[And Noctis is quiet for the longest moment, the tension so thick between them. There is a stinging in the corners of his eyes and there is a thick, heavy lump lodged so stubbornly in his throat. Ignis didn't need to finish the sentence because he knew what he was going to say, and it didn't matter if it happened to be right or not... it still stung.

And he didn't want to hear it or accept it.

He's searching his face for something he doesn't even know what he's looking for. Hands on his shoulders now, fingers curling against the material of his shirt.

Noctis wets his lips nervously.]

Status is nothing but a title. And it means nothing in my hotel room after midnight, when I'm with someone I care about like this.

[Voice smaller than he intended. Working through the lump in his throat was hard and he hated it.]

If I ask you what you're willing to give me now, would you answer honestly?

[Noctis wants to be selfish. He wants that hope. He doesn't want... logic to wedge between their hearts. Not after it took him so long to come to terms with this... particular ache in his chest.

The longing.]