Chapter 3: i cower when you're near
Have you ever had one of those moments where the world and everything that surrounds you feels entirely surreal-that you blink and breathe and function normally but you still feel you are submerged five thousand feet underwater? Well, that's exactly the way I feel right now, standing shirtless and shoeless-bare toes on the ground and calves exposed-in front of Ardyn Izunia, the Chancellor of Niflheim no less. His pose is relaxed, one hand rests against the door frame and his white teeth gleam underneath the yellow light of my room; his robes are still the same ones he wore earlier today, expensive, not ones to ever be seen on commoners like myself. The drastic contrast between the two of us must be jarring; me, in total disarray and him looking composed as ever.
Urgently, I grasp for words that evade me like the plague, for anything worth saying, yet my vocal chords are paralyzed. Unable to utter sounds, I gape unintelligently at the violet haired man (screw his hair, seriously), trying in vain to process the sequence of words that have come out of his smirking mouth. I have a sudden itch below the knee that needs to be treated as soon as possible, I scratch at the skin there with the sole of the opposite foot, buying time, forcing my brain cells to work for once. It's a hard task to make sense of such a ridiculous statement-He has just asked for permission to enter my room. Why even….? What is his deal exactly? Because of this son of a nice, respectful lady, my Sunday has gone literally to the daemon realm wherever the fuck it is they live at. Because he brought that single offer, that threat disguised as suggestion that destroyed my 'happily ever after', shattered the illusion of love, turned to reality a young prince's dream and that dream becoming true, it killed my own. The weight of rocks settles back on my chest, I bite the inside of my cheek and frown in frustration.
Hazel orbs follow the movement of my foot; focus intently on my pale toes that are mildly pinkish at the tips scratching the annoying itch on my other leg. Weary of his heavy stare, blood rushes madly to my cheeks and I don't get why. Then, I notice the maid standing behind him- barely visible-holding a tray in her hands. My eyes widen and I look from him to her and wonder why I'm still quiet, why I haven't opened my big mouth to say something. Anything. Why is it so hard to speak when I normally say whatever pops up in my head?
Ardyn, seeing that he's talking to a living statue, is the one that breaks the silence. Repeats the question "Well, are you going to let me in?"
"Um… I…. why?" I manage to say in a totally clever way. Wow, he must be impressed at the pathetic demonstration of intelligence and by that I mean social awkwardness. Stupid tongue that does not want to cooperate with me. Again, Prompto, this time don't embarrass yourself. "Not to be rude or anything but umm, What-Are-You-Doing-Here?" Okay, that's more like it. I'd pat myself on the head if I could or if it wasn't so weird.
I hope that my bewilderment at this… this unexpected event gets across to him because honestly what the fuck. Just What The Fuck. I've had a terrible day so far and things keep getting stranger and stranger, it's like I can't have a frigging' break because then some higher power above looks at me starting to relax and surely thinks 'Nah, he has not been screwed enough yet" and in a very calm manner proceeds to throw me head first into interactions I don't want to be a part of, each one more strange and painful than the previous ones, into mess after mess until I'm also a mess in the brain… I'm not making any sense, am I?
The Chancellor grins.
"This is quite the unexpected visit, isn't it?" Tell me about it "It just came to my attention you weren't present at dinner tonight. When I inquired about your whereabouts, your friends told me you were indisposed and I thought it would be a good idea to bring you some food. After all, I wouldn't want my guide to get sick before he makes due on his promise to show me the beauty of Insomnia"
Okay. That's fine. Except that it's not and I stare even more bewildered than before for three main reasons. One, his wording choice, what the heck dude, that way of talking is from another world, most likely it came straight out of Creepland his home planet. Two, what made him think it was a good idea to come to the room of a stranger in the middle of the night (it's around eight, I don't know, but still my point holds), ask to be let inside their room and also bring them food? Alright, the food part is debatable-my stomach rumbles in agreement-but the rest, if you ask me ladies and gentlemen, seems pretty sketchy. And three, his appearance doesn't inspire much confidence, one would have to be a blind to not see how unsafe he looks: exactly like the kind of man I would keep my children (if I had any) away from.
