So, you've finally made it. It's about time you visited him again, isn't it?

There's no distinct boundary between the sky and the sea in this little dreamscape of yoursーa pocket existing beyond the fetters of reality. A pocket where only you and him exist. Safe from the demands of your career, family, and life.

There's Noctis, standing on the shore, gaze trained at the encroaching fog that rolls over the waves like a blanket being pulled over a sleeping child. Everything seems real, as if you're physically there. As if he's a real person. How he wishes that was the reality.

But it's not. Noctis only gets to see you when you fall asleepーa rare occurrence these days. Rare as a blue moon, but still just as special and beautiful when it occurs.

A glance back over his shoulder, face eclipsed by shadows obscuring his features. Blurred and ghostly. Smeared like charcoal dust upon a canvas. You can sense the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips, the crinkle of his eyes. Perhaps there's dimples nestled in his cheeks. Yet, when you try to focus on his face, the features swirl together, like ink spilled on water.

Then, he's walking towards you.

"You're here," voice soft as fog. He tilts his head, frowning. You're looking the worse for wear: eye bags shading your skin, cheeks sunken. You're exhausted. Obviously. With your insomnia, sometimes its days before he sees you. And when you do manage to drift off, sometimes you're so tired, you forget about him. Or you only have a few transientーstill precious nonethelessーhours together.

He won't complain, though. Won't wish that he was a real human. Won't wish that he can be there in person to wipe your tears away. To feed you. To take care of you when you neglect yourself. To wrap you up in his arms and allow his warmth to lull you to sleep. That'd be selfish of him. Right?

"How has life been treating you lately?"

What a stupid question, he thinks. Yet the words and feelings he hides in his heart—yearns to express—linger murky and veiled, just like his obscured face.