Gladio reminds Ignis to breathe. Ignis says, in a voice that is in fact quite strangled, that he can’t. He’s had the feeling of suffocating for what feels like a lifetime now. Gladio frowns briefly before he sets his face back to that strange, serene sort of compassion. He works open the top few buttons on Ignis’s shirt and he rolls up his sleeves. It feels good, getting some air on his skin. It feels a little bit less like he’s being absolutely choked. There’s even a moment of relief, a thought that Ignis can gather himself up and apologize, thank Gladio for his concern and make his way out the door. Gladio, of course, seizes up one had by the wrist. He examines those lines of burns and just as quickly Ignis can’t breathe again. He closes his eyes. He hears Gladio tell Noctis to retrieve the first aid kit. The same calm remains in his voice. It’s almost eerie. More than that, it’s reassuring, as if that calm is contagious. Ignis is reminded to breathe again. He does this. He continues to do this, slow, even, counted breaths. Ritual breathing. He breathes through Gladio tending to the burns and he breathes through Gladio putting a strong hand on his shoulder, guiding him to lay back across the couch.
His heart, at some point, begins to feel less like it’s trying to forcibly remove itself from Ignis’s chest. Eventually, he doesn’t need to count the breaths any more. Gladio speaks, he says things that are calming, things that Ignis doesn’t entirely hear. Ignis doesn’t open his eyes. He’s exhausted, utterly and quite suddenly. A mug of tea appears in his hands eventually. Ignis inhales the scent, something lightly floral. Something that seems to invoke that same calm as Gladio’s steady voice and careful, brief touches. Ignis doesn’t drink more than a sip or two. Ignis, eventually, feels himself sinking off to sleep. His mind is scrambled, detached, impossible to get a hold of. He knows that he should be going home. He knows that this is the last place he should be, passing out on the prince’s couch when his presence there would soon be unwelcome. He thinks he tries to say this, but he’s not sure the words come out. He’s not sure of anything but darkness.
Ignis doesn’t know how long he’s slept, but he knows it’s the first proper and restful sleep he’s had in a long time. The sun is up when he wakes and it is almost immediately apparent that he is alone in the apartment. There is a note left from Gladio asking (instructing?) him to get in contact when he can. It is the only piece of paper left on the coffee table. His dossier for Noctis is missing. The tea he mostly abandoned has been taken away. When he gets to his feet, heads to the kitchen to finish the cleaning, he finds it immaculate. He owes Gladio some words of thanks. He owes Gladio a lot, if he’s being honest with himself.
He comes to owe Gladio a lot more through the days that follow. He owes him for the training sessions he forces Ignis to resume and the words he forces Ignis to say. He owes him for whatever he says to Noctis that actually seems to get him on track. He owes him when it seems that the storm has passed, when meetings come and go and Noctis’s behavior has apparently improved. He owes him when his job seems, for the moment, to be safe. It’s a lot of debt to be in, but Gladio is pulling him out of the deepest depths again. Gladio is talking to him, about how much he hates this job sometimes, about how he feels like the weight of it is going to crush him. It surprises Ignis how much he finds in common with the shield, once they actually begin to speak, once their friendship becomes more than dutiful concern.
The same can be said for Noctis, who Ignis finds out has finally decided to take a little initiative. Who finally reads the papers Ignis puts so much work into at night, when he’s trying again to avoid rituals, when he’s even managing to do so as many nights as he doesn’t. Noctis doesn’t talk to him the way Gladio does, not really. He doesn’t admit to any of his stress, to anything he’s feeling. Ignis doesn’t need him to, though. Ignis has known Noctis their entire lives and he can see through it all. Ignis even manages to work out, to accept that maybe Noctis is trying harder on his behalf. He managed to work out that Noct really doesn’t want to see him go and that, despite everything, he certainly doesn’t want to fail his designated role. Things are shifting again. The stress is almost manageable now, with Gladio and his training sessions; with Noctis and his attempts to do better. Ignis almost thinks he can actually pull this all off. He sees his own struggles reflected in his- and isn’t this the most surprising development of all- friends.
Each of them carries a duty they are bound to, a future they cannot escape and that they did not choose themselves. Ignis’s stress, his fear, his often overwhelming uncertainty- they are not singular and unknown. These are the burdens they all carry, each heavy in their own right. Perhaps it will be easier, not to carry them alone.
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timeasmymeasure
FILL 5/5 Re: Angst Ignis
Date: 2017-03-30 05:32 am (UTC)His heart, at some point, begins to feel less like it’s trying to forcibly remove itself from Ignis’s chest. Eventually, he doesn’t need to count the breaths any more. Gladio speaks, he says things that are calming, things that Ignis doesn’t entirely hear. Ignis doesn’t open his eyes. He’s exhausted, utterly and quite suddenly. A mug of tea appears in his hands eventually. Ignis inhales the scent, something lightly floral. Something that seems to invoke that same calm as Gladio’s steady voice and careful, brief touches. Ignis doesn’t drink more than a sip or two. Ignis, eventually, feels himself sinking off to sleep. His mind is scrambled, detached, impossible to get a hold of. He knows that he should be going home. He knows that this is the last place he should be, passing out on the prince’s couch when his presence there would soon be unwelcome. He thinks he tries to say this, but he’s not sure the words come out. He’s not sure of anything but darkness.
Ignis doesn’t know how long he’s slept, but he knows it’s the first proper and restful sleep he’s had in a long time. The sun is up when he wakes and it is almost immediately apparent that he is alone in the apartment. There is a note left from Gladio asking (instructing?) him to get in contact when he can. It is the only piece of paper left on the coffee table. His dossier for Noctis is missing. The tea he mostly abandoned has been taken away. When he gets to his feet, heads to the kitchen to finish the cleaning, he finds it immaculate. He owes Gladio some words of thanks. He owes Gladio a lot, if he’s being honest with himself.
He comes to owe Gladio a lot more through the days that follow. He owes him for the training sessions he forces Ignis to resume and the words he forces Ignis to say. He owes him for whatever he says to Noctis that actually seems to get him on track. He owes him when it seems that the storm has passed, when meetings come and go and Noctis’s behavior has apparently improved. He owes him when his job seems, for the moment, to be safe. It’s a lot of debt to be in, but Gladio is pulling him out of the deepest depths again. Gladio is talking to him, about how much he hates this job sometimes, about how he feels like the weight of it is going to crush him. It surprises Ignis how much he finds in common with the shield, once they actually begin to speak, once their friendship becomes more than dutiful concern.
The same can be said for Noctis, who Ignis finds out has finally decided to take a little initiative. Who finally reads the papers Ignis puts so much work into at night, when he’s trying again to avoid rituals, when he’s even managing to do so as many nights as he doesn’t. Noctis doesn’t talk to him the way Gladio does, not really. He doesn’t admit to any of his stress, to anything he’s feeling. Ignis doesn’t need him to, though. Ignis has known Noctis their entire lives and he can see through it all. Ignis even manages to work out, to accept that maybe Noctis is trying harder on his behalf. He managed to work out that Noct really doesn’t want to see him go and that, despite everything, he certainly doesn’t want to fail his designated role. Things are shifting again. The stress is almost manageable now, with Gladio and his training sessions; with Noctis and his attempts to do better. Ignis almost thinks he can actually pull this all off. He sees his own struggles reflected in his- and isn’t this the most surprising development of all- friends.
Each of them carries a duty they are bound to, a future they cannot escape and that they did not choose themselves. Ignis’s stress, his fear, his often overwhelming uncertainty- they are not singular and unknown. These are the burdens they all carry, each heavy in their own right. Perhaps it will be easier, not to carry them alone.