It would be madness to let such an untrustworthy guy inside room.
Which is exactly what I do immediately after he speaks; in pilot mode I move to the left, clearing the entrance for safe passage. Ardyn smirks and lets the maid walk in first; I just stay standing to the side, gaping like a jackass and questioning whether there is effectively something wrong with me. What are the odds that whenever I think of a line of action I end up doing the opposite to my original plan instead. However, I don't know. I'm too tired, my brain is too tired to be dealing with so much bullshit in so many hours and I just would like to avoid conflict as much as possible. Is there something wrong with that? With wanting to maintain the peace and quiet even if I have to let who could be a psycho person inside my room?
I take a look at the man again. But…Maybe, just maybe, there's the tiny possibility that I could be exaggerating this entire situation. Looking from an objective point of view, I shouldn't really judge this man only for what he has shown everyone on the outside-he is in enemy territory after all, he can't afford to show vulnerability in front of possible threats. Let's say I had met him in different circumstances, if for some reason me and the guys had med him somewhere else, in another time. Let's say he offered to help us and I had no clue he was from Niflheim. Would I have been as weary of him as I am now? Am I being overwhelmed by my feelings, by the fact that if it weren't for him Noctis would still be with me? Or is it another matter entirely?
Ominously, the damned barcode is a furnace compared to the rest of my body temperature. It burns as if I had immersed the wrist on a pot of scalding water.
Well, I'm obviously not the most adequate guy to be judging others on their appearances. Fingers trail to the wristbands on my arm, where I trace the outline of it, feel the beating pulse of my heart. No one knows what I hide there. No one knows the truth. Noctis's eyes, back in the day had looked at my covered wrists and had then looked at me in sympathy, thinking he knew the reason why I never took the damn things off. In the end, we all have our secrets. And that is why all I do is shake nervously in my spot as the maid sets the tray on the very convenient table in the middle of the room and walks off without a glance in my direction. Only after she has left is that the Chancellor steps inside, closing the door behind him with a deafening click that couldn't have been higher than a sigh but to my ears sounds like a grenade going off.
I don't look at him, prefer to center my gaze on the delicious food in front of me (it's safer). Wow, thanks to all the craziness surrounding me nowadays I almost forgot the magnificence of royal food. Astrals, the meat, the vegetables, every single thing on that plate reeks of money and heavenly taste. But of course, as I think that, the sensation of being watched creeps up on me and that is when I remember I'm still half naked. In a room with Ardyn Izunia whose stare firmly trails the barely visible stretch marks on my belly, that slowly traces the planes of my stomach, the slight ridge of my ribs and collarbones and finally settles on-
On the purple lovebite Noctis made a week ago!
Oh for fuck's sake!
Embarrassment, shame and severe worry strike me; our eyes meet and I see a glimmer of amusement in a mixed sea of colors before I turn heel and make a grab for my abandoned turtleneck at the foot of the bed. I put it on hurriedly, heat expanding throughout my entire body-I don't need to look in a mirror to know I must be turning to the shade of a lobster-and his eyes burning holes in my back. I turn, arms crossed defensively in front of my chest.
"I'll be honest. I was planning to get to know my guide better on this social visit but I never imagined to what extent I actually would" His tone is jesting and it rubs me off in the wrong way "I guess it would be too much of a stretch if I asked who the lucky lady might be…" His eyes shine mischievously "… or the fortunate gentleman, perhaps?"
I purse my lips in distaste. Turns out I was right from the beginning, this man is not worth a vote of confidence. Oh, how I would love to tell him where he can shove that tour of Insomnia but I refrain from doing so. Who does he think he is? Any normal person with common sense would have just dropped the subject altogether and not mentioned it because it would be awkward as fuck. But nooooo, he has to go and scream it to the heavens that I have a hickey.
