Chapter 12

White Flag

September.

Once more, the gala had come.

For the first time in his life, Ignis didn't want to go. Dreaded it, absolutely dreaded it, made his stomach flip just thinking about it. Couldn't ever tell Regis that he wouldn't attend, though, because Regis would ask why and then Ignis might have cracked.

So he would go, lurk in shadows, pretend he was perfectly fine, and then go back home as soon as the opportunity allowed. With any luck, Titus would be hiding away as much as Ignis and they wouldn't accidentally bump into each other in the crowd.

He pulled the suit he had bought the year prior out and set it on the bed, ready to go. Hated the sight of it.

Ignis spent the day in a cranky mood, and had to redo his tie six separate times before he finally yanked the blasted thing off and threw it aside in a huff. Afterwards, he had a minor mental meltdown, pulled off the jacket and shirt, tossed them aside as well, and kicked off his slacks.

Ridiculous, this entire façade.

Ignis had nothing to polish himself up for, and so in the end he merely pulled on a polo and black jeans, because if he wasn't dressed formally then Regis couldn't in good conscience drag him onto the dance floor. Woulda died right there, and so he averted a potential crisis by not preening himself for once.

He did put his hair up, however, because Titus would still be there.

Pitiful.

He kept on checking his phone, over and over again, and was always disappointed.

When it did finally buzz, two hours before the gala, Ignis rushed over to it so quickly that he banged his knee on the dining chair.

A wince, a hiss, and for nothing, because it wasn't Titus' name there, naturally.

Just Noctis, saying he was on his way.

Another wince, because Noctis had gotten his driving permit three days prior, after failing twice, and Ignis would honestly rather have walked to the gala than be in a car with Noct. Ignis didn't bother offering to drive, because Noctis would have been offended.

Nothing for it, and Noctis arrived shortly after, so proud of himself that he had made it over without mangling any pedestrians.

When Noctis looked at Ignis, he seemed taken aback, shocked, and asked, "You are coming, right?"

The first time Ignis hadn't dressed up.

"I am," Ignis affirmed, as he tucked his phone in his pocket.

Noctis looked him up and down, and then oblivious Noctis snorted and teased, "Well, guess you can get away with that. You don't have to impress anyone anymore, huh?"

Oh, that awful hurt.

Noctis didn't know, and Ignis tried to keep it that way by uttering, as airily as he could, "I don't know what you mean. I was never attempting to impress anyone. All in your head."

"Right," Noctis drolled, and they were on their way.

The mission was simple : slink in, abuse the free champagne, greet Regis, pretend he cared, and then slink out. Easy. Simple. Shouldn't have been a hassle.

If he made it there in one piece, anyway, as Noctis sped and swerved and braked too fast and turned too fast. Saw his entire life flash before his eyes, he swore it, and Noctis' life too, and when they parked Ignis leapt out of the car and exhaled.

Astrals above, that had been the most terrifying moment of his life.

Noctis seemed very proud of himself, as usual, and teased him as they walked up the steps.

As soon as the doors opened and there were people all around, Ignis immediately squirmed away from Noctis and over to the first champagne rack he saw. He took one glass, put it back, grabbed another, put it back, grabbed a third, and then looked around.

Nyx was at the front door, just a ways in front of him, watching him, and when Nyx saw Ignis slamming back the champagne, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. Undaunted, Ignis just turned his chin up and walked away, trying to blend into the crowd and stay very out of sight.

He glanced over, and spied Cor in the corner, staring at him as usual. Always such a silent sentinel, Cor, and Ignis skittered out of Cor's line of sight so that Cor wouldn't see him foundering and come rushing to the rescue. Cor already saw Ignis as little more than a damsel in distress, and even if Ignis felt that way in that second, he would rather not have Cor walk him out to the car.

Ignis lifted his head as he fled Cor, and spied Luche by the stairwell.

Luche, predictably, bowed at the waist, leering away, and twitched his head, as if imploring Ignis to come on over.

Ignis stared at Luche, took him in, and contemplated.

Handsome as ever, in full uniform, hair neatly combed and sharp cheeks ever casting shadows.

Titus was gone, wasn't coming back, wanted nothing to do with him, little more than Cor ever had, and Luche was the only person that had ever openly flirted with him. It had been Ignis' thought, once, hadn't it, that if things fell through with Titus then at least there was a backup.

