[ A tiny, mean part of him wishes, wishes so much, that he can calmly say, as you say, Highness, and wash his hands of what happened and what will happen. Cut deep, in return for this surrender. But it is a very small part, and - well. He has always tried to be honest. And saying that would be false.

Noctis wasn't wrong. They are just two men, and Ignis did not give this, all of himself, to his King. He surrendered completely, despite all the reasons he still knows that he shouldn't have, to the man he's loved for so long his memories of a life before that are scattered and random. He loves so deeply that he can recall almost every detail of the decade and a half he's spent by Noct's side - of Noct's wishes and fears and hardships and victories. But he can not recall what he's wanted in the same situations, because only one person mattered, and it was not, it is not, Ignis. It was not, and it is not, the Crown Prince, nor the King. It was Noctis. It will always be Noctis.

Who is crying right now, and Ignis can feel the tears against his skin, along with the soft, chapped lips. He can smell the tears. So he raises his hands where they'd dropped after Noct pulled away from him. He can't bring himself to hold the slender, fit body to him again. But he can bring him up and, between kisses, gently thumb those tear tracks away from the delicate face. ]

I... [ It is important to say, after all. It's just that his ability to form words, to even think them properly, is broken somehow. But the importance matters more. ] I love you, too.