurt.
When he speaks again, his voice is harsh, wounded.]
Why would you say that?
[He doesn't need a reminder. He thinks about it every day of his life. He falls asleep worrying that he'll be pulled from this world in his sleep and sent back to the Crystal instead. His dreams are weighed down by the words of the Draconian. Sometimes he is caught by the thought at random, unaware and off guard: when he runs fast enough to feel a twinge of pain in his chest and remembers being stabbed, when he calls out a sword and remembers the magical blue of his ancestors as they kill him one by one, when he enters Mythra's crystal for a visit and remembers being dragged, screaming, into his own. He's doing fine and living his life like normal and then his brain slams down the breaks with the thought of oh, right, I'm going to die.
When he looks at Luna, or Ignis, or his father, or Ardyn. People who know or are involved in his fate. When he looks at Prompto, feeling guilty that he hasn't shared the truth yet. When he looks at Pyra, knowing her future fate echoes his own. He remembers. He's always remembering, over and over, and it isn't every time but it's enough that the times he forgets are so blessed, and the times he can make himself forget or be distracted make things easier.
Clenching his eyes and gritting his teeth, he tries to shove it aside. He doesn't want to think about it right now. He doesn't. This place is made for borrowed time, choices he doesn't get to make back home. She doesn't get to take that away from him, gently or otherwise.]
I don't care what we are. You know that, [he says quietly, still tense, no less hurt. He's slapped a bandaid over it but the wound is still open, bleeding.] I didn't think you did.
[What the hell is her goal, here? Force him into a corner, get him to admit he'll ditch her at the first whiff of greener pastures? Like he's a wild animal, meant to be with his own kind. Like his grandfather giving his dad grief for choosing a commoner as his wife instead of a more fitting noblewoman. Like she doesn't deserve him-
-and there, he forces himself to stop, to think, before he loses it completely. He doesn't think she'd been lying this whole time, so why? Why is she...?]
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She didn't mean to. She had wanted him to think not of her, but of others f his world, others who she believes loves him as well, others who are surely more deserving of him, who are like him, not some crystal immortal that had never meant to walk upon the earth. Others with whom he would have a chance to be happy with, with what time they have in this nexus called Aellyn. It's been on her mind too, most recently coming in without warning after a night of fully loving him, like a monster behind a door, only very real, obvious and ominous enough that she cannot deny it's there. She had been the one to bestow the vision, after all. One day he will die, too soon at that.
None of that matters, however. She can see how he struggles, the words she's so carelessly uttered now no different than that of the marilith's strikes upon his back. How long will these words of hers scar him? She wants to take everything back, but he asks a question first, and she should answer.
Gathering her thoughts, she does. He deserves an answer. ] Because... I think about it.
I think about how you will.... [ She looks away, quickly enough that her cropped hair flutters within the moment, bringing a hand to her mouth to cover a shaky breath. When she composes herself, she continues. ] How you will... [ He knows. ] More often, now. [ Breathlessly, ] More and more, because I keep on loving you more and more, and how I'm not doing enough for you, helping you. [ Her fingers curl inward into a fist, clutching over where her heart would be, as if it would be about to burst. Her eyes lift to meet his. ] Such as-- that morning after a long night together, it happened then. [ He had asked if she was alright. She had brushed it aside, not wanting to spoil the mood.
Her eyes fill with grief as she searches his face. She's sorry, she's sorry, and she's equally sorry that she's both hurt him and that she's infringed on what happiness he could have with others. ] I feel as if I'm denying you something you should have had while you were in your own world: an opportunity to be with them instead, and they, with you. [ Despite her words, she takes a step forward, towards him. While she's not unsteady she feels as if she could fall, but maybe that's just her selfish want to hold onto him that she doesn't. ] That happiness could be yours. Your life lived with them, in this world, could be yours! [ Because there is no way he'll have the same opportunity back in his own world. Desperately, more tears from her throat. ] Isn't that what you want? Isn't that-- isn't that what would hurt you less?
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How would it hurt me less, Pyra? To throw you away just because they showed up, like I'd gotten all I wanted from you, like they're better for me just because they're human? You said I was a good person, before. You think I'd ever want to do that? Is that good? Is that who you think I am?