And Luche was handsome, in a different way than Titus and Cor were. Much more charm about him, more ego and outright personality. Had that Gladio vibe about him, that sort of 'player' air. Not good for a real relationship, no, but it was clear now that Ignis couldn't have one of those anyway. Luche would be nothing more and nothing less than what Titus had been, but this time Ignis knew it outright.

Luche was shifting his weight, raising his brow, smirking, trying to so hard to convince Ignis without words to come over, and Ignis, for whatever reason, glanced back at Nyx. Nyx was staring, very pointedly, hand up to his earpiece and lips moving.

Felt a bit as if Nyx were judging him, and perhaps that was because Nyx clearly wanted more from Titus, as Ignis had.

Nyx didn't understand.

Titus had dropped him, so Ignis put back his third glass of champagne as Luche pointedly stared him down, grabbed another and slammed that one, too, and began to make his way over. Luche straightened up, smirked, fidgeted, and appeared very ready to pounce.

Ignis didn't make it over to Luche, because a hand suddenly reached out and grabbed his upper arm in a vice.

Blast.

Ignis turned his head, expecting to see Cor or Gladio, and wished to the gods he had because what he saw was worse.

Absolutely lost six lives then, he swore it, when he saw Titus there beside of him.

Luche had fallen into perfect attention, face stoic and blank, but Ignis could see the crinkle of disappointment in Luche's brow when he turned to look at Luche as if to say, 'Help'.

As if! What could Luche have done? A single wrong word and Luche would have been mangled. Luche stared straight ahead, refusing to meet Ignis' gaze, and Ignis was on his own.

With little else to do, Ignis turned his head, lifted his chin, and met Titus' gaze, for the first time since that night.

Ignis was rather shocked to see Titus in that same suit he had worn last year, to see that he had combed his hair again, had worn cologne. Perhaps Regis had requested it, for Titus certainly wasn't attempting to impress Ignis. Never had been.

Titus held him in place, and then said, in that soft voice Ignis missed so much, "Please don't distract my men. They're barely functional on their best days. This one over here"—a nod in Nyx's direction—"is about one hair away from needing watering."

Of course. Should have known.

Ignis turned his head aside, and muttered, "Forgive me, Captain. It won't happen again. I'll be on my way."

Ignis waited and waited, but Titus hadn't let go of his arm yet. Ignis tried to pull back, just a bit, but Titus held fast. Ugh—this was positively cruel.

Couldn't stand being so close and yet so far away.

Ignis looked back up, at Titus' persistent stillness, and could see that Titus had also been partaking in the champagne. Titus wasn't drunk, no, certainly wasn't intoxicated, but Ignis could see that he had a few drinks in him, because he knew enough about Titus to be able to notice the tint of pink on his cheeks and the dilation of his pupils. Knew that man, and that somehow made it worse, knowing that Titus was only speaking to him because he was tipsy.

Had Nyx alerted Titus to Ignis slinking over to Luche? What a thorn.

A long stare up and down, and then Titus smirked, lifted his chin, and said, lowly, "You look nice like that. When you don't give a damn. How have you been?"

Ignis just stared up at Titus, helplessly, and didn't know what to say to that.

What could he say?

He stood there, silently, and Titus snorted with a shake of his head. Titus looked up then, quickly, seemed to scan the room, and then he abruptly began walking Ignis along, practically dragging him away from the stairwell. Ignis, dazed and confused, just followed along obediently, not knowing what else to do. He glanced over his shoulder at Luche, who was watching them go with pursed lips and a low brow.

Titus led him through the crowd, weaving this way and that, and Ignis went along with him because he had no choice. In the end, really, Titus was a superior, someone to obey. Captain, not 'darling'. Commander, not lover. Ignis kept his eyes downcast, his shoulders low, and stayed utterly silent as he walked. Felt defeated. Titus led him outside into the darker patio out back, over to the edge tucked beneath the staircase, where it was quiet and calm and they were alone.

The moon, hanging low above the city skyline.

Titus didn't let go of his arm, keeping grip no doubt so that Ignis wouldn't flee, and Titus suddenly set down his glass on the nearby stone wall. He took Ignis' empty one, and then he turned until they were chest to chest.

Wouldn't Titus at least let go of his arm?

They weren't together.

