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How ill Prompto was at any given time was always directly related to how much complaining he did. If he was lying around with them, whining about how it was the end for him and he felt like he was dying, then he was probably not that bad. Nothing a trip to the pharmacy and a few days rest wouldn’t be able to fix.
If he was holed up in apartment, silent and avoidant, then that meant something was very wrong.
No one was sure why he chose to hide away when he was at his worst, but each of his friends had their theories. Not that Prompto would ever confirm or deny them – he would always just laugh and say he didn’t want to infect them if they asked.
So when it got to late afternoon and no one had heard from him, Noctis was the first to get concerned. Usually Prompto would text throughout the day – a picture of the sunrise he had taken on his morning run, or a dog he’d made friends with, or maybe something in a shop that reminded him of one of them. It was a little habit of his, and an utterly endearing one at that. But there’d been nothing from him all day.
“What if he’s dead.” Ignis sighed, giving the prince a withering look for probably the fifth time that day.
“That’s highly unlikely, Noct. Maybe he’s just busy.”
“That’s when he talks the most!” It wasn’t as if Noctis thought Prompto had no life outside of him; he knew he took his photography seriously and he had taken a job repairing electronics to help pay rent. He always refused help from Noctis.
“Why don’t you call him, Princess? If you’re so worried.” Gladiolus supplied helpfully from his chair, idly flicking through a magazine he’d picked up somewhere. Noctis glared at him, unimpressed that he wasn’t taking Prompto’s potential death as seriously as he should be.
“He does have a point. If you’re this concerned about Prompto’s wellbeing, call him and ask him yourself.” Ignis, the traitor, took Gladio’s side. Because of course they were being logical and not immediately assuming that Prompto was dead. Or dying. He at least gave Noctis a sympathetic look as the prince took his phone out.
Prompto didn’t pick up the first time, which was definitely weird. Prompto always answered the phone to them, so it took Noctis aback when he was greeted by a cheery answer machine message.
“He didn’t pick up.” Ignis frowned, and Gladio looked up from his magazine.
“I’ll admit, this is unusual for him.” Gladio nodded in agreement, and it seemed that they had finally come to the decision Noctis had wanted them to come to about an hour ago.
“Guess we better go check on him.”
“We still have work to do—“
“He’s definitely dead.” Noctis fixed Ignis with a pointed look and Gladio snorted behind them, already standing and moving towards the door.
Yet again, Ignis sighed. This was his price for being the voice of reason.
“I suppose a quick visit will not be too detrimental.”
It was not a quick visit.
**
Prompto was definitely going to die sometime within the next 24 hours. He had woken with a pounding headache that he could feel behind his eyes and an ache that reached muscles he never knew he had. Any attempts at eating had been almost immediately ruined as he struggled to keep anything down. His throat stung and his body could never quite settle on whether he was too hot or too cold, but he was always too something.
He had spent most of the day lying on his bed, flinging the blanket off only to retrieve it minutes later. It was one of the most miserable days of his life.
The weather seemed beautiful outside as well, because it seemed the world just wanted to make fun of him.
Prompto was considering writing a will when there was knocking at his door. It was really too loud and Prompto winced as his head throbbed with each knock. Whoever it was better have a good reason to be there because he wasn’t sure how much he could handle. Any energy he had scrounged up that morning had been wasted on his futile efforts to function.
He was slightly mortified to find Noctis, Ignis and Gladio on the other side. Prompto knew he looked a mess – there was a light sheen of sweat from each time he had been too hot, his eyes and nose were both red and his hair was greasy, sticking at the odd angles it had been in when Prompto had finally managed to get some sleep. He really tried to always make an effort for those three – to be funny, to look good, to be good enough. He wouldn’t manage any of those things in the state he was in.
The looks he got in response said all Prompto needed to know. He could hardly blame them; he looked absolutely disgusting. He felt disgusting. He would have preferred to be left alone in his disgusting, pathetic misery.
Instead of that, however, Ignis pushed past him gently and immediately headed for the kitchen. Gladio guided him back to the little nest he had made on the sofa that morning while Noctis followed, shutting the door quietly behind them.
“When did you last eat, Prompto?” Ignis was already looking through his kitchen, frowning at the lack of food. Prompto had planned to go buy more today. He shook his head and instantly regretted it, wincing as the pain spiked.
“I tried. Keep throwing up.” He managed, his voice hoarse from not being used all day and the swelling in his throat. From the seat next to him, Gladio rubbed his back while Noctis leaned across the small coffee table to feel Prompto’s forehead.
“He’s burning up.” He announced to the others and Prompto whined slightly when Noctis took his hand away. It had been cool, and the world was too warm. He shrugged off the blanket that had been draped over his shoulders at some point, mumbling about being warm. Gladio nodded in understanding. Ignis stood in the kitchen, arms crossed.
