Chapter 3
Cause and Effect
Few things in life brought Cor joy.
It was a sensation he was unaccustomed to feeling. To feel joy meant to have a weakness, for something that brought joy could also bring misery, and could bring a man down entirely.
But, oh, Cor was so certain that it was joy he felt when he sat there in a chair in the empty training room, Ignis sitting in another chair across from him. When the sun was going down and the city was dark, when the horizon was orange and dusty, as the low lights made shadows sharp and long, and Cor and Ignis murmured to each other quietly, Cor's hands clasped and set atop his knees and Ignis' hands resting atop his primly crossed legs.
Just talking.
No one aside from Titus had ever really come to Cor for no reason at all, just to talk about nothing.
It had come about so randomly. The third week into Ignis' training, Cor had just glanced up and noticed that Ignis had lingered. Gladio had already gone, and the other students were quickly leaving. Cor froze up like a deer beneath Ignis' sharp eyes, and Ignis stared quite complacently at him until they were completely alone.
Ignis took a step towards Cor, and Cor thought he might have swallowed a little as Ignis advanced on him.
Elated and petrified all at once.
Cor finally gathered himself, stood up straight, and said, as blankly as possible, "Something on your mind, Ignis?"
He had, after all, told Ignis to come to him if he had any concerns.
Ignis shifted his weight, perhaps a bit more anxious than his unwavering gaze gave away, and after a hesitation Ignis supplied, "I was hoping...that the Marshal would give me an honest opinion on my progress. Gladio does nothing but praise me, and I know he'd still do that even if I were falling on my face every day. I'd ask you for a less flattering view."
Less flattering?
If only Ignis knew that Cor would have gladly fawned over him as much as Gladio did if it wouldn't get him a 'go straight to jail' card.
But Ignis was asking for honesty, and Cor was very adept at that. His job was to train students and give them the facts as they were, and if Ignis wanted constructive criticism then it was Cor's duty to offer it.
So Cor pondered for a moment, and said, lowly, "You truly are excelling. You're very early into training, so I cannot yet offer much more than what I've seen so far. Offensively, you're doing exceptionally well. Defensively, however, there is much room for improvement. You rely too much on your speed. Evading and preventing blows is crucial, yes, but I would like to see you focus as well on blocking blows that do manage to land. I don't expect you to be a shield, but there are only so many times in a battle that you can duck and dodge. When you falter, you need to have a system in place for defending yourself against force. I realize you have taken more to the daggers, but the javelin will be your best line of defense in such a situation. I'd like to see you use it more often for protection. When the time comes. As I said, you're extremely early into training."
Cor meant it, every word, and particularly meant that last bit where he said he would like to see Ignis use the pole arm more, because...
Ahem. Well.
Ignis bowed his head, and said, deeply, "Thank you, Marshal. Please, don't hesitate to berate me. I need the criticism as much as praise."
"Noted," Cor droned, and waited for Ignis to take his leave.
But there was no leave taken, and Ignis lingered.
It was around then that Cor's heart started hammering, and his stomach started squirming.
It was because Cor was suddenly so nervous that he asked, weakly, "Something else, Ignis?"
A short silence.
Ignis tilted his head suddenly, looked Cor up and down, and then smiled, in that soft, pretty way he sometimes did. A snort, and then Ignis shook his head and breathed, "No, I suppose not. I'll be on my way. Good evening, Marshal."
Ignis turned on his heel and walked to the door, as Cor's throat clutched up on him when he tried to respond.
Ignis was long gone and the door long shut before Cor finally grunted, "Night."
Was there anyone more pathetic than him?
There was that hope again, rising up, because Ignis had hung after class and seemed to have no real good reason to, and Ignis' observant gaze upon him was always nice. Cor wasn't polishing himself up for nothing, dammit, and Titus would have laid into Cor then for having choked.
Ignis must have thought Cor dumb as a rock, with no sense at all beyond battle, and that night Cor punched his pillow and cursed himself for his own gracelessness.
But the next day, after class, Ignis lingered again.
Could it be possible that Ignis was feeling the same? That day on the stairs, when they had crashed into each other, the day Cor had fallen; that jolt he had felt, like lightning. Had Ignis felt that way, too? Wanted something to go on, some hope, wanted there to be a reason for all of this. Needed Ignis to feel the same way, because otherwise Cor really was just being inappropriate.
Needed vindication, and only Ignis could give him that.
It was the end of April, just ten more months, give or take, and then Ignis would be seventeen in February.
Too long and yet far too soon.
