The sun is bright enough to lift even your spirits. Noctis can tell that you’ve been forcing a brave face since the start of this road trip. It’s a bitter situation. You’re travelling with him, your boyfriend, on his way to get married to a princess to forge a political union. You’re a saint, and he doesn’t deserve you. Noctis knows he has to let you go when this is all over, but for now, he has you, the beach, and the sunscreen you offer him to rub on your back.

“Are you sure?” he asks, eying the tube of sunscreen warily. “I can’t promise you won’t still get sunburnt.” He supposes there are worse places he could be than beneath a shady umbrella with you at Galdin Quay, even if he hates the sweltering weather.