adelphoi | (no subject)

(no subject)

[ she's cold.

like the last time alisaie woke in one of these pods, at first, that cold is all she can feel. it sinks deep into her flesh, clings to her bones, and though she does not feel faint or hypothermic when she stumbles out of it, she nevertheless feels deeply chilled. her mind and memory feel fogged, and as she stands amidst the rows of pods she is confused, disoriented, until -

like a heavy weight, the realization crashes down.

alisaie does not think, she only moves, sweeping past the endless rows of pods as quickly as her trembling, aching legs will carry her, her heart beating wildly in her throat. she must get home. she must find them.

how long as it been? memory flashes in the back of her mind, images of home, of where she has been and what she has been doing and gods, the entire time she had forgotten this place, she had forgotten her home here, and peo, and prompto. a cold hand squeezes her heart tightly, painfully, as years of longing begin to set in at once, for though she had not remembered him then, she remembers him now, and all the time that has passed since last she set eyes on his beloved face. she's desperate now, to throw herself into his arms, but moreover she is.. afraid. how long has she been asleep? what if he is sleeping as well, no longer here? what if he has moved on? panic clutches her insides relentlessly.

but she does not need to get home. when alisaie turns the corner to the exit, he's there - she would recognize that hair anywhere, even if it looks a little less ostentatious than usual (and a little darker?), and her heart, that had been pounding hard, now stills. ]

Prompto -

[ his name feels so sweet on her tongue, riding on a rasping breath, but it's only the briefest of moments before she's moving again, surging into his arms, her hands clasping his jaw to pull him into a hard, needy, desperate kiss. ]

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[ how can he do this? now? she has wanted this since the moment they arrived, since everything disintegrated between them. he says that he loves her, but she has not felt loved. she has felt avoided, unwanted, she has felt every day that he would be more comfortable if she were not here, if he did not have to worry about some forgotten wife from another world.

maybe she should have more faith in him. in their love. but everything he had promised, everything they had promised, has fallen down around them, and alisaie has never possessed the same unshakable hope that he has. she is a realist. a cynic. sometimes terrible things happen. sometimes good things come to an end before we want them to. mayhaps that is what this is, and she has to accept it, however her heart rails against it, however desperately she loves him.

he says he loves her, but it does not feel real. he says it because he thinks he should, because his memory demands it of him, but his warmth toward her is gone, he does not smile for her, he does not touch her, even in passing, he cannot even watch her change, or trust her to see him unclothed. their intimacy is gone, and while she aches for it desperately, he has only ever seemed.. distant. ashamed. like he is afraid to let it end, afraid to say what must be said. that he no longer wants her. that he no longer loves her.

and now, he cannot even touch her. he pulls away so completely, dropping his hands from her body, and she feels.. cold. alone. that terrible tightness in her gut returns, grasping with icy claws, and alisaie feels hot tears fill her eyes suddenly and fully, blinding her, choking her.

there can be no salvaging this, can there?

more time. more time. there will never be enough time. it's over, isn't it? all that they promised one another, everything she was to him, it is.. gone.

alisaie inhales sharply in an attempt to keep her sob at bay - he has seen her cry far too much. she slides off of the table and onto her feet, hastily righting her dress, her face hot with shame and humiliation. to be rejected, and by him -

wordlessly, she moves away, her arms clutched to her abdomen, and hurries toward the stairs and up to their bedroom, snapping the door shut behind her. ]

Alisaie, wait, please, wait —

[ But she doesn't wait. As soon as his hands are off of her, she leaves, up the stairs and away, and Prompto watches her go with growing horror. What has he done? Is this..the end? Has she had enough, and now his last chance to salvage their love is gone? Just like that?

He thought...if he had just a little more time...

A strangled cry cuts from his throat as he slams a fist down on the table. No, it can't end like this, not after everything they were — are. He has to believe they can still be the people they were on their wedding day, that they can still carry out the vows that they made. Even if...even if he's already broken them, and broken everything else. He just — he just wanted to do things right —

Tearing up the stairs after her, he skids to a stop in front of the door, and hesitates a moment — but only one, and then he's pressing forward, throwing the door open and stepping into the room.

