[ the dinner will be there when the moment has passed, but if dextera ignores that both of them are suffering now, then it might hurt their relationship in a way one missed meal could never. he’s grateful for this table, meant for families, probably shaped to allow people to hold hands for grace.
not exactly like this, but he’ll take what he can get. ]
…
[ “a few weeks,” he says. it’s not just this past week, and probably not just this most recent incident, either. dextera remembers the night that prompto came. guren mentioned that it sounded like a heavy conversation in the room over, even if neither of them could hear the specific words being said.
he covers noctis’ hand with his other, effectively silencing himself, but it’s an encouragement anyway for noctis to spill his heart if he needs to. ]
[ He can feel it, the way Dex's hand comes to rest on his, warm and seemingly all-encompassing. He squeezes his hand again -- he mustn't be selfish, Dex is having a terrible time of it, too; but there is comfort he finds in the other, as strange as it might sound. With Dex, Noctis can be more honest -- after all, he had promised he would make things right for Ignis and Prompto, that all they'd said won't come to pass.
Right now, he's not so sure he can fulfill that promise. He looks back at him, recognising just what Dex intends even without words. He wants him to talk, to open up, and with Dex, it's easy. It's easy because he's accepting, because he's likely been through worse times and perhaps he'll understand. It's easier to confide in Dex when he's hurting, too, and he swallows the lump in his throat. And so he tells him his story; the first person Noctis finds it in himself to be able to tell. ]
My dad died. A few months ago. He was killed after he sent me and my friends away. There was uh -- supposed to be the signing of a peace treaty. [ He pauses, his heart clenching. ] They turned on him, but I think he knew that was going to happen. I lost my home. And so many, many people, they uh. They died.
[ My people. The memory hurts, still, grief and anger burning a hole in his heart. His dad smiled when he sent them off, and Noctis knew no better. ]
It's... I should move on. [ Because that's what kings do. But he's a son, too, which makes things even more difficult. And times like these, with Ignis and Prompto on the other side of the proverbial glass, he has never felt more alone. ] I failed a lot of people. They got hurt because of me. And Luna -- uh.
[ The knot in his throat thickens. It's so hard, so hard to say, even to Dex. ] Anyway. Sorry. I should be better than this.
[ dextera listens, quietly. patiently. he listens like this is the most important story anyone has ever told him, and in a way, it is—he understands that noctis is sharing his pain, a pain that dextera knows all too well. losing someone. letting others die. it’s a familiar story, and dextera would be a hypocrite to judge noctis for even a moment of it.
“i should move on,” says noctis, but that’s not true. dextera feels like moving on is forgetting, and god, the last thing he ever wants to do is forget anything else, ever again. the next step is forgiveness. repentance. if dextera can offer even an ounce of that to noctis to help his heart begin to heal, he wants to.
so dextera listens, until noctis finishes his story, and then without missing a beat he shakes his head. there’s nothing urgent in it; he almost seems peaceful. like noctis has come to a confession, and he’s speaking to someone who doesn’t have the ability to judge.
he hurts, too, but this is noctis’ time, so he squeezes noctis’ hand. ]
…
[ without moving away too much, he shifts the hand on top to write a message between them, slow, so he’s sure noctis can read it. ]
[ He understands, and Noctis is surprised -- he's not sure anyone else would, and has less faith that they even could, because how can they? But Dextera listens, patient and genuine, the warmth of his hands something that Noctis is sure he will never forget.
He's sharing something that he should have kept buried, things that wouldn't have seen the light of day if not for the circumstances, and when he looks up at him he's struck by how serene he is, how gentle and accepting, like he really knows that he's gone through, the hurt that festers and that has no place to go.
The prince swallows, hard, struggles to maintain control of himself -- but once he's reached out for a connection, any kind of connection, there's no going back now. ]
[ how can he say it? he doesn’t want noctis to think badly of him. he’s terrified of losing the people he cares about to his sins, and there’s no way to lie now. he can’t go back on his understanding, even if he’s scared to admit it. although he’s shaking now, the grip on noctis’ hand stays secure, as if he’s taking comfort as much as he’s trying to receive it. ]
…
Loss. [ and, just as slowly, a second word. ] Guilt. It hurts. I understand.
[ There is a story here that Dex isn't telling him, something he keeps deep, deep inside -- he understands it to his bones when he sees the look in his eyes, the trembling in his hands. Even so, Dex holds on, like he's giving him comfort and seeking his own in return.
