Depression

[threevirtues]

He has to wait until school lets out. Not because there isn't time there definitely is but he just... doesn't have the wherewithal to sit down and have that conversation with Ignis while he has school looming over his head too. Once finals are over, though, there's only another week and a half to trudge through and then- that's it. He's done.

It feels strange, not having the structure of it to fall back on. Not like he hasn't had plenty of breaks before, some while he's been in this apartment even! But it's different when there's no defined end to it. No purpose to return to. Nothing waiting, no date to slam through the latest games through. It's barely 3 days into his supposed freedom and he's already lost, it isn't until he finally trudges out of his room at nearly 7pm (does it count as a nap if you never got out of bed in the first place?) and Ignis is already there.

He hadn't noticed him arrive and Ignis probably thought he was out with Prompto or something. Which is terrible enough. Not realizing someone was in his apartment is a great way to walk into an assassination attempt or something. He's sure that's what Cor would say. Which is exactly what makes him collapse onto the couch with as much force as he does. That and how stiffly he's moving from lazing around in bed literally all day.

But it's the fact that Ignis has already cleared the junk from his coffee table and dining table, the bag of trash ready to go down to the dumpster, that causes the sigh that accompanies the flop. Noct curls on his side, winces a little when he twists his hips just the wrong way, and wraps his arms around one of the throw pillows, half hiding his face as he just silently watches Ignis putter around the kitchen.

Is he stalling or is he just not interrupting? Probably both but he's gonna just pretend that he's respecting Ignis' space or something. And possibly not taking responsibility when Ignis has to throw away the pork chops in the fridge he'd meant to make........ before school let out. Damn.

While it's true that the utter silence of the apartment, the darkness that lay over it, had initially made him wonder if Noct was out enjoying post-school life with Prompto... He'd realized that couldn't be the case when he'd noticed his shoes still carelessly tossed into one corner that most certainly weren't the shoe cubby by the door.

A little worrying, if he were honest. And not just the shoes he has to put back over by the door.

Still, he does his best to not jump into any conclusions and instead gets back to doing as he usually does. There's always trash to clean up, although how much varies on the day. If he's honest, he thought that it seemed a little bit less somewhat recently.... or perhaps anything would seem like 'less' compared to what he walks into tonight. There's really no helping it; all he can do is roll up his sleeves and get to work.

When Noctis finally stumbles out from his room, Ignis is pleased to say that he's managed to make an impressive dent in it all... although his own petty pride is nothing compared to the fact that he's been here for hours, now, and Noctis has only just now woken up.

Hm.

But he doesn't say anything to him, and Ignis in turn stays quiet for a moment as he finishes going through the fridge. Finding those pork chops in the state they're in is what breaks it, really. Straightening up, he immediately goes to deposit them into the newest trash bag he's enlisted in his quest to clean up Noct's apartment. "I'll have to show you how to properly store meat if you don't plan on using it immediately," he says mildly. Which is silly, in a way, he knows. With Noctis having graduated, well... It'll likely be sooner than later when he'll return to the Citadel, won't it?

It will be someone else's job, then, to make sure his room will be clean. It will be someone else who will cook for him.

Probably, it should be a relief.

There's no time to dwell on it. Not when he glances over, and really takes in the sight of Noctis. His brow pinches together, and he quickly wipes down his hands on a washcloth he left in the apartment once upon a time so that he can come over. "Do you not feel well, Noct?" A part of him had been content to just assume Noctis had let a nap get away from him. But somehow, this feels just a tad different.

They were.... near the shoe cubby? It's not a crime to kick off his shoes instead of setting them neatly to the side okay. Just as he had planned on using the pork chops right away he just.... hadn't.

Then Ignis' brows knit and he immediately feels the leaden weight of guilt settle in his gut. Of course. Now Iggy is worried and after he's spent half the evening cleaning up after him. Again.

He can't help rolling his eyes a little, more at himself than anything. As Ignis approaches though he turns onto his back, flipping the pillow in his arms over to shove it behind his head. It's one thing to watch Ignis while he works, to just savor his presence nearby. It's so much more to look at him while he's talking to him. Too much. Noct breathes another sigh, sounding more exhausted than usual.

"I'm not sick." Barely a mumble as he shifts his focus to staring up at the ceiling. Anything to avoid meeting Iggy's eyes and seeing the disappointment there. Again.

Always the same dance over and over. Pathetic really.

Not sick, he says, and Ignis wonders how true that is, exactly. In the back of his head, there's that worry again. The one that reoccurs ever now and then, off and on, which has lead him to peering into book and computers, hoping to find an answer and not liking the one he found.

Then again, what answer would he have liked, if it meant knowing Noctis was suffering?

But perhaps he's overthinking this. Perhaps he should simply take Noctis at his word, rather than interrogating him. They've been having quite the awkward dance around with one another, ever since that one night when Ignis came to the apartment to find a burnt pan in the sink and Noctis having just taken out the trash. In turn, he has to make some accommodations too.... right?

So when Noctis turns away from him, Ignis pauses from where he'd begun to head over. "...Well. That's good to hear, then." Carefully, he accepts the distance for what it is, and instead pulls out a chair at the dining room table. "Post-graduation crash hitting, then?"

Not that Ignis ever experienced that - he went fully through the private education that was afforded to him thanks to his friendship and duty to Noctis. But it seems as though it could be something that could exist.

....and if not that, then perhaps Noct will properly tell him what kept him in his room for so long.

"That what it is?" He mutters, just a little bit bitter. If only. Then maybe this wouldn't be a feeling he's been fighting off and on for years now.

For a long moment Noctis just stares up at the ceiling, mind turning over all the things he should have done before now. From the mundane of collecting his trash off the coffee table to the bigger things like finally writing Luna back. He hasn't even told her about graduation or his final test scores or- Right. His test scores. Which are sitting on the table near Ignis, a document he keeps taking out to scowl at it. Not that his grades are horrible or anything. They're just infuriatingly mediocre. (Well except Math, that one he is well and truly ashamed by. He's pretty sure he only got a pity pass on that.)

"That's not what it is." Slowly, serious but his voice is that same sort of bland emptiness he uses when he's... what? zoning out? dissociating? Is that what it is? It's not like he's ever tried that hard to get any actual information about.... what might be wrong with him. The best he's got are some memes he's sent Prom.

....No. That is very likely not what it is. And hearing the way that Noctis's voice starts to go vague and faint in a way that sometimes Ignis has trouble describing-

Ever since Noctis became a teenager, Ignis has done his best to be... respectful. Mindful of the things he wants as he becomes older and they stop being children. Has he missed it? The times when they could cling to one another, and all the big problems could be handled by other people? Of course. But they all grow up, he knows that, and, well, if a part of Noct's growing up had meant no longer clinging to his hand, then... He'd accepted that.