Maybe Titus had forgotten that, though, because he suddenly reached up with his free hand and ran those rough fingers down Ignis' neck, causing a shiver despite Ignis' best efforts to remain still. Titus saw, seemed pleased for it, and suddenly Titus had come forward, pushing their chests together, and the next thing Ignis knew Titus had embraced him around the back, pulling him in and forcing Ignis' face into his collar.

Froze up like a deer then.

What was happening? He was so confused, so utterly confused, didn't know what was going on. Didn't know what Titus was playing at. Didn't know what Titus wanted. Felt in some way as if Titus were merely toying with him, stringing him along, because Titus had been the one to send him away rather coldly and now was suddenly warm again.

A long minute of silence, as Titus held him in that embrace, and then lips were suddenly next to his ear, and Titus' pretty voice was whispering, "I liked it better when you smiled at me."

Ignis squinted his eyes at that, as that despair he had fought so hard to get rid of came roaring back up, and Ignis was quick to clamp his jaw and steady his breathing. Had to cling to dignity, to some semblance of self-respect. Wanted Titus, but didn't want Titus to turn him into a mess, and wouldn't allow himself to ever beg.

He had a duty to fulfill in the future, and that burden was always lying quite heavily atop him. Every act, every decision, every move Ignis made would one day reflect on Noctis, and for that he couldn't be weak, couldn't waver.

No matter how badly this hurt.

They each had their own paths to walk, and though Ignis so desperately desired it, it didn't seem as if those paths could successfully intersect.

So he forced himself to stay still and quiet, when Titus' hand began running up and down his back.

At Ignis' stubborn silence, Titus murmured, "How strange. You're the one turning me away, now."

At last, Ignis finally spoke up.

Hated the tremor in his voice when he replied, deeply, "I'm merely following your orders, sir."

Titus had rejected him, had ended it, had been the one to put his foot down, and so it had seemed to Ignis that Titus' command had been obvious : 'This is over.' Ignis, as always, just did as he was told.

Titus' roaming hands abruptly fell still. For just a second, though, and it was clear that Titus was as stubborn as Ignis, because he merely snorted into Ignis' hair and kept on caressing.

Had missed those hands.

One hand left Ignis to grab the full champagne glass, and Ignis was quick to turn the tables, for this year it was he who said, not as playfully as Titus had the year prior, "Perhaps you've had enough. Sir."

Titus snorted, put the glass back in one swig, and teased, "Nah. I need the courage."

Ignis stopped himself at the last second from rolling his eyes.

When both hands were once more on him, Ignis finally found enough nerve to glance up and say, as calmly as he could, "May I be on my way, Captain? I should return to Noctis' side. I haven't yet greeted Regis. Sir."

"Knock it off with the 'sir'," Titus snapped, not so harshly.

Fine!

"Let me go, Titus," Ignis snapped right back, as he held that piercing gaze as evenly as he could and tried to step back.

Titus just smirked a bit, and said, "That's better."

Frustration was rising.

Before Ignis could actually start struggling to break free of Titus' iron hands, before he could raise his voice and risk causing a bit of a scene, Titus said something then out of nowhere that made Ignis fall deathly still.

"Come with me. Hm? Come home with me tonight. Spend the night with me."

Wha—what?

Never once had Titus ever let Ignis come to his home.

Beyond the anger, beyond the daze, beyond the helplessness and confusion, there was a burst of elation. Hope. Love.

Forced away quickly enough, and although it was rather frightening for him to do so, Ignis pulled back enough to look up at Titus, braced himself, and said, defiantly, "No."

No; never said that to superiors, never, this was absolutely a first.

Titus knew it, and for it looked quite shocked, brow flying up and lips parting and seeming a bit flabbergasted. Eyes scanned over his face, as Titus smiled away incredulously, and then he suddenly breathed, "Incredible. I didn't think you had that in you. You keep surprising me, Ignis. I would say that I'm proud of you if the circumstances were different. However, I'll have to insist. Come home with me."

Couldn't, because he was in love with this man and Titus knew it, and yet Titus didn't feel that way. In the end, really, what it all came down to was that Titus was using him.

Hurt to admit.

So, for his pride, even though he wanted to go, Ignis stayed firm and shook his head.

Titus' smile never fell, and he leaned down then, lowering his voice, and said, much more commandingly, "Ignis, if you keep refusing me, you know that I'll have to turn that into an order, don't you? And we both know you can't refuse that."

