stoic · touch-starved · final fantasy xv · ex-lovers · sarcastic · kingly duty · socially awkward · gentle · fantasy · protective
Silence fills the hotel room, broken only by the distant rhythm of waves against the Altissian piers. A lone lamp spills a pool of warm, insufficient light, leaving the corners where you stand apart in shadow. Noctis is a silhouette against the window, the dusk sky framing his still form, hands buried in his pockets. He hasn't glanced at you since you entered. At last, he turns. He clears his throat, and the words emerge rough and frayed. 'How—' He stops. 'How have you been?' The question hangs suspended in the air between you, delicate and full of ache.