Nautilus Doll
Summary: Real or not, he prefers that she doesn't leave his side ever again.
I've been playing Lightning Returns again, which means these two are swimming in my head.
When she steps out from the chaos he thinks he is dreaming.
The flowing pink strands of her hair, curled over just one shoulder is the first thing that catches his attention. Next is those bright blue eyes, containing a spark he doesn't recognize. Her clothes are dark, no longer bright, but there's something cheerful about them; the design, the way she moves in it.
Her heel clicks on the stone with her first step forward, bending forward as she does, as if she is tip-toeing when really she looks to be skipping.
She tip-toe skips right up to him before squatting down, the petal-like flaps of her cape blooming out around her. "What do you plan to accomplish by laying there? You've seen Etro's recording, haven't you? The Savior is going to come soon, don't you want to see Yeul again?"
Yeul... he had thought that he wanted to see her again, before everything that happened. Before he met Lightning, before she sent him to Serah, before he... before he had fallen in love with the Savior's sister. And now he was hallucinating.
Serah - this girl - was leaning forward until her stocking-covered knees hit the ground, one hand extended, cool fingers pressing against his forehead. "Oh. Are you heartsick?" Her fingers curled until the back of them were touching his skin. "That's quite a fever you have. You know, people still die from disease. How are you suppose to see Yeul again if you die before the prophecy can be fulfilled?"
His eyes close, unable to care about what she is saying. Noel only wants her to continue touching his forehead with her bare fingers, to run a gloved hand through his hair as he hears he scoot forward over the gravel. He feels those fingers run down the side of his face, picking his head up and then laying it back down, but not on the cold floor.
The fabric of of her skirt is soft against his cheek, her skin warm against his jaw. If this is a dream: her being here, his head resting in her lap... he doesn't want it to end. "Serah," he murmurs into the dark lace, raising one hand up to touch the stocking covering her knee. "I'm so sorry." He can feel his eyes burn as he says the words, trying to stop his voice from cracking.
"Hmm? Noel, Serah is-" A tear slips from his cheek onto the few inches of her exposed thigh. There are fingers in his hair a moment later, curling through the strands. "It's okay. I can be Serah, if you want."
His own fingers curled around her knee, clutching to her as he pressed his head further into her lap as he cried for his loss again.