Another uneventful day of training, and the others students were gone, as once more Ignis and Cor stood alone. This time, before Cor could inquire if there was a problem, Ignis was the one to take a step forward, and ask, entirely at random, "Marshal, is it true that when you were nineteen you became intoxicated and crashed the Captain's car?"
Horror.
Utter horror was what Cor felt then, washing over him and submerging him, and he was so stunned, so shocked, so taken aback, so aghast, that he felt his mouth actually drop open and his eyes fly open wide.
Ignis' lips twisted, as he fought to keep his smile from widening.
Cor stared at Ignis for what felt like eternity, as his brain short-circuited.
When Cor's throat unlocked and he was able to speak, all he could manage, in a gruff rumble, was, "Been speaking to the Captain, have we?"
Titus really was working overtime in the shadows.
Made Cor terrified as to what else Titus might have been whispering to Ignis.
"From time to time," Ignis said, so breezily, no care at all in the world. "He finds me here and there in the halls and stops for a quick chat."
Great.
Cor had the sense then to ask, "And the Captain is offering you personal information, is he, with no reason?"
Ignis seemed quite undaunted by Cor's stiff voice and stern face, flighty as he ever was, and waved a hand in the air to reply, "Ah, not precisely! He was asking me how training was coming along, and when I expressed that I hoped I could one day be even a fraction as adept as the Marshal, the Captain told me not to worry about that, because you're just a normal man, too, under it all. I found that hard to believe, which is why he attempted to offer me proof, I suppose."
Horrified and yet also extremely elated, Cor pressed, pitifully, "And do you believe him?"
Needed Ignis to see Cor as a normal man, not a legend, not immortal, because that was the only way Ignis would ever really see him.
Ignis smiled a bit, gave Cor a quick look-over, and replied, "I don't imagine the Captain would lie to me."
"No," Cor clarified, in a voice that might have cracked, "Not about the car. Do you believe that I'm just a normal man?"
Ignis had to know, that was imperative.
A short hesitation, as Ignis' smile was ever present, and then Ignis said, honestly, "Not at first. It's a foreign concept to me, but the more I'm around you, the more I can see it. For example, an Immortal could never be blushing quite like the Marshal is right now."
Blushing?
Was he blushing? Holy shit—
Naturally, that made his face redder, surely, for Ignis snorted. Hadn't even felt it, because the ice water of horror from Titus' shenanigans had dulled the heat.
To distract Ignis from Cor's pathetic blushing, Cor pressed, "I imagine that the Captain left out the bit where he goaded me to drink well beyond my limits, and then gave me his keys and asked me to drive, because he didn't feel like it."
Ignis' smile did show his teeth then, as he snorted a laugh, and Ignis seemed oddly content then. Reassured in some way. Relieved. At ease. As if, for the first time, Ignis truly was looking at Cor and Titus and seeing them for what they actually were; just two normal if not hopeless men.
They weren't legends. They were men who did stupid things like any other man, who felt like any other man, no matter how good they were at hiding it.
And although most of the guys from the old days already knew that story, Cor did add, softly, "I trust that whatever the Captain tells you is for you alone."
Ignis bowed his head, very seriously, and said, "Of course, sir. I would never. Not even to Noct or Gladio."
Cor believed him.
It wasn't that Cor cared about anyone knowing about something stupid he had done as a teenager, no, just wanted to know that Ignis understood that what Titus said to him could never be repeated, because Cor doubted that Titus would only be telling Ignis harmless old stories before long.
If Titus continued whispering to Ignis, it needed to stay private.
They fell into a silence then, as Cor stared at Ignis and wished more than anything that it was already February.
It wasn't, and so Cor asked, as he had the day before, "Something else, Ignis?"
Ignis took that as his hint to leave, and bowed his head once more.
"Good evening, Marshal."
This time, Cor managed to say, "Night," before the door closed.
Ignis smiled back at him, and was gone.
Cor immediately pulled his phone out, and called Titus. Titus answered on the first ring, as he always did, and before he could even say a word, Cor had barked, "Keep pushing and you're gonna wake up one day with no brakes in your car."
He hung up without Titus ever getting a single word in, and tried to settle down.
He wanted to strangle Titus, but also wanted to hug him, because Cor was a wreck up in his head in every possible way.
The following day, Ignis looked at Cor differently during training. Seemed far more relaxed, less intimidated, less wary. As if Ignis were less frightened of Cor being his teacher, because now he was steadily grasping that Cor wasn't really all that different than anyone else.
...eh. Guess Titus had earned the hug instead of the throttle.
That day, however, Ignis didn't linger. Nor did he the following day, nor the day after.