"You'll have to excuse me Chancellor but I don't see how that's any of your business." I hiss out "What do you want, anyway? Tomorrow doesn't mean today" I don't even care for how rude I'm acting right now, I'm pissed off dammit!
He raises his hands in the air at this in a placating gesture; the annoying up tilt of his lips never fading away.
"Snappy, snappy boy" he literally purrs "Did I touch a nerve, was that too close, too personal? Do forgive me, Prompto. It was not my intention to upset you, I merely wished to smooth our differences with friendly banter"
What a funny way of showing it. My answer is to glare at him. "And I believe I have already told you my reasons for being here" he continues.
"Tell me again, then. I don't think I heard you"
"To get to know you better, of course. I foresee us spending a lot of time in each other's company in the near future and what a shame it would be if we did not get along at all, my young guide and me" There is a threat there…. I just don't know what it is or what he could be implying "And to provide you with nourishment since I was told you weren't feeling well. Although, seeing the way you are now, you seem quite healthy to me." A beat. The creepy smile he has been wearing all this time suddenly disappears "Unless it's not a physical ache but an emotional pain the one that stunts you"
My blood runs cold. It's only a second-the world shifts on its axis, the blush beneath my skin is replaced by unnatural paleness, and the blood runs away, escapes hastily out of fear-but Gods do I lose it in that moment, hanging in uncertainty as that eerie somber face peeks at me under violet hair. It's only a second but I'm afraid that he can see. That he knows what the future king and I used to do in this room, (images flash through my head: Noctis pushing me face down on the bed, his lips branding every available patch of skin and my moist eyes as I sucked him off, positioned between his legs, knees on the carpeted floor while he sat on the bed and watched me with those narrowed blue eyes that only spoke of infinite want) that he is aware of that stormy interaction outside the throne room, that he knows all the words we said in despair and resignation.
It comes as no surprise when I seek to avoid his searching eyes and shrug my tensed shoulders "I… I. Okay. Yeah, I'm so sorry. I got a bit defensive there, haha. But you're right, we'll have to get along because otherwise it would be a disaster if we didn't. And I am feeling better but thank you for bringing me food. Which I should eat -right now"
The floor is a very interesting really. All those patterns and colors, how is people able to do this with their hands? I can barely hold a camera with them, ha ha ha… I follow the abstract figures to the table and I sit on the chair closest to the tray of food. Not once do I look up, just shove everything on the plate with a tempting smell on my mouth, not caring enough to use cutlery. Nope, sir, forks and knives are for the weak; a real man eats using only his hands. I eat and eat, forcing any other kind of thought out of my head because it will take me nowhere. It reminds me so much of my ten year old self that I want to sob-of that overweight child whose isolation was so big he hid from the world and took solace in ravaging any type of junk food to forget the emptiness, not of his stomach, but of his short, miserable life. Because that boy tends to over think things too much; yes, the boy walks around in circles over and over and never dares to do anything, too afraid of the staggering amount of terrible outcomes. But eating, that doesn't involve thinking. Eating is liberating.
("Don't you want some of these?" Noctis says, waving a bag of popcorns and fries in front of my face. He pops one inside his mouth. I avert my gaze.
Grease and calories in my line of sight. The risk is too great.
"No, thanks Noct. I don't really…" I shift awkwardly in my seat, feeling every stare in the restaurant focused on us. Every stare focused on me to see if the fat boy will eat his fries.
Noctis smiles.
"Dude, chill. It's not like it'll kill you."
Oh, but it would, my friend. It would. I deny him again but he gets stubborn, pinches my left side with his index and thumb finger.
"I won't mind if you gain a few pounds. In fact, you need them more than me"
He says that and I feel my insides twist and deform and all I want to do is throw up. All I hear is that skinny Noctis pulling from the floor, looking at my obese body and saying 'Heavy'. Disgusted, repulsed by the fat boy.
Then a hand takes me by the chin, forces me to look up and meet angry, passionate blue eyes. "Prompto," he pronounces my name like he loves how it sounds rolling off his tongue, like he doesn't know how to say anything else "what are you so afraid of? Who cares if you're fat or whatever?"