His heart hurts for him, too, because he wouldn't wish this understanding on anybody, a curse upon the heart, a burden on the shoulders. I don't do hugs, Noctis told Guren not so long ago, but in the face of pain this raw and unfiltered, he cannot help but take his hand and pull him into one, his arm sliding around fragile, shaking shoulders.
It hurts.
It hurts in a way that will hurt everyone else if they come to know it, and perhaps this is why Dex, too, keeps it to himself. Noctis pulls him into an embrace, and closes his eyes, offering what he can, everything that he can muster inside him. ]
I understand you, too.
[ He doesn't need the story to know the pain that spans soul deep, to recognise the same thing in Dex himself. ] If you ever need to say anything, to tell me -- I'm here.
[ noctis doesn’t need to hear it, no, but dextera feels like he should say it anyway—especially when noctis pulls him in like that, so comforting, just the two of them safe here together. he can’t be selfish. he can’t hide himself away when noctis has already exposed his pain, no matter how much he wants to.
he wishes he could be someone else, someone worthy of having a friend like noctis, but that’s not who he is. ]
…
[ he takes a long, deep breath—almost shuddering, with the beat of his heart—and pulls back, just enough to slowly sign out his explanation. these signs, he’s practiced in secret, without stringing the lessons together to make it obvious what he wanted to learn. he shows himself in front of the mirror, sometimes, and hears the archangel’s voice with the movement of his hands, as the magic of the town translates the signs for him.
it’s not a long or complicated story. just a painful one. ]
Noctis stiffens, but he doesn't let go of him. He won't. This is Dex's turn to tell him, his darkest, most painful secret -- and from the way he shakes, the way he understands without judgement, he knows in his heart that whatever he did, no matter how grievous and awful, that he hadn't intended for it, too.
Guilt. Pain. Dex knows this on a visceral level, and Noctis shifts only to look at him, wanting to know more -- he can't judge, not for this, and Dex needs him to be here more than he needs any sort of moralizing. He reads the words in his signs, clear as day.
He killed the world, and he's borne the burden of that guilt ever since -- how heavy it must be, on those lean, narrow shoulders. ]
[ it’s so hard to say, and for once, he’s glad he can’t speak. he thinks he would choke on his own guilt if he had to use his voice—and maybe that’s part of the reason why nothing comes out, even when he tries. his burden is too great, and there’s nothing he can do to assuage that as long as he’s here. ]
I tried to become God.
[ he sounds like a megalomaniac. he knows. that’s why it’s so hard—he’s guilty, he’s completely guilty, and the archangel was right. ]
I tried to run away. [ it’s a mixed story, because he’s relying on his feelings. that painful emptiness, that desire—that’s what motivates the movements he’s showing noctis, now. ] The world—
[ his hands falter for a moment, and he takes a deep breath. ]
[ Someone truly awful wouldn't be saying things this way -- someone awful wouldn't feel the depth of guilt and pain and hurt. They wouldn't be like Dex, and suddenly the pieces fall into place; how withdrawn he is, shy and reserved, and sometimes almost like he's trying to atone for something, or wait to be punished -- or even doing some of the punishment himself.
Noctis frowns, not in anger; he's trying to understand, to grasp the weight of what he's told him. He tried to become God, tried to run away, and the world died because he was selfish -- it doesn't add up, not really, and he reaches out, touches his cheek lightly. ]
[ and this—this is the stupidest, hardest part of all to say. the reason he’s attributed to himself, without memories to make sense of it, and the archangel telling him not to dwell on what he’s done. his sin has been committed and all he can do is atone, but sometimes, in his quiet hours, he can’t help but wonder what drove him to do it all. ]
Loneliness.
[ he’s just so lonely, even now. even with all his friends around, it’s like a void in his chest that he can’t fill.
when noctis touches his cheek, though, he visibly calms—grateful, immensely so, for the warmth of a human hand against his face. he touches noctis’ fingers back, just a brush, in the silence of waiting for noctis’ answer. ]
[ Loneliness. It clicks for him, then, the flood of understanding and empathy, and he rests his sword-calloused palm against his cheek with a soft sigh, his gaze soft and pained. How he knows this feeling, the profound, painful loneliness -- it's heavy, it's agony, a kind of death that bleeds you out little by little with no reprieve.