A wave of despair, hurt, and Ignis' eyes squinted as he hung his head, feeling so defeated. Why couldn't Titus understand that he was wrecking Ignis? It wasn't serious to Titus, so maybe he really couldn't comprehend that every word he uttered was like a knife.

Wished then that he had never fallen for this man.

A hand suddenly grabbed his chin and forced his head up, as Ignis stubbornly tried to avoid eye contact. Titus' other hand flew up, smoothed back his falling bangs, and Ignis could really only pray then that he didn't start crying, because it would have been one of the most humiliating moments of his entire life.

Never would have lived that down.

No doubt that Titus could see how close he was to a break, and his voice was lower, softer, when he tried, carefully, "It's nothing like what you think. Come with me. I would like to have a conversation with you. That's all. I would pass the night with you in order to figure some things out. I have much to say to you. That's all. On my honor."

Honor.

Of that, Titus had plenty, and although it was absurd, stupid, Ignis felt himself foundering then, wavering, and at last looked up to meet Titus' gaze.

Somehow, he found his voice to ask, "What is there possibly left to say?"

Those fingers kept running over his hair, as Ignis' combative stance ever slumped, and Titus could see surely that he was steadily breaking through.

"Many things, and best not said here. I'll ask you now to trust me, this once, and accompany me."

This once? Had always trusted Titus, always, everyone did because Titus was the most reliable man Ignis had ever met, alongside Cor. Never faltered in anything, never let anyone down. Gave his absolute all to those around him.

A long minute of staring, Ignis swallowed, contemplated, and then finally caved in, and nodded his head.

Titus seemed quite pleased.

Ignis was not.

The next thing dazed Ignis knew, Titus' hand was on the back of his arm, and he was being guided through the crowd, out the door, down the steps, and into a car.

Titus' car. Knew it by sight, but had never been inside of it.

They hadn't uttered another word to each other, and Titus stared at Ignis for a very long while before turning the ignition. Ignis rested his chin in his palm, elbow set on the windowsill, and firmly watched anything at all but Titus. The lights of downtown lit the car up, and Ignis was very keen to the scent of Titus, lingering everywhere.

He wanted to hope that this 'conversation' would be some sort of reconciliation, but highly doubted it.

The roads passed. Downtown faded into more suburban areas. Titus was silent, as he often was, eyes drifting back and forth between the road and Ignis. Ignis, for his part, tried his best to pretend he didn't see and zone out.

Didn't even know where Titus lived, and had no clue where he was going. He had placed absolute trust in Titus, and hoped that it wouldn't backfire.

If nothing else, he supposed, it was far less terrifying to be in a car with Titus than it was with Noctis.

The east side of the city came, quieter, less buildings, more homes.

They came shortly after to a gated development. Two-story brick homes, as private as one could get in Insomnia, with fenced back yards and garages. These sort of homes weren't easy to come by, reserved for councilmen and businessmen, the wealthy of Insomnia.

Titus kept glancing at him, saw him observing the neighborhood, and offered, "I just moved here a few years ago. A gift from his Majesty. I like it here, but... Sometimes I kinda miss my flat. Who needs four bedrooms? A house like this is too big for one person."

Titus stared at him hard, and if Titus was trying to drop some hint, then Ignis was missing it.

The car pulled into a garage, the ignition cut, and Ignis sat very still, already regretting his decision to come here.

A long silence, a longer stare, and then Titus stepped out of the vehicle. Ignis sat still, too stupefied to really move, and eventually Titus came around, opened the door, grabbed Ignis by the arm, and pulled him gently out. Felt as if he were floating about in some dream, as Titus walked him inside of his house, and Ignis wasn't sure yet if it was a nightmare.

Titus sat Ignis down on the couch, looked about a bit awkwardly, and then sat down beside of him.

Well, then. Here they were.

Felt strangely awkward, sitting there on Titus' sofa, although it shouldn't have been perhaps given the fact that he had already done everything possible with this man.

Titus finally sighed, leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and when he looked over at Ignis, Ignis thought that maybe it was Titus who suddenly looked a bit uncertain. Took a long while for Titus to finally speak, and begin the conversation he had clearly been wanting.

"Ignis. I need to apologize to you. I—"

He didn't often interrupt, because it was rude, but this time Ignis held up his hand, and interjected, rather firmly, "No, you don't. You never lied to me."

A relentless stare.

Titus sighed, shook his head, and turned his eyes to the wall in front of him.