He blushes "Besides, forget your looks, you'd still be my best friend, anyway. No matter what. So don't worry what others might think, their opinion is shit either way compared to the prince's right?" And he grins the most beautiful grin he can muster and I'm definitely blessed. I wouldn't mind dying right now, with this view as my last. Smiling back, I pick a fry and eat it ignoring my fear and self hatred just so I can get a glimpse of a satisfied Noctis. Our fingers brush slightly under the table.
From that point onwards, Noctis made sure of inviting me to eat every time we hanged out. He always paid and I felt loved.)
Noctis…
The plate previously filled with food is now empty.
"That sure didn't take long. You must have been starving, poor thing"
Oh, right. Ardyn. Almost forgot about him. I look up from the tray on the table and see the Chancellor sitting uninvited on the chair across from mine. He speaks mockingly, gazing at me lazily but there's a new edge in his irises, one that wasn't there before. I can't stand to look at him directly so my eyes drift down to his blood red scarf. I'm a mess of accumulated emotions; I'm a mess because when he spoke just now I thought of the black bars on my skin.
Once more, I'm speechless faced with this man. The fingers of my right hand shake on top of the table, revealing my unease and my need to keep eating to push the heavy thoughts away. I hide it under the table; leave it shaking on my thigh where he can't see my weakness.
"How… How was it you and not anyone else the one to bring me dinner" My voice is a whisper by the sea, a small rock thrown on a river. It can't be heard above the waves or the force of the current but somehow, Ardyn does. The question is sudden, nervous, the first thing that came to my mind.
His is the roar of a lion in the silent room, commanding all the attention to his words "I simply suggested that my food should be brought later to my chambers, given that I had the pleasure of enjoying a well cooked meal before departing. And luckily for you, the servants in this household do not seem to be well versed in politics or distrusting strangers. It was only a matter of semantics to tell that woman I preferred to have my dinner somewhere else"
Huh. My hands curl into fists. Just like that, just that easy. The puppets on the stage and the smug puppeteer pulling the strings in every direction he deems fit. There is something innately wrong here, in how he said that just now, in the way he expresses himself, how he refers to others-I'm a mess and on edge.
"Why?" I ask.
"I am curious about you" he concedes "I never knew the prince to have such a close friend. Especially one that is not related to royalty in any form"
The shaking stops. My eyes rise from the red piece of clothing and fly to Ardyn's face. That sentence he has uttered; it has revealed a thousand million doors, answered a hundred of questions rattling inside me. His intentions lay bare due to the structure of his sentence, the way he chose the exact words and the exact way to organize them into a bigger unit with a purpose.
As I imagined, it would be stupid of the Empire to not have intel on their sworn enemies. Or to not, maybe, send someone as a scapegoat to lull the Lucians into a false sense of security. Now I can see clearly what all this is about. He's trying to use me to get to Noctis, he's scouting for his weaknesses so then he can use him to target the King. The nervousness and the void in my belly, and the rejection and humiliation, they're all gone for now. They take second place, because I'm unexpectedly getting a preview of the enemy's true colors shining through their empty promises and 'friendly banter'. And I suddenly want to laugh because this means that Noctis's engagement is nothing but a-
Don't think about it.
Don't think about it!
( )
"I'm nothing special, really. Just your next door kind of guy trying to get by" my voice is small, meek. I'm not even lying; this is the truest thing that has ever been said today.
Compared to the others, who am I?
Ardyn chuckles, shakes his head from side to side, studies the ghosts reflected on my features "I doubt it. Otherwise, the prince wouldn't have chosen you. Or could it be that his majesty's son has very low standards? Or maybe is he just that dull?"
Fucker. Fucker. Dirty fucker. I wish I had a gun in my hands so I could shoot him in the middle of his dickish eyes. I'm the only one allowed to insult Noctis. Plus, he can grab his passive aggressive insinuations towards me and shove them somewhere dark, where the sun cannot reach.