[So many times she'd said it, she'd complimented him- that he's good, that he's wonderful, that he's perfect. And he's not really believed it (he's not, he's trying) but it's such a beautiful aspiration to work towards, the idea of being as good as she thinks he is, as wonderful as she deserves, as perfect as he can get while still remaining himself. He'd wanted to be all of that for her, because she makes him happy, because she does plenty for him and it's he who always feels like he's falling short of what she deserves. That he's selfish to stay with her when she's so amazing and loving and kind, but he's decided that he's okay with that so long as he can make her as happy as she makes him.
If she thinks him capable of this, what she's suggesting, how is he ever supposed to believe those words? If she's trying to do this under some misguided belief that it's for his sake... that isn't better. That doesn't make it okay. In many ways, it makes it worse. Like it's his fault, like he's just been waiting for the chance to replace her with someone more suitable, like he asked for this, when he just said what he'd wanted was-]
If- if you've got second thoughts about this, then say that. If you want to break things off, say that. But don't try to push it off on me like it's what I want and you're holding me back from it. Don't say- gods. [He grimaces abruptly, his breath catching, and he lifts his hands to cover his eyes, feeling more uncomfortably vulnerable than he's felt in ages, stricken and not wanting her to see the look on his face.] What did I do...?
[To make her think for even a second that he's capable of being so callous, even to force herself to consider it- where did he go wrong?]
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[ Of course he would blame himself. Just like her own self-blame for being a cause of complicated web of relationships they've found themselves in, he's thinking there is something he did wrong too.
That isn't the case at all.
It had been her. It had been her weakness, her own guilt and doubts that she hasn't overcome. If she is to be strong for him, those weaknesses can't exist in this relationship. So, then, why-- ]
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This topic had been brought about her own anxieties, and in light of all of what he's done for her, she ought to believe them over her guilt. It's difficult because such festering is rooted in her, an innate belief that she should only be an observer, and barring that, gone because she will only cause harm.
...Yet mere moments later after he had confessed, she had said she wanted to be better for him. She cannot forget that, either. A wet, shaky breath passes from her lips, her voice quivering with his name. ] ...Noct.
[ She takes the last few steps forward, quickly and purposefully, to embrace him. ]
Noct, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way, I.... [ She fumbles, realizing that she may very well go into another hapless ramble of trying to explain herself, when it's obvious that all of what she's saying and doing is only causing him more harm.
A little too late, by the pain she's caused him alone, she realizes how her suggestion, while with good intentions, has insulted him, hurt him, and imposed on his own wants... which are more than clear now, that he wants to remain with her. (Why, why, when he's looking like that, when she's causing him grief? She's weak. She should be stronger for him, more secure. She said she wanted to be better for him!)
She must be better for him, otherwise this. Otherwise she hurts him by being careless. ]
I.... I'm sorry. [ She clings to him tightly, shutting her eyes as she buries her face into his chest. ] Nothing, you did nothing wrong. I was a fool suggesting this.
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Is... is that how you really feel, though? [About me. About us.] Do you believe I'd be happier with someone else? [His hands clench at his side, unclench, half-lift to touch her before dropping down again. He can't, he can't.] You said it for a reason. How long have you been worrying about this?
[Did he cause this? Did his moping, or his failure to communicate his indecision, develop this fear in her, or did it only bring what already existed into the light? It's possible that this whole time, either she didn't say anything or he missed whatever subtle signs she'd been giving him... neither option is good. He sure as hell doesn't feel like he did nothing wrong.]
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Her voice trembles. ]
I've... never wanted to hurt you. Or anyone. [ A hand falls from his shoulder to the middle of his chest, and her eyes follow the movement as her palm rests above his heart. ] You know what I am, that doubt that I will harm others. You, too. [ So, wouldn't he be happy with someone else? He's speaking as if he wouldn't. He's insulted that she would suggest it. She doesn't understand. ] But I had forgotten it for a time, over the summer with you. [ Listening to herself, she feels she sounds pathetic, weak, for confessing her insecurities once more to him. At the same time she chastises herself for having forgotten in the first place when she had been so distracted by loving him. Loving him is wonderful. Having it slip her mind how harmful she could be to another, is not.
