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Groggy, disgusted, aching, and dazed.
Noctis can feel the covers of his bed slipping away from his body. His right foot comes down first when he feels the sticky liquid touching him from underneath. He makes a mental note to clean that up later. He’s been making this note for a month now.
At 20 years old and his duties set forth, Noctis found comfort in drinking coffee which then transitioned to energy drinks. Without chugging caffeine down his throat, he can’t rely on anything else to fuel that energy needed to continue the day.
He joked around about it with Prompto, but his best friend’s concern grew more each day. Noctis can sense the worry from Prompto, hidden by his nervous giggles. Prompto was truly the light of insomnia. His happiness is incarnate and contagious. The glow of his eyes and the smile spread across his face were quite natural. He truly had the charm and charisma of what a prince should be.
Noctis has had a lot of built-up irritation, which was the more prominent of his depressive symptoms. Though he tends to lash out, Noctis has always been cautious of his actions not because he’s the prince, but because he never wanted to hurt anyone.
He stayed silent and isolated, in his ideal world. Being detached from reality was one way of helping him cope, pretending nothing in the world was real.
As much as Regis loved his son, the sound of his voice was enough for Noctis to spiral. He couldn’t stand listening to him. Why couldn’t Regis notice his son was suffering? Or, maybe he did. Noctis craved his father’s physical affection. He craved affection. But Regis never gave it to him.
The brisk nights were the only time of the day when Noctis was his most vulnerable. He didn’t have anyone violating his privacy, he just hid underneath his comforter. At the end of the day, Noctis isn’t fully capable of keeping his emotions in check. He made a habit of opening the blinds of his windows and letting the moonlight illuminate his body. At least…He was able to create some comfort for himself.