( he breathes out. the only thing that matters is noctis, his anchor, keeping him grounded to the moment. keith focuses on his words, lets him do the breathing for him, so he doesn't have to think about anything else. prompto can probably handle it on his own for awhile, right? he doesn't think about it, clears his mind, breathes shortly through his mouth. in, out, in, in, out. in and hold. out.
unconsciously, he presses up against noctis, keeping their chests together to better even out his breath. so much for undercover. the heels he's wearing make him a solid inch taller than noctis, and he has an arm draped over his shoulders, gripping on the sleeve of his jacket for dear life. the hand on his belly stiffens before turning, jerkily interlacing their fingers with a rough squeeze. in, out, in, in, out.
eventually, it passes. two or three contractions, all about twenty seconds in between each other - far from real labor, but the pain felt real enough. once keith feels better, a deep rooted exhaustion settles in, and he loosens his hold on noctis, taking a step back.
he keeps their hands interlaced, though. like this, it's almost an apology. )
... thank you, baby. I feel a lot better.
( but his forehead's sweaty and his feet feel like walking on daggers, and he feels dangerously close to crying for literally no reason at all? he's over pregnancy, thank you very much. )
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( he breathes out. the only thing that matters is noctis, his anchor, keeping him grounded to the moment. keith focuses on his words, lets him do the breathing for him, so he doesn't have to think about anything else. prompto can probably handle it on his own for awhile, right? he doesn't think about it, clears his mind, breathes shortly through his mouth. in, out, in, in, out. in and hold. out.
unconsciously, he presses up against noctis, keeping their chests together to better even out his breath. so much for undercover. the heels he's wearing make him a solid inch taller than noctis, and he has an arm draped over his shoulders, gripping on the sleeve of his jacket for dear life. the hand on his belly stiffens before turning, jerkily interlacing their fingers with a rough squeeze. in, out, in, in, out.
eventually, it passes. two or three contractions, all about twenty seconds in between each other - far from real labor, but the pain felt real enough. once keith feels better, a deep rooted exhaustion settles in, and he loosens his hold on noctis, taking a step back.
he keeps their hands interlaced, though. like this, it's almost an apology. )
... thank you, baby. I feel a lot better.
( but his forehead's sweaty and his feet feel like walking on daggers, and he feels dangerously close to crying for literally no reason at all? he's over pregnancy, thank you very much. )