The bit of distance, the messiness - there were a lot of things he'd tried to accept, best he could, anything if it meant still being allowed to stay by Noct's side. Anything. Still, he'd wondered just a little bit if it was really normal to be this messy even as a teen boy, if it was just pubescent hormones making him moody.

Not everything, of course - to be royalty is a heavy burden. One that has to be bore, yes, but... heavy nonetheless. Noct is young, growing into it. Even when he is frustrated with some things, Ignis has reminded himself of such a simple fact. And he's been certainly growing better, hasn't he? Making progress in various little things?

...But is this the same?

He doesn't know.

And so, after some hesitating... Ignis finally steps forward, closer to the couch, to Noctis, and he dares to quietly ask, "Then what is it?"

"Wish I knew." Mumbled as he continues to stare at the ceiling. The tone of his voice hardly sounds like he does wish he knew what this was. It sounds rather inconsequential, the way he says it, bland and unimportant. None of the spark of anger from before or even the grudging determination. Six he's slept all day and still feels like even this much is just exhausting in a way he can't quite deal with.

For a moment he considers turning onto his side again, not to face Ignis but to turn his back to him, bury his face in the couch and pretend like none of it is there. He doesn't even really decide against it. It's a thought, sure, but one that would require more effort than he's willing to give right now. Not with everything else. Not when a stupid conversation feels like a crushing weight and the inevitable disappointment will be even more burdensome because of it.

"D'you ever wish things were different?" Simpler. Easier. That he wasn't a prince and Ignis wasn't his retainer. That maybe they were just two kids that could be friends. That Ignis wasn't put in this position to constantly be nagging at Noctis and things could just be peaceful again. That his back didn't ache every day and he could just ask about medications without all the fear around it. It's a rhetorical question. One they both know the answer to and that neither of them want to say aloud. They never have.

So he asks another question. One Ignis might actually know. One he... is terrified to put voice to but he cannot simply leave it on the previous one. He's backed himself into a corner and, in a way, that's what he needed.

"Ignis? Do you know what SSRIs are?"

Does he wish thing were different?

In some ways, yes. He wishes that the Crystal didn't drain the life out of Lucis's king, lead a father to an early grave and his son to soon join him. That it would stop peeling away brilliant dark hair to weary grey.

He wishes that Noctis could have been born in a different time, one where a war wasn't threatening the rule of father and then son. War that has been stretching on for so many years, and who knows how much longer it could loom over all of them?

Sometimes he wishes he could lean down, and kiss his eyelids, and then somewhere further down.

There are some things he wishes were different, yes. But in many ways... Most ways, almost... He's glad for this. Glad for them.

It is not a question he really has time to answer; perhaps neither of them would want him to answer in the end. Instead, there's the next question, and Ignis straightens up. Feels his heart kick just a little faster there in his chest. "It's an antidepressant," he says. For a moment, he ponders giving out the full meaning, teasing Noctis on not retaining the information - but no. Not tonight. "Although, while that is the name, it is used to treat more than depression. Anxiety, OCD.... Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as well." Which is part of how he knows about it, considering some of those who come back from the battlefront after fighting daemons... or, sometimes, worse.

Another step, another, and then he's slowly sinking down to one knee there besides the couch. "Where did this come up?"

Ignis knows Noct's schedule well enough to know that psychology was never on the list. That he even knows that much is more than he wants to admit and it's Ignis saying the words that finally makes him curl onto his side, shoulders hunched and face pressed miserably into the arm of the couch. Antidepressant. Like he has any gods forsaken right to be depressed when his people are suffering from this endless senseless war. When the city itself is constantly becoming more ad more cramped and condensed. Too many people and not enough space to efficiently house them all. When there are people outside the Wall left to fend for themselves because his grandfather chose to abandon them and now the damned wall is devouring his dad like a fucking woodchipper.

Nausea rolls in his belly and he pulls his knees up even though he can hear Ignis coming closer. He doesn't want to add another burden on Iggy. He already deals with so much on account of him. It's not fair. Not for Ignis, not for Gladio, not for anyone. They deserve better than a lazy mopey brat.

Noct shakes his head, refusing to turn back to look at Ignis. "Just forget it." And now there's finally some emotion in his voice, anger and disgust and a wet thickness to his voice that even he doesn't expect. Something that has him dragging in a deep, careful breath, fighting his body to make sure it does not become a sniffle. It's bad enough Ignis is cleaning up after his messes all the time. He's not going to do something ridiculous like cry about- What, even? He can't even give a reason for it. He's got a charmed life in so many ways. What could he possibly have to complain about? To cry over?

Six he really is just as much of a spoiled brat as Gladio's always said.

Noct grows small, keeps his back to him, and there's an ache in his chest that only pounds all the fiercer when he hears that voice. Like it's been drugged through the mud, all spines, and maybe those spines will prick him again, just like when they argued, but -

But he can't just leave this.

"I can't forget, Noct." And his fingertips go there, brush along his prince's shoulder. Can Noct tell the yearning in his quiet voice? Can he tell that Ignis would let spikes go through his hands, if only to be able to do something? He has no idea. All he can do is keep speaking. "I could ever forget anything when it came to you."

Well then he sounds exactly how he feels. Broken and defeated in ways he knows he has no right to feel. He has no good reason for any of it but that's precisely how it feels. Dragged down into the sucking muck of a swamp and so rarely able to catch glimpses of anything beyond it. But Ignis reaches out despite how he curls away, tries to protect him from the miserable ache inside his chest.

Noctis' shoulders hunch a little more, as though he can curl up tight enough to keep all those sharp edges covered, bury them deep enough in himself that Ignis doesn't have to suffer for them again. Just like he always does, like he has been for years now without ever having any reasons why. His breath catches and he bites down on whatever sound wants to escape with it, shaking his head as if he can deny how much Ignis cares. As though there's any chance of saving him now when they both know it's far too late.

The only thing he manages to gasp out, voice wet and strained and barely a whisper. "'m sorry, Iggy."

"Noct..." Is this too much? Maybe it is, for his hands to settle just a little more firmly against Noctis's shoulder, to pull him closer to where Ignis waits, right there along the edge of the couch. He doesn't force him to face him, not yet, but... He stays close.

He can't do anything else.

"There's nothing to apologize for," he whispers, running his hand soothingly down the length of Noct's arm. "I'm not upset in the slightest. Do you understand, Noct?"

It's such a conflicted feeling, the gentle warmth of Ignis' hand on his shoulder is enough to make him want to lean back into the touch. At the same time, though, he knows he shouldn't. He's not supposed to fall apart like this. Not supposed to be this weak. How will anyone respect him as their king some day if this is all it takes to make him admit defeat. Can't even best his own stupid brain. How will he ever stand against the Empire?

