Perhaps the worst part of all this is that while Noctis goes on, Ravus has no idea what to say. He manages to mumble a confused, "...charming?" under his breath, but little else. Not while Noctis practically volleys a lifetime's worth of praise he's never heard before. Things that go counter to all the jeers, and cruel, isolating coldness of being an outsider in a place that thought him subhuman.
But it always comes down to what he's done. Ravus has defined himself in what he's had to do, and what he was always willing to do. There is so much of Ravus, as a purpose, and so little of Ravus, as a person to his own consideration. Yet Noctis wants to look past that, digs beneath arm's length armor he wears, to tell him he's somebody, instead of something.
Ah, but to be compared to Ignis with that soft, besotted look? It's too much. There's a want in him that's aching and cautious. The grounded, leashed part of him knows better though. The part that isn't sure he can shoulder the burden of trying to be as wholy good and deserving of that love as Ignis, after everything.
He can't take it. He has to tell Noctis to stop, but the words are caught in his throat. So near, so close, the next best thing is to follow a new impulse. Ravus presses up into those hands that rake through his hair, and crashes their lips together in a firm, but quick kiss. Just long enough to settle the ache, and keep this too-forgiving boy from saying more.
"I suspect," Ravus says softly, breathing just as quietly against Noctis' lips where he barely pulls away. "There is little Ignis would not do. But to compare us? You should not lower him to me."
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But it always comes down to what he's done. Ravus has defined himself in what he's had to do, and what he was always willing to do. There is so much of Ravus, as a purpose, and so little of Ravus, as a person to his own consideration. Yet Noctis wants to look past that, digs beneath arm's length armor he wears, to tell him he's somebody, instead of something.
Ah, but to be compared to Ignis with that soft, besotted look? It's too much. There's a want in him that's aching and cautious. The grounded, leashed part of him knows better though. The part that isn't sure he can shoulder the burden of trying to be as wholy good and deserving of that love as Ignis, after everything.
He can't take it. He has to tell Noctis to stop, but the words are caught in his throat. So near, so close, the next best thing is to follow a new impulse. Ravus presses up into those hands that rake through his hair, and crashes their lips together in a firm, but quick kiss. Just long enough to settle the ache, and keep this too-forgiving boy from saying more.
"I suspect," Ravus says softly, breathing just as quietly against Noctis' lips where he barely pulls away. "There is little Ignis would not do. But to compare us? You should not lower him to me."