Work Text:
Everything around him began to scream with meaning, with life, sound and color. A short while ago, his eyes fluttered open for what felt like the very first time, initiating his entrance into a world he had never experienced before. A world in which he never thought he'd find himself, fated for only the infinite silence of loneliness. Every one of his earlier hours had been colored in pain, no relief in sight as the threads of his spirit wept, seeking immediate freedom. Breaking, bleeding, shrieking out to the gods that saw fit to cast him into such loneliness.
Prompto believed he'd always be alone, fated to only have his sight colored in deafening silence. Noctis and then so many others welcomed him with open arms, showering him in undeserved hugs, compliments and cuddles, assuring him they'd always be there, but the truth would eventually come out. Hiding the truth about himself, where he had come from, what he was, wouldn't always be so easy. Blending in with the other students of Balamb Garden may have seemed effortless, but no matter how much the resounding blues, whites and yellows of happiness colored his vision, that dank, sweltering black was always right there. Holding a knife to his neck, laughing while it threatened to erase everything. His long-time friend and roommate, Noctis. Instructor Scientia. Gladiolus. Zell, who protected him from Seifer's gang, but then even Seifer became a friend, saving his life during a SEED mission.
Rinoa, the young woman that made him feel safe and loved in a way his parents never had. Selphie, the Gardening Club captain that doted over him the way a child doted over a puppy, constantly referring to him as 'my baby'. So many friends who would sacrifice their souls to Ifrit to save him, when he never even deserved to have a single one of them tell him the time. Then there was that instructor. The instructor that happened to be Squall's father. The unbelievably warm, kind, and also unbelievably beautiful Instructor that, for whatever reason, had an infinite amount of patience with him. Like a true idiot, he couldn't keep from tripping over himself whenever that particular instructor was within a fifty mile radius. Sure, there was a bit of an age gap, but the instructor being Squall's father was definitely the bigger problem because wow, did it make things really awkward. Not that Noctis' boyfriend had any problem with him-Squall was just as protective as Selphie was towards him.
Which explained the awkward tripping and heart attacks.
But as wonderful as it all was, Prompto believed none of it would ever last. He thought the dream had finally come to an end during their most recent mission, with him stupidly ending up wounded, forcing his squad mates to look after him. The events that led up to entering a void of unconsciousness were gray and black blurs, but the wound had been deep enough to finally put an end to everything. Another wound of equal intensity was inflicted; the truth had been revealed during battle, the secret he had desperately kept hidden for so many years revealed against his will. So they all knew. They knew. Knew everything. But-
None of them left. None of the golden, deafening, wonderful rays of sunlight left. They were all there when he awakened, with Gladiolus and Selphie weeping, Noctis smothering him in tears. Instructor Scientia giving him that familiar warm and loving smile, speaking to him in that familiar, soft tone, still calling him 'little brother'. Zell swearing vengeance against the 'douchebags that did this to you'. "There's no fuckin' way in Hell we're lettin' 'em off the hook," Balamb Garden's champion kickboxer snarled. "Now that you're awake, after we rest up a bit, we're gonna unleash Hell on 'em, just you wait!"
"And no, you're not coming with us," Squall muttered, his eyes shining with tears and deep rooted relief. While he had mastered the art of sounding completely and utterly bored in every situation under the sun, what he felt for his classmate couldn't really be suppressed.
"You're getting some much-needed rest, and that's that. Case closed, end of discussion, shut up."
"You guys, I think baby bird wants to say something," Selphie sobbed, noting the look of discomfort on the photographer's face. All eyes, even those that were normally quiet, looked to Prompto filled with anxiousness. Hope. Affection beyond all bounds. "It better not be 'I'm going back out there with you guys'," Squall put in, his voice a quiet, surprisingly affectionate rumble. However, Prompto shook his head, and:
"Thank you. Thank you, everyone. I love you guys so much."
Proceeded to spend the next ten minutes weeping, his spirit bared raw as every drop of loneliness, fear and happiness burst forth.
They knew. Everything was laid out in the open: his barcode, the truth behind his origins, but there they were. Crying, loving, hugging him as though nothing had ever happened.
Everything he had ever believed was a lie.
He had awakened just a few moments ago, all friends gone save one-that Instructor. They all chose to let him rest, and were probably preparing to wreak blood-soaked vengeance (as Selphie called it) on their latest opponents. Cascades of warm sunshine spilled into his infirmary room, assuring him he had made it home and would always be home-as the one that made his heart race a hundred times too fast slept right next to him.
Well. Since there was no longer anything to worry about, with the exception of a migraine that just wouldn't go away, it was time to have a little fun.
The marksman, beaming from ear to ear, gave the Instructor's arm a push-not knowing he'd fall right out of the chair. All he meant to do was kinda sorta spook the other into an awakening, not lead him to think there was an earthquake going on! "Sorry, sorry, Instructor," the photographer confessed breathlessly, beginning to scramble out of bed-but quickly stopped by the instructor himself. Infinitely warm, deep blue eyes met his, joining the sunshine in giving the world a gentle, impenetrable glow. "Don't worry about it," the brunette replied, his voice as kind as the slow, serene hours.
