he sets a countdown when keith leaves his side to do the right thing, the heroic thing -- paladins of voltron are stalwart guardians of the universe, defenders against evil and darkness, and keith leads them. noctis understands the price that kind of obligation and duty extracts out of him and the ones he loves, and noctis is ever by his side, even if he can't be physically there.
he looks out at the stars every night, thinking he could simply sense him among them even though he knows it's impossible, that he would be out of their galaxy by now, millions of light years away. it causes him anxiety sometimes, the fear that keith would get hurt and noctis would be too far to reach him, that he could perhaps will his magic to help him, somehow. he rubs at the jeweled pendant until he fears he'd rub the stone raw even if it's impossible, quietly fretting.
those were bad days, days when noctis can hardly get a wink of sleep, running through every possible scenario in his mind. the better days, he stays awake missing him, longing set so intensely in his chest he fears he would burst from the intensity of it.
one month is a long time. one month is thirty days is seven hundred and twenty hours is two point five nine million seconds that noctis will reach out and find nothing save for memories, when keith's clandestine side of his bed grows cold and all noctis has to comfort himself is a jacket he's pilfered, the fading scent of him on the pillows.
he sleeps with the pillow, every night.
today is the day keith comes home, noctis has it marked down right to the second, and he's immediately out of the royal entourage like a shot once the hundredth meeting of the day concludes.
keith is home. keith has to be. noctis has shown him the secret passageway leading to his chambers, his private quarters high above overlooking all of insomnia, the glittering crown city of the lucian empire. never has a second stretched to an eternity when he opens and shuts the doors and crosses over to the inner sanctum, the bedroom that they share.
and there he is, like one of the many dreams that noctis has -- how can he possibly have eyes for another, when keith haunts him so, when he's the only one who has his heart? noctis is loyal, single-mindedly so; the one who has his love will have it to the end of his days, which is perhaps why ignis has never quite approved of them. one day keith could leave and never return, and take with him the prince's heart. noctis loves too much, too fiercely, soft underneath the cool veneer of dispassionate neutrality.
and here, here is the man that he loves, the one he's waited all thirty days for, and he smiles, bright as the sun as he steps in, delighted to see him again.
however -- ]
Whoa, I didn't know your hair grew that long that quickly.
[ -- he comments, coming over to him as he blinks, taking quick but thorough inventory of his boyfriend, folding up the sleeves of his own black shirt and tugging his tie loose to relax. ]
And... is it me? Did you get bigger? [ and definitely hotter. and older. his eyes go from that incredible, muscular body (he's definitely worked out) to the scars, the tattoo. his smile fades to something confused. ] That tattoo, those scars --
[ how did he change so much in just thirty days? ]
no subject
he sets a countdown when keith leaves his side to do the right thing, the heroic thing -- paladins of voltron are stalwart guardians of the universe, defenders against evil and darkness, and keith leads them. noctis understands the price that kind of obligation and duty extracts out of him and the ones he loves, and noctis is ever by his side, even if he can't be physically there.
he looks out at the stars every night, thinking he could simply sense him among them even though he knows it's impossible, that he would be out of their galaxy by now, millions of light years away. it causes him anxiety sometimes, the fear that keith would get hurt and noctis would be too far to reach him, that he could perhaps will his magic to help him, somehow. he rubs at the jeweled pendant until he fears he'd rub the stone raw even if it's impossible, quietly fretting.
those were bad days, days when noctis can hardly get a wink of sleep, running through every possible scenario in his mind. the better days, he stays awake missing him, longing set so intensely in his chest he fears he would burst from the intensity of it.
one month is a long time. one month is thirty days is seven hundred and twenty hours is two point five nine million seconds that noctis will reach out and find nothing save for memories, when keith's clandestine side of his bed grows cold and all noctis has to comfort himself is a jacket he's pilfered, the fading scent of him on the pillows.
he sleeps with the pillow, every night.
today is the day keith comes home, noctis has it marked down right to the second, and he's immediately out of the royal entourage like a shot once the hundredth meeting of the day concludes.
keith is home. keith has to be. noctis has shown him the secret passageway leading to his chambers, his private quarters high above overlooking all of insomnia, the glittering crown city of the lucian empire. never has a second stretched to an eternity when he opens and shuts the doors and crosses over to the inner sanctum, the bedroom that they share.
and there he is, like one of the many dreams that noctis has -- how can he possibly have eyes for another, when keith haunts him so, when he's the only one who has his heart? noctis is loyal, single-mindedly so; the one who has his love will have it to the end of his days, which is perhaps why ignis has never quite approved of them. one day keith could leave and never return, and take with him the prince's heart. noctis loves too much, too fiercely, soft underneath the cool veneer of dispassionate neutrality.
and here, here is the man that he loves, the one he's waited all thirty days for, and he smiles, bright as the sun as he steps in, delighted to see him again.
however -- ]
Whoa, I didn't know your hair grew that long that quickly.
[ -- he comments, coming over to him as he blinks, taking quick but thorough inventory of his boyfriend, folding up the sleeves of his own black shirt and tugging his tie loose to relax. ]
And... is it me? Did you get bigger? [ and definitely hotter. and older. his eyes go from that incredible, muscular body (he's definitely worked out) to the scars, the tattoo. his smile fades to something confused. ] That tattoo, those scars --
[ how did he change so much in just thirty days? ]