"Isn't that a little rude? Considering who is hosting you and all. Oh, and the agreement you've made today. Can't forget that" I say calmly. Take that, motherlover! Try again next time, BITCH!
"Nothing is set on stone yet. At least, not until the announcement is made public. I'm sure you'll forgive me this small indiscretion in exchange of further positive negotiations with King Regis. Unless you would prefer to maintain the war?"
The smugness I feel fades away. He can't possibly be implying that if anything of what is being said here gets out, he'll break the agreement, right? I see his smile turn into a sneer and I understand then that he is, the bastard. He's threatening me, threatening the kingdom! Well, screw him because there is no way I won't tell the King what I just realized and-
And what?
My nostrils flare in indignation; oh I see now. If I decide to tell the King, we will be back at square one, still at war against Niflheim and still losing. Whatever I choose, whatever Noctis's dad chooses, we still lose. There is no way to win; in fact, it's ironic how our only saving grace is the engagement between Lady Lunafreya and Noctis that while it might not change the panoramic, it will at least buy time for Insomnia and the rest of Lucis, a few months –maybe, hopefully- of peace. And I feel it finally, what I had not been able to see due to my heartbreak and pain.
It's coming to an end.
The happiness, the safety, the laughing children and neighbors. The kind people on the streets, the joy in the air, the late nights at the arcade, the jokes at the bar, and the college acquaintances saying goodbye, red faced and dreamy. It will all be gone: that small photo studio on the corner of the street I live where I worked on my high school days to earn both experience and money, the alley where Noctis and I shared our first kiss, the abandoned school ground where once Gladio came to my rescue because I was being threatened by a random gang from my neighborhood, the mall in the center of Insomnia where I accompany Iggy to buy ingredients for his cooking practices….This city, my home city, the place that has been both my prison and refuge will be gone. One day, I won't be able to be here anymore, to wake up inside my messy house and look out the window and see the expanse of familiar buildings… One day, I'll have to leave.
This is bigger than just my love story coming to an end-this is the end of everyone I've ever known, of everything I've ever known. Our whole universe will succumb to the forces of the Empire.
Insomnia will fall and soon.
"How old are you, Prompto?"
The question breaks through my reverie, his tone a mix of amusement and detachment however those two might be combined.
He changes his posture in a certain way that resembles that of a king sitting on his throne.
"What? Why?"
I mutter, baffled and confused. Not that my age is precisely top secret information but it is an odd question. Especially coming from the man who's supposed to spy on us for the Empire's sake. I don't see how knowing how old I am might aid him on that.
"How old are you?" he says again, still looking at me like he's trying to figure out a puzzle "Is it safe to assume you are in the same age range as the prince?"
"I'm 20. Born on October 25th in case you were wondering."
Sarcasm is the only weapon I have against him, so no one can blame me for using at maximum potency.
"So nice to be so young and lively." Is his response to my sarcastic remark. I have to stop myself from scoffing at that and I decide to return the question, rearranging myself on the chair which is despite its expensive look not comfortable at all. He is a dangerous thing as he answers, a secret playing out behind his smoky eyes "I'm actually old enough to be your father, Prompto. I will turn forty soon, in two months time"
Somehow, I'm left shivering in disgust and other emotions I can't recognize when he says this. His intonation as he said 'father' and my name is disquieting; it feels as if he dragged them on purpose, to sound inappropriately wrong in the context we're in. That without mentioning his expression which is the one that a man with dark unspoken intentions wears at all times.
"That reminds me, I've been meaning to ask you what your parents think of your… relation to the prince. They must be quite proud of you for achieving such a high status"
Poison shielded as an inquiry. My nails bite moon marks on the palms of my hands-I might as well just leave permanent scars there-and don't answer, look at him with a tense jaw and squinted eyes. Gods, this situation. I'm not able to define exactly where we stand with each other at the moment, can barely think outside of this game of push and pull he insists on imposing. I'd have no problem with engaging in normal conversation but he's the one that keeps on with the stingy comments.
