Chapter 9

Calm Before the Storm

There was no longer any point in denying it :

Titus was in love with Ignis, and yet was still too stubborn to say it aloud. Ignis' rejection, after all, would have destroyed Titus' ego, so Titus buried his head in the sand, kept very still under Ignis' comforting hands, and waited.

Waiting...

What he was waiting for, precisely, he couldn't say. Supposed he was waiting for Ignis to walk away from him, for Ignis to get bored. For Ignis to distance himself from Titus, mercifully, so that Titus could try to get his life back together.

Waiting and waiting.

Waiting for Luche to get over his fear of Titus and just march. Waiting for Cor to reach a breaking point and fall to his knees before Ignis and confess. Waiting for someone. Anyone. Waiting for everything, and nothing. Waiting for anyone or anything to come and save Titus from this mess he had gotten himself into, because Titus seemed unable to lift his hand and do it himself.

He was invested, too far in, and needed Ignis to be the one to end it, because as stupid as it was Titus didn't want it to end. The logistics of ever attempting to maintain a relationship right now, in the midst of this war, didn't seem as insurmountable, when he was fully engaged in mental gymnastics. Told himself he could do it, if he tried hard enough, that if he were very careful he could keep Ignis and fulfill his calling.

That couldn't be, but he felt it all the same.

Impossible.

Ignis didn't love him, so all Titus could do was hold his breath and hope that Ignis would drop him before Titus become so smitten that it might have actually broken his heart. He didn't ever wanna be like Cor, but felt it looming on the horizon. Walking around like a phantom. Loveless and forlorn.

Ignis had Titus wrapped around his finger, and every day was worse.

Needed it to end, and soon, because with every passing day Ignis meant more to him.

When Ignis had given Titus that gift, that little bit of home, it had felt as if Ignis had kicked him in the chest. That pang, that burn, that awful rise of something that had no other name but 'love', as much as he detested it. Astrals help him, he had very nearly cracked, had very nearly said those three words that would have destroyed his entire reputation. He had been homesick, vulnerable, his defenses had momentarily malfunctioned, and Ignis had meant more to him in that moment than anyone ever had since the loss of his parents.

Too close.

Too dangerous.

It was around then that Titus, in an effort to expedite Ignis' boredom, began corralling Ignis more frequently but doing absolutely nothing. Wasting Ignis' time, as it was. Trying to irritate him.

Stupid things.

He would snatch Ignis' wrist in the hall, drag him back into the lobby, but instead of giving Ignis what he expected and wanted, Titus would just pin him against the wall and rest his chin atop Ignis' head. Using Ignis as a pillow, as it was, wasting Ignis' very valuable time, and no matter how hard Ignis' hands wandered Titus refused to budge. A thirty minute window every day, and Titus wasted it to hold Ignis against the wall and every so often kiss Ignis' forehead. When Titus finally let Ignis go, he reached out to tousle Ignis' hair because he knew it annoyed Ignis.

Ignis sighed, rolled his eyes, shoved gently at Titus' chest, and crept out.

On Friday afternoons, when Ignis and Titus would cross paths on their respective ways to separate meetings, Titus stop in front of Ignis to make low conversation, about nothing at all, and when Ignis, so punctual, tried to break free and go to his meeting, Titus would sidestep and block him. A scoff from Ignis, a droll, condescending look, and Ignis would step to the other side. Titus blocked him, and would do so for several more moments, wasting even more of Ignis' very perfectly calculated minutes. If Ignis wanted to pass, then he was forced to go under Titus' arm, and Titus, naturally, ruined his hair as he escaped.

Ignis looked over his shoulder, shook his head, and always uttered, 'You're an absolute nightmare.'

Titus smirked at Ignis, but inside was bracing himself.

Any day now, Ignis would come up to him and say, 'Listen, you've been a real pain in the ass lately, this is getting a little weird, and I think it's best if you leave me alone and we go our separate ways.'

Well, actually, Ignis would have said more like, 'Titus, you have recently been conducting yourself in a manner akin to that of a daemon, and I will, alas, have to ask that you take these pesky activities away from my person and back outside the wall, where they belong. Good day.'

Days passed, but Ignis' patience was astounding, and he hadn't snapped yet.

Titus kept on trying, but so far these little wastes of Ignis' time hadn't forced him to sever Titus' string. Titus hated that, but also kinda hoped that maybe Ignis was growing as fond of Titus as Titus had of him.

The last thing he needed, but something he desperately wanted.

Didn't even know what he was doing anymore. His head was a wreck.

The end of June.

Somehow, Titus and Ignis were still a thing. Ignis' patience was saintly, yes, but Ignis was still a teenager and Titus was shocked that he was going strong.

