[Never once in Albert's life did he think he'd be so able to be thrilled by being carried in someone's arms, held precious and close, guarded and wanted and kept. But Ignis has awoken all manner of bizarre things in him, including his desire to break away from what he was, what he's lived as for most of his life. Ignis makes him want to challenge his own heart, his ideals. One look into those pools of murky green makes his heart feel unbearably excited and impossibly peaceful at once. This man... has changed him in such a short time. Albert knows, in all his own foolish passion, that he is the sort to leap into arms that open for him in good faith.
Ignis is the prologue to a story, the entr'acte before the climax of an opera, an appetizer before a grand meal, something so easy to take for granted if one doesn't look deeper. But for Albert, these mundane things are beautiful beyond measure, comforting and cherished. Ignis is the same, a mystery in so many ways because Albert has feared digging deeper, but an open book at the same time. He reads into this one man's heart, and finds it holds all the answers he's sought his entire adult life. The answers aren't the stark black and white that Albert always clings to, but gray in every imaginable shade, subtle and nuanced.
His passion for this revelation may have spurred him to reveal his own heart entirely, but he doesn't regret it. He won't. And he wants this bundle of ideals and glorious freedom from a prison of Albert's own making to claim him and keep him. What he always needed and was afraid to pursue is here, in front of him. And he loves him, not what Ignis represents, but the truth in his words and the uncompromising way he deals with Albert's volatility.
For once in his life, Albert feels safe.
He's carried to the bed, and his arms wind around Ignis, fingers tracing through his hair with all affection.]
For now. [For as long as he can be.] Memorize every part of me, Ignis. I'll refuse to ever forget you.
no subject
Ignis is the prologue to a story, the entr'acte before the climax of an opera, an appetizer before a grand meal, something so easy to take for granted if one doesn't look deeper. But for Albert, these mundane things are beautiful beyond measure, comforting and cherished. Ignis is the same, a mystery in so many ways because Albert has feared digging deeper, but an open book at the same time. He reads into this one man's heart, and finds it holds all the answers he's sought his entire adult life. The answers aren't the stark black and white that Albert always clings to, but gray in every imaginable shade, subtle and nuanced.
His passion for this revelation may have spurred him to reveal his own heart entirely, but he doesn't regret it. He won't. And he wants this bundle of ideals and glorious freedom from a prison of Albert's own making to claim him and keep him. What he always needed and was afraid to pursue is here, in front of him. And he loves him, not what Ignis represents, but the truth in his words and the uncompromising way he deals with Albert's volatility.
For once in his life, Albert feels safe.
He's carried to the bed, and his arms wind around Ignis, fingers tracing through his hair with all affection.]
For now. [For as long as he can be.] Memorize every part of me, Ignis. I'll refuse to ever forget you.