[ Noctis is not one for games, or the more subtle nuances of conversation -- it's a large part of why he's loathed the politics of royalty, and why he's always been more at home with people who won't make a career out of circling around the bushes. He steps away when he realizes how close he is, his heart pounding at the proximity and a rapidly growing list of what he could do to him right here, right now.
No, they have to do this right, whatever this is. He can't mess this up the way he had in the last weeks and months of what they had before, when he seduced him and pushed past all the excuses even if he'd been hurting, as if what they did together could be a lasting balm for the heartache. It never went away, that heartache, and it could only work for so long.
So he frowns, uncertain. ]
You had a year together. [ Is dear friend supposed to mean something else? Or is that what it really, simply means? ]
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No, they have to do this right, whatever this is. He can't mess this up the way he had in the last weeks and months of what they had before, when he seduced him and pushed past all the excuses even if he'd been hurting, as if what they did together could be a lasting balm for the heartache. It never went away, that heartache, and it could only work for so long.
So he frowns, uncertain. ]
You had a year together. [ Is dear friend supposed to mean something else? Or is that what it really, simply means? ]