"Not your fault I'm an easy guy to scare. Doesn't help that I've been worried about you for the last ten hours. So on that note, it really was your fault I flung out of my chair. You literally had me on the edge of my seat, then decided to wake me up like that? What they say is true, I guess. The cute ones really are cruel."
Instructor Loire chuckled, the sound filled with affection and deep relief. "Anyway, enough about me. How are you feeling?" he asked, gently settling his hands onto the SEED gunner's shoulders, making sure he was comfortably settled back onto the infirmary bed. Cheeks as red as cherries, Prompto bowed his head. "Much better than I thought I'd be," he admitted, nervous but happy, happy beyond words.
"Thanks, Instructor, and thanks...thanks for staying with me. Nothing against the others-I mean, I didn't expect them to stay and I know they're all really busy, getting ready to-"
"Wreak blood-soaked vengeance?"
"Yeah," the photographer nodded, even more red painting his cheeks, love lighting up his eyes. "but you didn't have to stay either so thanks. Sorry for worrying you, though. I'm really sorry about worrying everybody."
Laguna's smile became indignant, as it usually did whenever that particular student treated himself badly. That same student had come dangerously close to losing his life-in battle-so he had even less of a right to look down on himself so viciously. "You shouldn't be," the instructor shook his head. "Nothing wrong with being popular. You're pretty important to all of us," he added, settling a hand on top of the other's head.
"We'd die for you because we love you, and you're not pulling any of our arms to get us to love you. And in case you haven't noticed, no, no one really cares about you being a...um...what was it again? A chocobo? Anyways, the little details aren't important. What's important is that you're back where you belong-with us."
"...um, Instructor Loire?"
"What's up? Not feelin' okay? Your cheeks are pretty red."
"Your hand is still on top of my head," was the tearful, nervous response. Tears trickling down his cheeks, heart racing with happiness and relief that transcended all boundaries, Prompto bowed his head even lower and dared to be a little bit bolder: "Not that I mind, but, just thought you maybe kinda sorta forgot it was there, y'know?"
Laguna gave off the most nonchalant 'huh' in the history of 'huh's. "Not really."
...
Prompto felt as though his entire body had turned blood red. "Are you gonna, um, take it off any time soon? Just wondering."
"Nope," the instructor replied, still nonchalant, still as bright and warm as the sunshine spilling through their windows. "Unless you mind. Thought you didn't, though."
"Fine, whatever, dude," the chocobo grumbled, every last inch of him on fire. "I give up."
"Great. Looks like I win. On that note, I'd like to ask you something. Gotta use my luck before it runs out. Do you like those really ritzy places, or are you more of a casual diner? I thought I'd treat you to a night on the town once you're feeling a little better. I was going over my options, and I thought-"
"Wait a minute," the photographer said, breathless, taking the instructor's hand off his head. "Are you-you want to-"
"Yeah, you're right. You definitely seem like you'd be more into the casual places. Don't want to make you uncomfortable, so-"
"That ship's sailing waaaaaaaaaaay out of the harbor, dude," came the frantic response, each word laced in a galaxy of disbelief. The gunner's eyes, filled with tears just a short while ago, were flooded with so many different sensations: panic, excitement, relief, love, disbelief. Sure, he had sheltered the world's biggest crush on the instructor that happened to be his friend's father for a few weeks, and he had come dangerously close to revealing those feelings quite a few times, but having that same instructor invite him to dinner? Wasn't it overwhelming enough to see none of his brothers or friends abandon him for being an artificially created, bloodthirsty monster?
"Are you seriously asking me out?"
"I think so," Instructor Loire nodded, rubbing his chin, as though Prompto had just asked him to confirm the answer to the most basic math equation in history. Not that it would be against the rules of the Garden. Sure, his student would definitely have to switch instructors because there's no way in Hell Laguna would even think of keeping his feelings a secret, already ready to declare his affections for the photographer from the rooftops, but that would be the worst of it. Sure, an instructor pursuing a student may have been frowned on while Instructor Trepe had her eyes on Squall, but a story between another student and instructor rewrote the rulebook. Determined to not let the end of that story remain tragic, the Headmaster and Garden directors agreed to let instructors establish consensual, solid relationships with students-under one condition: the student could no longer remain that instructor's student. Avoiding complaints of favoritism seemed a much better alternative to suicide, so why not?
A bond between an instructor and student: not really frowned on. A bond between an instructor and a murderous monster: something Prompto thought Laguna wouldn't ever consider. Apparently, he had been wrong about quite a few things. There was one problem, though:
"Wh-wh-what about y-y-your son?"
The brunette's eyes glistened with magic. "Oh, him? I'll take care of him," he assured the photographer, as though Prompto had just asked him to take care of a leaking faucet-eyes bearing excitement and love all the while. He then kissed his soon-to-be-former student's forehead, beaming from ear to ear with:
"After all, you're worth fighting for. And I'm not the only one that thinks so."