It can't end like this. It can't. ]

[ in perfect honesty, she hadn't expected him to follow. he's been so passive, so meek - even their brief, passionate fight lasted the briefest of moments, she would have expected him to remain downstairs, lost in his indecision and confusion the same as he has been these long weeks.

but it doesn't matter. she does not want him to see her cry, but it's too late for all that; besides, she is moving, her canvas bag tossed onto the bed stuffed with toiletries while she rummages in her dresser drawers. her heart pounds and her eyes burn, hot tears on her cheeks that she scrubs away as best she can, breathing through her barely controlled sobs. this is hard. so hard. so much harder than she would ever have thought it might be. it feels like loss, like grief, and while prompto is alive and well, he may as well be someone else entirely, the wonderful, perfect, amazing thing that existed between them is dead, and she mourns it deeply.

briefly, her eyes flicker toward him when he enters, but she looks away just as quickly, crossing to the bed to jam a handful of clothing haphazardly into the canvas sack. ]

You want time. You shall have it.

[ she says sharply, though not venomously. the fight has gone out of her, the heat and poison washed away by resolute anguish. there's no need to hook her claws into him, it will not change anything, and he does not deserve it - but she cannot remain here any longer. ]

[ She's packing.

But of course she is. Why would she stay here? Where he's made it clear she isn't welcome or wanted? It's only then that he begins to understand all his treatment these past few weeks has telegraphed to her, though he didn't mean any of it to come across as the way that it inevitably has. Still, she has to know...she has to know he still loves her, right?

Right?

All of this...it couldn't have convinced her otherwise. Could it have?

The answer seems plain by her actions alone before she even speaks. Her movements are weary, not filled with the fire that had come a few minutes before. She's tired. He's tired, too. But instead drawing them together and giving them a chance to talk without barbs, it only pushes them further apart. How did this happen? Any of this? How could he push her, the woman he loves, his wife, to this point?

But she packs, and he feels powerless to stop it, because her mind is already made up. Still, he has to protest. What if she walks through that door and never comes back? It can't end like this, it can't — ]

Please, Alisaie, don't do this. Don't — don't go. I-I...I need you here...

[ But he isn't so much talking about the house. His breath shakes out of him as he lifts a hand to his chest, where it curls over his heart. ]

[ alisaie stops, briefly, her hand on the bag. ]

That.. that is not fair.

[ he cannot say that now, now, he cannot tell her he needs her after he's spent so much time pushing her away, keeping her at a distance. she has tried so hard to be patient, to wait for him, to give him space and time but it has not made a difference, they are no more healed today than they were when they first awakened from stasis. maybe a few weeks is not enough time for him, maybe he needs months, or years, but she cannot endure the ghost of what they were while he takes his time to figure it out. every moment spent in this home, sleeping beside him, smelling his skin on the sheets, looking into his face every day -

he does not mean to be cruel in asking her to stay, she knows he must be feeling desperate, because he's kindhearted, he's concerned, he wants to fix what is broken between them because he feels that he should, he does not want her to be hurting. but he also cannot give her what she wants. what she needs.

she cannot stay. though it tears her heart in two to go, her mind is made up; lingering here with him will not make his path more clear. if anything, she is only distracting him from what he needs to do. she shakes her head and sets to work again, stuffing a few more items of clothing into her bag until it's full. her voice trembles, breathless, cracking between words. ]

Time is what you need. Not - not me.

[ it aches. it stings like a hot poker in her soul. ]

I have to go. I cannot.. I cannot stay here, like this -

[ it's so difficult to look into his face, especially when her own are red-rimmed and watery, when just looking into his eyes is enough to break her heart, to make her knees weak and threaten her resolve to leave, but she must give him at least this much. ]

Take.. however much time you need to - to think, to understand what you want, whatever you need to do - you know where you can find me.