Maybe...

No way. Titus really was a wreck if he ever thought that it would be possible.

Titus considered going to Cor, putting himself there before his friend, and confessing everything that was going on up in his mind. Most of it, rather. Considered going to Cor and saying, 'I've fallen in love, and, unlike you, I do not want to be in love. So do me a favor and let me toss this kid your way.'

Cor would have either very happily accepted and finally spoken to Titus again since last September, or Cor would have very happily accepted and then decapitated Titus.

Pride stopped him short, and also that little part of him that just didn't want to let go.

When it came down to the wire, though, if it kept going and Titus felt himself at risk of being unable to perform his duties with a clear head, then it would be up to him to send Ignis away.

He could do it, if it came to it. He could.

Wished that Cor would have just spoken to him, though. Missed that bastard, missed having someone to talk to, someone who understood him a little.

The first day of July.

Titus was in his Glaive office well after hours, the only one left in the building, as the never-sleeping city below glowed, and there was a very unexpected knock on his door.

Titus lifted his head just in time to see Ignis walk in.

Shock.

Titus sat up straight, mouth open, and he scoffed at the audacity, and also at the surprise. No one had come over the intercom to tell Titus he had a visitor; Crowe was on that door tonight, and there was no way in hell she would have passed up the chance to get on that com and croon, 'Captain, your late night lover is here!'

Maybe Ignis had convinced her to remain silent.

Titus could see right away that Ignis was holding something, and could also see right away that Ignis was in a mood. His brow was low and his lips pursed, his entire demeanor stiff and stern. Titus stayed silent as Ignis came forward, sat down before the desk, crossed his legs, and then Titus could see it was a tabloid Ignis was holding.

Oh no—

Ignis flipped open the tabloid dramatically, held it up, face mostly hidden, and began to read.

"'The Captain and the Hand of the King are continuing to grow closer, reports say. One clerk, who wishes to remain anonymous, has said to our writer, 'They always stop each other in the hall to flirt. When they're together like that, they turn into little kids. It's very easy to see in the way they smile at each other that they're very much in love.' Although there is no confirmation yet on either end, it seems that the Citadel is growing more certain that there is a very serious relationship developing. We cannot get a comment from the Captain or the Hand, however, as they refuse all offers to speak. Nonetheless, we are very certain that we will one day soon get our desired wedding! We will continue to post updates as they come.'"

For the love of the gods above! Got worse every time.

...well, maybe it was true that Ignis made Titus act like a little kid. Sometimes.

Ignis was not amused, voice very stern and brow sterner, and Titus' heart was hammering, because it felt like this was it.

The end.

Ignis was about to drop him, he was so sure of it, and even though it was the way things had to be, he still felt a little sick.

And then, perhaps fatefully, Ignis' eyes snapped up over the top of the tabloid and pinned Titus down.

That gaze.

The hairs on the back of Titus' neck stood up. His chest locked and adrenaline surged.

He understood, in that look alone, because he had been held in place under that gaze far too many times. Comprehension dawned, a rush of something that was far too close to fear, and Titus stood up wordlessly from his desk, flicked his wrist, and summoned his arms.

A scoff, and Ignis crinkled his nose as he sneered, tutting, "Oh, dear! Captain, you've lost your mind."

He had, alright, but not because he had summoned his great sword.

"Get out," he demanded, with every bit of steel he could muster, and there was a very dramatic sigh.

"You're no fun at all. I had hoped to see that 'little kid'."

Ignis stood up, gracefully, but it wasn't Ignis of course, and in a shift of shadows it was then Ardyn standing before him. Ardyn bowed, smirking away, pleased at himself as always, and Titus stood strong and still. Couldn't show anything, anything at all, and tried to keep his mind as blank as his face.

Wanted to say, more than anything, 'If you go near him I'll cut you down however many times I need to,' but Ardyn would have laughed at him and then would have taken more of an interest in Ignis.

That awful surge of dread he felt, though, at the thought of Ardyn going anywhere near Ignis. Of Ardyn playing games. Of Ignis getting hurt, because Titus had been stupid enough to let Ignis insert himself.

Ignis had given Titus a bit of home. Woulda done anything to keep him safe.

Ardyn stood up straight, looked Titus up and down, and then said, so casually, "I just came to request that you extend me a wedding invitation. I do so love weddings."

It was then, perhaps, standing before Ardyn, that Titus realized how in over his head he actually was. Falling in love was one thing, but falling in love with someone sworn to the King of Light was another. If Titus had been philandering about with some civilian, any nobody, Ardyn wouldn't have batted an eye. This was different, and Ardyn wouldn't allow anything to interfere with his grand plan.

