Ignis wakes up to a ringing phone, two bodies, and an aching head.
what in the fuck is this
Preview:
Rigid warmth buoys Ignis between heavy waves of―perhaps not sleep. That feels too weak a word. It's almost as if he's been knocked unconscious by a particularly nasty spar with Gladio. But he doesn't hear Gladio's mocking growls or the med wing's quiet rustling of nurses. In fact, there's barely any sound at all, which first leads him to believe he's in his own apartment, where the walls can block most of Insomnia's thrumming. But he's not...sure?
He rarely feels so uncoordinated. The frustration forces his senses to lift the steel curtain a half inch more.
Breath. The rigid warmth breathes. One side on his nose and eyelids, a small splash compared to the other billowing on the back of his neck, meshed between knobs of his spine. For a strange moment, Ignis' brain melds them into one being before snippy logic flares his sense of touch and forms a new picture:
His preferred air freshener is absent and his walls can't block this much noise. Not his apartment. But not Noct's either.
It's the rest of it that really snaps his eyes open.
Rigid warmth. Scarred skin.
Breaths on two sides. Two bodies.