It was two more weeks before Ignis stayed late again, and Cor was happily looking forward to it, even if it meant damage to his pride and ego again. Nothing could come of it yet, but Ignis staying after class could set the stage for next year.
When Ignis was the only one left in the room, Cor spoke first that time, to tease, "Well, what story did you hear about me this time?"
Ignis' face lit up, and Cor was grateful for that, because it seemed that Ignis really was accepting Cor as normal.
"Never fear, Marshal," Ignis reassured, "No story this time. Although I admit I am curious for stories about the Captain, as he so gladly hung you out to dry."
Oh, had a hell of a lot of them.
But...
It was stupid and childish, but to be perfectly honest Cor didn't want Ignis to stay after class only for them to talk about Titus. Cor wanted Ignis' attention on him, only him, and speaking of Titus wouldn't accomplish that.
Ignis saw his hesitation, no doubt, as sharp Ignis saw everything, and Ignis quickly added, "But perhaps another time."
Cor gave a 'hm', and fell still.
He didn't exactly give Ignis a reason to stay, didn't talk to him and try to keep him interested, because he just didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to do. He was clueless, as clueless as Titus claimed, and had nothing to offer Ignis in the way of interesting conversation.
Cor was a loner, and the thought of trying to chat Ignis up was terrifying.
Precisely why Titus was interfering.
Ignis eyed the door to Cor's Crownsguard office, on the opposite side of the room, and said, out of nowhere, "You work very hard, Marshal. I hear you're here all hours of the night."
"I wonder from who," Cor griped, and Ignis just smiled.
Titus was trying his best, but nothing was going to happen if Cor couldn't get his vocal chords working around Ignis long enough to snag his interest.
Cor tried, "You're one to talk. You work more than anyone else in the Citadel, I think. You never seem to stop moving. I'd be shocked to discover that you actually sleep."
Ignis snorted, and offered, "My duties are far less trying, for that. How you and the Captain continue to function under such stress is remarkable. I can understand why the populous finds it hard to believe you're not truly an Immortal."
Cor might have puffed out a little in ego, for Ignis' smile seemed rather more like a smirk.
And yet, for the both of them apparently desiring to speak, they both seemed to pull back at the last moment, and it was Ignis that time who said, "I'll leave you to it. Good evening, Marshal."
Cor watched Ignis go, drearily, and uttered, "Night."
In all other things, Cor lacked no nerve, but Ignis had him stumbling over his own feet.
The end of June.
Ignis had been staying after class several times a week, and yet nothing had ever really come from it conversation wise. Ignis lingered, Cor fidgeted, they uttered a few words of small talk, and then Cor panicked and sent Ignis on his way before he made a fool of himself.
Yet Ignis kept staying, and it seemed to Cor that there was something more Ignis wanted to say but was either afraid to or simply unaware of how to express it.
Cor's wishful thinking again, maybe, but he wanted to know why Ignis hung around like that with no reason to.
So, on the very last day of June, Ignis stayed again, and this time Cor was determined to figure out why.
They were alone, Ignis was relaxed and at ease, and Cor steeled himself.
Cor tucked his hands nervously into his pockets, and then gathered up the courage to ask, tentatively, "Ignis. Might I... That is, I am curious, as to why you— Well. Is there something on your mind that you're having difficulty expressing? There must be a reason you linger. I would hope you realize that you can confide in me."
He was gonna puke any second, he knew it, the way Ignis was smiling at him.
It was stupid, but Cor hoped to the gods above that Ignis would just come forward and say, 'Because I just like being near you.'
Would have given anything.
Ignis did take a step forward, and then another, as Cor's heart leapt up into his throat, and then Ignis was smiling brightly enough to show his teeth.
What Ignis finally said, however, was nothing Cor expected.
"Forgive me, Marshal. I suppose I was just trying to initiate conversation with you. You see, the Captain suggested that perhaps I should...keep you company, from time to time. He said he worries sometimes that you lock yourself away and never interact with anyone."
What. The. Fuck.
Oh, Titus—!
That man was going to be the death of Cor. Swore then and there that when he saw that bastard again, Cor was breaking his nose.
Cor felt the awful rush of heat to his face, knew he was blazing red and there was no way to hide it, and yet even so he tried to keep his face blank as he muttered, "Is that so?"
"It is."
"And dare I ask why you think you need to obey such a ridiculous request?"
At that, Ignis' brows lifted, he seemed genuinely puzzled, and was quick to reply, "I didn't think it was ridiculous at all, Marshal. If I had, I wouldn't be here. I suppose I was rather eager to get to know you a bit more. We will be...working more closely together in the future, when Noct is king. No? I thought perhaps— Well. Forgive me. I didn't mean to be a bother."
