[ He takes his time. The steam filling the air feels like a gift to his sinuses, easing the pressure from his face so he can breathe just a bit more easily, and then he takes his time undressing, stretching his limbs luxuriously like it's the first time he's done so in years. All his dirty, sick clothes go into a pile in the corner, including...his wristband. He removes it with all the rest, fingers brushing over his skin there. Funny, how when he can't see it, that patch of skin feels just the same as every other inch of him.
And then with a sigh of relief she surely must hear from the bedroom beyond, he lowers himself into the steaming water, his bones singing at the warm, reliable contact with heat. It feels so good, and the temptation to let himself drift off to sleep is very real and present. It's only Alisaie announcing her visit to the kitchen that wakes him when he starts to doze, and even after that, it's so very difficult to keep himself alert.
But it helps that he has a lot to occupy his thoughts, and his is the clearest his mind has felt in days. The hallucinations have left him — at least for the time being — but instead...he has been robbed of his sight. He believes her, when she tells him he will get it back, but it's still...such a frightening thing to approach. He has never been so deprived of one of his senses before, and such an important one at that. He has always appreciated seeing the world around him, but now it is as good as gone to him, with only his memory and Alisaie's guiding hands to remind him what is around him. Perhaps he's too tired for the full, terrible reality of it to settle upon him, but for now, he can only...take this one step at a time, and continue to believe in the promise she made him. It will be okay. It has to be.
Alisaie said so.
Alisaie...
She has done so much for him, she's still doing so much for him, and though he does not deserve it, she hasn't stopped once. Gods, she must be exhausted, weary beyond words, and yet she still presses on, for his sake. He can only begin to understand why she's taken on such an undertaking for him, of all people, and while he can't hope to pay her back, something between them has strengthened tonight, something has changed, and even now, when he has time to calm and reflect on his earlier decision, it still holds true.
He wants her to know. He owes her that honesty, and then...she can take it or leave it. It will be her choice, once she knows the truth, once she can see his heart and all its flaws and imperfections up close.
After he begins to wrinkle and prune, Prompto finally releases the latch on the tub, grabbing the towel and stepping out to dry and dress. He washes his face, brushes his teeth, runs a comb through his hair, and despite his absent eyesight, he at last feels like a person again.
Finally, he takes in a deep breath, opening the door to step into the bedroom once again.
He hasn't replaced the wristband on his wrist, intentionally omitting it. Right now...he doesn't need it. He's so tired, and he doesn't want to hide from her anymore. ]
There. Fit as a fiddle. Dunno what you put in that bath, but I feel like a million bucks now...
[ He grins lopsidedly, even though his heart is racing as he starts to feel his way back to the bed. Has she seen it? Will she comment on it? Will she ignore it altogether?
Gods, he doesn't know which of those outcomes he wants. ]
no subject
And then with a sigh of relief she surely must hear from the bedroom beyond, he lowers himself into the steaming water, his bones singing at the warm, reliable contact with heat. It feels so good, and the temptation to let himself drift off to sleep is very real and present. It's only Alisaie announcing her visit to the kitchen that wakes him when he starts to doze, and even after that, it's so very difficult to keep himself alert.
But it helps that he has a lot to occupy his thoughts, and his is the clearest his mind has felt in days. The hallucinations have left him — at least for the time being — but instead...he has been robbed of his sight. He believes her, when she tells him he will get it back, but it's still...such a frightening thing to approach. He has never been so deprived of one of his senses before, and such an important one at that. He has always appreciated seeing the world around him, but now it is as good as gone to him, with only his memory and Alisaie's guiding hands to remind him what is around him. Perhaps he's too tired for the full, terrible reality of it to settle upon him, but for now, he can only...take this one step at a time, and continue to believe in the promise she made him. It will be okay. It has to be.
Alisaie said so.
Alisaie...
She has done so much for him, she's still doing so much for him, and though he does not deserve it, she hasn't stopped once. Gods, she must be exhausted, weary beyond words, and yet she still presses on, for his sake. He can only begin to understand why she's taken on such an undertaking for him, of all people, and while he can't hope to pay her back, something between them has strengthened tonight, something has changed, and even now, when he has time to calm and reflect on his earlier decision, it still holds true.
He wants her to know. He owes her that honesty, and then...she can take it or leave it. It will be her choice, once she knows the truth, once she can see his heart and all its flaws and imperfections up close.
After he begins to wrinkle and prune, Prompto finally releases the latch on the tub, grabbing the towel and stepping out to dry and dress. He washes his face, brushes his teeth, runs a comb through his hair, and despite his absent eyesight, he at last feels like a person again.
Finally, he takes in a deep breath, opening the door to step into the bedroom once again.
He hasn't replaced the wristband on his wrist, intentionally omitting it. Right now...he doesn't need it. He's so tired, and he doesn't want to hide from her anymore. ]
There. Fit as a fiddle. Dunno what you put in that bath, but I feel like a million bucks now...
[ He grins lopsidedly, even though his heart is racing as he starts to feel his way back to the bed. Has she seen it? Will she comment on it? Will she ignore it altogether?
Gods, he doesn't know which of those outcomes he wants. ]