You liked Noctis more than you should’ve.

Love is what others would’ve called it, even though you knew it was wrong.

After all, you were just friends, and he was next in line for the throne. He was going to be a King and you were just you; a person from a family with little wealth to their name who very conveniently became one of the closest friends of the Prince.

A commoner, in other words. Still, you were a special commoner to the Prince, given you were one of the only people he could confide in without being judged for it. Or worrying that you’d tell his secrets to someone else.

Noctis liked that about you— how loyal, honest, and kind you were and you liked how he came to you with his issues —how he trusted you more than his other friends.

Even if you wanted to be closer.

It was like a child wishing on a shooting star— hoping that, with all their might it would come true —but you knew better. This was real life and, sadly, things didn’t go how you wanted them.

It’s the only reason you stuff your feelings down, giving a small, strained smile as Noctis tells you the news.

“I’m so happy for you, Noctis. You talk about her all the time.” You muse with a neutral face, trying to fake an expression of happiness so he doesn’t suspect anything. The idea of him getting married— even if it was to a girl he supposedly liked (even though he barely knew anything about her) —crushed your heart.

But you couldn’t tell him that.

“My parents said she’s coming here soon; they’re throwing a ball to welcome her to the Kingdom, and to announce our marriage.” He’s all smiles and happiness, something you normally loved, but it only brought you misery on the inside.

How the hell were you supposed to pretend you were happy for him?