[ in the place they shared once long ago, the little apartment she found in wyver. there will be memories there, too, but older and faded, bearable. mayhaps the time alone to reflect will be good for her, too. lifting her bag over her shoulder, she moves quickly past him. ]

[ He wants to insist, to push, to fall on his knees and beg, because he fears that if she walks through that door and leaves their home, that she will not return. The fear of being alone is the most paralyzing thing of all, though if he's being honest with himself, hasn't he been alone this whole time? Hasn't he isolated himself from her despite living beside her, just so he could attempt to figure out this tangle in his heart that involves her? Why has he been so goddamn stubborn?

And yet even if he realizes that, he still doesn't have any answers, and Alisaie deserves them before he weeps at her feet and clings to her skirts. She deserves...so much that he has not been. Even if he can figure himself out, will she want him back?

You know where to find me.

And there she goes, shattering his heart along with her, and for a moment, he can only stand there and stare at her retreating figure, frozen in place, horrified of everything he stands to lose. Because he will lose just that if he loses her — everything. She is his whole heart and soul. What is he without her? ]

W-wait —

[ But he doesn't follow her this time to stop her. Instead, he scoop Peo up from off the floor where he skitters nervously, hurries after her, and —

Pushes the pup into her arms. ]

H-he...h-he'll wanna keep you company.

[ If any of them should be completely alone right now, it's him. ]

[ she hopes that he does not follow her this time, because it is difficult enough to leave as it is, her heart and soul urging her to stay here, to stay near him, while her mind reasons that she cannot. it's for the best. if they have even the slightest hope of salvaging even a workable friendship from this tormented mess.. they must do it alone. he must do it alone. but she's so weak, if he asks her to stay again, she isn't sure she can go through with it.

so when his voice rings out again she falls still and closes her eyes, her heart sinking in her breast. she can't resist him when he's hurting, even when she's upset - with her anger burned away she feels only guilt, gone is the desire to sink her teeth in and fling barbs into his soul, and she's ashamed for having felt that way at all. he'll ask her to stay again, and she will relent.

but instead he's pressing peo into her arms, and alisaie doesn't respond at first. she's surprised, glancing from the dog, up to prompto's face again, searching for an answer. ]

Prompto.. no, that isn't..

[ it isn't right.

neither of them want to be alone, but alisaie, of the two of them, is far more accustomed to it. she isolates herself when she is hurting or afraid. but prompto - he thrives on the company of others. it will be difficult for him to be without any people, she can't bring herself to take with her the friendly face he needs to get by. imagining him here alone, heartbroken - she cannot stay, but leaving with peo.. it does not feel right. she shakes her head. ]

You - you will need him more than I will..

[ She's right. He knows she's right, and yet he still can't imagine keeping Peo here and sending Alisaie away alone, because it is no easier for him to picture her heartbroken and alone than it is for her to picture him heartbroken and alone. But he caused this. The reason this chasm has come between them is because of him, and desperate though he is to have her stay, maybe...time apart is what he needs, to help him figure things out. Even Peo might distract him too much, or reassure him more than he should.

No, he...he should be the one who is alone. Completely alone. He made his bed, and he needs to lay in it, by himself.

He leaves Peo in her arms, eyes still upon her own, before he steps back and away. ]

Please. Take him with you. S-someone's gotta watch out for my best girl for me, y'know?

[ His mouth tugs up at one corner, his best attempt at a smile, though it is fleeting, and gone all too soon. ]

...It's okay. [ A beat. ] It's okay.