"Never lied, no. Not at all. But I didn't word things very precisely, either, in hindsight. I didn't exactly make the situation clear. I didn't take you into more account, and for that I apologize."

Ignis merely furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, keeping his eyes as straight ahead as Titus was, heart pounding and feeling very anxious. Didn't come here because he felt Titus owed him some sort of explanation, really hadn't, and didn't want to stay if this was all that Titus had to say.

But it wasn't, after all.

A short silence, and then Titus murmured, lowly, "I owe you that apology, and in addition I owe you... I want you to attempt to understand my reasoning. The way I saw things."

Ignis rested his chin in his palm then, turned his head, and tried hard not to sigh.

How ridiculous, this entire thing.

Ignis wanted to say, 'I'm not a child.' He didn't need Titus to hold his hand and explain things to him, didn't need Titus to look down on him and worry that he was too dumb to understand.

But he didn't interrupt again, and sat obediently still as Titus began to speak.

"My entire life has been a very straight line. I fight always for my home, and that's all. Nothing else matters to me. For me, it's always been home and duty, above all else. I have to focus on that, and that alone. I have never been concerned or interested in a personal life. It's much simpler that way. I can give everything I have, I can give myself completely to my work. I don't need to worry about someone waiting for me. I don't need to worry about sharing any part of myself with anyone else. I can focus completely on any given task without worrying about how anyone else would feel about it. There are no repercussions falling on anyone but myself."

Titus trailed off then, for just a moment, as Ignis tried so hard to keep his breathing even, despite how his hands were shaking. Far too much adrenaline for one day. Needed to get out of this house, and soon, before he lost composure and snapped on Titus and started shouting at him for being so condescendingly obnoxious.

Ignis had known all of this all along.

Titus might have been staring at him then, but Ignis refused to glance over, staying still and silent as Titus found his words and carried on.

"I've never allowed myself to stray. Any relationship I've ever had, I've kept it purely physical. I've never allowed myself to become emotional. Sentimental. Those feelings are a luxury, for those who can afford to have them. I am the King's guard—I can't fall in love, because then I can't focus completely. If I fall in love, I have to worry about falling in battle as well, because then there would be someone else that would be hurt. If I fall in love, then I have to take someone other than myself into account, and I couldn't do that, because I would be forced to give a bit of myself to something other than my duty. That wouldn't be fair to whoever I was with. I swore to myself that I would never fall in love, because I'm already sworn to my home and position. Falling in love would mean that I had a weakness. Can you understand that?"

Oh—

He could, absolutely, because in some way that was exactly the way he felt about Noctis, but that didn't make it hurt any less. He wasn't as stringent as Titus was, wasn't as hard or as strong, and although he would have given life itself for Noctis without thought, that didn't mean that he was unable to give a part of himself to another.

So he understood, but then he didn't, because he could care for more than one person at a time, even though he knew in his heart that Titus and Cor's manner of living was the correct one.

Didn't really know what to say, so after a while Ignis merely rumbled, deeply, "I've always understood. You never had any need to explain it to me. We all serve this line. Did you ever really think I didn't understand?"

Couldn't bring himself to look over, and wished that he had never come over in the first place. He was staring so hard at the door then that he was surprised it didn't ignite.

There was only silence then, utter silence, and Ignis could hear the blood pounding in his ears.

Stress and anger and frustration. Blood pressure rising.

He wanted to go home, bury himself under the covers, and not show his face for about three days.

Ignis jumped a bit when a hand suddenly grabbed his chin, and it certainly wasn't Titus' gentlest moment when he wrenched Ignis' head to the side. Ignis stubbornly averted his eyes as best he could, but eventually was forced to glance up at Titus, when it became clear he wouldn't escape otherwise.

Titus' face was stern then, very serious, and Ignis found himself pinned down yet again under those piercing eyes.

A snap.

"Hey! Are you actually listening to me?"

Ignis furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes, looking as angry then as he felt, no doubt, and he hissed back, "Of course I am. I have no choice. You made sure of that."

Titus' expression softened a bit, but only a bit, and he didn't release Ignis' chin.

His voice was lower when he said, very firmly, "Ignis. Listen. I know that I may have hurt you, and for that you may not be so eager to hear me out. You're right; that's why I wanted you to come here, so that I could ensure I could finish what I needed to say without you running away. That was a long lead-in, I know, but there is a point to this. I need you to understand why I sent you away when I did. It wasn't because you had fallen in love with me and I didn't want the hassle. It was because I was feeling the same. I began thinking of you far too frequently, and when I shouldn't have been."