Ignis played a part, no doubt, though Titus wouldn't profess to know it.

There had been an understanding between them; Titus would tend to Insomnia, and Ardyn would tend to Noctis outside the wall. By extending a hand to Ignis, perhaps Ardyn was concerned that Titus might meddle in Ardyn's end goal.

He didn't care about Ardyn and Noctis and the Scourge and the darkness—he cared about his homeland.

So Titus could only say, as Ardyn stared him down, "Denied."

Trying to appear unbothered while he was, actually, extremely bothered.

Ardyn clicked his tongue in false disappointment, and made Titus' heart lurch when he shrugged and said, "Guess I'll have to gatecrash."

"I told you to get out."

"I will, I will. I just wanted to tease you a bit. Curious, to see the High Commander engaged in such activities. I hope this won't cause a distraction."

"Hardly," Titus scoffed, and meant that.

Nothing, nothing at all, could have swayed Titus. His feelings for Ignis had nothing to do with his task. Entirely unrelated.

Ardyn took a step around the desk, another and another, and before long they were standing an arm's length apart, Titus' sword lifted up and held just over Ardyn's shoulder. Slicing Ardyn's neck would have been the highlight of Titus' year, but useless.

Just a show, as everything else was.

Ardyn studied Titus, and asked, "Is this serious?"

Again, Titus grunted, "Hardly."

A lie, and it was likely that Ardyn already knew how Titus felt, because Ardyn seemed to know everything.

"I suggest you keep it that way. I wouldn't wish for you to become a liability. After you've worked so hard. Don't get too attached. A pretty face does very odd things to a man. He'll be needed elsewhere, when the time comes. You've known that all along."

He had. He had merely put little thought into it, because he had never intended to fall in the first place.

Titus held his sword ever steady, and then Ardyn laughed a bit and reached out to smack Titus' chest with the tabloid.

A very smarmy and condescending croon.

"Cheer up, won't you? I won't bother you. I just came to see how your resolve was holding. I am satisfied. I won't deny you a personal life in the meanwhile, as long as you're willing to complete your mission and allow him to assist the King of Light with no interference. Afterwards, perhaps, you can find him, and then you're free to do as you please. The plan comes before all else."

Unable to do much else, Titus gave a very stiff nod, because Ardyn was right.

The fall of Lucis was the most important thing, for the world entire, and Titus wouldn't have let anyone stop it. Not Nyx, not Cor, and not Ignis. Home first, duty second, love third. How it always had been and always would be.

Ardyn took a step back, and said, "I'll be checking in from time to time. Don't falter now."

With a shift of shadows, Ardyn was gone.

Titus exhaled, dismissed his sword, and plopped back down into his desk chair.

He had hoped to keep Ignis out of Ardyn's sights, but had known that it would be impossible. Ardyn missed nothing, and Titus could only hope that Ardyn really had been satisfied in Titus' resolve.

Wouldn't let Ardyn shake him.

Titus had already planned on letting Ignis go, be it by his own words or Ignis'.

The tabloid was lying on the floor in Ardyn's wake, and Titus threw it in the trash on his way home. A restless, sleepless night, and by all rights Titus should have rolled out of bed that morning and texted Ignis to tell him that it would be best for them to end the affair.

He didn't, naturally, because his sleep-deprived brain had already fed him a million excuses not to.

Ardyn only cared about Insomnia's fall, and so there was no need to rush it if Ignis continued to be detached and cool. Ignis certainly wouldn't be looking for a wedding, after all.

That day, Titus dragged Ignis into the lounge on cue with no deviation.

Ardyn had wanted to shake him, and Titus was trying hard to deny him the pleasure.

If the real Ignis had seen that particular tabloid, then he gave no sign of it, suffering Titus' hands as patiently as he always did.

Titus felt defiant then, because long had Ardyn breathed down his neck, hassled him, pushed him, ran him into the ground, asked so much of him, and now Ardyn had the audacity to pry into Titus' personal affairs as well. Creep; wished Ardyn would get his, and sooner rather than later.

Titus would have gone out into the middle of downtown, into the square, and gotten down onto one knee in front of the entire world if it would have made Ardyn just the slightest bit angry. But it wouldn't make Ardyn angry, woulda just made him laugh, so Titus could only keep walking and hope that Ardyn wouldn't come along and play games with Ignis.

Somehow...

Titus had the feeling that if Ardyn shifted into Titus and walked into Ignis' apartment, the result wouldn't have been so benign nor brief.

Dreaded that above all else.

When Ignis tried to squirm out of Titus' arms to make his meeting, Titus stopped him short, and gave in to a spur of the moment whim.

