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The crackling of the fire was dying down. Soon it would be just the embers shimmering with the last sparks of the evening.
But Specs was up again, tinkering with something over by that makeshift counter he rigged up every time they camped out.
Prompto and Gladio were already passed out if the loud snoring coming from the tent was any clue. It was an unfortunate reminder that he himself was not with them. Noctis was awake, watching the fire, his thoughts drowning somewhere else entirely until a mug was held in front of face, the silver gloves holding it coming into focus slowly.
Noct looked up before taking the mug, watching Specs take the seat beside him in his periphery. He took a sip. “Warm milk?”
“It’s always done wonders for you in the past,” he said, drinking from his own mug.
Noctis sighed. “It’s not that I’m not tired.”
“I figured not.”
“So why are you up then?” He asked, taking another sip from his milk. “Babysitting me as usual?”
Ignis chuckled. “Can’t sleep myself it would seem.”
The prince rolled his eyes before they settled back on the mug in his hands. “Today sucked,” he said.
“Indeed it did.”
“I’m not sure how Gladio and Prompto can be out like a light after all that.” Noctis slid deeper into his chair. He wasn’t sure how anyone could ever sleep in these circumstances. Home was gone. Families? All dead. Everyone dead, gone, buried under heaps of rubble and the remains of their city. The king, his father, he was dead too and had seen it coming a mile away. Noctis scowled into the surface of his drink. “I’m so tired and I can’t close my eyes.”
“Have you seen what they look like in there?” Ignis asked, tipping back his drink one more time.
A sort of laugh left the prince, sitting back up straight. “Coiled up like two snakes. Adorable.”
“Prompto’s family is likely dead.”
“So is yours. And I don’t see you passed out.”
There was a bite to those words. They left a small wake of silence before Ignis spoke again. “I think sleep is all he can do.”
That left only more silence. Noctis’ chest hurt. Everything hurt from the fights with the magictech soldiers, that bunker Cor had them diving into. Everything fucking hurt and for five seconds he just wanted to feel it.
“Iggs,” he said quietly, only loud enough for him to hear.
Ignis put down his mug and got up from his seat, stretching. “Care to join me in sitting over by the edge?”
Noctis didn’t nod. And he didn’t say anything either. He only followed, sitting with him, their feet dangling over the edge of the haven’s plateau.
The arm around his shoulder was swift. It tugged him in tightly and Noctis didn’t resist. In fact pressed in harder curling into him as another arm settled around him. He couldn’t fight the sharp gasp he took in or how wet his face started to feel. “I’m so tired,” he whispered, his hands gripping Ignis’ shirt, tugging and holding on as if the stone under him were to give out any second. “How am I supposed to do what the old man couldn’t…?”
“You will Noct,” he whispered, his embrace only tightening. “You must.”
The prince shook his head, still holding tight. He didn’t believe him. Ignis always had too much faith. But if it had to be anyone that held him up too high, then yes, he only wanted it to be Ignis.
Noct pushed them down flat against the stone. Ignis didn’t stop him. His prince curled up around him and cried himself out silently. This was for the best, but Ignis’ chest hurt. There wasn’t a thing he could do to fix this. It was always his role. Noctis isn’t getting enough to eat? Learn to cook, that will help. He wants to learn to drive but no one has taught him yet. Well that shouldn’t be too difficult. He wants a night off to go see a movie with Prompto? He would go speak with Gladio, see if he could work something out.
Always if there was a problem he was there to fix it. It was, after all, his duty. But this. There was nothing to fix this. In his own tumble of frantic thoughts all he could think to do was make him the warm milk and then this. Hold him tight, take off his gloves and run his hands through his hair.
He’d sworn this off. Resigned himself to the fact that Noctis was to be married to Lady Lunafreya and that they were just something to be forgotten . But with the pain and loss creeping up his chest and into his throat, the dedication he had to decorum could burn with the city for all he cared. If Gladio decided not to feel, all Prompto could manage was sleep, and Noctis needed to cry when no one else could see him, he needed this. He needed Noctis. And for once, he realized as his prince looked down at him, not another word between them as his lips pressed to his, he felt no guilt on taking it.