[ Nothing to it? That had everything to it. More than Noctis expected, wondering where Prompto even learned to kiss at all like that or if it's just blind luck. It definitely felt like it had more weight to it than his own timid attempt, and he tries to come up with something to say in retaliation, a joke to cut through the sudden peak-suffocation levels of tension. But his mind turned off a while ago, and his body is all too awake, too reactive, his staggered heartbeats to match the ragged way he's breathing. If only he could play it off like it means nothing, but there's more warmth hugging the skin of his cheeks, stretching down the length of his neck until his collar feels too uncomfortable, sticky-wet against his skin.
He's also grateful when the fireworks explode, a distant light that stretches across the sky, swallows them both in all kinds of colors. His focus shifts to the blooming embers, watching with sudden fascination and almost wishing they'd never die down. Then he wouldn't have to face the aftermath of what they'd just done nor struggle to explain it to himself in a way that makes sense.
Why had he... why had they both...? He doesn't know why, only moved by something too primitive and careless, and if he regrets it, it's only because he doesn't want Prompto to hate him later or feel disgusted. But he kissed him back, so that must mean he's obviously not mad or grossed out. Did he do it just to reassure him then, or because he wanted to out of the same reckless impulse? Noctis doesn't think he had as much to drink as himself, but it's hard to grasp the stray memory to try and count backwards how many cups each of them had.
When the last of the lights die, he glances down at his hands, wondering when one had move on top of Prompto's, feeling the sweat gather on his palm and press into Prompto's knuckles. It's almost like he's crushing it, so he moves it away fast and tries to find something new to hold onto, fiddle with -his hair, his shirt, the skin on his own neck. ]
Yeah... nothing to it.
[ A final concession before he hunches over silently, unsure what else to really say. Is he sorry anymore? Should he go on pretending it didn't happen? This is all so confusing all of the sudden, but why should it mean anything? He's got his betrothal, and Prompto's still entertaining the thought of marrying his 'Grease-monkey Goddess.' It's obvious the two of them are just playing around, nothing serious. Nothing to get bent out of shape over, but he almost wishes for a second that he had somehow shaken Prompto's view of him, made him at least question things for a little bit the way Noctis had, but the thought is fleeting, quickly crushed down. ]
Happy Sunsu and all. Think I should probably hit bed about now anyway.
[ If only to put to rest all the haphazard thoughts in his head, find some way to expunge them completely and go back to normal. If there's even such a thing as 'normal' for him. ]
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He's also grateful when the fireworks explode, a distant light that stretches across the sky, swallows them both in all kinds of colors. His focus shifts to the blooming embers, watching with sudden fascination and almost wishing they'd never die down. Then he wouldn't have to face the aftermath of what they'd just done nor struggle to explain it to himself in a way that makes sense.
Why had he... why had they both...? He doesn't know why, only moved by something too primitive and careless, and if he regrets it, it's only because he doesn't want Prompto to hate him later or feel disgusted. But he kissed him back, so that must mean he's obviously not mad or grossed out. Did he do it just to reassure him then, or because he wanted to out of the same reckless impulse? Noctis doesn't think he had as much to drink as himself, but it's hard to grasp the stray memory to try and count backwards how many cups each of them had.
When the last of the lights die, he glances down at his hands, wondering when one had move on top of Prompto's, feeling the sweat gather on his palm and press into Prompto's knuckles. It's almost like he's crushing it, so he moves it away fast and tries to find something new to hold onto, fiddle with -his hair, his shirt, the skin on his own neck. ]
Yeah... nothing to it.
[ A final concession before he hunches over silently, unsure what else to really say. Is he sorry anymore? Should he go on pretending it didn't happen? This is all so confusing all of the sudden, but why should it mean anything? He's got his betrothal, and Prompto's still entertaining the thought of marrying his 'Grease-monkey Goddess.' It's obvious the two of them are just playing around, nothing serious. Nothing to get bent out of shape over, but he almost wishes for a second that he had somehow shaken Prompto's view of him, made him at least question things for a little bit the way Noctis had, but the thought is fleeting, quickly crushed down. ]
Happy Sunsu and all. Think I should probably hit bed about now anyway.
[ If only to put to rest all the haphazard thoughts in his head, find some way to expunge them completely and go back to normal. If there's even such a thing as 'normal' for him. ]