Chapter Text
1. Show me where my skin begins.
The first time Prompto sees Ravus cry is the same time that they first meet.
It's not the most ideal meeting; Prompto is bound up to some machine inside Zegnatus Keep. He's sore, and tired, and frightened, and really he wants nothing more than to hang there in oblivion until Noctis comes for him (because he is coming, he knows it, and he can't give up on him), and really he could have lived without seeing anyone see him like this, but the door of course scrapes open on its rusting hinges what Prompto thinks must be a few hours after Ardyn has left, and it's not the strange and creepy man this time (and for this Prompto thanks every Astral and vaguely god-like being he knows of, and makes a few more up for good measure), but a silver-haired man dressed in white and black.
Prompto recognises him, just about, from a photo Noctis had shown him once in his otherwise secret notebook, and that moment, so long before now, when the man had challenged Noctis before being interrupted. He lacks the look of fury he had had that day, his posture softer and his face neutral save for the crease between his eyebrows. He stands on the threshold for long enough that Prompto feels goosebumps break out over his skin like a rash.
“Ravus.”
He forces his mouth around the word, watching it startle his visitor from his silent watch at the door. Prompto doesn't know why he has come here, but he works for the Empire and it's enough to reignite the trembling in his limbs even as he fights to keep still. Ravus's boots clink on the hard floor and it's loud against Prompto's ears as he watches Ravus come closer. His stomach twists with anxiety, and he shifts as much as he can in the chains, maintaining the facade of resilience just a little longer -
“Ardyn has done this.”
It's not a question. Ravus lifts his right arm up and Prompto flinches back, knocks his head on the metal framework behind him and closes his eyes as a hiss of pain escapes him. He doesn't know what further torment awaits him, but Prompto thinks hard of Noctis, and of Gladiolus and Ignis, and all the stupid and fun times they've had and that they're on their way for sure.
The soft touch against his skin comes as a surprise, and Prompto starts to jerk away but Ravus speaks and he aborts the motion as his frayed nerves are startled again into stillness.
“I am not here to hurt you.”
Prompto looks at him fully then, feeling the way Ravus's fingers tremble just slightly where they rest against his collarbone, and there's no way he's cold in that heavy coat. He is silent as Ravus takes a final step closer and touches a spot on his hairline that hurts, and when he brings his hand away his fingers are wet with Prompto's blood. Is he bleeding that much? He hadn't noticed, and he quickly forgets as Ravus reaches into the pocket of his coat, leaving a pink smear on the white fabric, and produces a blue handkerchief. Prompto stays still as Ravus wipes more blood from his face, his eyes slipping closed briefly. He can think of a dozen protests and questions but can't manage to curl his tongue around the words.
“I cannot release you. I have neither the key nor a means to reunite you with Prince Noctis and aid an escape.”
He raises his head and opens his eyes when Ravus speaks, something in his tone making him tense up involuntarily, and this close Prompto can see the telltale shine of moisture around the other's mismatched eyes.
“...S'fine.”
Prompto coughs around the word, his chest heaving against the bindings, and though the fit only lasts for a mere few seconds it leaves him feeling weak and tired, and he curls forward for a brief pause, and then there are hands on him, one warm and the other cooler on his bare skin, and Ravus is adjusting Prompto's position as much as he can to help him breath.
“You...you shouldn't be here.”
He swallows, licks his chapped lips, and watches Ravus step back, and Prompto wonders if he has been misheard. Ravus's mouth is drawn into a hard line that tilts down on one side, and his eyes narrowed around the tears still gathering there.
“Hey...it's okay.”
Prompto's voice wavers in the cold air of the cell, unsure, but he tries again, for Ravus as much as for himself.
“Not your fault. Noct'll...Noct'll come. We'll be fine but....don't stick around. I don't know when he's coming back. Don't...want him to get you too.”
He has to pause several times for breath and to try to muster enough saliva to keep from choking on the stale air, but he makes it through, and Ravus looks him in the eye at last, and there is a faint smile tugging at his lips now, which Prompto finds himself compelled to return, bolstered by the knowledge that he's not entirely alone in the depths of the enemy's stronghold. He's got one person close that cares if he makes it out alive, and for now, that is enough for both of them.
* * *
Ravus stays a while longer, quietly encouraging Prompto to speak and only offering his input now and then when Prompto's pauses begged it. He leaves with a smile after wiping fresh blood from the wound on Prompto's temple, and waits as the Prince makes his way through the Keep, and Ravus is on their heels when they leave, Prompto's fingers curled tightly around his own as he pulls Ravus along behind them.
In the train back to Lucis, Prompto lets Ravus against him just as much, and he holds his hand under the table until they both fall asleep.