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Ignis took a shaky inhale as he was roused from his sleep by the faint singing of birds. He felt warmth hitting his face, yet when he opened his eyes he was met with unforgiving darkness. Raising a shaky arm he reached up to touch his eyes, hoping to find a simple solution to what he thought was a temporary issue. Instead he found rough scar tissue in a sharp jagged pattern around his left eye, wrinkled and raw. Wincing in pain, he knew at that moment that this would not be an easy fix.
His hands patted the surface he was laying on and he could deduct that it was a bed, and he was tucked beneath a pillowy comforter. ‘Probably one of those 30,000 gil rooms..’ Ignis remembered, scoffing internally at the price he and his friends had almost been suckered into paying.
He felt his own clothes and hair, assessing how dirty he was and if he needed to wash up. He concluded that he was fine as is, and should probably focus on remembering what happened. With much effort his mind flashed back to fighting with Ravus, then being shoved to the ground by MTs, then a flash of white light and pain.
With a stunned lethargy, he brought his hands together and felt his ring finger. There was a similar wound to the one he felt by his eye. Ignis felt a pang of pride in his chest, knowing that he had wielded the Ring of the Lucii to protect the King, and lived to tell the tale. At least there was a courageous reason for his sudden disability; it wasn’t in vain. He hoped at least, because he had yet to actually see if Noctis was still with the party.
There was a knock on the large wooden door to the room, and a familiar voice called out from behind it.
“Hey Iggy, are you awake yet? It’s Prompto and Gladio..” The usually peppy boy seemed less than cheerful today. This worried Ignis, but not too much. Everyone had to have been tired today, injured or not.
“Yes, you may come in.” He croaked, noticing how hoarse his voice was. He turned towards where a nightstand may be, but sighed when he couldn’t see if there was a glass of water.
The door slowly creaked open and Ignis heard two pairs of footsteps cautiously tread towards where he lay. One was lighter and spry, the other was heavy and plodding. He recognized each one, and could determine who stood closer to the head of the bed. It was Prompto. Ignis propped himself up on his elbows and looked towards the boys, even though he could barely sense their dark figures in the light of the room.
“How do you feel?” Prompto asked nervously, fidgeting with his camera strap.
“I’m alright.” Ignis was curt; he didn’t want to make any one worry for him. “How are you two?”
“We’re all good,” A deeper baritone cut in. “Don’t worry about any of us. Focus on your recovery, we need our strategist.” It was motivating as usual, but Ignis heard the worry embedded deep within Gladio’s voice.
The Advisor nodded politely in acknowledgement, but still felt anxious about his royal subject. He figured it was best not to ask and immediately disobey Gladio’s orders though, so he bit his tongue.
“Hey Iggy, want to see some flicks from the battle? I got some epic.. shots..” The blonds voice trailed off awkwardly. “Sorry. Just imagine some good selfies of me though..” Prompto tried to joke his blunder off, but Ignis’ steely, tight lipped smile was a giveaway of the ache he felt. He had wiped it off his face quickly, but both boys still saw it.
“It’s alright, Prompto. Won’t be the last time.” Ignis was trying to exchange pleasantries back, and he earned a small chuckle.
There was a pause, before Gladio cleared his throat and asked, “So can you see anything?”
Ignis fluttered his eyes open again and tried to look at where he thought Gladio’s eyes would be. His irises were a more milkier shade of celadon than usual, highlighted by the pink scars. “I can tell there are two figures before me, and there is light coming in from the window.” He scanned the room as much as he could. “Otherwise, no.”
Both guests frowned and shared a sad glance at the other. Prompto reached for the lukewarm glass of water that indeed was on the bedside table. He took Ignis’ hand and opened it, pressing the glass into it and waiting for him to grip it. Parched, Ignis swiftly took a gulp. He dripped a little down his chin, and without missing a beat, Gladio swooped down and wiped it away. Ignis felt a faint blush tint his cheeks, embarrassed that they were waiting on him like he was a child, but also endeared by the love his friends held for him.
“So, what do we do now?” He asked while waving the glass around, trying to find the nightstand. The glass met the wood with an awkward clunk.
“We should return to Insomnia. With the ring.” Gladio grimaced as the glass hit the table, a blatant reminder of his friend's injury. He felt like his heart was being torn in half watching his closest friend suffer like this. It’s impossible to imagine one day waking up and not being able to do something that once came naturally to you. Well, almost naturally, Gladio joked to himself darkly. Ignis did have glasses, so it’s not like he was completely unfamiliar with blindness.
“So Noctis is alright?” Ignis sat up and smoothed his wrinkled shirt. He could still maintain his neat image for those who can see, after all.
“Yep, he’s fast asleep. Has been for hours.” Prompto chimed in at the mention of his best friend. He was the one who had lovingly tucked him into bed and fluffed his pillow.
“Good. His Highness is always complaining about needing his beauty sleep.”
“He definitely got a lot of it today.” Gladio smirked, thinking about how he carried the two of his unconscious friends back to the Leville, one over each shoulder.
Ignis remembered how Noctis would fall asleep anywhere even as a child, and smiled. No matter how needy or inconvenient the prince was at times, he was also just a kid.
“Prompto, could we have some alone time?” A deep voice interrupted Ignis’ reflections.
“Oh,” Prompto started, “yeah sure. I’ll go check on Noct.” He turned and left the two older men alone.
Ignis didn’t speak, but he gave a small smile to Gladio. He smiled back out of habit, and sat down on the edge of the queen bed. The mattress sank towards him and the comforter was pulled taut. They sat on the bed in silence together until Ignis realized that Gladio’s shoulders were rising and falling with each shaky breath. Was he crying?
“Gladiolus,” He began, hoping to provide some comfort. He felt around until his slender hand met Gladio’s broad shoulder and gripped it tight. “Please don’t worry for me, I can handle myself.”
He heard Gladio open his mouth and then close it again. With a slow exhale the man with his head in his hands began, “I’m not worried.” He dropped his hands to his knees and balled them into fists. “I just- fuck, Ignis. I hate seeing you hurt. Any of you guys. It’s my job to protect you all, and I failed.” His voice had a slight quiver, and Ignis knew that was hard for him to get out. Gladio didn’t like to show weakness, and when he did it was only to those he truly trusted.
“I did this to myself, Gladio.” Ignis squeezed the muscle between his shoulder and neck. “I knew the consequences, so you don’t need to pity me.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, darling. These are the cards I was dealt.” Ignis tried to calm him down with a sweet nickname; maybe it would stun him enough to take a deep breath.
“They should have been dealt to me instead. I never should have let you out of my sight after the bridge fell.” Gladio shook Ignis’ hand off of him, he didn’t deserve such pure affection after failing his friend.
Moving to sit next to the Shield on the edge of the bed, Ignis wrapped his arms around Gladio’s wide torso. He felt the way his tattooed chest was swelling with each emotional inhale and how it would sink as he let the air out slowly. Gladio heaved an arm up over Ignis’ neck, the weight almost made him buckle. He pulled his friend closer and Ignis could’ve sworn he was floating. He may not have been able to see Gladio’s stubbled jaw or amber eyes, but he had them memorized from years of stolen glances. He knew the exact goofy half-smile that was probably dancing around on the bigger man’s lips.
Ignis didn’t reply; he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t make him sound like a broken record. He also didn’t think he needed to. The embrace seemed to have been an unspoken way of telling each other that everything was alright and forgiven. When you’ve been friends so long and your souls become so intimately woven together, you don’t always need spoken communication. Real friends just get you.