Loneliness is the most terrifying thing there is, because everyone suffers alone, and Dex looking back at him with gratitude makes his throat and heart tighten. Gods, how long has he held that in? He doesn't have the whole picture, but he gets the fundamentals. ]
I get it. [ He says softly. ] It's so much worse when you're surrounded by people, and yet all you feel is... empty. Like you're all alone. That kind of pain runs deeper than anything else. [ He hesitates. ] Am I right?
[ dextera nods, hard, tightening his fingers around noctis’ at his cheek. this time, he has nothing to say, because noctis is right. it’s hard. it’s the worst. the scar on his side throbs like it might decide to rip open even after fifteen long years of never truly healing, but if he focuses on noctis then he can ignore it a little longer.
he cries all the time anyway, and it’s not so different now, as hot, salty tears spill down his cheeks.
but he thinks of noctis anyway—how unfair it is for him to cry, when noctis is the one who’s truly suffering here. his pain is so fresh, dextera thinks. his father died. he can’t see his friends. dextera has so much here, he shouldn’t be selfish, but it hurts so much he doesn’t know what to do. he hugs noctis, with no other ideas left in him. ]
[ He won't leave him, he won't pull away. He can see how it's killing Dex inside, and even if he doesn't quite understand the details of it, there's one thing he knows -- his friend wouldn't do it just because he wanted to. Dex is not cruel that way.
So when he cries, he doesn't stop him, only offering up everything that he has to comfort him, rubbing his back in slow circles -- hurt is hurt, and perhaps selfishly Noctis prefers to deal with Dex's than his own. It's easier to set aside, to focus on Dex's pain, the tears that run down his cheeks. It's the first time he's seen him cry like this, but maybe this time it could be a prelude to healing, and to one day, eventually set things right.
He killed the world -- but how? It's a question for another day; right now, Dex needs him, and Noctis will be here. ]
[ dextera doesn’t know how. no one seems to know how, exactly, except the archangel—and a part of dextera still trusts that man, no matter how much he shouldn’t, and without anyone else to rely on for his memories it’s inevitable that he would hear the truth that’s given to him. he killed the world, and it’s the only explanation for the crushing guilt in his chest. ]
…
[ he breathes hard, wet and miserable, against noctis’ chest—but continues to sign against his back. ]
[ Noctis asks softly, because in Dex he finds his own comfort, just a little. It helps to not feel so alone, so cut off from the ones he loves. Dex is a dear friend, too -- one of the first friends he's made that he would always be grateful for.
He absorbs his friend's misery, wanting to comfort, to hold him close and remind him that he isn't alone. ]
[ noctis is so kind, so understanding—dextera wants to be there for him, too, and the kind of resolve that blooms in his heart helps him slowly, slowly calm himself while they’re together like this. he’s not ready to lift his head just yet, but noctis can probably feel his breathing evening out already. ]
…
[ he doesn’t say anything, for a moment, choosing instead to nod. it feels like nothing can fill this void in his heart, and maybe that’s true, but it doesn’t mean he has to give up. there are so many people here willing to be around him, and that means more than he can say. ]
Sorry. [ just one more time, and then he pulls back, wiping a hand across his eyes. ] I’m happy, but it hurts.
[ Noctis says softly, acknowledging his pain and his suffering. But he's here for him, right? They're here and maybe the first step is to know that neither of them are... all that alone. He squeezes his hand then, mustering a small smile. ]
Don't be sorry. There's nothing you have to be sorry for, here.
[ He's quiet for a moment. ] Were you trying to make amends?
[ he was. he is. just not here, because he doesn’t know how, but talking about this makes him remember all that time he spent dying to figure out what he should do. the archangel said to purify god. eliza said to give her his pure water. he was on his way, ready to show her, when he ended up here. ]
[ Something still doesn't seem right with what he'd said, even if Noctis can't put his finger on why. His hand comes to thread with his again, squeezing gently. ]
I really appreciate that you told me this. It must've been really hard for you, too.