[ He'll be okay. ]

[ she wants to argue it further. taking peo from him feels like punishment, and for all she had been angry before, for all she had wanted him to suffer, the feeling did not last long. she does not want him to punish himself simply for the sake of it. what would that accomplish?

but there's no reason to debate it any further, his mind is made up, and they're both too tired to continue arguing. alisaie dips her head in assent, cradling peo closer to her chest. best girl, he calls her, and it's like a knife to her heart; it's all she can do not to flinch and recoil at the sound of it, how it both stings and soothes her. if he means it, truly means it, then she should feel better, have hope, but she's.. just far too frightened that he's going through the motions simply for the sake of it, that once she is gone from his everyday life he will realize that what he thinks he feels is not real. that his love for her is gone, and what was left was only obligation, and the burst of emotion tagging along on a rush of old memory.

she cannot know for sure. only he can figure it out. in time.

alisaie opens her mouth to speak, but there's nothing left to be said, nothing she can manage - so in the end she only nods, eyes down, and turns to quickly hurry away and down the stairs, leaving their once warm, happy home in lonely silence. ]

[ ...And then she's gone.

The first night passes in a stupor. For better or for worse, he is numb. He is exhausted and raw and wrung-out and tired, and so for a long, long moment, he can only watch the space that she occupied before she walked out that door, lost in stupor, wondering if she will come back. Hoping that she will come back. She will, right? They've fought before, but they've never...separated. Not like this. Even after the gala, they stayed inside the same house and managed to make peace after a handful of days. Even when she had been recovering from the burns to her leg, he had stayed with her at the hospital. Even...even when he'd been killed, he pulled through death itself to return to her side, to cling to this wonderful, miraculous thing they built together.

So...she'll come back, right?

But she does not come back. And slowly but surely, the silence settles on him. The house hadn't been loud before, with how strained their relationship has been, but he still could feel her presence in the walls. She was still there, and there was Peo to bridge the gap between them. Maybe...he had been too hasty in insisting she take the dog. But...no. This was his choice. He chose to be alone, and not just during their last argument.

He's been making that choice all along, hasn't he?

He's been stupid. So...stupid. Believe their bond would mend itself didn't mean he shouldn't have taken any action, but his guilt had gotten the better of him and made him completely useless. He'd been afraid to talk to her, because of how poorly she'd taken the news of what had happened back home, but...he should have still tried. She was waiting for him to take initiative that he never took, and he rested too long on a thing that was wearing thin. And now she's gone. Maybe...maybe forever. Because how could she ever want him back when he's been so completely horrible to her?

So the second day he cries himself dry. He despairs, fears, he regrets. He contemplates the worst. That she will never come back, that he will be alone for the rest of his miserable life, and he'll have no one to blame but himself for throwing away something so good, so perfect. He looks at his photographs. He reads the letter she left for him, in case she ever returned to stasis without him. He touches every corner of this house that they lived in together, that they cherished. Where they had laughed and smiled and loved and lived, where they had talked the night before they had wedded, where they held each other and kissed. The walls are steeped with their love, with memories.

He picks up his phone, dials her number, his thumb hovering over the send button. But he never goes through with it. He's such a goddamn coward, he can't even call his own wife, but the fear of rejection, of losing it all in no uncertain terms, is too great for his heart to bear.

And then time crawls on. He doesn't fall into a pattern, because the only patterns that he knows here were built around her. Instead he sleeps at odd hours and forgets to eat, he runs out of groceries and loses his key. His situation with Alisaie would be reason enough to fall to pieces, but he also hasn't really...processed what happened back on Eos yet, either. That weighs on his shoulders, too. They saved the world and the sun returned, but Noctis is dead. Would he ever wake up from stasis? Should he ever wake up with stasis? What the hell does he do now?

He misses everyone so goddamn much, and while the dead tundra of Niflheim could give this a good run...he's never felt more lonely in his life than he does in this moment. It's really no different than any other moment, but it hits him particularly hard, and he just — he can't —

He can't go on like this.