And so despite letting his shoulder slant into that touch, he curls up tighter. That familiar spark of anger flares in his chest and one hand curls into a tight fist, fingernails biting into his palm even as the other crosses over his chest to catch Ignis' hand where it smooths down his arm. Clinging to these soft kindnesses he doesn't deserve.

"Well you should be!" He doesn't mean to snap at his friend, his partner, his other half in so many ways. Ignis doesn't deserve the anger or disgust. Perhaps, on some subconscious level, he wants to snap so that Ignis will retaliate and be as mad at him as he should be. To just let him be disappointed and upset and fed up with him and get it over with so he can stop hurting him.

Well. At least the snapping is bitterly familiar. So too are those fingers along his own, catching him, although the familiarity there is an entirely different sort. Ignis grips tightly at those fingers, does his best to take more solace in them than the frustrating bite of Noct's words as he just fights him. Again, he's fighting him again on this and leaving Ignis to not understand-

But he's holding onto him.

His hand is still holding onto his.

"I won't." And he refuses to let his own voice rise, to become sharper. More stern, more stubborn, yes, but he won't snap back. He refuses. But at least this time, he has something of a lead. "SSRIs, isn't it? Then I'll get some."

He's not trying to fight Ignis on it. He's really not. The internal fight just spills over sometimes. The constant push and pull of his trust and faith in Ignis combating the darker thoughts and fears that insist that Ignis is sick of him, reminding him that he's a failure and every time he messes up it's just further proof that he's a disappointment for them all. For Ignis. For his Dad. For Gladio and the people and the future. Even Lunafreya who has tried so hard over the years to keep him grounded and connected.

But Ignis stays right there, steady and sure and unyielding in a way that breaks his heart.

That surety smothers the spark of anger before it can really find the footing to start burning and Noctis slumps beneath his hand. The curl of their fingers around each other keeps his hand anchored together but the rest of the tension bleeds out suddenly, empty resignation taking its place. He blinks a few times, the wetness of his lashes finally giving way to a couple stray tears that he ignores. "You shouldn't have to." Mumbled into the fabric of the couch, quiet and difficult to understand probably but he can't be bothered to move.

Most of him wants to just shut his eyes and go back to sleep. Pretend this has all been some miserable dream and pray that he'll wake up again tomorrow with the energy to clean the damn apartment. Maybe even make a meal that didn't come out of a convenience store. It's foolishly wishful thinking, he's well aware. If it were that easy he could have done it today. Or yesterday or a thousand days before.

But he just... can't.

If there is any trivial little thing to be glad of in this sort of situation, it's that this is hardly the first time that Ignis has had to decipher Noct's words through a layer of cushion and fabric. This is made even easier with how close he is, refusing to be separated. Refusing to let go. If he lets go now..

Maybe he's being overdramatic. But it feels as though he'll have let go of more than just a hand, let slip something truly irreplaceable.

"Now, who says that I have to?" he says quietly, carefully testing as he pulls at their united hands, tries to see if he can bring Noct away from the couch and closer to him. "What I do... I do because it is what I want to do, Noct."

He wants to ease Noct's burdens. He wants to see him happy again. He wants to never let go of his hand.

He wants to do so much, and always has.

How could he ever give up a chance, now that he has a chance to give him anything?

"I can figure out something. Get us to a doctor, one whose lips aren't looe. We will get you whatever it is you need. I promise."

Limp and defeated as he is it's not difficult for Ignis to guide him closer, to get the prince to roll half onto his back. At least he's tilted away from the back of the couch, his shoulder leaning into Ignis' chest with how close the other man is. He doesn't look at Ignis, though, leaves his head tipped away from his friend, hiding in what small ways he can from- he can't say what exactly. The disappointment he imagines he would see in Ignis' face? The love and care and compassion he doesn't deserve? He can't even say if what he's hiding from is the realistic outcome or the distorted version.

Hells he can't even tell which is which.

"You don't want to have to take care of-" He cuts himself off with a grimace, a thousand unkind things fighting to be the forst off his tongue and yet he can't bring himself to voice a single one, his stomach rolling unpleasantly again. "You're not supposed to be a babysitter." Is what he finally manages, something cutting and disgusted in his tone no matter how he tries to smother it. But's it's not at Ignis. It's never at Ignis....

Noctis doesn't even bother to answer the part about a doctor. They both know it would be a disaster if anyone found out the future king was taking antidepressants. It's unrealistic and they both know it.

Bit by bit, Ignis thinks he is starting to understand that it truly isn't at him at all.

Not that he would let go of Noctis regardless. He doesn't think he ever could. "Fortunately, I don't see myself as being a babysitter," he says, quiet but matter of fact. "Did you make any plans with Prompto? I can arrange things around them, if that's the case." For the doctor's appointment he's going to make sure they get, come hell or high water or blackmail against paparazzi.

He finally looks at Ignis again to give him a deadpan look. He doesn't consider himself a babysitter but that's exactly what he is. There's no denying that. Because the prince is a pathetic screw up that can't even manage to feed himself, never mind anything more than that. (That his father and every ruler in the line of Lucis has had a retainer partnered with them as a child, someone to grow up with and learn from and help them bear the weight of the crown, is clearly irrelevant here and he'll argue that Weskham sure as hell wasn't making food for his dad nearly every day.)

But the trouble with looking at Ignis to make a point is that then he's looking at Ignis. Warm and sure and worried and the guilt hits him like a sledgehammer all over again. It takes some doing and a moment where he jolts and goes still, breath caught in his chest until his body catches up, but he finally turns back to face Ignis properly. His expression crumples again, sad and pained and he is shaking his head, trying to deny Ignis' care for him all over again. "You can't just- You know I can't."

He curls closer to Ignis, free hand coming up to cling to his arm lightly. "I'm sorry. You have enough shit to deal with."

For just a moment, there's that Noct he knows. Sassy, and deadpan, a sarcastic little brat at times in a way that Ignis is so terribly fond of. Even if it's for just that one brief moment, Ignis can smile wryly right back at him.

For just a moment.

But then it's like watching someone drown right there in front of him, even with his hand holding on, the light in those beautiful eyes dimming and his expression contorted terrible. Ignis isn't even thinking when he presses in close. It messes up his his bangs, jut a bit, but who cares? Who cares. Noct is so much more important.

"There is nothing that I am not dealing with which I did not agree to years ago," he whispers to him, his own free hand wrapping around Noctis in turn. Just the two of them together at that couch, holding on for dear life. "In my eyes, there is nothing you need apologize for. But I will help you, Noct, no matter what it takes. There is nothing I shall not do. If you need help, if you need this, then I will make it happen."