A jolt of shock.

Must have misheard—

"I realized that I was getting in a bit too deep, but I didn't stop it, because I was still under the impression that you had no interest in me. I assumed that even though I was becoming invested, I could stay yet on my path because you wouldn't have reciprocated. When I realized that day how you felt—that frightened me. I knew then that I couldn't see you anymore, because all you had to do was extend your hand, and I would have taken it without thought. You were pulling me from my path, because I was growing attached to you. When you asked me to stay, I wanted to, more than anything. That frightened me, because I knew that I had fallen in love with you. I couldn't let that be, so I turned you away. And I've regretted it every day since. So. There. All you keep saying is 'I understand'. Well! Can you understand that?"

Ignis stared at Titus without blinking, very intently, very pointedly, but really only because he was pretty sure his brain had melted a little and he was having some sort of mental break.

Couldn't quite grasp what he had just heard.

...must have misunderstood. Surely. A miscommunication on an epic scale, no doubt, because Titus had made it quite clear that love, for him, was impossible. Couldn't be.

Titus stared right back at him, waiting for a response, shifting his weight, and Ignis thought that maybe Titus looked a little anxious then, under Ignis' unwavering gaze. Was fairly certain he swallowed. Still, Titus held fast to Ignis' chin, refusing to let him look away.

Was this some other game? Titus' way of regaining a fun pastime?

Even though he heard it so plainly, it was hard to really grasp.

Ignis' silence must have been grating, for Titus tightened his grip on Ignis' chin and said, sternly, "Say something."

It was ridiculous, stupid, childish, but Ignis was a breath away from fainting or crying and so he just uttered, lowly, "Something."

Titus stared him down, lips parting and brow low, and for just a second Ignis thought that Titus was angry, as he had right to be at Ignis' flippant response. But Titus barked a nervous laugh instead, let Ignis go, leaned back into the couch, and ran his palms over his eyes. Ignis stared ever away at him, tried to gather up his thoughts, tried to compose some semblance of sanity up in his head, tried to determine how much he believed Titus.

Titus was honorable, dutiful, honest, strict, no nonsense.

Ignis didn't truly think Titus was deceiving him, no, but his own self-consciousness made it hard to believe.

Titus exhaled very heavily, hands still over his eyes, and Ignis finally found his voice long enough to ask, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why me? All these years you've been alone. Why now? Why me?"

Titus could have had anyone he wanted, anyone at all in the city. Didn't understand why he would have ever settled for Ignis.

Titus' palms slid down, he stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then Titus reached suddenly into his suit jacket, into a pocket, and pulled something out.

Ignis recognized the cloth the old woman had given him.

Oh.

A rush of hope, affection, and Ignis stood on the very brink of understanding, but didn't yet let himself topple over the edge.

Titus stared at the cloth for a long while, and then finally replied, without looking at Ignis, "Because you're the first person that's ever wanted to get to know me. That's cared about me. That saw me as you saw any other man. That's why."

Breathless and mesmerized, Ignis twisted so that he was facing Titus, and he might have leaned a bit forward, for Titus finally turned his head to look at him.

Titus' expression then was one Ignis could never have hoped to understand.

But he understood the very slight quiver in Titus' breathy voice, when he abruptly said, "I know that this may all be too late. I understand that, so I'll ask you now what you want. Will you stay with me? Or has that ship sailed? Did I wait too long? Be honest with me, because if you no longer have any interest in me, I'll drive you back and send you off into the arms of someone else who loves you."

Someone else? Who? Luche?

There was no one else, and never in a thousand years would Ignis have refused Titus then, especially since Ignis up to then hadn't even really spoken to Luche.

Before Ignis could really even answer, Titus added, "But know that I would have you stay."

"Tonight?" Ignis asked, as he subconsciously scooted himself a bit closer to Titus, clinging then furiously to hope.

"Every night," Titus whispered, averting his eyes quickly to the cloth, which he tucked one more into his breast pocket.

Ignis scooted yet closer, pressing himself suddenly into Titus' side.

At last, the tables turned fully, and Titus met Ignis' eyes and was the one to ask, "Will you stay?"

And that time, it was Ignis who must have looked momentarily elated, for Titus' tense face relaxed just a bit.