Ignis bowed at the waist, turned around, and clearly meant to leave.
Cor was furious at Titus, absolutely, but was also terrified that Ignis was walking away, and he didn't actually seem very in control of himself when he abruptly called, "Ignis— Stop. I didn't say that."
Ignis halted immediately at Cor's command, as training had instilled in him, and he was very quick to turn back around to face Cor.
Their eyes locked, and Cor was quite relieved to see that Ignis was smiling again.
Yet Ignis was still hanging there very close to the door, and Cor couldn't let him go, couldn't, not like that, and he looked quickly around. He went to the wall, grabbed two of the folded up visitors chairs, and brought them forward. Ignis watched him like the hawk he was, and when Cor had the chairs sitting an appropriate distance apart and facing each other in a half-circle, he swept his hand forward.
"Sit."
Ignis obeyed, as always, and sat. Cor sat down as well, and was certain that his heart was hammering so furiously that Ignis was able to see the pulse racing in his neck.
It was silly and entirely unprepared, and Cor had no idea at all where to even go from here, and so he just said, out of nowhere, "Ignis, I'm curious. Tell me, why do you continue to look after Noctis so? Has Regis ordered it of you?"
Didn't know why he asked that. Perhaps, in the back of his mind, he was still concerned that Regis had other motives for Ignis. That old thought he had once had, that perhaps Regis was guarding Ignis as a future betrothal.
Couldn't have handled that. Wouldn't know what to do with himself.
Ignis seemed taken aback, startled, and yet recovered quickly and gave an odd, breathy laugh.
Cor felt himself swallow when Ignis suddenly lifted one long leg and crossed it elegantly atop the other, knowing his eyes had helplessly followed the motion.
After a moment, Ignis said, in that deeper voice Cor liked, "It's odd. I never really thought about the 'why' too much. Now that you ask, I can't really find a way to explain. I suppose I took King Regis' words a bit too seriously in my youth, and now I've developed a bit of a routine. I dislike my routines being interrupted. I'm a creature of habit. I dislike change. Abandoning Noctis—whatever would I do with myself? I've taken care of him for so long now that I fear he's incapable of taking care of himself."
Cor scoffed, and grumbled, "That's sort of the problem, don't you think? How will he ever grow up if you continue to mother him?"
Ignis smiled, softly, and uttered, "I know I need to let him out from under my wing. But I would miss him, and, well... More than that, I suppose, it makes me feel useful. Noct is the only person that really seems to need me. I enjoy feeling needed. I don't excel elsewhere. I don't have much to offer anyone aside from Noct. There's nothing I can do that someone else in the Citadel can't do better."
Cor snapped his head up, met Ignis' eyes, and said, more forcefully, "That's not true."
Ignis seemed hardly convinced, and Cor wondered if Ignis was aware of the gossip about him, how many things he might have heard. If Ignis doubted himself because everyone else did.
Ignis shouldn't have been there, everyone said, and perhaps Ignis had started believing it.
All Cor could think of to say then was a rather lame, "Don't doubt the King. You're precisely where you're meant to be. Don't think your absence wouldn't go unnoticed by those around you."
How Cor felt, anyway.
Ignis just smiled over at him, and said, "Thank you, Marshal."
A long silence then, but not uncomfortable.
How odd!
They sat there, alone, and spoke to each other. The first time that they had ever been alone with each other and engaged in actual conversation. All these years, so close, and yet they were having their very first casual talk. It was funny; Ignis had been around Cor for nearly Ignis' entire life, and it wasn't until right now that they bothered to get to know each other.
Never had there been need nor occasion.
It was surreal, bizarre, because Cor looked at Ignis then, grown and handsome and so mature, and Cor still so clearly remembered the very first day Ignis had come into his life, and Noctis' life as well.
Meeting Ignis that very first time.
A day as any other.
Noctis had been not yet two, barely walking, and Regis had let him stumble around the Citadel hallways, Cor walking along with them and conversing, because even in father-mode Regis still conducted business. Noctis had always been a handful, though, and had bolted around a corner abruptly, and before Cor and Regis could round it they had already heard the collision.
A jolt of fear from Regis, who adored Noctis so, and Cor had barely been able to keep up with him when he had darted forward and around that bend like a tiger. No fear for long, though—when Cor had came around, Regis was standing still, a somewhat familiar looking clerk standing before them, and Cor had immediately seen Noctis, standing there and clinging to another small child, a year or so older than he was.