Her hand withdraws. ] A month ago... I was reminded of how important it is to not hurt you. [ Her eyes close briefly in a remorseful, heavy grimace. That's when the doubts began to resurface. Is she doing enough for him, is she harming him, could he not be happier with others instead? ]
...I failed that.
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Someone told you that? [He doesn't need to wait for an answer; the look on her face is enough, an earnest confession of guilt over a warning not heeded. It wouldn't be like her to lie in order to blame someone else for stirring up her insecurities.] A month... and you kept quiet this whole time.
[He turns then, rubbing at his forehead, and goes back to pacing for a long moment. She forgot, because she was happy- that she's some kind of weapon, that she's not human, that she's meant to cause harm. She remembered all of that, because she was asked not to hurt him. She remembered that he's going to die. And she's just- pretended that everything's been okay, that it hasn't bothered her, like that day in the shower when he'd forgotten to ask. And now she worries that any of that matters, because- what, she's got human competition now, in a contest no one else knows they're in, when it's already meant to be over because she won.
It's- it's a lot, and not something easily fixed. He can't just throw his hands up and go, "it's fine! you won't hurt me!" when they both know she just did. And he can't tell her not to be afraid of doing so again, because emotions don't work like that. He's had enough people tell him to get over it in his lifetime to know that's not how you resolve such a visceral worry. So what, then...?
With one last pace, he turns back to her again, and when he looks at her the distance between them feels both impossibly vast while at the same time not enough. He wants to go to her, but- not yet. Still, not yet. He needs to know.]
Do you know what hurt the most? The worst of it?
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“The worst of it.” Worse than... what she’s done already to him? Another slight against the one she loves, more proof she’s failed. That she’s doing what they have wrong. With all this against her, how could he say he’s happy with her?
She pales as she gazes at him, but remains steady. Now is the time to listen.
Faintly, ]
Please.
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You said... you were putting me in this position. That you're taking my time away from them. That you're getting in the way of the happiness I could have with other people. "Isn't that what you want?" That's what you said. It didn't sound like a question.
[Each and every time. Taking. Denying. Hurting. All the things she claims that she's doing, when it's his time, his happiness, his wants. When next he speaks, he looks up at her, his gaze intense, intentional, still with that lingering hurt.]
Pyra. I'm the Chosen, not the Chooser. Remember?
[So much of his life had been set in stone from the moment he was born. His career, by the royal blood in his veins. His destiny, by the Crystal's magic that chose him as its final king. His marriage, false or not, by the good-will gesture of a conquering nation. His choices had been so, so small. Even his friendships- every one of them except Prompto and maybe Iris had been handed to him by fate or his father. He'd chosen to make them real, but he didn't pick them out from the start.
In this place, as long as he's been here, his choices have all been his own. Where to go, when to go there. How to spend his time. Who to spend it with.
Who to love.
She'd tried to take that from him, under the misguided belief that she might be less than what he deserves, and that is what hurt.]
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What hurts him the most is that, in her belief that she’s doing something better for him, she’s taking his choice from him.
...And what scant few choices he has in his life, if any at all. As royalty, he’s probably been chosen for many different things, had choices made for him from how he dresses to where he’s able go or do in his life. He’s been chosen to save his world. To die.
It must have felt like a dream being in this world with its freedoms than the structured rule of his own, able to do as he wants and spend his time as he wants. Paramount to all of this, he can live how he wants, and she— she has imposed upon what liberty he has. ] Noct...
[ Something shatters within her, and she takes a half-step back, quickly looking to the side. How could she not have realized? His freedom, his choices— they are more precious than anything else in the world. His happiness derives from that, not whatever she had been thinking. She’d been so very wrong. ]
I’m so sorry. [ Quietly, she speaks, only to repeat more heavily: ] I’m so sorry.
Your choices... your freedom. They’re more important than anything else.
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Not more than anything. [His reply is quicker this time, and he takes a small step forward to combat her small retreat.] Yours matter just as much as mine. Aren't we together in this?
[He's heard it over and over. Books and movies and advice before he needed it. The words used imply it all. Couple. Romantic partners. It's meant to be a team.]
