[ She tells him to ache, and so he aches, fiercely, with his entire being, radiant, unspent emotion. To have his friends one moment and lose them the next was a reality of this world, one of the bittersweet truths of an existence that could give as easily as it could take. And...it will take him a long while to recover. For losing his dearest friends, maybe he'll never fully recover. They've made him into so much of who he is, been the guiding point in his life for so long, and now, for the first time since the day he became friends with Noctis all those years ago, he's bereft of the brotherhood the four of them had built together. He will still have to figure out who he is without them, a task which he had started in the snowy fields of Niflheim, when he'd decided to face his worst fears.
But that could wait - would have to wait, because for now, he just lets himself hurt.
He rests his head, somehow heavy and light at the same time, against her heart, his grief hiccuping out of him in waves, holding her so tightly his fingers tremble. There's nothing to do then but to cry, to whimper beneath the weight of his reality, and let it all out. It's cleansing in a way he's never really known, like she's stripped his soul down to the barest parts of himself and coaxed them out.
And finally, after however many minutes it takes, his eyes and mouth dry, leaving him feeling wrung out, his heart exhumed. It's painful - oh, is it painful - but there's a visceral, exquisite beauty in it, too, to feel so bare and not be ashamed of it.
She'd told him to let it ache, so he had.
His voice rises, crackling and swollen, at long last, though it is barely more than a whisper. ]
I love you.
[ And he tips his chin up, pressing a gentle kiss just above the neckline of her nightdress, near her heart. ]
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But that could wait - would have to wait, because for now, he just lets himself hurt.
He rests his head, somehow heavy and light at the same time, against her heart, his grief hiccuping out of him in waves, holding her so tightly his fingers tremble. There's nothing to do then but to cry, to whimper beneath the weight of his reality, and let it all out. It's cleansing in a way he's never really known, like she's stripped his soul down to the barest parts of himself and coaxed them out.
And finally, after however many minutes it takes, his eyes and mouth dry, leaving him feeling wrung out, his heart exhumed. It's painful - oh, is it painful - but there's a visceral, exquisite beauty in it, too, to feel so bare and not be ashamed of it.
She'd told him to let it ache, so he had.
His voice rises, crackling and swollen, at long last, though it is barely more than a whisper. ]
I love you.
[ And he tips his chin up, pressing a gentle kiss just above the neckline of her nightdress, near her heart. ]