“Have you been drinking enough water?” Prompto wasn’t sure. He drank when he could and the feeling of cold water did soothe his throat a little. He just didn’t know if it was enough. He opted for looking miserably at Ignis, who frowned a little more.
Noctis had gone into the bathroom during the exchange and came back looking a little concerned. Was concerned the word? He looked something. Prompto’s brain had decided to call in sick that day as well.
“He’s not got a lot of medicine in.” Prompto thought Ignis looked disappointed and he wanted to cry. He wasn’t sure why everyone had come over to see him be gross and scold him about how he lived. He sniffled, and the hand on his back moved around his arm so Gladio could pull him closer.
At least Noctis had the decency to look a little upset that he had made Prompto even more sad. Gladio was murmuring something into his hair, and Prompto focused all his efforts into listening to him.
“It’s okay, we’ll get you some stuff, you think you can try some more water?” Gladio was being nice and that made Prompto want to cry even more. No one had ever looked after him when he was sick until he’d worked his way into their little group. He still had no idea how to handle it. He whimpered an affirmative.
Having left the kitchen, Ignis knelt in front of Prompto and placed a hand gently on his knee. Prompto’s skin felt like lava, so he appreciated that they were trying to be gentle. His face had softened considerably, so Prompto felt a little less like a failure. At least they weren’t angry at him. Ignis had a glass of water in his other hand and he offered it to Prompto, who used his miniscule remaining strength to hold it on his own. It was so cold and felt so nice in his hand. The water didn’t burn his throat, and Prompto was so grateful for it that he did, in fact, cry that time.
“I’m going to go get you some medicine and food, Prompto. I will be right back, and Noctis and Gladio are going to stay here with you.” No one had asked Noctis or Gladio if that’s what they wanted to do, but both of them nodded like there had been a big discussion about it. Prompto wasn’t sure how he felt about Ignis leaving, but he was giving Prompto a reassuring smile so maybe he would come back. He tried to stop the tears but apparently they were there to stay. Ignis had kissed his forehead before going, even though Prompto was still gross.
After Ignis left, Noctis took his original place in the chair across from him. He was smiling at Prompto, but it looked a little sympathetic.
“How’re you feeling, buddy?” He sat forward a little so he could hold Prompto’s hand. It wasn’t as cool as it had been before, but that was okay. Prompto was just grateful that Noctis still wanted to hold his hand.
“Bad.” He eventually managed. The guys probably had more important things to do that day than sit while Prompto had a breakdown over how awful everything felt, but they had stayed and that caused a feeling in Prompto’s chest that he wasn’t entirely sure he knew how to process.
Gladio’s arm was still around him, his thumb gently rubbing his bicep and he occasionally kissed the top of Prompto’s hair. That was the biggest testament of Gladio’s strength, because Prompto hadn’t washed his hair yet. Showering was going to take more energy than he was able to make.
“Try getting some rest, Champ. Just shut your eyes.” Prompto was starting to get the shivers again, even though the world was still on the uncomfortable side of too hot. Gladio held him a little closer until they went away, and Noctis had refilled the glass of water when Prompto had shut his eyes.
Everything still hurt, but he could faintly hear Noctis and Gladio talking between themselves, and the soft bass of their voices was enough to lull him back to sleep.
**
When Ignis returned with some ingredients to make a light dinner and some medicine that should help take Prompto’s temperature down and help with the pain, he found Gladiolus was the only one still awake.
Noctis had curled up in his chair, taking any opportunity to nap. Prompto was curled up next to Gladiolus, sleeping fitfully.
“Well, at least he’s resting.” Ignis said quietly, putting the bags down on the dining table near the kitchen and trying not to disturb anyone’s sleep while he put everything away.
“He’s been in and out, really. Noct’s out cold though.” Gladio laughed a little, trying not to jostle Prompto too much. Ignis figured that would be the case.
“Well, we’ll see if he can try eating again and then let him get some actual sleep. Hopefully this will help.” Ignis held up a box of something that claimed to be for night use. Prompto mumbled something, shifting again in his sleep. Gladio hadn’t been able to make anything sensible out of Prompto’s feverish mumbles, but he never looked particularly happy.
Which was fair, really. No one was happy with a fever.
Prompto managed to eat a little of the food Ignis had made, and the rest was left in the fridge for him in case he felt up to eating later. They had stayed with him until he had fallen asleep, the medicine having its desired effect. Once Prompto was in bed and comfortable, with water and medicine on the table beside him, the others felt comfortable leaving him for the night.
It was unspoken that they would be back in the morning. Prompto may have holed himself away, but that never meant that they couldn’t go to him.