Sure! No problem. (It kind of ended up being angsty fluff though. ._. And probably not what was requested. Sorry in advance if it’s not what you expected.)
They would decide to wait for him. They’d want to scream and cry for him, because he was clearly hurting, but they’d hold themself together. He was holding himself together they’d think, so what right would they have to fall apart for him? No, while he was still pushing everyone away, they would wait for him to be ready to accept people once more.
Though that wouldn’t change that they’d care for him. Every time the boys were in town, they’d stop by their house. It was a large one, and each had their own rooms to stay in when they were here. Something that was both a blessing and a curse.
The others would want to go explore, to breath, to take a break from each other. But Ignis would just shut himself in his room, and sit in the dark, and brood. But they’d try to reach him. They’d be relentless in trying to get him to show the affection he once had for them.
His S/O would miss contact with him. Because they did still love him no matter what he’d believed. They’d go to him and ask if he’d like a bath to wash off the dust from the road. After a pause he’d agree. So they’d go and run one, making sure the temperature is too high and maybe even adding some stress relieving bath salts to the water. When it was ready, they’d go to fetch him. He’d know his way around and would go to the bathroom himself. But as he’d start closing the door, they’d catch his hand in theirs, bring it up to their mouth and press a kiss to his knuckles before walking away.
A small gesture to reassure him they loved him. Even if he shut the door on them afterward, they’d just want to keep that fresh in his mind. They’d walk away and then return half an hour later with a towel and a fresh set of clothes. They’d leave them outside the door, knock, and let him know they were there.
He’d be able to get dressed on his own for the most part, so they’d leave him to it. They’d maybe return in another half hour to check what he wanted to eat. But they’d find him sitting on the bed with his shirt miss buttoned. He’d admit he has trouble with figuring out what goes where now, and they’d only reassure him it’s fine. He’d get it soon enough. They’d go over and help his fix his shirt with feather light touches, and then step away.
As they’d be about to leave the room, he’d grab their hand and just hold it. A silent plea to stay with him. One that they’d readily agree to. They’d lead him over to the bed and sit down with him. It’d be a rare moment when he’d want company. They’d sit next to him and lean their forehead against his shoulder while still holding his hand. It’d be silent in the room for a long time. They wouldn’t speak, because what could they say? Neither would know.
They’d just sit and breath and hold each other. Eventually his S/O would be the one to break the silence. “I love you.” They’d whisper. “And I know you’re angry right now. But I will wait. Even if you are never the same, I’ll wait.”
Because it’s unknown at this point in time if his vision would ever return. They just know that if it doesn’t, they’d still love him. He wouldn’t say anything in response and they’d get up to leave to start on dinner. But before leaving, they’d press a kiss to his cheek.The others would return to eat and things would be a bit more lively. But it would still be muted between the two.
But that would change hours later when he’d invite them to sit with him that night rather than sitting alone in his room. They’d lay in bed together, and eventually they’d start talking. The conversation would start off quiet, but it’d quickly turn light hearted. He’d laugh like he used to and for a while they could pretend everything was normal. And when he’d stretch his arms above his head and sigh in annoyance they’d offer to try and work some of the tension in his muscle out.
“I’m good with my hands.” They’d smile, and so he could ‘see’ it, they’d bring his hand to the corner of their mouth.
He’d agree, though a bit hesitantly. They’d press a kiss to his fingertips and state they’d be right back before getting up and going to their own room to grab what they’d need and return. He wouldn’t have moved and would be ‘staring’ off into the distance. Though he would turn his head upon hearing them reenter.
They’d check to make sure it’d be alright to remove his shirt first, and his face would show his discomfort with the thought, but he’d oblige. I can picture that his face wasn’t the only thing that was scarred, which is why he’d be a little self conscious. He’d be able to feel his scars, but wouldn’t know how they would look. But his S/O wouldn’t be fazed. Instead of commenting on them, they’d guide him into laying on his stomach and get to work on rubbing out any knots in his muscles.
They’d talk, and occasionally laugh while they worked, and he’d relax and nearly drift off while they did. His S/O would think he was asleep. They wouldn’t really think about it, but they’d lean forward and press a kiss against one of the scars on his back, and start to leave. But he’d suddenly grab them and pull them into bed with him. At first they’d try to wiggle away as a joke but then give up and just settle against him.
Behind them he’d start to speak about suddenly going blind. How it was to be unable to see the world. To be unable to see them. He’d describe what it was like and what it took from him. His fears and his worries, and how for the first time in his life, his future was unclear.
His S/O would turn around in his arms, and circle their own around him. They’d start pressing kisses along the scars on his shoulder. The ones hidden by his hairline. The ones on his temple. They’d kiss both eyelids and whisper promises to him. The scars wouldn’t take his friends. They wouldn’t take over his life. They would not take away those who love him.
Then they’d just curl up together, laying in the darkness of the room and simply letting silence wash over them until they’d fall asleep.
Imagine Final Fantasy 