The man had bowed at the waist, glasses glinting in the light, and Regis had been all smiles after that, as Noctis and the other child were hugging each other, because when two little kids ran into each other Cor supposed that was their natural reaction. He wouldn't know.
Regis had stood there for a long while, watching them, and Cor had already seen the wheels turning in his head.
At last, Regis had looked at the man, and extended his hand in greeting, saying, 'You look familiar to me.'
The man bowed once more, Regis' hand clasped within his own, and replied, 'Scientia, sire. I work as an accountant in the executive branch.'
Regis' eyebrows had flown up in recognition, and he had said, 'Ah! Yes. You came from Tenebrae recently, did you not?'
'Yes, sire. It's an honor to work for the King of Lucis.'
Regis was smiling away, glancing down at the children, and by then Noctis and the other child had plopped down on the floor together and were babbling nonsense to each other.
'And who might this young man be?'
'Ignis. My nephew. He came along with me from Tenebrae. I'm his guardian.'
When Regis glanced up, curiously, the question was obvious, although Regis was too tactful to ask aloud.
The man saw the inquiry, and added, 'I'm afraid his parents passed away recently, shortly before we came. He's my sister's. I was the only family left to look after him.'
'Condolences,' Regis and Cor murmured at the same time, and the man nodded his head gratefully.
To change the subject, Regis had looked down once more, smiled, and said, 'Well! They've taken to each other quite well, haven't they? Were you on your way somewhere?'
'To work, sire. I was on the way to drop Ignis off at the daycare.'
Cor smirked a little then, because it was easy to see in Regis' eager face and bristling stance exactly what he was thinking, and sure enough, when he spoke again, it was to say, quickly, 'I'll look after him, for the day. If you have no qualms. They can play together for a bit longer.'
The timid-looking man seemed quite startled, looked a bit breathless and anxious, and Cor knew it must have been a bit overwhelming to have the king himself asking to play babysitter.
In the end, though, the man nodded his head and sputtered, 'Oh— Of course, your majesty! I— Well. It would be an honor. Truly. Is his majesty certain it wouldn't be a bother?'
Regis waved a hand, airily, face lit up, and he was quick to assure, 'Not at all! Noctis doesn't have many other children around to play with. I imagine little Ignis here doesn't, either, when he's not in the daycare. I'll enjoy it. Really. You need not worry. Come pick him up whenever you like. We'll be around.'
Nothing else to do but agree, because Regis did what he wanted and was too hardheaded to accept 'no' for an answer.
Cor had just tagged along for the ride when Regis picked Noctis up in one arm and Ignis in the other, carting them off down the hall, beaming away.
If Noctis had attached himself to Ignis immediately, then so had Regis, and Cor watched quietly as Regis roamed the Citadel with the children, chest puffed out and smile so wide it was surely hurting his face. Everyone stopped and asked about Ignis, curious as to why Regis suddenly had two small children rather than one, and Cor could only shake his head to himself when Regis merely teased, 'Noctis has a brother. Didn't you know?'
And well...
That was that, as they said.
Ignis had always been there, and always would be.
Ignis had fallen upon them from absolute nowhere once, and in that moment it felt as if Ignis had once more been thrown atop Cor from some other world. Meeting Ignis for the third time, in that sense. Regis' decision that day had inadvertently shaped Cor's life now, and that was why Cor was so certain that it wasn't a mistake. Ignis was meant to be here, he had to have been, and so Ignis shouldn't have doubted himself.
They spoke just a bit more that evening, as Cor pressed Ignis a little on the issue of spoiling Noctis, and the sun was setting by the time Ignis said farewell.
Cor sat there long after he was gone, exhaling shakily and unable to believe he and Ignis had actually conversed at long last, and it wasn't even anything grand.
Still felt remarkable.
Cor didn't really expect Ignis to stay again for a while after that, after their brief misunderstanding, and was thoroughly surprised to see Ignis was indeed hanging out again the very next day.
This time, Cor wouldn't falter.
When they were alone, it was Ignis who went to the wall, grabbed the chairs, set them up (a bit closer than Cor had), and said, with no room for argument, "Sit, Marshal."
Cor sat.
Had Ignis asked Cor to jump, Cor would have, and should Ignis have demanded Cor jump off the building then, he probably would have done that, too. Ignis' spell was powerful, and Cor was very tired of attempting to fight it off.
That time, Ignis spoke first, and asked, "Marshal, I've always wanted to ask. Why did you go into that cavern? They say you were trying to prove you couldn't be killed."
Cor glanced up at Ignis through his lashes, hands clasped, and asked, "What, you don't think that's right?"