It stupid, pathetic, a weak moment, knowing that it shouldn't really be, that the both of them shouldn't have let anything distract them from their duties, but they were only men, not gods, susceptible as anyone to emotion and desire.

So Ignis nodded, and Titus' eyes closed for a moment in relief.

A heavy arm suddenly over his shoulders, as Titus hauled him in, and Ignis was very happy to rest his head on Titus' breast as he had so many times before. No speaking for hours that night, though; Ignis was far too exhausted. Utterly emotionally spent, and before too long he was dozing.

Titus drained the life out of him sometimes.

The night passed in a blur, in and out as he drifted, and sometime later, Ignis was pulled to his feet and led away to the bedroom. Dim light from the moon streaming in through the curtains. The comforting, subtle scent of Titus, a heavy blanket.

Titus' hands didn't wander that time, as they instead lied side by side and Ignis buried his head in Titus' neck. Ignis was so astounded and dumbfounded that he didn't even have the sense to look around Titus' bedroom and observe, in spite of the remarkably rare privilege he was receiving, and he was far too tired anyway. Titus ran a hand down his side and made no other motion, because Titus had sworn on his honor that his intentions for the night hadn't been 'what you think'. Titus, as usual, was a man of his word.

Sleep came.

For the first time, Ignis and Titus slept side by side in the same bed.

His happiest moment.

Ignis never asked who the 'someone else' was, because it wouldn't have mattered.

Dawn came far too soon.

Waking up that very first morning next to sleeping Titus was quite beyond even eloquent Ignis' ability to describe. Surreal—had lied very frequently beneath Titus, but never once beside of him. Titus had come and gone, had never allowed Ignis to linger, and had never stayed.

Rather awe-inspiring, perhaps, twisting his head to the side to see Titus sleeping away at his side, breathing deep and even, chest rising and falling in time.

Must have been a dream.

That thought made Ignis roll over onto his side and reach out, tentatively, resting his hand on Titus' chest just to confirm that he really was there. A heartbeat then beneath his palm, strong and steady, and Ignis knew for certain that Titus was real.

Extraordinary.

At the touch, Titus silently came to consciousness, for Ignis glanced up shortly after only to be met with Titus' pale eyes staring him down. Ignis fell still and silent, as he often did, waiting for Titus to speak first. A long stare, intent and probing, and Ignis had long since felt nervous before Titus mercifully smiled.

A search of his face, and then Titus sighed, deeply, and uttered, roughly, "Perhaps you had a point all along; this is far more favorable."

Felt happy then, truly happy, for the first time he could really remember. Titus must have seen the look on his face, for he snorted, pressed forward, and kissed him.

Still, when Titus pulled back, Ignis said, dutifully, "You have no obligations. You're free to change your mind if you misspoke last night."

He meant that, even though that actually happening would have killed him.

Titus snorted, ran a hand over his sleepy eyes, and rasped, "Your duty knows no bounds. Don't think so; you're not getting out of being my housewife so easily."

A rush of elation.

Ignis sat up in bed, resting his weight on his palms, and looked sleepily around.

Well...certainly not as messy as Noct's room. Titus was neat, as much as a man like Titus could be, but Ignis still spied drawers poking open and piles of messily folded clothes sitting atop the dresser rather than in it. Cobwebs here and there. Mismatched furniture situated in a visually displeasing manner. The mirror on the wall was as dusty as could be.

Not bad, but not great.

To tease Titus, however, Ignis gave a heavy sigh, pretended to scrutinize the room, and grumbled, "Oh dear. I do have my work cut out for me. Am I allowed to change my mind?"

Titus rolled over, grabbed Ignis around the chest to pull him back down, and said, huskily, "Not a chance."

The next thing Ignis knew, Titus had rolled halfway atop him, grabbed the back of his neck, and furiously kissed him, so hard that Ignis was certain his lip had been split.

Ignis' ran his hands through Titus' short, messy hair, and hoped that Titus really wanted him there as much as he wanted to be there.

Titus pulled back, stared down at him for a long while, and then pushed their foreheads together.

A soft, barely audible whisper, so low in fact that Ignis was under the impression that Titus had hoped Ignis hadn't heard it at all.

"I love you."

Ignis was very certain then that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

They were meant to be; how could it have been any other way?

Their paths may not have intersected, but that wouldn't matter if they were parallel, and just close enough that they could reach out and hold the other's hand as they dutifully walked along.

The sun had returned.