Noctis presses his face into Ignis' shoulder, curls tighter around him and holds him in return. For a long moment he just clings, tries to let himself believe in Ignis. But the doubtrs gnaw at him whether he wants to give them purchase or not.

"And if it doesn't help?" If Ignis goes through all of this to get him some sort of medication and it doesn't do anything. If it's just him being lazy and pathetic and irresponsible? If the problem isn't with his brain but with his character. What then? At least this way, afraid and undiagnosed he can pretend like there's something that might be able to help. The idea that they might go through all of this and it turns out he's just making up excuses for his own bad behavior...

Where do they go with that? Where can they even?

"Then we will find something that does." For a moment, it almost feels as though they're children again. As though Noct is scared from some nightmare, a scary thing seen on the television, and it's up to Ignis to give him comfort. If he dares to shift his hand, stroke his fingers through Noct's hair... Is that still allowed?

Regardless. It's what he's doing, patiently working through the mess and tangles.

"There is always a solution," he promises against Noctis's temple. "Nothing that cannot be changed, if one simply takes the step forward. I believe that. So please..."

Let him help. Let him find the proper help.

The fact that it is so familiar is both what makes Noctis stay put, leaning tiredly into Ignis' embrace, and just one more shard of uncertainty and shame driven into his chest. It is ridiculous, asking so much from Ignis. But those fingers moving through his hair are so soothing and as much as he hates himself for it he... well he can't force himself to deny them both that comfort, however small it might be. Even if there are a number of snags and knots, even if his hair is greasy because he has hardly dragged himself out of bed for three days now, never mind actually showering.

He's disgusting, an absolute mess, and still Ignis holds him close as though he's something precious. Something he could almost believe if it came from this man.

"Dunno if you can really call this a step forward." It doesn't feel like it. It feels like admitting defeat. Admitting that he doesn't know how to just suck it up and stop whining like a spoiled brat. He lets his eyes fall closed, leans into Ignis' embrace for a moment, just breathing him in and soaking up that gentle warmth. Before he finally has to ask one more thing of Ignis.

"Don't... tell Gladio?" Another of those bitter huffs of self deprecation. Not even enough to be called laughter. "He's got enough reasons to give me shit." And if Gladio isn't willing to go easy on him because of physical injuries like his back and all the issues it causes he sure as hell won't give him a break because of something stupid like- whatever the hells wrong with his brain.

"If Gladio were to say anything about your state, than he and I would have words," Ignis says dryly, which is just the tip of the iceberg for what would happen, dating or not. Still... That's clearly not what Noct is asking of him. Sighing, he presses his nose against Noct's hair. It is indeed incredibly oily, which is just another sign of how not right this all is. "But... I won't say anything."

Not if Noct asks him to.

His fingers keep working. The oily coating every little strand so heavily, neglected as they have been for clear days now, makes it all rather difficult... but the only other alternative is getting Noctis into a shower, and, well. It's clear that so much of his energy is being used right now just to talk to Ignis. To pull himself out of this quagmire inch by excruciating inch, while Ignis holds on. They can hold off on that... At least for just a second. Ignis hopes so, at any rate. And until then, he works.

"...It really is a step forward, you know," he says quietly. "I'm relieved to know." Instead of blindly grasping about, frustrated, knowing nothing about how Noct's mind worked.

"You think there's a chance he wouldn't?" Noctis shakes his head a little, voice sharp and bitter again. No, Gladio is always so quick to point out his flaws, to remind him how much he has to do, that he's not fit to be a king and the longer he stays like this, whining and pathetic, the longer his father has to bear that weight alone. The more likely it is that he'll never have time to take that burden from him and just... be able to go fishing again. Even just go for a drive through the city and fall asleep on his dad's shoulder.

If this is a win for anyone. It's Gladio. After all, Noct's just admitting that he was right all along, isn't he?

Somewhere, there's a part of him that wants to insist that that isn't true. That Gladio might be harsh but he's not cruel. Of course that logic would also require Noctis to recognize that what he's thinking is cruel and not just... How It Is.

Still... Ignis says it's a step forward and it speaks volumes of how much even this small comforting moment has helped that he doesn't actively argue against that. Instead he simply leans and feels guilty that Ignis is clearly trying to comb out his hair when it's a greasy mess and he honestly must smell pretty awful by now.

"Sorta thought you'd have figured it out before me."

"I do." Because Ignis knows Gladio. He knows that while the man can be harsh and have a temper, he would never kick someone while they're down.

....But Noctis clearly needs a wakeup call for this.

Patiently, Ignis rearranges his grip, tries to alternate between coaxing and pulling Noctis up along - at least so that he's sitting straight rather than tethered wholly to the couch. "But if you have cause to believe otherwise, then there's only once course of action to take. I will inform the Marshall of the matter, and see about having him fired."

He wouldn't, of course. But he's hoping this earns at least something of a reaction.

It certainly gets a reaction. A snort of laughter, amused because he knows damn well Ignis isn't being serious but also... because it's an impossible offer and they both know it.

"D'you remember how many times I asked my dad and Cor to make someone else my shield? If they wouldn't do it then, when he actively hated me, they sure as hell wouldn't do it now." When there's a grudging sort of friendship between them. He's still not positive it's entirely stable but it's a lot better than the antagonism they had a few years ago.

Still Noctis is too tired to fight Ignis rearranging them, whatever he wants Noct doesn't argue, though he is stiff and clumsy. He knows laying in bed all the time is not good for his back but it's been so hard for him to drag himself out of bed. He's honestly hurting more than he has been for a long while.

"You wouldn't, anyway. You shouldn't." Much as he hates admitting it. After all, Gladio's not the one that's done anything wrong. "He's right."

"Is he?" Ignis raises a brow, ignoring the little bit of relief which drips out that he can at least still have Noctis laughing. Even if just a moment, even if not much of a laugh at all. "What you have just described to me is an incredibly cruel man who would see someone struggling and in pain, and yet find his first priority to be his own ego." He looks over the rim of his glasses sternly. "That is not the kind of man who should be employed in the Citadel, let alone act as a shield."

His hands smooth down along Noctis's shoulders, quietly taking stock of how stiff he is, how awkward. The bathtub probably isn't in the best condition, but he has a sinking suspicion that with Noctis's state, he hasn't had a chance to make it bad. It will do for now.

"If just one voice is not enough, than two may do. And if that is not enough, then I promise you that I could find a way to get rid of a cruel, egotistical, selfish, narrow-minded brute that would leave behind someone experiencing illness."

"Ignis." Noct just gives him a tired look in response to that stare. Look over your glasses at him intimidatingly all you want, Iggy. He's too exhausted by all of this to be afraid of repercussions right now. But there's something frustrated and... almost scolding in the way Noctis says his name.