It was stupid and pitiful, but Titus wrapped his arms around Ignis' neck all the same, pressed up against his back, rested his chin on Ignis' shoulder, and asked, "Care to accompany me this evening for a night on the town?"

"Ah," Ignis immediately teased, "Yes, I had forgotten that we have gossip to fuel and tabloids to print!"

Not for that so much as that Titus was defiant and wanted to pretend that Ardyn's presence hadn't bothered him. Overcompensating, maybe, because walking around downtown Insomnia with Ignis at his side would cause a firestorm. Could already see the press lurking, the cameras flashing, the printed papers the next day with photos of them strolling about or having a drink in a bar. The headlines.

Ignis knew that, too, and maybe was wishing to avoid more wedding talk.

To save face as best he could, Titus uttered, "Actually, I had been just been planning a night in my headquarters. I knew you'd say no to being in public."

False, but his pride was on the line.

Ignis twisted his head until he was able to meet Titus' eyes, and the expression on Ignis' face was strange. Couldn't place it. Almost anxious, perhaps, or maybe disappointed. Maybe Ignis was finally catching onto him, maybe Ignis was sensing how Titus really felt, and was planning ways to let him down easy.

Needed that to happen sooner rather than later.

So Titus was a little surprised when Ignis whispered, nose pressing into Titus' cheek, "Why not at my apartment instead? A middle ground, no?"

Good enough.

Half of Titus wanted to grab Ignis' shoulders and shake the life out of him as he shouted, 'Why the fuck aren't you bored of me yet?'

The other half was hoping that Ignis would ask him to spend the night.

Titus' feelings for Ignis were as split and opposing as his two lives. Fighting against each other just as ferociously. No escaping it.

So Titus let Ignis go, and Ignis looked over his shoulder as he went, with a smile.

A stupid flutter of Titus' stomach.

That night, Ardyn be damned, he found himself driving to Ignis' apartment.

Ignis was on him the second he walked in, throwing arms around his neck and locking lips with him so furiously that Titus was nearly knocked backwards, and Titus hated the thought that he might have had to figure out now if Ignis was real or not.

Ugh—disgusting, thinkin' of lockin' lips with fuckin' Ardyn, oh, gods—

Made him sick thinking about it, and so he stopped thinking about it, entirely, because it was very easy to look into Ignis' eyes and determine who he was. Perfectly Ignis then, and perfectly smiling. Ignis clenched hands in Titus' t-shirt, hauled him forcibly over, and shoved him onto the couch.

Certainly a bit more aggressive than Ignis usually was, and Titus was straddled in a second.

Perhaps Ignis had other intentions, however, for instead of reaching down to unclasp his belt as Titus expected him to, Ignis' hands suddenly rested atop his shoulders. A long stare, a study of his face, and then Ignis pressed his forehead into Titus' and asked, entirely out of nowhere, "What was your home like, Titus? Where exactly are you from? What was your town like?"

Shock.

The last thing Titus had expected.

Ignis had clearly been snooping around, in order to have ever even come across that gift, and so perhaps Ignis had been made curious about Titus' lands.

Cor had asked Titus where he was from, if it was hard being in Insomnia, but that was really where their conversations had ended. Cor never delved too much into Titus' homeland, perhaps out of respect and not wishing to cause Titus any duress, because Cor had been there when Titus had ran across those lines. That aside, no one had ever asked. No one had cared. Everyone knew Titus was an outsider, a refugee, and that's all anyone cared enough to find out.

Insomnia wasn't kind to refugees, to immigrants, and Titus had worked twice as hard as any other man would have ever had to.

Ignis had spoken to Nyx that day at the gala; Titus had lurked about in the shadows and spied them. Had spoken to Pelna, had laughed, clearly had no issues chatting up Luche. Ignis didn't care if a man was an immigrant or not. To him, it seemed, a man was just a man.

Maybe one could have said that Ignis was more sympathetic to immigrants because at his base he was one. Ignis had come to Insomnia very young, yes, knew nothing else, but the gossip about him prevailed. Titus didn't believe so; honest to the gods, Titus believed that Ignis didn't consider himself an immigrant at all, and treated others equally because Ignis was just a good person. Fair and honest. Seeing a person for who they were and not where they had come from.

Ignis wasn't the most beautiful person in the city outwardly, and it didn't matter at all, because his kindness and compassion made those around him appear dull.

Ignis ran hands down his neck, and Titus gathered up his thoughts, his nerve, his will, and opened his mouth.

For the first time, Titus told someone about himself, because, for the first time, someone had asked.

Ignis listened the entire while, and never said a word.

Titus' life, uttered aloud.