Ignis seemed to hesitate, and then lowered his eyes before uttering, "I don't know. That's why I ask."
"Hm!"
Cor stared at Ignis for a while, as Ignis looked away, abashed, and tried to gather up his words.
Hard to think straight, when Ignis was there.
"I don't think I was trying to prove that I couldn't be killed," Cor began, as he shifted his weight anxiously. "I suppose... Rather, I wanted to prove to myself that I was serious about the path I had chosen. To defend the line of Kings with my life. If I wasn't willing to march in there and try, then where else would I hesitate? If I was afraid of dying, then how could I ever hope to guard the King? I didn't want to be better than anyone else. I just wanted to feel that I was better after leaving the cavern than I was before I entered."
Ignis had lifted his eyes and was staring at him again, and seemed a bit shocked.
As if Ignis hadn't really expected Cor to answer at all, anymore than Cor had ever expected Ignis to ask.
Couldn't exactly remember the last time anyone had actually sat down and talked to him, just talked, trying to get to know him. Asking him things like that. Everyone assumed they knew all there was to know about Cor, after all, because Cor the Immortal was humorless and dry and had absolutely no individuality outside of battle.
And yet here Ignis was, trying nonetheless to eke out a personality from behind the stone wall.
Cor was mesmerized by Ignis, and was struck by how beautiful Ignis' voice suddenly was when he leaned forward then and asked, breathlessly, "Were you not frightened?"
Cor balked.
Frightened?
No one had ever asked him that. Everyone had been so impressed, so taken aback, so shocked, that no one had ever asked him if he had been afraid. Had asked him how he had done it, how it had felt, what it was like, what his plans afterwards were, but not that. Even Clarus, upon his return, had just said, drolly, 'You're a fearless little bastard, aren't you?'
No one had asked Cor if he had been frightened, because no one had ever thought that Cor could feel fear.
After a moment of silence, Cor finally muttered, lowly, "At the time...no. I was so sure I could do it. I was overconfident. I wasn't afraid when I walked in, but when... In that last battle, when I realized how in over my head I was, then I began to feel nervous. I know it may sound strange, but I wasn't afraid when I was inside. It was afterwards, when I was out, when I was safe, that I felt frightened. I can't explain why. And I know now, were I to go back there and try again today— I do think that this time I would be afraid."
Ignis stared at him very intently, face soft and lips twitched up in a smile, and Cor waited for the disbelief. After all, he was Cor the Immortal—he wasn't supposed to feel fear. 'You're not afraid of anything,' they said. He wasn't allowed to be afraid.
But Ignis just sat there and smiled at him, and instead of prying, instead of asking for a better explanation, instead of expressing any sort of disbelief, Ignis just tilted his head, and said, "I'm grateful you made it out, Marshal. Would that there were more men like you."
A rush of euphoria.
Wasn't used to hearing words like that, wasn't, and they were more than a little addicting.
Ignis smiled at him, and then changed the subject.
Felt like they sat there for hours, and when Cor glanced over at the window, the sun had gone down and the stars were out.
Ignis followed his gaze, saw the night, and finally said, "Well. It's late. I suppose I should let you go."
Cor had stood up as Ignis had spoken, and without thinking too much about it he had strode forward and extended his hand to Ignis to help him stand.
Oh, damn, what the hell was he doing? Had never once in his life done that—
Ignis stared at his hand for a long second, lips parted and eyes wide, and before Cor could panic and withdraw, Ignis had already leapt upon him and reached out to place his own hand within Cor's. With a swallow and an inhale, Cor gently hauled Ignis to his feet. Well. Too late to take it back, wasn't it, and Ignis didn't exactly seem scandalized. Cor was very painfully aware of Ignis' gloved hand still held there within his own, because dumb Cor hadn't had the sense to let it go yet.
The way Ignis was staring at him.
It was the glance at the calendar that had brought Cor back to reality.
For the month there was July—not February.
Ignis was not legal.
Cor released Ignis' hand, took a pointed step back, and said, "Thank you for your company."
Ignis bowed his head, and made his way to the door. He paused at the last moment, however, looked over his shoulder, and called, "Marshal, just one more question."
A dizzying pulse of adrenaline.
"Yes?"
"I wanted to ask. You said you wanted to feel you were better exiting that cavern than you were before you entered. Did you?"
Cor, pinned down under Ignis' sharp eyes, could only be honest, and reply, "No."
Ignis' strange, half-smile.
"Thank you, Marshal. Goodnight."
"Night."