It's been several days since he's found any tears to cry, but they return in full force now, and he sinks down onto the kitchen floor, burying his face in his hands, hiding his face from the world, even if there is no one around to see him cry. ]

[ returning to their old home is not as easy as she had anticipated. it's a far sight better than their treehouse, where the memories were much stronger and visceral, where prompto was, skulking about like the ghost of the man she loved, but there are still memories here. this was the first space they shared together, lived together. this was where he held her while she suffered, her body attacking itself, failing, dying. quite a lot happened here. it was their starting point for building their life together.

still, she can breathe more easily. the weight on her chest has lessened tremendously, the air about the place is not so oppressive as it had been at the treehouse. peo is nervous, uncertain, but he settles in well enough, keeps her company, and sleeps tightly against her at night, licking the tears from her face when she weeps. she's lonely, terribly lonely, but alisaie has a natural tolerance toward the feeling, she's isolated herself more than once to process or protect herself, and this is no different. besides, she has work to keep her occupied, and she spends long hours reading.

and thinking. of course she thinks. she reflects on what has passed between them, on her own mistakes and failures, but in the end, she does not act. she cannot act. alisaie has so often been the initiator between the two of them - she is decisive and forward, she knows what she wants, but this.. this is not a choice that she can make for him. prompto's heart is his own, this decision is his own, she cannot tell him to love her, she cannot force them to be as they once were, loathe as she is to admit it - strongarming the world to be what she wants it to be is generally speaking one of her specialties. but this this time.. this thing cannot be rectified with a sword or a sharp tongue.

this, as he had said, needs time, and alisaie is not a patient girl.

but she waits, nevertheless. she waits for him to come to a decision, or perhaps she is waiting for him not to come to one. perhaps she will live out the rest of her days here, in this apartment, perhaps he will never tell her the words she wants to hear. he does not call, or text. he does not come to the apartment. with every day that passes she worries that.. mayhaps he never will.

still, she has to live, and when she had packed it had been hasty. she does not have all of her clothes or books or belongings, she does not have even half of them, and while alisaie isn't a particularly materialistic girl, she could.. definitely use more than three sets of undergarments. and her books. she needs those.

so in the evening she climbs the tall path to the treehouse again with peo bounding at her side. he knows where they're going, he's excited to see prompto again, like as not this separation has taken its toll on him more than she can guess - to have them back from stasis only to be so tense and unhappy.. it shows. it will do peo some good to see prompto again, though a part of her still hopes that he might not be home when she arrives, she would prefer this to be as painless as possible.

but there's a noise before she's even fully in the door - the sound of prompto's cries.

alisaie reacts instinctively and immediately, she doesn't stop to consider that it's not all that unlikely that he would be upset. this is difficult and painful for them both. but her muscle memory kicks in, and her heart aches - regardless of his feelings toward her she still loves him, and she has ever been protective of his heart; that he should be hurting so badly chafes her very soul.

dropping her bag at the door, alisaie rushes to the kitchen and sinks to her knees, folding him into her arms without hesitation. ]

Hush, now -

[ ...He must be dreaming now. He's passed out, too exhausted or lightheaded and how he's dreaming or hallucinating, because Alisaie is here. But she isn't here. She left. He drove her away.

Yet he hears her voice over the sounds of his sobs, soothing and familiar and warm. He feels her arms close around him and the gust of her breath against his hair. He feels her warmth, her gentleness, and the feeling that envelops him is so powerful that it splits his heart in two once more.

Through red-rimmed eyes, he turns his head up just enough to look, to see if the phantom he wants so desperately to be real is actually there. ]

...A-Alis-saie?

[ She...she came back? ]

[ no matter what becomes of them, no matter how far apart they drift, if he chooses to remain only her friend, or even her acquaintance, she will always be powerfully protective of him. she cannot help it. he is so strong, stronger than even he himself knows, but his heart is a tender, gentle thing, soft and sweet where hers is hard and unyielding. it is something she must preserve and protect, even if she is guilty of harming it, she cannot bear to see him like this. ]

I'm here.

[ she says, smoothing his hair back from his ruddy face with one hand, though she still holds fast to him, scooping him close to her body while peo wags his tail nervously and whimpers, uncertain of whether or not he should approach. ]

Try to breathe, my love. Deep breaths, with me.

[ Try to breathe, my love.

