[Albert knows this is temporary. Everything in life is mutable, except death, which Albert is all too well acquainted with. That will come for him sooner rather than later, he's sure. Maybe he even wanted it to before he came here, in all honesty. No matter how light his heart is about this, he will always be what he was, and always have done what he did.
If he could do things again, would he have chosen the same path? Would he have chosen to become a devil if he knew how much it would destroy him along the way? That the numbness he learned to use as a barrier would permeate everything and make him a liar, a cheat, a fake?
What will this brilliant, stunning, giving, glorious man ever gain from being with him? He'll think about this later, when he's alone, when Ignis is gone and thinking the most gentle thoughts, when Albert is left with only his shadows and the consequences of his actions. It will make this moment bittersweet, and his decision to confess his feelings will replay over and over in his head, haunting him.
He's going to love Ignis. He's going to fall completely, and utterly, and then the bottom will fall out of it all and he will be alone. That's what he deserves. He'll never forgive himself if he hurts Ignis in the process. Until then, he'll grasp at little moments like this and hold them unbearably tightly. If he's good to Ignis, if he's kind and generous and sincere, maybe the truth won't hurt so much when it eventually comes out. Maybe he'll even forgive Albert, or at least accept that he's doing his best to atone.
For now, Albert's heart is light as he looks silently at Ignis, being studied, being seen. This is something he absolutely doesn't deserve, this affection and kindness, but the way it makes his heart race and his body feel light is addictive, and welcome.
Less welcome is that flash of sadness, of trepidation from Ignis. How he wants to pry, to ask for secrets he wouldn't himself give. How he wants to dig so deeply into Ignis' heart that he forgets how dreadful his own is. So moments like this can take him by surprise, overwhelm him, and give him hope. Every gentle touch is memorable, and he maps out the way Ignis moves so carefully in his mind, dedicates the way his lips feel to a memory that he'll keep close.
This affection... it will undo Albert. But how, and how quickly, he still doesn't know. His voice is soft, hardly more than a breathy rush of syllables, so taken is he.]
You are the most welcome distraction I've ever had, dear Ignis.
[He wants him to stay. This is too picturesque of a moment to let go of easily. He wants to hold Ignis in his arms and be held, to kiss him and breathe the same air. He wants to cling so tightly, just for a moment, that he forgets that he is beyond redemption and not worthy of this at all.
Still, this dear man is a realist in certain key ways, and Albert is, too. Surely he's occupied for most of the day.]
But... if you must go, I understand. You only stopped by to invite me for later. You're probably terribly busy yourself, and we'll see each other in a few hours.
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If he could do things again, would he have chosen the same path? Would he have chosen to become a devil if he knew how much it would destroy him along the way? That the numbness he learned to use as a barrier would permeate everything and make him a liar, a cheat, a fake?
What will this brilliant, stunning, giving, glorious man ever gain from being with him? He'll think about this later, when he's alone, when Ignis is gone and thinking the most gentle thoughts, when Albert is left with only his shadows and the consequences of his actions. It will make this moment bittersweet, and his decision to confess his feelings will replay over and over in his head, haunting him.
He's going to love Ignis. He's going to fall completely, and utterly, and then the bottom will fall out of it all and he will be alone. That's what he deserves. He'll never forgive himself if he hurts Ignis in the process. Until then, he'll grasp at little moments like this and hold them unbearably tightly. If he's good to Ignis, if he's kind and generous and sincere, maybe the truth won't hurt so much when it eventually comes out. Maybe he'll even forgive Albert, or at least accept that he's doing his best to atone.
For now, Albert's heart is light as he looks silently at Ignis, being studied, being seen. This is something he absolutely doesn't deserve, this affection and kindness, but the way it makes his heart race and his body feel light is addictive, and welcome.
Less welcome is that flash of sadness, of trepidation from Ignis. How he wants to pry, to ask for secrets he wouldn't himself give. How he wants to dig so deeply into Ignis' heart that he forgets how dreadful his own is. So moments like this can take him by surprise, overwhelm him, and give him hope. Every gentle touch is memorable, and he maps out the way Ignis moves so carefully in his mind, dedicates the way his lips feel to a memory that he'll keep close.
This affection... it will undo Albert. But how, and how quickly, he still doesn't know. His voice is soft, hardly more than a breathy rush of syllables, so taken is he.]
You are the most welcome distraction I've ever had, dear Ignis.
[He wants him to stay. This is too picturesque of a moment to let go of easily. He wants to hold Ignis in his arms and be held, to kiss him and breathe the same air. He wants to cling so tightly, just for a moment, that he forgets that he is beyond redemption and not worthy of this at all.
Still, this dear man is a realist in certain key ways, and Albert is, too. Surely he's occupied for most of the day.]
But... if you must go, I understand. You only stopped by to invite me for later. You're probably terribly busy yourself, and we'll see each other in a few hours.