Tell me what you want.
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While there is no uncertainty in her voice as she answers, there is great grief for causing exactly opposite of this. Her words tumble past her lips: ] I want you to be happy. I don’t want to hurt you.
[ These are things she’s said before to him, even within the past month. Repetition doesn’t make her wants true, though, as is the case before her. However, this isn’t what.... he’s asking for her answer. What does she, herself, want?
She wants to be with him still. But what
right does she have when she’s caused this? Unable to stop the treacherous, hideous words from spilling, she whispers, ] I want to be with you.
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It's only when she says the last, quietly and fearfully, that he finally closes the distance between them and reaches out to her, gripping her shoulders and ducking down so he can look her in the eyes properly. The hurt lingers, but it's softer now, slowly becoming overwhelmed instead by an urgent plea.]
I told you what I wanted already. If we both want the same thing, who cares about the rest? What other people want, or whether or not we're human- it doesn't matter. [His grip tightens, pulling her in a little closer, trying to urge her forward without forcing it.] When I said I loved you, that was my choice. I'm still making that choice, every day. You've gotta choose for yourself- not for me. Okay?
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Ignis, Luna... they are his family, people he loves, too. She had thought him to want to be with them more, that they would make him happier. Yet despite what she’s done, he still chooses to include her in his family. To love her.
Her gaze falls from his, then raises. ] Mm.... [ A small nod. ] I— I choose to love you. [ Her hand lifts to his chest, her touch light enough to be barely there. Tentative, as if that touch might hurt him. But her words are meaningful and true. She loves him, and she wants to continue loving him. Sometimes it doesn’t even feel like a choice with how much she loves him. ] Every day.
[ She has to make this up to him, somehow. She has to make this right, to do better. She can’t leave this like it is. ]
.... Your heart is so... grand, Noct. [ Big enough for many, many lights. Always in awe of him, always in love. How could she have hurt it so? ] Aren’t I supposed to be comforting you?
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Gods, stop. Stop making it all about me.
[He closes the distance at last, winding his arms around her, pulling her in tight and burying his face against the space between her neck and shoulder, his voice dropping to a quiet, tremulous sound.]
You're allowed to fight for this... you're allowed to ask for stuff, to want it. Tell me! Make demands! I gave it to you, so just keep it- don't offer it back.
[Go ahead and comfort me, he wants to say. Tell me you want this enough to not give it up, tell me I'm allowed to be selfish, tell me nothing's gonna change this feeling. It's probably too much, though. he doesn't want to give her more reason to feel guilty, and it's up to her to decide what she wants to do going forward. He just- he wants to hear it from her. That he's loved enough that for once someone won't let go of his hand.]
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So many times has she pressed herself close to him to indulge in his beating heart and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, and each time she embraces him, wakes up next to him, or holds him, she's able to feel that. More than a place of comfort for her, it's a reminder that he's alive, and she specifically thinks of him being alive because Noctis will die. Never once had she forgotten that future. She cannot not make it about him-- rather, could not. ] I...
[ Quiet, trembling, she begins to speak. ]
I want... this.
[ Her hands tighten upon his back, grasping at his shirt, relax, then tighten once more. ] I want to stay with you.
[ She buries her head against the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. HIs scent, woodsy with a hint of citrus, reminds her of all the times they've spent together. ] I want to be one of those who makes you happy, who doesn't hurt you. [ With a desperate quiver of her voice, deathly silent, ] I want you to live.
[ --she struggles with that. Immense power at her fingertips, and fear eats her daily to use an iota of it to help. Her inaction harms him, yet more action could cause more harm. Paralyzed as so, all she can do is hope that in the time he has left, she can help his life be as wonderful as possible, and without harm. To provide comfort. So, she doesn't stop there. ] I don't--
I don't want you to be selfish--... because I don't want you to think that it's selfish to be with someone you love! [ Yes. This? This feels right to say. She's had very few relationships to use as examples and form her idea of what love should be like, but among the two she's seen in her own world, the pairs were unconditionally supportive of each other, they were there for each other, offering embraces, shoulders to cry on, and knew when the other was hurting or happy. They were together, they were one. ] It should never be selfish to love someone who you choose, Noct, why, you-- [ They, the both of them, really. Her head snaps up, and it's her turn to adopt a similar tone to his from before, pleading. ] --you're not selfish. You're the least selfish out of all of us! So... don't, don't say that. Don't say you're selfish when you love someone! [ It's bothered her more than she realized, being the object of someone's supposed selfishness as if she had led another to sin, the source of their struggle, turmoil, and conflict.