Her voice reaches around his heart and holds fast, the lifeline that he needs to pull himself out of this. He no longer has to question that this is real, because of course it is. He doesn't deserve her, he doesn't deserve this, but still she's here, holding him, soothing him and cradling him close. His arms wind right back around her, holding fast like his very life depends on it, his face pressing to the crook of her neck, inhaling her skin, his heart railing within his ribcage.

It's strange. How he could forget her for ten years and never miss a beat, and yet once he remembered her, losing her for even one weak his nearly crushed his heart.

He held her when she vented her tears, and now she does the same for him. Tired as he is, it doesn't take him long, but by the time he finally starts to slow and breathe deep, settling breaths, her collar is soaked with his tears, his skin warm and flushed, his weight heavy against her as he leans on her for support. ]

I-I-I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry...

[ He manages between those steadying breaths, his fingers in her clothing tightening still. ]

[ it isn't a difficult thing to do, to hold him like this, to cradle him near to her heart while he expends his grief. she's done it a hundred times before, and he has done it for her. they were there for one another long before they became romantically involved, he was her dear friend, her confidante, and even once they became more he was still those things to her. they were the best of friends, they laughed together, they mourned and wept together. this is easy. natural. even if it makes her heart ache.

and so she rests her cheek to his hair and rocks gently, back and forth, back and forth, one hand smoothing over his cropped hair, the other against his back, her thumb rubbing soft, small circles between his shoulder blades. like she had before, she knows he need only get it out, expel the pain through tears and sobs, and while it won't fix what is broken it will give him a chance to breathe, and he will feel all the better for it, able to think more clearly. alisaie closes her eyes and rides it out with him, silent save for the occasional soft, soothing whisper.

but even the most violent of storms must come to an end, and he soon begins to quiet against her, though she still keeps him close. ]

It's all right.

[ she says softly, her voice low, and smooth, yet still sad and despairing. even if what happened is not his fault, or hers, it still happened to them, it is still happening, and they are both hurting deeply, in places that are difficult to heal. ]

You are not to blame..

But...b-but I...

[ Maybe it's not his fault. Not what brought on the situation in the first place, at least. And maybe it's not even his fault that he forgot, that he had feelings for someone else, that he kissed her. But these things still happened. And he can blame being disoriented but the suddenness of all these revelations when he awoke for the first couple of days of his inaction. But everything that's happened since then...his inability to move in any direction, the tension, their fight, their kiss...that was all his fault. He did those things. Even now, he has no real excuse for why he hasn't tried to call her. Once again, he let fear control him.

Wasn't he supposed to have let that go a long, long time ago? Why is he always so damn eager to fall on his sword?

Slowly, he pulls back, but only just far enough that he can look into her eyes, so she can see the raw honesty in his own.

He isn't running away. Not this time. ]

But I-I am. I...I-I didn't talk to you. I pushed you away. I w-was afraid you didn't trust me anymore, or I thought I had to figure it all out before I could give you an answer, I-I haven't even told you what happened back home...I was so afraid of losing you...

[ So afraid it crippled him. But not anymore. He can't do this anymore. ]

[ he pulls back to look into her face, and she meets his gaze with her own - for the first time in weeks it feels like he is really looking at her, truly seeing her, and it feels.. so good. it might only be the surge of emotion, he might backpedal right back into frightened inaction again, but it still feels so good to feel seen, noticed, like he's looking at her and not their past, not at what he wants to see.

alisaie exhales a soft sigh, her brow creasing tightly, and she leans to gently touch her brow to his. ]

You will never lose me.

[ surely she has assured him of this before. no matter how they might argue or hurt one another, even if they cannot regain what they once were, if his love for her has.. dwindled, he will still never lose her. she will always be his champion, she will always care for him, protect and defend him. they might need this time apart, but no matter what happens between them, now or in the future, he will always be a part of her heart. there is no denying or erasing that. ]

I promise you.