"Did I manage to offend you, again?" No. Of course not. Why would I be offended when you've been nothing but sweets and rainbows to me. Note: sarcasm. "Hmmm. I have the feeling that you and I, Prompto, won't be able to find common ground if we stay in this impasse. May I make a suggestion?"
I shrug. I don't really care, it seems impossible at this point so far in the conversation to salvage whatever 'civil terms' we could have reached had he not decided to be an asshole.
"An eye for an eye" he leans forward and I automatically lean back, out of his reach. His brows rise giving him a manic look to his rugged face "If I ask you a question you must absolutely answer and the same applies to me. I'll answer gladly any question you might have. Reciprocation, that is what we're missing. How can we hope to understand each other if we fail to communicate in the basest level?"
I wonder, indeed, how can I not stab you in the fucking eye?! I'm pretty sure I'm not the reason why this communication process is failing, bastard Ardyn. Even so I whisper, just because this is getting infinitely tiring and I want to get this over with "My parents, they're… I don't know where they are"
It's painful sharing, particularly to this man, but I do it because, honest to the Great Six, I don't see how this helps him in anything. I imagine white walls and white floors and try not to think about one of the many absences in my life.
He claps his hands together "That is more like it! What a good boy." Heat rushes to my face. What the fuck is up with all the pet names? "Your turn" he gestures to me with an open palm.
Sweating bullets I think of our first encounter in the hallway, his hand grabbing mine in a too strong handshake to not mean something, how unnervingly close he got to me as he walked by, the obfuscating smell of his cologne and the strange intent in his voice as he speaks now, different from the way he spoke in front of the others hours ago. Here alone with him, it's like he's slowly shedding his skin (like a snake) and I'm not sure how or why I connect him, what I'm seeing, so clearly to the barcode on my wrist.
I lick my lips and blush crimson when hazel eyes swiftly follow the movement of my tongue. Subsequently to that I stutter when I say "W-w-what about your parents?" It's a stupid question. However, it's the only one I can think of asides from outright asking him about what are the Empire's plans for Insomnia, what are his own plans or what his schedule is here. Those are questions I know he will never answer, at least not truthfully. Besides, anything capable of distracting me and him from that weird thing that happened just now works fine.
And it does. His whole demeanor changes in the blink of an eye. Remarkably, he doesn't look mocking anymore but pensive, serious. His eyebrows furrow, his eyes darken, his mouth thins-they all tighten like a mask. His chill façade transforms into one of emptiness and somehow, this is worse than before; prior to this absurd change I could more or less see some emotion within him. Although, at this moment, I'm only looking into a deep nothingness and that is scarier than anything else. Was it even real, the amusement before?
I'd prefer to ignore the answer to this one question.
"My parents…." He echoes, takes the hat off his head and plays with it absentmindedly. He's not staring at me but through me. "To tell you the truth, I can't recall much about them. They died so long ago, you see. They are now nothing more than a faraway dream I once had."
It's the way he says it that truly affects me. I choke on nothing, feel the air flee my lungs at worrying speed at the same time that my eyes water unintentionally. They are nothing but a faraway dream I once had. That is too-too-
He voices the thought for me "I assume you must be well acquainted with that particular feeling as well as I am" And now he is looking at me, looking me deep in the eyes and I can so easily picture him, eyes wide open in the early morning, unable to catch a hint of sleep because when he closes his eyes he can see the human like shaped void his parents should have left behind but instead there is nothing, not even that to remember them by.
Just like I have.
Fuck, fuck no. Prompto, stupid blond, don't sympathize with this dude please, I beg of you. Don't humanize him, you're not allowed to do that.
It would be in my best interest to look away, somewhere safer, but I can't. We stare eat each other and I get the slight impression we're both baffled by the turns this whole strange questioning thing has taken. He did say it: too close, too personal. Too relatable. And gods damn him and his smooth way with words, how he put exactly my midnight thoughts into a sentence with meaning.
