"Fifty-five hours?! Specs, dude, you should really take better care of yourself..."
Noctis wasn't exactly sure if this was full on reality. For all he knew, this could be some hallucination from the crystal, trying to ease him into being alright with a possible future so that he'll go and do his duty. If that were the case, the crystal was doing a damn good job of making this feel pretty damn real, though.
The lack of response for Ignis tells him all he needs to know: that he's fast asleep. Sleep didn't sound like a bad idea, honestly. When was the last time he got good rest—hell, even passable rest? For a few moments, he watched Ignis sleep, the small ride and fall of his chest, the differences in his features that age and scarring had brought. His chest hurt as he viewed his oldest friend; worn from age and duty...
Kicking off his own boots, and discarding his jacket on the floor like the slob he always proved to be, he found no reason to hesitate curling up with Ignis. It wasn't like they never shared a bed before, and that tent was always so cramped. More often than not he'd be stuck between two of the guys, spooning, so this wasn't much different.
Though, it was admittedly more comforting than any other time they had slept next to each other. Ignis' scent and warmth was so familiar, so soothing, and soon he found himself drifting to sleep himself. By morning, Ignis will find the prince curled against him, a fist loosely holding onto his shirt, his face buried against him chest. He certainly didn't disappear.
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Noctis wasn't exactly sure if this was full on reality. For all he knew, this could be some hallucination from the crystal, trying to ease him into being alright with a possible future so that he'll go and do his duty. If that were the case, the crystal was doing a damn good job of making this feel pretty damn real, though.
The lack of response for Ignis tells him all he needs to know: that he's fast asleep. Sleep didn't sound like a bad idea, honestly. When was the last time he got good rest—hell, even passable rest? For a few moments, he watched Ignis sleep, the small ride and fall of his chest, the differences in his features that age and scarring had brought. His chest hurt as he viewed his oldest friend; worn from age and duty...
Kicking off his own boots, and discarding his jacket on the floor like the slob he always proved to be, he found no reason to hesitate curling up with Ignis. It wasn't like they never shared a bed before, and that tent was always so cramped. More often than not he'd be stuck between two of the guys, spooning, so this wasn't much different.
Though, it was admittedly more comforting than any other time they had slept next to each other. Ignis' scent and warmth was so familiar, so soothing, and soon he found himself drifting to sleep himself. By morning, Ignis will find the prince curled against him, a fist loosely holding onto his shirt, his face buried against him chest. He certainly didn't disappear.