[ Her words are simple, straightforward, and really, in his heart of hearts, he knows them profoundly. He only needed to be reminded, and hearing them now, when he is most vulnerable and raw...they connect to him so deeply that he shudders, his expression crumpling, a whimper of relief passing his lips as his grip on her tightens even more. ]

A-and you'll never lose me. I-I'm sorry...I'm so sorry it took me so long to figure out how to say that...

[ But in the end, it's all that matters. Will it hurt, if Cindy wakes up, and he has to break her heart? Yes. Yes, it will. Will he feel guilty? Yes. But he will accept that, should that day come. He will meet it head on and do right by her as much as he can. Because when all is said and done... ]

It's you, Alisaie. It's a-always you, only you. You...mean the whole world to me. I-I love you, I love you more than anything.

[ And that's all that matters. This isn't how he should have told her, and he still has such a long ways to go in making things up to her. But he will not wait any longer to tell her, and he will never make her question again. Though his heart still aches, it is resolved now, his will resolute. ]

[ there's no denying that those words soothe her, that they assuage a deep fear in her gut, the terrible thought that she might have lost his love forever. it has weighed on her for weeks, since they first awoke, since she kissed at him and he looked at her with unfamiliar eyes, as if he was looking through her. past her.

yet still there is misgiving in her heart. it took them so long to get to this point, it took him so long to decide it - what if he does not truly mean it?

it isn't fair to think that, she knows. all this time she has been urging him to make up his mind, to decide what it is that he wants, what it is that he feels, and here she is questioning it. yet having lived in fear for near on a month now, it is difficult for her to take it at face value, to absorb it. still, there is one thing she knows, for sure - ]

I love you, too. I always will.

[ she whispers, her hands now resting on his chest, but for the sweetness of her words her voice is still.. strained, and sad, her eyes down. the last thing she wants is to hurt him more when he is already so raw, so she must be delicate. ]

But are you.. sure?

[ Is he sure?

He doesn't answer right away, even though he already knows his answer. He lets it sink in, past his impulses and instincts, and lets it settle on his mind, because it's an important question for her to ask. If she's asking him this, it's because she needs to, so even if it hurts, he will give it its due.

He breathes in and out, his chest rising and falling beneath the pressure of her hand, and when he glances back up to meet her gaze again, he doesn't speak. They've...always been much better at communicating through physicality than words, anyway. So he lifts his hands to her face, leans in, and kisses her in a way that is somehow gentle and tender and sure and passionate all at once.

Yes. Yes. He is sure. He will always be sure. He will never doubt again, never doubt their bond, their love, so unbreakable and strong that it could move mountains. It is unconquerable, even after all they have been through, and so he demonstrates that to her with clearest way he can, his lips parting over hers, his thumbs rolling softly over her cheekbones. ]

[ when he hesitates at first alisaie feels her chest tightening with apprehension. whatever answer he gives will surely be the true one, he understands the weight of this, they both do, he must know that he cannot placate her with a half-truth, or a kindness meant to smooth her feathers - she needs to know, well and truly, what he wants. she has waited so long, gods, she has waited, these weeks have been terrible and grueling, they have felt like years while she pined for an answer that would not come. for better or for worse, after this, she will no longer need to wait.

but his response comes not in words, as she had expected, but in the warmth of his hands framing her face, the touch of his callused thumbs, and more, in the press of his mouth to hers.

for the first few moments it feels unreal, and alisaie can feel a tingling warmth sweep down her body. their recent kiss had been so hot and needy and incredibly painful, and more than once this week apart she had thought that it might have been their last, that it would be all she had to remember their love by, but now comes another, sweeter kiss. it's warm and welcoming, but strong and assured, like strong hands supporting the broken pieces of her heart it lifts her up, fills her empty spaces with a warmth she has not felt in.. far too long.

a soft sound escapes into the kiss, a quiet whine, low and desperate, and soon she is recovering, sliding her arms over and around his shoulders to hold close to him, tilting her head to slot their mouths perfectly together as she knows they fit. the world collapses, narrowing to this tiny space in the world, to this hard kitchen floor, to the late afternoon sunlight slanting yellow through the swaying curtains, to the touch of his hands and the pressure of his mouth, irresistible, perfect. ]

[ Her answer to his kiss is crucial, and for those few moments that she doesn't react, his heart is pounding, railing, sounding like a drum in his ears that she must surely be able to hear. What if this isn't the answer she wants? Should he have explained first? Is it asking too much, too soon to kiss her now? But then she's responding in kind, her arms winding around his shoulders and holding him near, and something like a dam loosens between them at last, spilling forth brilliantly.