"I never imagined you of all people would ask me about such a personal matter"
I open my mouth to exclaim what the hell does he mean by that. Or to protest that he's the one that up until this moment has given zero fucks about my privacy or personal boundaries. I'll never know what I was going to say, however, because right then he stands up from his chair, robes fluttering with the movement and I… I freeze on the chair, remain seated as he steps soundlessly towards me. I should be moving, I should stand up, I should be alarmed by the fact that he doesn't produce noise as he moves. There are many things I should be doing rather than tremble on my seat, pinned down by an unknown feeling of warning that tells me not to perturb the calm before the storm.
But I don't do any of the things that I should, I only stare with saucer wide eyes at him as he stops in front of my chair-face a complete blank-, leans down until we're at equal eye level and almost hesitant, extends a gloved palm in my face's direction. I fight against the urge to pull away or flinch, eyes firmly planted on his. He's so close to me I'm stricken again by his weird body odor and cologne that makes me want to either retreat or shift closer to get a proper whiff. I wish I had an excuse to interrupt what is about to happen but I have none, instead I pray for someone to barge in on us. I can't move, I can't do anything but breathe as the back of his fingers brush over the freckles on my cheekbones; the pupils inside his irises narrow and dilate, like a cat staring at prey. Those fingers then travel lightly across my face (bump minimally with the silhouette of my lips and nose) and stop at once to push a stray lock of blond hair -that was glued to my forehead and part of my cheek due to excessive sweating- behind my ear.
The corners of my mouth tremble, my heartbeat is so out of control I'm scared it could crawl to my belly or even worse, that Ardyn can hear its frantic beats. The tips of his fingers linger there, on that space of unconquered skin behind the red ear and slide down to cup my cheek, touch faint. His eyes, I know, are focused somewhere below my own and it's not precisely my nose he's eyeballing. I swallow nothing and nearly piss my pants when fast as lightning his other hand splays out on the front of my throat, fingers pressing on one side of the neck while his thumb replays the motion of my Adam's apple, rubs it, presses softly down on it.
"Interesting" I think I hear him murmur in the interval it takes him to close the minimal distance between us. In a panic, not knowing what to do, I close my eyes helplessly, close them tight and hope that when I open them again this will all be a forsaken nightmare and I can go back to my normal, everyday, mundane life.
First, there is his breath, unbearably hot, dangerously close to the corner of my lips. Second, there is breezy warmth, the feeling of bare skin contacting the side of my mouth and third... I don't let the third thing happen, I'm up and out of the chair in a second, not able to take it anymore. The chair makes an explosive sound as it meets the floor.
A world of darkness spreads in front of me as I tumble backwards until my the back of my knees hits the bed and I sprawl on it, legs open wide and arms flying exaggeratedly to grab at something in order to not lose my balance. I claw at the sheets and when I dare open my eyes, the Chancellor is not standing by the fallen chair; his back is to me, hat once more on top of his maroon hair and one hand-white knuckled-closed around the door handle.
I don't know how he moved so fast. I don't know anything anymore.
On instinct, I call out to him as he begins to exit the room in haste.
"Why?" I sound winded, my voice is a reflection of my messed up emotional and mental state.
He ceases movement, one foot out the door, hand still hovering close to the door knob. His neck turns minimally in my direction.
"Why did you come here?"
I'm gasping as if the breath has been knocked out of my chest. As if I'm again in elementary school being forced to run a track with my heavy body and chubby legs that can't support my weight.
"Why were you curious about me? Apart from being Noctis's friend?"
He turns fully. I'm shook by the magnitude of the glazed look he gives me, of how serious he looks as his stare wanders over me, starts at the reddened tips of my toes, follow to my naked calves and curved knees (positioned awkwardly as they are due to my inconvenient fall), climbs up my thighs, my chest, the covered wrists and arms to the hidden place on my neck where he saw a hickey not too long ago. Finally, his heated eyes find my conflicted visage (for everything that's holy, my freckles must be standing out so much right now).
"Because now I have confirmed that at least the future king does not suffer from visual impairment"
The door closes with an ear splitting 'slam', leaving me panting and wondering what madness has just taken place inside this room.