When Ignis was gone, Cor raised a hand to his forehead, and tried to settle his stomach. Everything he had wanted, and everything he feared. He had almost cracked, almost, came far too close, when Ignis' hand was there within his own, and it only took one mistake, just one, and Cor was ruined.
Anger rose up, at Titus, for putting him into such a precarious situation. With one extension of his hand, Cor had almost destroyed everything he had built up.
Cor didn't sleep that night.
Titus had been laying low since he had set Ignis into motion, no doubt knowing that the very first chance Cor had, he was going to punch Titus right in the nose.
He was right.
It was six days after Cor had foolishly extended his hand to Ignis that Titus finally popped up in the hallway like the demonic spirit he was. Chose the most crowded hallway, naturally, in which to appear, knew exactly when and where to haunt for the smallest possible chance of getting clocked, and Cor all but skidded to a halt in front of Titus, so eager was he to lay into him.
Titus took a step back, just in case, but it wasn't far enough to be out of reach when Cor lashed out with one hand and shoved Titus' chest. All he could do, really, in front of so many people.
People paused and stared, as people always did, and Titus didn't seem ashamed of himself at all, as he leered at Cor and uttered, so quietly, "Temper, temper. Why are you so displeased with me, Marshal?"
Cor shoved Titus' chest again, this time with both hands, Titus staggered back a step, and Cor came very close to saying fuck it and punching the bastard anyway, witnesses be damned, because everyone was already staring and Cor's blood pressure was rising through the roof—
"Stay the fuck out of my life," Cor hissed, thinly, the dangerous warning of a snake, and yet it went unheeded.
Titus snorted then, and said, "Can't. I'm invested. I gave you my terms before, you refused, so I'm doing things my way now—"
Too much.
Cor snapped, lost control of his temper in a rare moment, and went for it without thinking. Wasn't an entirely conscious decision, to wrench his fist quickly back and strike Titus in the nose. Heard a crack, didn't know if it was Titus' nose or Cor's knuckle or both, Titus fell onto his backside, and the entire hall went deathly silent.
Cor was fairly certain he heard a few camera shutters.
Didn't care a goddamn bit, seeing red as he was, and it was good at least that Titus had laid low for just long enough that Cor had used his fist instead of summoning his katana.
Titus rested his palms on the marble floor, legs splayed and blood pouring from his nose, and stared up at Cor as Cor fumed and bristled. Nothing shook Titus, and Cor wasn't too pleased that Titus just gave a soft laugh, reached up to wipe his nose, and said so very casually to the stunned crowd, "I had that coming, everyone. Nothing to see here. Carry on."
Nervous laughs, shuffled feet, and everyone was suddenly moving about on their way.
But this would be a good month's worth of gossip, and Cor didn't give a shit.
As the red daze hung over him, Titus pulled himself to his feet, sighed a bit, wiped again at his nose, and said, with no hint of annoyance, "Come to my office."
"No," Cor said, and meant to leave.
"Come to my office," Titus called from behind, in a suddenly extremely loud tone, "Before I just speak to you like this, for all to hear."
A slip of ice down his back, and Cor froze in his tracks.
He hadn't actually known that Titus' very soft and breathy voice was capable of being that loud.
Didn't think Titus would really do that, but didn't want to risk it, either, because the bastard was crossing more bounds than Cor ever thought he would. Best not to test him.
The red faded into a dreary grey of exhaustion.
Seeing Cor was suddenly cooperative, Titus led the march up to his office, and Cor was grateful that they didn't pass Ignis then, because it would have been very humiliating for Cor to have Ignis cluck his tongue and chastise Cor while fussing over Titus, which although sounded absurd was not out of the realm of possibility.
The office was reached, Titus held open the door, Cor stomped in like a child, and Titus shut the door behind them and twisted the lock.
Cor was very tempted to punch Titus again now that they were alone, but somehow that anger had already started fizzling out, and he couldn't even be bothered anymore.
For his part, Titus was equally unbothered, and cut to the chase, as he always did.
"So," Titus began, strutting forward and holding Cor's gaze despite his busted nose, "Have you asked him out yet?"
Seriously?
Cor lifted his chin, met Titus' piercing gaze, and rumbled, thinly, "Are you really trying to get me arrested?"
Ignis was sixteen. Was Titus that fuckin' bad at math?
To be fair, Titus probably wasn't counting the days like Cor was.
It was Titus that time whose face very clearly said, 'Seriously?'
What did Titus expect? Did he really, truly think that Cor would make a physical move on Ignis before he turned seventeen? He was dumber than Cor anticipated if so.