They both know that's not what he meant and Ignis taking what he's said and making it into something else is both annoying and, just now, hurts a bit. It's taken so much to try and explain his feelings, to tell Ignis that he thinks there might actually be something wrong with him. The terrifying idea that there isn't and he's just making excuses for himself sits heavy in the pit of his stomach. It's taken months.... years really for him to gather the strength to try to make Ignis understand. Having the other intentionally misconstrue his meaning, even in a way that he knows is meant to be... maybe not teasing but demonstrative, it just makes him tired all over again.

He doesn't have it in him to try to explain what he meant when he knows Ignis at least knows that isn't what it was. So he just heaves a sigh and shakes his head dismissively, slumping back once more and giving Ignis a look that is largely vacant with just a hint of a request in his gaze. Don't do this. Not now.

From perhaps the very first moment they met - or even before that, if one chooses to be romantic and believe in such things - Ignis has always had a weakness in regards to Noctis. So even just that silent request, without the words attached, would have been enough to ease away any fake expression on his face.

"...I apologize. But you know that Gladio would think no such thing. You know he is a good man, harsh against you only to try and make you better. If that wouldn't do anything, if it would only hurt you... Then you know he wouldn't say such cruel words to you." His hand lingers there along the arch of Noct's wrists, thumb resting at the curve of delicate bone. "I really shall not say a word to him. But... perhaps because it would only be right if you were the one to do so."

He's listening, truly he is, but it doesn't quite make sense to him, not exactly. Logically he understands what Ignis is saying. At the same time it doesn't seem cruel or unhelpful. It's just the truth. Which also means it's.... maybe not as effective in the ways Gladio means it to be. He knows, in his heart, that the only reason Gladio would say things like that would be to motivate him to do better. Still, convincing his head that it's not just a reminder of how much he's failing to live up to his potential... that's a lot harder.

Noctis sighs again, leans more heavily against Ignis, lets the other's hands explore as they will. It's comforting in a way, just letting Ignis touch him, lowering that barrier he usually keeps up with everyone but Prompto. Those elegant fingers of his settle on Noctis' wrist and Noctis turns his hand into the touch, offering up his palm without thinking. No hesitation, no consideration of if he should or not. It's Ignis. What more does he need to think about?

Whether Ignis takes that invitation to lace their fingers together or not Noctis does, eventually, respond to that suggestion as well. "With how long it took me to bring it up to you?" Ignis do you really want to trust him with talking to Gladio about it? They might be waiting another 5 years.

"Even with how long it took for you to bring it up to me." Just as unthinkingly, Ignis shifts his hand so that his palm may rest in Noctis's, and his fingers can loosely touch upon that wrist. "I will be there alongside you for however long as you need me to be, Noct, so that you can work up to speaking with him on this. But until then..."

He turns his head, nose to Noctis's hair. With how he's leaning against him, it's not that hard to do.

"There is still plenty we can do now. Let us go to the bathroom, clean up a bit, and then I can make something for you. After that... We can discuss on how to see a doctor." It will be tricky, but he is nothing if not determined. Where there is a will, there is a way, as the saying goes.

And frankly, Ignis would do anything for Noctis, so it's hardly even a question.

In some ways he feels guilty for how reassuring it is to hear Ignis say that, to reassure him once more that he'll always be with him, even in this thing which he's told himself for years would be the final straw. He still worries it might be, that getting the medication won't do anything but prove that there's nothing wrong with his brain chemistry, he's just a lazy asshole who doesn't care enough about the people around him to drag himself out of bed.

Of course then Ignis immediately suggests doing something and Noctis groans a quiet protest. He's disgusting. He really should do as Ignis says.

"You're not going to let me just... stay here are you?" Let him be a lump on the couch for the rest of the day. Which is very different than being a lump in bed, don't you know. The words might be grudging but he does straighten up a little, clearly preparing to be pulled off the couch regardless of whether he wants to.

"Absolutely not," Ignis says primly, already pushing himself up onto his feet so that he can better brace himself in what Noctis already knows is coming. "The physical and the mental reflect off of one another. It won't fix everything, but I imagine feeling even a touch cleaner will help make you feel better."

If nothing else, it will make Ignis feel better to know that Noct isn't wallowing in his own filth anymore. They can work from there.

Hauling him up onto his feet certainly is made easier with Noctis's consent, however. Begrudging consent, but consent. Ignis takes that as a small victory. He also takes Noctis, guiding him back to the bathroom. As he thought, it's not in the best shape but it's still clean enough that he can get Noctis into the tub without any wory.

Just... not right away, perhaps. Ignis actually pauses for a moment after flicking on the lights, brain rapidly going through a few different thoughts.

It's hit him, just now, that there is a high possibility that Noctis may very well just... sink to the floor with the shower running. Unable to properly clean himself. He's not sure if that would actually happen, of course. While he knows a great deal about Noctis, things other people don't and which he's secretly pleased about, bathing habits aren't one of those fine details. Still. Noct has been laying in his bed for hours, and likely for more days than just one. A repeat performance, with the shower as a partner, isn't impossible.

But Noctis does need to bathe. And Ignis has absolutely no doubts that his back feels absolutely terrible, considering things. They need an alternative here...

It hits him, then, and he leans over to start up the tub faucet - not hot, but not freezing cold, either. "Do you think you could get on your knees right here, Noct, and lean over the tub?" he asks over his shoulder. "This may be a simpler way to clean your hair."

The way Noct rolls his eyes dramatically is more habit than any genuine protest. Letting Ignis haul him up off the couch doesn't negate how sore he is and it takes a moment for him to straighten up all the way, following after the other with his limp a little more pronounced. It's generally only noticeable when he's running nowadays but when he's let all of his self care go for the better part of a week? Yeah he's limping a fair bit.

Thankfully it hasn't been long enough since Ignis' last deep clean of his apartment that the bathroom is too much of a mess. If anything it's more neglected since Noctis hasn't been spending much time in it. (Don't ask when he last brushed his teeth, Iggy.)

He's genuinely not sure what Ignis plans on doing other than coaxing him to the bathroom and leaving him to crawl into the shower on his own. Which sounds awful but maybe the hot water would help loosen up his muscles enough to make standing for the rest of the process easier. Except then Ignis is going into the bathroom with him and Noct's not entirely sure what to expect. The idea that Ignis would pour him into the tub with hot water and try to wash his hair for him is at once horrible -shame and guilt gnawing at him with even more fervor at the idea he can't even be trusted to do something so basic on his own- and not nearly as weird as he thinks it should be. It honestly would be nice to have Ignis' sure, steady hands in his hair like that.

Just not because he's incapable of doing it himself.