She cannot stand to be loved if it makes him hurt and call himself something so, so contrary and ugly as selfish, when he's anything but. ]
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That's the most- [He leans in, helpless, catching her lips with his own so briefly.] The most you've ever said it. What you want, what you don't want. It feels good, right? [He doesn't let her answer yet, moving in- another kiss, broken off by a tiny burst of startled laughter.] You're right. All of it. You're right.
[He withdraws further to free his hands, lifting them to cup her face, his focus singular on her. His eyes are misted, not yet crying but just- relieved. So, so relieved. He'd never imagined such a sudden conversation could leave him so frightened, and his breath escapes in fits and trembles.]
I'm not selfish. It's just how I feel, I chose you, I'm choosing you, and if anyone judges me for it they can- [He pauses, reconsidering his own words a heartbeat before he says them. He does very much still love these people, so... maybe not too harshly.] -they can deal with it. [Good enough.
He leans in then, to kiss her properly, letting it linger a few seconds, so she can feel it: a palpable determination, relief, a shaken joy carefully rebuilding itself in his heart.] I love you. [Another kiss, stronger, fiercer.] I love you.
[No doubts, no hesitation. After all this, she deserves to hear it again, and again, and again, so she doesn't forget or think herself unworthy.]
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Once, twice, he says I love you. Like spring coming after winter, she replies naturally, letting the world hear it thrice-- ] I love you. [ --just as his lips part from hers for the final kiss.
Now settled, his words turn over in her mind. He sounds as if he's proud of her, as if she's just accomplished something great. Is that 'great' thing to him speaking of her wants? She can scarcely fathom it being a feat, but here, she... meant what she had said. She liked saying it, too. Saying those words, admitting that she has been miserably worried this past month, feels as if she's betrayed herself for speaking them aloud. At the same time, she feels... lighter, somehow, her own anxieties easing the moment she sees his smile. (He's beautiful.) Him repeating his I love yous while saying he's not selfish is-- that, too, relieves her.
He's not selfish for loving someone. He loves her. ]
You're...[ Her hand raises to his cheek, as if she could keep his face turned towards her, looking at her so she might look at him, watching that beautiful smile, the blue of his eyes, and the kindness she knows to be within. ] you're all right?
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Still, miraculously he does still have a girlfriend, whether he's going to fight with her or not, and he's going to try to focus on that for now.]
I will be. [Best be honest, at least, though it bothers him a little to not just agree to mollify her. Miscommunication had been the whole cause of this.] Just... I didn't want to lose you, you know? I didn't want to give this up.
[He's lost so many, and so much of it had been through his own ineptitude or ignorance, at least in his mind. He didn't want to screw this one up as well. His hand shifts to cover hers, against his cheek, and he closes his eyes, glad to just feel her there.]
Stay with me, okay?
[Don't leave me.]
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Of course I will. [ In her belief that she would hurt him, and that she was undeserving compared to those of his world, exacerbated by recent events and the ever-present thought that he will perish, she had thought he would be happier without her. She had been wrong. ] ....You're worth fighting for. What we have is worth fighting for. [ Not at the cost of his happiness, says the doubt remaining in her mind, yet, the doubt isn't as terrible as it was before. She had made him upset, just now. Still, he stays. That's probably the most baffling thing about all of this: he's remained and continued to say "I love you".
So, she has to do better for him. ] And if I'm allowed to want things... [ Allowed, as if she still seeks that permission, as if she doesn't exactly know what to do with it, now that it is hers. It's a little overwhelming, her own freedoms in all of this, too.
Her hand lifts from his cheek to take his that had covered hers, and she leads their grasp between their bodies, bringing her other hand to cup over it, securing their touch together. ] ...Then I want to fight for you, too. For us, together.
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