[ dextera inhales, and breathes it out slowly. he’s calming down. he’s collecting himself, and once he does that, he’ll be able to offer noctis some of the comfort he’s been receiving.
he doesn’t know all the signs he wants to know, here, so he’s slow about his response. ]
Your father… [ a beat. ] I’m sorry. Losing family hurts.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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not exactly like this, but he’ll take what he can get. ]
…
[ “a few weeks,” he says. it’s not just this past week, and probably not just this most recent incident, either. dextera remembers the night that prompto came. guren mentioned that it sounded like a heavy conversation in the room over, even if neither of them could hear the specific words being said.
he covers noctis’ hand with his other, effectively silencing himself, but it’s an encouragement anyway for noctis to spill his heart if he needs to. ]
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Right now, he's not so sure he can fulfill that promise. He looks back at him, recognising just what Dex intends even without words. He wants him to talk, to open up, and with Dex, it's easy. It's easy because he's accepting, because he's likely been through worse times and perhaps he'll understand. It's easier to confide in Dex when he's hurting, too, and he swallows the lump in his throat. And so he tells him his story; the first person Noctis finds it in himself to be able to tell. ]
My dad died. A few months ago. He was killed after he sent me and my friends away. There was uh -- supposed to be the signing of a peace treaty. [ He pauses, his heart clenching. ] They turned on him, but I think he knew that was going to happen. I lost my home. And so many, many people, they uh. They died.
[ My people. The memory hurts, still, grief and anger burning a hole in his heart. His dad smiled when he sent them off, and Noctis knew no better. ]
It's... I should move on. [ Because that's what kings do. But he's a son, too, which makes things even more difficult. And times like these, with Ignis and Prompto on the other side of the proverbial glass, he has never felt more alone. ] I failed a lot of people. They got hurt because of me. And Luna -- uh.
[ The knot in his throat thickens. It's so hard, so hard to say, even to Dex. ] Anyway. Sorry. I should be better than this.
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“i should move on,” says noctis, but that’s not true. dextera feels like moving on is forgetting, and god, the last thing he ever wants to do is forget anything else, ever again. the next step is forgiveness. repentance. if dextera can offer even an ounce of that to noctis to help his heart begin to heal, he wants to.
so dextera listens, until noctis finishes his story, and then without missing a beat he shakes his head. there’s nothing urgent in it; he almost seems peaceful. like noctis has come to a confession, and he’s speaking to someone who doesn’t have the ability to judge.
he hurts, too, but this is noctis’ time, so he squeezes noctis’ hand. ]
…
[ without moving away too much, he shifts the hand on top to write a message between them, slow, so he’s sure noctis can read it. ]
I understand.
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He's sharing something that he should have kept buried, things that wouldn't have seen the light of day if not for the circumstances, and when he looks up at him he's struck by how serene he is, how gentle and accepting, like he really knows that he's gone through, the hurt that festers and that has no place to go.
The prince swallows, hard, struggles to maintain control of himself -- but once he's reached out for a connection, any kind of connection, there's no going back now. ]
What is it that you understand?
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…
Loss. [ and, just as slowly, a second word. ] Guilt. It hurts. I understand.
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His heart hurts for him, too, because he wouldn't wish this understanding on anybody, a curse upon the heart, a burden on the shoulders. I don't do hugs, Noctis told Guren not so long ago, but in the face of pain this raw and unfiltered, he cannot help but take his hand and pull him into one, his arm sliding around fragile, shaking shoulders.
It hurts.
It hurts in a way that will hurt everyone else if they come to know it, and perhaps this is why Dex, too, keeps it to himself. Noctis pulls him into an embrace, and closes his eyes, offering what he can, everything that he can muster inside him. ]
I understand you, too.
[ He doesn't need the story to know the pain that spans soul deep, to recognise the same thing in Dex himself. ] If you ever need to say anything, to tell me -- I'm here.
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he wishes he could be someone else, someone worthy of having a friend like noctis, but that’s not who he is. ]
…
[ he takes a long, deep breath—almost shuddering, with the beat of his heart—and pulls back, just enough to slowly sign out his explanation. these signs, he’s practiced in secret, without stringing the lessons together to make it obvious what he wanted to learn. he shows himself in front of the mirror, sometimes, and hears the archangel’s voice with the movement of his hands, as the magic of the town translates the signs for him.
it’s not a long or complicated story. just a painful one. ]
I killed the world.
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Noctis stiffens, but he doesn't let go of him. He won't. This is Dex's turn to tell him, his darkest, most painful secret -- and from the way he shakes, the way he understands without judgement, he knows in his heart that whatever he did, no matter how grievous and awful, that he hadn't intended for it, too.
