noctis lucis caelum ✨ (ascension) wrote in arrivedic, @ 2019-01-28 18:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, final fantasy: noctis lucis caelum |
Log ⇢ Noctis
WHO: Noctis Lucis Caelum and EDI, his droid.
WHERE: A hospital in Andromeda, then a small café.
WHEN: Late afternoon on Tuesday, January 29.
WHAT: Noctis leaves the hospital to find a friend waiting for him. Some long overdue decisions are made, and he finally gives himself permission to heal.
WARNINGS: Suicidal thoughts. Self-hatred. Trauma. Proceed with caution!
STATUS: Complete.
Noctis signed the hospital release form slowly, shaping each letter for Regis in a handwriting that wasn't his own. It had taken some getting used to, relearning how to write with a new hand. His metal fingers were as thin as his human fingers had been, but the grip was different. The temperature was different. The strength was different. So many things about himself were different now, and Noctis wondered if he'd ever start to recognize himself, or if he'd always feel lost and out of step, perpetually trying to piece together who he was from scattered, mismatched edges.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his soft jacket and waited while the nurse collected his personal items. A phone, a letter, a necklace, and a half-eaten candy bar. That pretty much summed up his personality. Briefly, Noctis shared a tired smile with the woman sitting on the other side of the front desk, and he murmured a rough, "Thanks," before taking his things.
Part of him wondered what his dad would have thought if he'd known his son had checked into a mental health facility. Noctis had kept it together when Dorian was taken, thanks mostly to the support of his friends. But when Nyx was taken, too, and because of him, well. His thoughts had spiraled pretty quickly. It terrified him to think about how close he'd come to hurting himself. How this was something Noctis had carried with him for longer than he ever liked to admit, and now it was resurfacing all over again like it had twice before—once when he'd woken up on Earth alone, and again when he'd been tortured only a few months ago. Both times, nothing had happened. But it could have. And that's what scared him.
With a small jolt, Noctis realized EDI was standing in the lobby. He was so shocked to see a familiar face that he choked on a sob, helpless to stop the reaction. He didn't even see her approach—she was there in front of him, as suddenly as she'd appeared in his life, giant arms engulfing him in a tight hug. Noctis embraced her just as fiercely. It was probably comical, the two of them; a seven-foot droid and a nearly five-foot nine man, but EDI murmured a soft, "I'm glad you're here," and it was all Noctis could do not to cry harder. He shuddered, clinging to his friend.
They were making a scene. He knew that. It prickled at the back of his awareness, and he forced himself to draw away after a moment or two, desperately wiping his eyes. "Sorry," Noctis said, but EDI was already shaking her head, that telltale whirring noise giving the movement away before he saw it. She handed him a handkerchief so he could blow his nose. A cursory glance around the room told him most patients were either absorbed in their own concerns or politely looking away. It was a kindness.
Clearing her throat, EDI asked a simple, "Do you want to go home?" There was no hint of judgment or expectation behind the question, and as much as he wanted a hot shower and to crawl into his bed, Noctis felt his stomach twist into uneasy knots at the thought of intruding on his friends right now. They deserved a break just as much as anyone, and he didn't want them to worry about him. He was so damn tired of feeling like a burden, even if he knew they would deny he was. So he shook his head, and EDI turned, wordlessly leading them both out of the hospital into the chilly afternoon air.
It helped. Noctis didn't want to have to make another decision right now, and he knew his friend sensed that. They ended up at a small café, and for two hours, they sat together, Noctis with his hot chocolate and EDI with her diagnostics chart, quietly taking comfort in one another's company. Heat seeped into his palms from where he cradled the mug, and he sighed, feeling just a little lighter than before. He passed the time by watching various people walk in and out of the place. Some were rushing, carrying bags and scrolling through their phones. Others took their time, lingering at the bar or leaning closer to their companions, trading secrets he couldn't hear over the noise around them.
"Noct," EDI said, and he glanced back to her, blinking away the distant look in his eyes. "That was very brave of you to admit you needed help." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth, and he closed it, reluctantly, waiting for her to continue. "How are you feeling?"
That surprised him. Noctis thought about it, and after a moment, EDI rested her hand on the table between them. He clasped it immediately, metal fingers curling around her own. "Really tired of hating myself," he answered quietly. For so long, Noctis had assumed it was normal—even right that he should hold himself to impossible standards, and that anything less made him weak and unworthy. Not only of ruling, but of being anyone's friend. Of being alive. To have the Gods themselves confirm that belief had been painful in the extreme, and he hadn't realized he'd internalized that pain, allowing it to take root inside him like a terrible poison.
He felt EDI squeeze his hand. "You fight for everyone but yourself, Noct," she continued, gentler now. She was a droid, and difficult to read, but he'd spent almost a year in her company. Noctis liked to think he'd gotten rather good at sussing out her moods. And right now, she was radiating concern. He ducked his head. "You're loved. You're appreciated. You're needed. By many people." The table blurred in front of him, and he made a choked noise. "Including me," EDI finished.
Noctis swallowed hard to keep from crying again, but it was a lost cause. "I'm sorry for scaring you," he returned, voice wavering. "I promise I'm going to start fighting. I want to. I ..." A sharp breath. "I do need help." He used to think saying those words out loud would be the worst thing in the world. But it wasn't. If anything, he felt relieved, like he could breathe again after breaking the surface of a deep, deep sea. With a few more careful, measured breaths, Noctis took out his phone and began typing a message to Madeira for medical advice, or at least a few recommendations. EDI continued holding his hand.
It felt good to have a plan. He was tired of living in fear. He wanted to live for himself.
"Can you stay with me a little longer?" Noctis ventured after a pause.
EDI sniffed. "I was in the middle of some calibrations," she replied, the Mass Effect reference startling a weak laugh from him. It would take time, and considerable work, but he had hope things were finally changing for the better. Besides, he wasn't alone. He didn't have to be, and that was something Noctis had to work on accepting. So he sent a quick text to both Dorian and Nyx to check on them, then returned to his quiet people-watching with EDI's comforting presence nearby. It was enough for now.