Stars in the Night Sky [NOCTIS X READER]

CHAPTER 7 - IN THE AFTERMATH

POSSIBLE TW: Graphic depictions of panic attacks

You stood under the near-scalding spray of the shower and had to bite back your sob.

You knew how lucky you were - it wasn't often that the Prince of Lucis and your best friend joined forces in order to save one measly Glaive. The chances were slim to none and you'd managed to get out with only a few scrapes and bruises that would heal within a few days' time.

But even still...

Your aches were now more mental than physical.

You ducked your head, watching dried blood and dark soot spiral away down the drain. You lifted your hands and uncurled your fingers, watching them tremble. Just a few short hours ago they'd been stained in Tredd's blood. Tredd, who'd used his last moments to save you. Not like you'd deserved it, because you'd had to watch Nyx and Luche die just a little while later.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and hunched inward, unable to stop thinking of the moment Nyx's body turned from real to corporal under your palms. Of Luche, writhing and screaming and on fire inches from your face. Of that heavy weight of Tredd's dead body against you.

Some ridiculous part of you had hoped the shower would not just wash the evidence of your struggle away, but the memories too. But they stayed, whether you liked it or not.

I should get out, you thought. I'm wasting all of Addy's hot water.

But when you didn't move a muscle, you realized it was a lost cause.

Instead, you sank down to sit on the shower floor, buried your head in your knees, and tried desperately not to cry.

When you finally shut off the water and wrapped a towel around yourself, you reached over for the clothes that had been left on the counter - as promised. It was an old pair of sweatpants with the hems falling apart and a comfy-looking t-shirt. Both of them looked inviting - a small comfort after the hell you had endured in Insomnia.

But first...

You looked down at the minor scrapes and cuts you'd accumulated over the fight.

Those come first.

You reached over into the mirror cabinet and rummaged around before coming back with a small first-aid kit you knew Adelaide kept there after she'd accidentally cut her leg open while shaving. You set to work, disinfecting the little wounds and wrapping them, putting sticky gauze along the length of your cheek and onto your neck to protect the one there. Finally, you shrugged on the shirt and the sweatpants, drying your hair enough to braid it over your shoulder. The repetitive motion of the Galahdan braid was grounding. It reminded you to breathe, to do your best to alleviate the terrible pressure that had settled on your chest

When you stepped outside of the bathroom, you almost felt normal again.

Almost.

Were it not for the aching in your chest, you would have been.

You followed the sound of voices down the hall and back through the den. You emerged into the kitchen, where an unfamiliar blonde boy was chatting pleasantly with Adelaide's mother about Chocobos. He trailed off the moment you appeared and attention shifted to you.

Adelaide tried for a smile and patted the empty seat beside her. You obediently made your way over, sitting down at the table Adelaide's family had had since they lived in Insomnia. You could still see the burn mark from the time you and Adelaide had experimented with matches and accidentally dropped one. The memory made you feel a little lighter.