Have I got the strength to ask

[blindsider]

[He's not been sleeping well.

It's a curious contradiction. The painkillers they've given him list drowsiness as a side effect and the doctors seemed certain enough of their ability to knock him out that they've insisted he set alarms to wake him so he can take more medication, telling him he won't feel like it but if he misses a dose he'll wake in agony. And they do make him feel sleepy, wrapping everything in a cotton-wool fog, but it's when he lays alone at night that the quiet sharpens enough to let him turn events over in a way that denies him sleep.

So much lost. Altissia is in a state of ruin, and the Lady Lunafreya -- he'd only met her once. He'd been allowed a visit when Noctis was healing in Tenebrae, the conviction that he oughtn't miss any of the schooling that would one day be so important something of a moot point when his concern about the prince had seen his classwork plummet anyway. Luna was only a few years older than he, but taller and graceful and so warm that only moments in her presence had entirely snuffed the childish jealousy he felt over Noctis' prattling about how cool and pretty and nice she was. He'd been a little starstruck as a child, and truth be told - all complicating factors aside - he'd looked forward to seeing her again as an adult, a woman full of courage and wisdom.

But Lunafreya is dead, and Ignis sees nothing at all.

It wouldn't be so bad if Noctis were present. He's been such a presence through Ignis' life that just having him around feels grounding, like a tether to home and to reality. Even if he's sulking, or fishing while the rest of them grow bored to tears, or simply sleeping. Prompto tries, bless him; he's a near-constant presence, chatting away and fetching coffee and reading the news to him, but he can tell that even Prompto knows he's not what Ignis craves. But the last time Ignis was in Noctis' presence was when he finally woke, and since then Noctis has sequestered himself and really, Ignis can't begrudge him that. Noctis has lost more than any of them, and Ignis is in no fit state to comfort him. At best Noctis would pity him; at worst, he'd see how adrift Ignis feels, realise the truth of it. He hates the constant battle against slipping into indulgent self-pity, but he at least has the pride not to invite Noctis to sink with him. Perhaps tomorrow he'll source some sweets and send Prompto to deliver them. From what Gladio's told him (and Prompto won't) Noctis is just as likely to refuse that, but at least he'll know they're thinking of him.

The medication has tamed his injury, left it something that stalks and growls instead of roaring, but it does nothing for his unease. He sighs, rolls onto his side, and resigns himself to another lengthy night of missing his vision, and his freedom, and his prince. ]

Comments

[linkstrike]

[ noctis sleeps, and in his dreams, the waking world is nothing but a nightmare.

in his dreams, his father is alive, and luna with him, and they both crowd around to draw him into their arms and speak to him in warm voices. to tell him how proud they are, how well he's done, how far he's come. to reassure him that it's okay to rest, because he's earned it. and in his dreams, ignis is still whole -- there isn't a trace of scarring on his skin, and his eyes are clear and open and still able to soften at the sight of noctis. he still cuts the same reassuring figure that he always has; calm amidst the chaos, a piece of home that's too strong to be snatched away like all the rest.

but even noctis can't sleep forever, and the ugliness of this new reality is always the same. his father is dead. luna is dead. insomnia is gone. and ignis is still blinded, still scarred -- and still blames him, without a doubt.

after all, it's been days, and noctis hasn't seen him since the first time he woke up. granted, he hasn't seen much of anyone -- the first thing he did was lock the door to his quarters, and he's ignored every attempt to check on him. gladio scolds, shouts, calls him a coward. prompto coaxes, pleads, and even attempts to bribe him out with promises of meals. but ignis? ignis never visits. never comes to speak to him through the door, never texts or calls his phone, never even sends someone else to scold noctis on his behalf for skipping meals and sleeping the day away.

and really, who could blame him? not noctis, that's for sure. he's given noctis everything throughout the years -- gone above and beyond the call of duty time and time again, and his reward? to have his sight stripped away from him, and all the dignity and independence that ignis prizes stolen with it. when ignis needed him, noctis wasn't there. he didn't protect him, he didn't come to save him, and when it counted? even all the magic of his etro-damned bloodline couldn't heal him. why wouldn't ignis hate him? why wouldn't he blame him? why would he stay?

... but noctis is still selfish enough to miss him. still selfish enough to want ignis to come and comfort him, still selfish to wake up in the middle of the night reaching out blindly across the expanse of this too-big bed as if he might find ignis there, still selfish enough to feel the lack of him like a physical ache.

and finally, it's too much.

it's the middle of the night, and ignis must be sleeping, but. here noctis is, standing in front of his door, knocking. because he's already taken everything away, asked everything of ignis, and he's still back to demand more. and he hates himself for it, adds it bitterly to the laundry list of all his failures, but that isn't enough to make him turn around and leave. ]

... Ignis? [ his voice sounds oddly foreign to his own ears, dry and brittle and close to crumbling. ] Are you awake?