"I-" He groans softly, leaning back against the counter, hands gripping the edge of it hard as that familiar anger and shame surfaces. He won't look at Ignis, head turned away and expression twisted into something disgusted. "You don't have to-" One hand pulls away from the counter to push back through his hair and it speaks volumes to how greasy it is that it doesn't immediately fall back into the familiar mess that covers his brow. That his fingers twist hard in it, a combination of frustration and some subconscious need to lash out at something, is surely not something Iggy will notice.

The sandpaper scrape of Noct's voice, his disgust and frustration... That's all it is. Just a bit of sandpaper grating against him. Ignis thinks of that, even as he watches those fingers wind far too tightly in slick and limp hair. He hesitates, a moment, before stepping forward.

He'd been allowed the touch of their hands together. Noct had leaned against him. He's allowed. He's allowed.

"What do I not have to do?" Ignis asks, stepping forward and raising his hand so that it smooths over Noct's. Gently, without speaking, encouraging him to not hurt himself much worse than he clearly has already.

"I wanted to ask if you would find it easier to simply clean your hair that way, and then I could pull up a proper bath." Rinse the worst of the filth and then enjoy a soak. "...Did you want something else?"

A part of him admittedly, well - it admittedly wondered on alternatives. But such a thought had immediately been banished away, like so many other times. Times when he'd wanted to be so careful with how close he was allowed to be with Noctis, so that he wouldn't drive him away, so that he could still remain at his side.

He's always been allowed. If Noctis had any idea of how often Ignis restrains himself from affectionate touches for the sake of propriety when it's only the two of them he'd be so upset. Both of them being denied those small comforts because of stupid expectations that he hates so very much even now. Especially when the gentle coaxing of Ignis' hand makes it easier to release that hold on his hair and on the anger it stems from as well. He almost seems to deflate, the frustration fading to tired resignation again so swiftly with someone else there to derail it.

Whether that's the exhaustion or the depression it's hard to say but it's effective nonetheless.

Ignis sounds so logical about it, so genuinely hopeful just to be able to help that Noctis can't quite convince himself to continue hiding from him. Ocean eyes meet emerald and for a moment he just searches for something that he has no reason to think is there. The disgust, the frustration, it's all his, not anything Ignis would put upon him. "Ignis..." Quiet and hesitant. He can't even be certain he could send Ignis out of the bathroom so he can just do it himself. He's already proven how easy it is for him to get lost in the mire of his thoughts and lose track of everything around him.

"I should be able to do this myself." Disappointment heavy on his voice, that he doesn't ask him to leave speaks volumes to how little he trusts himself just now. That he will argue how much he's failing basic standards of autonomy without telling Ignis to leave-

He should be able to do this alone... but he doesn't know that he can. Pathetic as that may be.

It's not the propriety - well. It is not always the propriety. Certainly it is when they are out in public, or at the Citadel, that much cannot be denied. Ignis would never forgive himself if he made things harder for Noctis's eventual ascension as king, and that means no gossip or senseless news rags.

But... Just as much, it's been him worried about overstepping Noctis's boundaries. As he's grown, they've no longer been allowed the simple mindless joy of children. That Noctis even went out and got his own apartment, separte from everything else... It proves that he wanted to grow as well. To not just become the simple child hanging onto Ignis's hand. And that's even before going into their own clash, the arguments and tension.

It would surely sting, to know that his own actions have had Ignis acting so cautiously. Keeping such a careful distance.

Certainly just knowing he cannot be that grown adult for right now is killing him as it is, and Ignis gently winds their fingers together once more. "And you have," he reminds him gently. "You have taken care of yourself well enough in the past, haven't you? You have showered, and taken out trash on occasion. You've even cooked, haven't you? Right now... it is merely a bump in the road."

Getting the apartment had been more about getting away from the crown than Ignis. It was never trying to get distance from Ignis. If anything he wished they had more time to spend together because then Ignis wouldn't have to be hounding him about all the things he's fucking up every time they see each other. But Noct was busy with school and Ignis was busy.... picking up his slack. (That's not it. It's so much more than that and more important than that. But it's hard to remember that sometimes, especially now.)

Either way the fact that they'd only have a couple hours in the evening every few days, sometimes barely once a week, just... made it that much harder.

But Ignis is here now and for once they're not fighting. So much of that is Noctis finally taking the initiative to reach out, to admit he needs help, even if he hates it (and himself) it's something that needs to be done. He sighs heavily, dropping his gaze before listing forward to rest his forehead on Ignis' shoulder, holding tightly to the anchor of his hand. "I haven't." Taken care of himself, of the apartment, of any of it. Ignis has had to keep him on track the entire time. And they both know damn well that Ignis would not consider the shit he manages to put together cooking. He's gotten on his case about his diet enough times over the years.

"Pretty sure I've been off-roading for awhile now."

Feeling Noctis actually leaning against him... The tired weight of him right there against his shoulder... Ignis freezes, just a moment, his heart aching so much that it feels as though it could eat a hole straight through his chest. But then it eases away, hungry for it like parched soil, and he reaches up with his free hand. He still hasn't washed away the oil from his fingertips, but he doesn't care. All he wants to do is gently thread his fingers there, rested along Noct's head.

"Then we'll get you back on track," Ignis promises him quietly. "But you have done things before, Noct. You have tried to cook, you have taken showers. So we shall make it so that you continue working along there. Even if the steps should seem small. I will be with you with each one."

Leaning into Ignis' shoulder, that comforting hand in his hair... it's almost enough to really break him. He leans more heavily into him and slowly, hesitantly almost, he brings his arms up around Ignis to hug him close, fingers curling into the back of his shirt and just holding onto him so desperately. Noct tries not to but once again there's a few tears that escape, dampening the shoulder of Ignis' shirt.

It's so hard in these moments, when he feels like there's nothing left to wring out of him, to stop himself from giving up, from just laying down to wallow. Even with Ignis' help and support it's a battle but at least with Ignis there's a chance he can crawl up out of the depths. Even if it makes him hate himself and the position he's put himself in a little bit more with each thing Ignis has to do for him.

But he can't just give up when Ignis is willing to try for him. So he nods quietly against his shoulder. Not that he has any real faith in himself but if Ignis believes things can change then... how can he not let him try? "Okay..." A wet whisper that's not quite a sniffle, hands slowly easing their hold on Iggy's shirt. Whatever Ignis suggests he- well he can at least try.

Oh, what he wouldn't do to ease away those tears. Who he wouldn't completely ruin, just to ensure they would never fall from Noct's beautiful blue eyes ever again.

Ignis squeezes Noct close in turn, as though he could fold around him and keep him safe from all ills, before relaxing. Forcing himself to relax. "Okay," he echoes. "Then, the first step: cleaning yourself up. Would you want to wash your hair first, Noctis, or... would you rather myself?"

A suggestion he never thought he'd ever be able to make.