Titus seemed very unconcerned, and snorted, waving his hand in the air and drawling, "I seriously doubt the Marshal of the Crownsguard would ever get arrested for anything, but if that is such a concern to you, then I guess I'll let you slide for now. The day Ignis turns seventeen, the actual day, I expect you to act."
Cor glowered at Titus and griped, "Wish you'd back off forever."
"Can't. Sorry. I'm invested in this. Seeing you in love is pathetic. I'm worried if I don't act now I'll find you dead in bed one morning from lovesickness. It's pitiful. Why are you fighting it?"
Cor averted his eyes, pulse pounding, and felt so torn then.
Was encouraged by Titus, yeah, needed that confidence and push, and yet wished that Titus would have just kept his mouth shut and had never brought it up at all. Wished that Cor was living in the dark still. Wished that Titus had never enlightened him to the fact that he had fallen in love.
Life had been so much easier just a few years ago.
At last, Cor glanced at Titus, and said, lowly, "Let it go. It's not going to happen."
Titus rolled his eyes, wiped his bloody nose once more, and griped, "Bullshit it's not. Bet you have a goddamn calendar in your bedroom that you mark off every morning. You're smitten, and I'm surprised he hasn't set you on fire yet, hard as he stares at you."
Oh? So that hadn't been in Cor's head, had it?
A little twinge of hope, but Cor quickly waved it off by grunting, "That's different. He's a teenager. He stares at everyone. So maybe he's got a crush on the teacher. So what? Doesn't mean anything."
Titus gave a dramatic sigh, and complained, "For being in love with him, you sure don't seem to know that much about him. Forgive me, but Ignis doesn't exactly seem like a little vixen. Pretty sure he's only interested in you. If it were a fleeting crush, we would have known already, because I've heard that several little suitors have tried their hand on him, to be very shot down. Why, I wonder?"
Cor wanted to believe that Ignis felt the same, more than he had ever wanted anything, but if he let himself fall into that trap of seeing only what he wanted to see, he was done for, and Titus should have been more mindful of that.
All a dream. Titus just couldn't see that.
Stupidly, though, Cor heard himself ask, weakly, "Has Luche tried?"
Titus smirked, crossed his arms, and said, "No. Not yet. I scared him off for the time being. Won't be forever, though, especially once Ignis is legal."
Damn.
Too much pressure.
To break the tension a little and try to throw him off guard, Titus abruptly teased, "Sure you don't wanna make a pass? Those twin pistons are getting longer every day! Might actually go all the way up."
It was the most absurd thing to ever come out of stern Titus' mouth, so absurd in fact that it had exactly the intended effect, because of course it did. Titus really was a genius when it came to operating Cor, and Cor shook his head, sucked in air, pinched the bridge of his nose, and gave a coarse, weary laugh.
Bastard.
Titus gave one of those sincere smiles, so rarely granted, in spite of his bloody nose, and Cor felt a little twinge of guilt. Just a little.
Titus saw Cor's mood improve, and punched Cor's shoulder while griping, "Don't you dare blow this. I've worked too hard. Talk to him. Get to know him. Make him fall in love with you even more, and then on his seventeenth birthday, ask him out. That's all. That's all there is to it. It really is that simple."
Was it?
Titus lifted his chin, smirked harder, and added, "Since when have you ever cared about what the rest of the world thought about you? Once he's legal, your reputation can't take a hit."
Titus was right.
Time to admit it, perhaps, and accept the fact that Cor was head over heels and wasn't going to just wake up one day and be mercifully out of love. He could do this, he could; had no choice, really, because it would have continued to wreck him if he didn't, and he really was a breath away from insanity sometimes.
All Cor could do then was stop running, face himself, gather his will, and give Titus a single, determined nod.
And that was that.
Cor did everything Titus told him to from that day.
He stayed after class with Ignis and just talked to him, about nothing at all, sometimes until the clock struck midnight, and when it was time to go, Cor extended his hand to Ignis. Ignis took it. Cor walked Ignis to his car, opened the door, bid him farewell, and didn't falter once. Cor didn't stumble anymore, didn't doubt himself, and was steady.
Ignis kept coming around, and Cor bided his time.
Months flew by, as Ignis and Cor connected through banter on uncomfortable folding metal chairs in a dim, empty training room.
And then Cor woke up one cold day, and stared at the ceiling.
That day.
The day.
Ignis turned seventeen.
Morality may have yet been an issue, but legality no longer was.
His phone chirped beside of him, and Cor lifted it up, seeing there what he expected; a text from Titus.
'It's your day. Don't blow it.'
Right.
His resolve held strong, and when he rolled out of bed, it was with great purpose and determination.
Time to move.