Guilt. Pain. Dex knows this on a visceral level, and Noctis shifts only to look at him, wanting to know more -- he can't judge, not for this, and Dex needs him to be here more than he needs any sort of moralizing. He reads the words in his signs, clear as day.
He killed the world, and he's borne the burden of that guilt ever since -- how heavy it must be, on those lean, narrow shoulders. ]
What happened?
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I tried to become God.
[ he sounds like a megalomaniac. he knows. that’s why it’s so hard—he’s guilty, he’s completely guilty, and the archangel was right. ]
I tried to run away. [ it’s a mixed story, because he’s relying on his feelings. that painful emptiness, that desire—that’s what motivates the movements he’s showing noctis, now. ] The world—
[ his hands falter for a moment, and he takes a deep breath. ]
—died, because I was selfish.
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Noctis frowns, not in anger; he's trying to understand, to grasp the weight of what he's told him. He tried to become God, tried to run away, and the world died because he was selfish -- it doesn't add up, not really, and he reaches out, touches his cheek lightly. ]
What were you trying to run away from?
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Loneliness.
[ he’s just so lonely, even now. even with all his friends around, it’s like a void in his chest that he can’t fill.
when noctis touches his cheek, though, he visibly calms—grateful, immensely so, for the warmth of a human hand against his face. he touches noctis’ fingers back, just a brush, in the silence of waiting for noctis’ answer. ]
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Loneliness is the most terrifying thing there is, because everyone suffers alone, and Dex looking back at him with gratitude makes his throat and heart tighten. Gods, how long has he held that in? He doesn't have the whole picture, but he gets the fundamentals. ]
I get it. [ He says softly. ] It's so much worse when you're surrounded by people, and yet all you feel is... empty. Like you're all alone. That kind of pain runs deeper than anything else. [ He hesitates. ] Am I right?
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he cries all the time anyway, and it’s not so different now, as hot, salty tears spill down his cheeks.
but he thinks of noctis anyway—how unfair it is for him to cry, when noctis is the one who’s truly suffering here. his pain is so fresh, dextera thinks. his father died. he can’t see his friends. dextera has so much here, he shouldn’t be selfish, but it hurts so much he doesn’t know what to do. he hugs noctis, with no other ideas left in him. ]
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So when he cries, he doesn't stop him, only offering up everything that he has to comfort him, rubbing his back in slow circles -- hurt is hurt, and perhaps selfishly Noctis prefers to deal with Dex's than his own. It's easier to set aside, to focus on Dex's pain, the tears that run down his cheeks. It's the first time he's seen him cry like this, but maybe this time it could be a prelude to healing, and to one day, eventually set things right.
He killed the world -- but how? It's a question for another day; right now, Dex needs him, and Noctis will be here. ]
Cry it out. 'm here.
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…
[ he breathes hard, wet and miserable, against noctis’ chest—but continues to sign against his back. ]
I’m sorry. [ a quiet sigh. ] You too.
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[ Noctis asks softly, because in Dex he finds his own comfort, just a little. It helps to not feel so alone, so cut off from the ones he loves. Dex is a dear friend, too -- one of the first friends he's made that he would always be grateful for.
He absorbs his friend's misery, wanting to comfort, to hold him close and remind him that he isn't alone. ]
You don't have to be lonely anymore, Dex.
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…
[ he doesn’t say anything, for a moment, choosing instead to nod. it feels like nothing can fill this void in his heart, and maybe that’s true, but it doesn’t mean he has to give up. there are so many people here willing to be around him, and that means more than he can say. ]
Sorry. [ just one more time, and then he pulls back, wiping a hand across his eyes. ] I’m happy, but it hurts.
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[ Noctis says softly, acknowledging his pain and his suffering. But he's here for him, right? They're here and maybe the first step is to know that neither of them are... all that alone. He squeezes his hand then, mustering a small smile. ]
Don't be sorry. There's nothing you have to be sorry for, here.
[ He's quiet for a moment. ] Were you trying to make amends?
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…
[ he nods. ]
Nothing works.
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[ Something still doesn't seem right with what he'd said, even if Noctis can't put his finger on why. His hand comes to thread with his again, squeezing gently. ]
I really appreciate that you told me this. It must've been really hard for you, too.
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he doesn’t know all the signs he wants to know, here, so he’s slow about his response. ]
Your father… [ a beat. ] I’m sorry. Losing family hurts.