If only Ignis could threaten Noct's own brain to behave and not make him cry. He clings a little bit longer before stepping back and scrubbing a hand over his face again to wipe away the worst evidence of those tears. His other hand stays curled loosely in Ignis' shirt, not wanting to let him go.

Noct doesn't look at Ignis, though, keeps his gaze downcast so he doesn't have to meet the gentle concern in those eyes just now. Otherwise he's pretty sure he will just break down sobbing. What he ends up saying is something of a non answer but it still implies what he wants but is afraid to ask for. Too ashamed to ask for.

"I don't know that I could stay kneeling for that long." The way Ignis had suggested, leaning over the tub like that. He's pretty sure the strain on his back would be too much right now. Even if he had been keeping up with his regular routine holding himself in such an awkward position for an extended period of time would be very uncomfortable, both for his back and his weaker left leg.

The more important part is what he doesn't say. He doesn't tell Ignis he'll do it himself, that he doesn't want him to stay with him... just... that the way he first suggested isn't quite going to work.

In the realm of politics, it is a valuable skill to pick up on the things left unsaid.

More importantly, in Ignis's estimation, it is invaluable to know the things that Noctis means.

So he nods his head, taking the advice into consideration. "I thought that might be a bit of a dilemma. Then, if you would like, I could detach the shower head, and you would only need to lean forward for a short moment." Noct's hair may be a mess as of current, but shampoo can do wonders. They likely won't be able to do anything nice and indepth, so no conditioner, but... that doesn't matter.

Small steps, yes?

"Could you stay standing for just a few minutes, Noct?"

He nods again, perhaps distressingly obedient at the moment just because anything is easier than needing to think so much. But he does tighten his hold on Ignis briefly, drop his head down to lean on his shoulder once more, just.... keeping him close, before he finally relinquishes his hold on the other man.

Standing he can do. Even if he is leaning heavily on the counter, too exhausted to stay upright on his own. He just watches Ignis work and does as he's told for the most part. Small steps indeed. To be fair, his hair likely could stand to go without conditioner for a little bit given how heavily laden with oils it is right now.

Really, they're fortunate that they managed to get a good apartment for Noctis. Modern updates, all of that. For all that he is the crown prince, that wasn't necessarily a guarantee with things being what they are in the kingdom. But timing managed to work out well enough.

So the shower is nice and modern enough, the showerhead pulled down with no problem at all. Ignis keeps the temperature still rather cool, for the moment - not too cool, but certainly not very warm either. They'll save the heat for the bath proper. All Ignis needs now is for it to be water. "Lean forward now," he murmurs, soft and coaxing as his hand follows the curve of Noct's neck. Presses down ever so slightly, gently calloused palms against the slick grit of skin.

Somehow, the weight the water gives to his hair is already enough to make it look just a little better - not the slickness of oil left there from the mental burden Noct is under, but something a little more natural. Something that might almost make it seem as though they can make it back to normalcy again.

Not that there's anything.... quite normal about this. Not the way that Ignis's fingers gently follow up the nape of Noct's neck, slide through his messy hair. Not with how he exchanges the showerhead for the shampoo bottle, works up a foam.

Perhaps he shouldn't be so tender through each motion, as though the warmth of his fingers slowly massaging against Noct's hair can chase away the chill left behind with the dampness. Gently working through every little centimeter, although he tries not to be too slow. He knows he's already asking a lot of Noctis right now, can feel the way he leans against him so wearily. So he makes sure the tangles are worked through at least a bit, shampoos every inch of hair, and then chases away the grime with another spray of water.

After that... It's just a matter of plugging up the tub, and getting the suitably hot enough water running before he pulls Noct close again. Lets him lean, if he wishes. "We'll let it fill up, and you can soak while I get dinner prepared, alright?" he murmurs to him.

Noct does as he's told, follows the coaxing pressure of Ignis' hand, reaches one hand out to brace against the far wall of the shower. It might be a little messier but it is infinitely more comfortable than trying to do this on his knees. There are... not really many (or any) things he can kneel for that aren't uncomfortable.

Water sluices over him and he can't help shivering at first, the cool shock of it only making him more tense. It's not cold, no, but he has always been one to take his showers hot, hot enough to help him relax and ease the tension in over taxed muscles. He mutters a soft curse but it's barely audible over the fall of the water. Even positioned as he is, trying to make this easier on Ignis, there's still no small amount of water that drips down his neck. By the time his hair is fully dampened his shirt is as well, splashes of water soaking the front and dark lines showing where it's dripped all down his back.

Ignis gives him that momentary pause, trading out the showerhead for shampoo and Noctis steps back briefly. It's a simple thing, reaching back to grab at his shirt and pull the threadbare tee overhead to be tossed carelessly into a corner for now. He usually hates people seeing him without his shirt but it's different with Ignis who has seen all of his scars, has tended to the injuries that left them more than once.

Still, the gnarled slash that starts just to the right of his spine and drags across to his hip is an ugly reminder. One he does his best to ignore as he leans back down, lets Ignis' fingers sink into his hair. The sure steady pressure of Igns' hands pull a low, satisfied grown from him. He's pretty sure he could stay here like this forever, just basking in the gentle affections from Ignis and the strangely envogirating slide of cool water down over his shoulders and face. Enough so that even when Ignis draws back to rinse his hair and give him more space. He can't help listing towards the other man, Not wanting to let go but not willing to ask Ignis to stay close. Not again.

"'f you think so."

Noctis isn't the only one in a bit of a state. Although he's mostly ignored his own state in favor of tending to Noct, that doesn't mean Ignis is unaffected. There's a reason that showers come with curtains. This is shown quite well with the spray that is scattered all across his own front, with Ignis needing to take a moment so that he can twist in place, set aside his soaking wet glasses over onto the counter.

His shirt, too, is a bit of a mess. He'd long ago removed his jacket and waistcoat, so that he could be less inhibited while cleaning, so there's only the simple white shirt he wears now... and that has admittedly gone a bit transparent, mostly along his collarbone area and sprayed across arms. Rolling up his sleeves could really only do so much.

Yes, quite affected indeed... and maybe by more than just the water. Something louder than the spray, which crawled into his ears where he has no doubt a nest will be made, hatching to life in his dreams.

But he has gone on many a year, throttling his own emotions, choking them back down, and he wastes no time doing the same here. How could he ever get distracted by those things, when Noct leans towards him so wearily? Ignis dares to reach over, pulls him close so that he might rest against him. "I do, as a matter of fact," he says, soft and encouraging. "Ah, you were gifted one of those little bathing tea bags once, weren't you? I would wager you have not used it and simply tossed it into the cabinets to be forgotten. Lets fetch it, and put it to good use. The bath is still warming up, so we have time." Arm wrapped around those soaking wet shoulders - his shirt is already a lost cause, there's no helping it - Ignis keeps him close while his free hand works through the search.