His relief is palpable in the way he sighs into the kiss, his fingers threading into her hair, while his other arm winds secure and fast around her waist. The world falls away, and it's easy to forget that they are sitting on their kitchen floor, late in the afternoon, in the outskirts of Wyver. All that matters is that they are together, and that this kiss is deep and warm and perfect.

There is no doubt in his heart or mind in that moment. This is right. This is where they belong, both of them, and he will never be afraid to fight for this again.

He doesn't break this kiss off, but he does murmur against her mouth as he continues to kiss her, some of his words lost between them, some of them a little clearer. ]

I love you. [ A kiss. ] I love you. [ Another kiss. ] I love you. [ And yet another, long and lingering, as he breathes with her, infinitely connected. ]

[ he cannot understand how sweet those words sound to her, how she has ached to hear them, really hear them - not the hollow shell of them repeated by rote, not angrily spat, but true and full and fierce. she breathes them in as he speaks them like she cannot live without them, soft, quiet sounds are lost between their mouths, and alisaie feels dizzy and disoriented, lost in a warm, cradling fog.

she laughs, she cannot help it. there's a giddiness in her belly that flutters and flips, and hot tears fill her eyes, spilling down her face, wet against his cheeks, but still she's laughing, breathless and soft and intensely relieved. at last he is not saying what he feels he should say, he's not trying to fill the space or grasp at something he does not fully understand - he's come back to her with all that familiar warmth and love and sweetness. ]

I was so afraid..

[ she whispers, her mouth dragging over his, her nose bumping and nudging his own affectionately, sweetly. she cannot get enough of him. ]

I-I was so sure.. that you were gone..

[ And he can't get enough of her, the warmth of her body and her kiss and her breath so achingly familiar that he finds more tears to cry, though this time they are only tears of joy, of relief, of love after fearing a thing so precious lost. This doesn't fix what he did, or erase the hurt that he caused her, and he still has a ways to go to make up for that. He knows. But this is an important first step, the most important first step, and he will not rush it, but savor everything about it. ]

I know. [ He murmurs, low and soft, privately. It's been so long since they've been able to do this, share such an intimate space, and it's a thrill all over again, to be so close to someone, to know them as well as he knows her. ] I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I did.

[ And he'll own it. He won't make excuses. He is done making excuses. ]

But I could...never not love you.

[ It just shouldn't have taken him so long to figure out how to tell her that. Shivering, he kisses her again, his eyes fluttering shut so he can sink fully into the feeling of it. ]

[ she falls silent again for a few more long moments to appreciate the kiss, and it lasts, it lasts for what feels like hours. she presses to him and explores his mouth as if it is something new to her, because in many ways it is. he still tastes the same, he still feels the same, but the shape of his mouth has changed a little as he's grown, and so has hers, and there's the scratch of his stubble that is a new and different sensation to grow accustomed to as well.

but gods, he smells so good, he feels so warm and strong, and kissing him is like a dream.

by the time she breaks to breathe again her mouth feels raw and almost sore, but it's a lovely feeling, and she can't pull her mouth from his even to smile, and speak again. she shakes her head. ]

I hurt you, as well. I'm sorry, Prompto.

[ he saw the ugly parts of her that she does not like him to see, and while the fight felt natural and raw and almost necessary in some ways, she still feels guilty for having hurt him, for having flung such poisonous barbs with the intent to hurt him. it was unkind, and to him.. ]

I should have been more patient, I know..