[Yes, of course. Physically Noctis should be alright, but Ignis wonders if he'll ever be fine after what happened to his father, to Luna, to all of them. Noctis didn't deserve this, none of this.
As Noctis curls into him, falling against his body with practiced, familiar movements, Ignis sighs. It's easy to pretend that he has his eyes closed, and he doesn't want to open them. But if he would, he saw Noctis' face, his probably puffy eyes, the lines on his face, probably some bruises on him... Ignis remembers the last time he saw Noctis, it was the last time he had seen anything before the ring's flames claimed his sight.
He slides his hand up on Noctis' back, up his neck, to gently this his fingers into his hair, resting his palm against the back of his head. His fingers knead gently, barely noticeable. Everything feels like and smells like Noctis, despite the too clean sheets and the strange air of the room. Noctis is there, he's warm and alive and Ignis' heart skip a beat. For some reason, Noctis lips against his skin feels more intense and yet a bit more forbidden.]
Yes.
[He whispers his answer. He doesn't feel strong enough to say it louder. It hurts in a way a burn does, in a strange way where it feels like still burning. It's stabbing. Sharp and sometimes unbearable.]
It'll heal. It'll get better.
[It has to. It must. This can't stay like this, he can't stay like this...]
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As Noctis curls into him, falling against his body with practiced, familiar movements, Ignis sighs. It's easy to pretend that he has his eyes closed, and he doesn't want to open them. But if he would, he saw Noctis' face, his probably puffy eyes, the lines on his face, probably some bruises on him... Ignis remembers the last time he saw Noctis, it was the last time he had seen anything before the ring's flames claimed his sight.
He slides his hand up on Noctis' back, up his neck, to gently this his fingers into his hair, resting his palm against the back of his head. His fingers knead gently, barely noticeable. Everything feels like and smells like Noctis, despite the too clean sheets and the strange air of the room. Noctis is there, he's warm and alive and Ignis' heart skip a beat. For some reason, Noctis lips against his skin feels more intense and yet a bit more forbidden.]
Yes.
[He whispers his answer. He doesn't feel strong enough to say it louder. It hurts in a way a burn does, in a strange way where it feels like still burning. It's stabbing. Sharp and sometimes unbearable.]
It'll heal. It'll get better.
[It has to. It must. This can't stay like this, he can't stay like this...]