Keep talking. He ought to keep talking, for Noct's sake. "For food, we likely shouldn't have anything too heavy, I think... Perhaps something with rice? Ah, oyakodon is one of your favorites, isn't it? We can have that."

He thinks, at first, to keep a distance so that Ignis doesn't get any more wet than he has to. But Iggy puts that arm around him and Noctis just leans heavily into him. His thoughts are moving too sluggishly to catch up with the consequences of accepting that little bit of encouragement until it's too late. He's mentally going through his closet, trying to decide if there's anything of his that Ignis could wear to save him from his shirt that's now completely soaked.

He's too distracted thinking on that to really register what it is Ignis is looking for. It takes a moment, a moment in which he gives up and just leans his head on Ignis' shoulder, to process everything his friend has been saying. He knows what Ignis means for once. Some fancy bath set that some well meaning classmate had gifted him for his birthday last year. He'd only kept it as an emergency in case he ran out of the usual soaps he used. He'd never actually put much stock in aromatherapy or anything so using it for it's intended purpose had never crossed his mind.

"Uuuh... think it's in the closet?" Words muttered half under his breath, uncertain if that's correct but it's his best guess. Pretty sure he's shoved it into the back of the closet and his towels just all smell vaguely eucalyptusy from it. After a brief hesitation he extracts himself from Ignis enough to go open the door to the narrow little linen closet, going up on his toes to try to see to the back of the upper shelves.

Ah. Ignis smiles, a tiny hopeful thing, and stands back while Noctis searches for the bath set. That he's actively participating, now, leading the charge... That's a good sign, isn't it? Better than when Ignis had to pull him up onto his feet, better than when he'd sunk so helplessly against him in the face of his illness.

It's a small thing, he knows. But maybe it might do him some good? He can only hope so.

"That does sound about right. Now that you mention it, I do recall catching a glimpse of it, once upon a time." One of the times he had to get Noctis some fresh towels and fold them up. Well, that just means at least he's familiar with his closet. Ignis lingers near, just to let Noctis know. "It was quite a nice set, last I recalled."

Leading the charge might be a bit too much credit. But Ignis gave him a specific task and, for all that Iggy does most of the cleaning, it is still Noct's apartment. The final say in where things get stored falls to him.

After a moment of squinting and looking up though he sinks back onto his heels, bracing one forearm across a lower shelf and thunking his forehead down against it. His left leg doesn't want to hold, he's wet and chilly and oddly dizzy? That may have something to do with the fact that he doesn't actually remember the last thing he ate. (Some M&Ms that were half melted that he'd left in his book bag? He had dumped most everything out of it sometime last night in an attempt to organize. Of course... it's all just piled on the floor now.)

Even once he's flat footed he takes one step back, staying braced against the shelf but letting himself leanforward more, arching his back in a way that makes something crunch and grind. It's not a sound Ignis would hear, not really, maybe a soft crackle but it's one of those internal sounds you can feel more than hear. After a long moment he pushes himself upright again. "Nice... right." Another guilty look towards Ignis. "Probably I shouldn't have thrown it in the back of the closet where Gladio'd have to stretch for it then." Careless and ungrateful. Just like always.

But eeven now, even just with Ignis' presence and some small measure of care there's a whisper in the back of his mind that tries to remind him that he cannot keep and cherish every gift given to him, especially those from strangers. Odd that the little voice in his head has an Altissian accent just like Iggy.

Even if he can't quite hear the crunch of Noct's back, Ignis can still recognize the weary way his prince has to lean against the shelving, his pausing. While it's good to see him taking initiative, he doesn't want to wear him out so much before he's even gotten some food in his stomach. So he finally steps closer, meeting those blue eyes with a gentle look. "Well, if Gladio would have to stretch for it, lets see if I can manage at least a little bit in the same vein." It might mean his chest to Noct's shoulder and back, but, well, it will only take a moment, he's sure. Now, it was this shelf that Noct was trying to look into, wasn't it...?

"And it likely would have ended up there regardless if you had thrown it or not. It was simply a polite schoolmate that gifted you it, wasn't it? While generous of them, it isn't the sort of thing you are inclined to using..." His hand, gently against the curve of Noct's spine. "You cannot keep and cherish every gift received from relative strangers." Especially in the position he is as prince, where everyone will want to curry favor.

Funny, isn't it, the way Noct's mental voice and Iggy's seem to land on the same ideas?

"Ah, I think I've got it..."

He thinks for a moment that maybe he should offer to get out of the way but Ignis doesn't seem bothered by it and the warm, steady weight of the other man against his sore back is soothing in a way. In general he doesn't like feeling trapped and if it were anyone other than Ignis at his back right now he'd probably be freaking out a little bit. He's spent so long with Ignis, though, so much of his life spent sharing one another's personal space, that it doesn't seem odd or uncomfortable for Ignis to be tucked against him like this.

Noctis leans against the shelf, huffs a quiet breath of agreement when Ignis reiterates the very same thing his brain was insisting on a moment ago. Well... Ignis certainly called him out quite neatly there, didn't he?

"I didn't actually throw it y'know." There's a subtle twist of his lips, a glance over his shoulder at Ignis, something that could almost be teasing if he weren't still so listless. Trust Ignis to take casual language literally. You'd think he'd know better by now.

Pulling the little set down from where it had been tucked away, Ignis sinks back to his feet with a deadpan look down to Noct. "You have a rather good throwing arm, so it was hardly out of the question," he counters back, offering the tease back full force. Something to help Noctis feel as though there's still some normalcy in all of this. Not that he moves away, his arm settling once again gently along his back. "I've seen the paper balls you've thrown at Prompto's head over notes you got sick of."

And, of course, the training he has done rigorously for so much of his life, where his aim in throwing an entire sword for the purpose of warping had to be perfect.

Paper balls are a lighter subject, however. Something to try and smile about, even if that might be a struggle for Noct, as Ignis gets them back over to the bath. It's hardly a complicated thing, setting the bag inside the bath. The scent will rise in time with the steam. Instead, Ignis glances around everything again and idly plucks at his shirt, pulling wet fabric away from his skin. It's bothersome, yes. However, compare to everything else, it's really inconsequential.

"You should undress and take your time in the bath; I'll be sure to leave you something far more comfortable to wear." Yes, Noctis has been living in his own depressed filth for a while. Ignis is positive that there are clean clothes somewhere about. Especially considering that Noctis has likely just been staying in the same set of clothes, rather than making the effort to change. "If you would like, I could call you only when dinner is ready."

And maybe he'll have to keep an eye on the time as well... He doesn't want Noct to stay in there when the water starts to get cold. That heat can only last for so long.