[ he buries his face into her neck, and though her heart is heavy still she smiles softly, wearily, her fingertips still drawing slow, languid circles over the ink on his skin. the scene is coming to a close, the edges of the memory fraying, and so she closes her eyes and turns her face to press kisses into his hair. ]
I hope you do.
[ she cannot force him, and even if she could, it would achieve nothing. only prompto can decide when he is ready to leave it behind him, to wear that mark with ambivalence, at the very least, if not pride. but still she will pray for that day to come, for the time he truly, fully, and completely accepts himself for who he is, and sees at last what she sees when she looks at him, what others see, all those whose lives have been touched by his bright laugh and irresistible kindness.
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I hope you do.
[ she cannot force him, and even if she could, it would achieve nothing. only prompto can decide when he is ready to leave it behind him, to wear that mark with ambivalence, at the very least, if not pride. but still she will pray for that day to come, for the time he truly, fully, and completely accepts himself for who he is, and sees at last what she sees when she looks at him, what others see, all those whose lives have been touched by his bright laugh and irresistible kindness.
someday. someday he will be strong enough. ]