Chapter Text
It was cold.
That was the first conscious thought that flickered through Prompto’s mind, less than a second after he sleepily opened his eyes. Even though most of his body still felt warm and cozy inside of his sleeping back that was stuffed to the brim with thick blankets, the air on his face was cool. It felt sticky, almost. Humid and heavy with the breath of four grown men in one tight, confined space.
Prompto’s gaze hadn’t moved from the ceiling of their tent and instead rested on the small droplets of condensed water that were clinging to the fabric above him. It was rare for him to wake up lying on his back, looking straight up like this. For a few moments the fact that he could not see his friends was enough to make him believe that he was actually alone and just for a second he allowed himself to enjoy it.
The barest remnants of a dream lingered at the back of his mind but they were so faded and vague that he knew it would be useless to try and remember it by now. Still, his chest felt weirdly empty at the sudden absence of the emotions that had been pulsing through it during his sleep.
This, he mused, was always the worst part about waking up without remembering your dreams. The dull ache of feeling hollow and swept empty; like all thoughts and feelings have been washed away by cold, numbing rain, leaving nothing behind but confusion and the lost scent of a different reality.
With a sigh he closed his eyes and when he opened them again he was already pulling down the zipper of his sleeping bag and pushing himself off the hard ground.
A look around the tent revealed that the only person currently present - besides himself - was Ignis. Which was perfect.
The man in question was not sleeping however. He was simply sitting a meter or so away and scribbling something down in a notebook (Prompto still didn’t understand how he did it, being blind, but he seemed to manage just fine).
Upon hearing the blonde move around, he turned his face in Prompto’s general direction, the hint of a fatherly smile on his lips.
“Good morning,” he greeted.
“'Morning,” Prompto replied, his voice still rough from sleep. He yawned. “Where are the others?”
“It will undoubtedly please you to hear that Noctis and Gladio have gone hunting. I assume they did not feel like waiting around at camp all day for you to finally wake up”
Prompto wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the response. Was Ignis upset with him? For sleeping in? For keeping them all from working? Or was he just laying out the facts?
He vaguely wondered if he'd ever get better at reading Ignis.
“…Uhm,” said Prompto, unsure. “Why? How late is it?”
He hadn’t exactly planned to sleep in but it didn’t really come as a surprise to him either.
After all, he and Noctis had had an argument just the night before. By the end of it Prompto hadn’t even been sure anymore what exactly they were arguing about, but he clearly remembered Gladio backing up Noct and Ignis having to step in to keep things from escalating.
“It should be around noon by now,” Ignis looked away and lowered his hand back to the book lying on his lap, but Prompto could tell that he wasn’t done yet. A few seconds later he raised his voice once more, looking at Prompto unwaveringly but with a subtle kindness. It struck Prompto right through the chest.
“Noctis was right,” Ignis’ lips were slightly pursed, his expression regal. “I don’t approve of how he dealt with the situation, but I don’t disagree with what he was trying to say. What you did was reckless at best and frankly suicidal at worst. Not to mention rather selfish. We all care for you. I must ask of you that you think of our feelings as well.”
Inside of Prompto, a small flair of hot, red anger surfaced at his words but it immediately got mixed up with a growing, trickling sense of shame and he chewed on his lip uncomfortably.
“I wasn’t… trying to get myself killed or anything,” he shuffled with his feet awkwardly but tried not to sound as somber as he suddenly felt.
“Perhaps not,” Ignis lowered his head in and odd mixture of agreement and disapproval. “But I have the feeling that you weren’t really trying to not get yourself killed either.”
He said no more than that, but he didn’t have to.
His blind eyes seemed to see right through Prompto. It was the truth- at least to some extent - and Prompto wasn’t going to try something stupid like lie to Ignis (I mean, come on).
Still, Prompto didn’t know what to say so he just kept quiet. Giving nothing more than a tight nod (Idiot, he can’t even see that) and a small hum as a reply, Prompto walked out of the tent, into the cold that had unexpectedly settled over the land during the past few days.
He wanted to live, really. With every fiber of his being. Despite the fall of Insomnia, the unbelievably rough times they had gone through the past months, despite thinking for a while that they had lost Luna, despite almost losing Noct; despite everything, he had never been pushed to a point where he would have said he wanted to die. Especially now that the light had returned to the world and the only thing left to do was get rid of the few deamons that were still left.
It had been no conscious decision to wander off from the rest of the group - at night and right in the middle of a battle. It had not been his direct intention to end up running into danger, and it certainly hadn't been his goal to actually try and defeat a red giant all by himself.
But the giant had attacked him and as the thought to flee and run back to the others - to Noct- had flashed through his mind, it had been accompanied by a tidal wave of thoughts and emotions washing through him, rendering him motionless.
(Weakling, the voices had said. Coward. But those voices had been quiet, overpowered by reason and years of training.)
The voices that really had kept him from running away had been louder, more vile.
How long will you have somebody left to run to? , they had whispered, and He’s going to leave anyways.
And somewhere in a small corner of his mind, there had been an especially stupid voice. More a feeling than a thought, really, not enough to even register consciously.
Dying would probably be easier than watching him get married.
It was -of course- absolutely ridiculous. Childish, dramatic. And had the feeling become strong enough for him to actually actively think about it, he would have immediately kicked it in the dumpster and realized it was nothing but one big pile of crap.
But as it had been, he had barely noticed it, barely thought about it. And when the others had come running a few minutes later and found him lying on the ground, only another few moments away from being killed by a red giant, well…
He hadn’t known how he ended up there any more than they did.
Dinner was tense, especially after Ignis and Gladio excused themselves for the night and went to bed. Prompto wasn’t dumb enough to miss the meaningful look that Gladio directed at him right before disappearing into the tent.
Noctis was sitting on the other side of the fireplace, facing Prompto. His shoulders were hunched over and in the tense lines etched into his face Prompto could read both anger and guilt. He probably looked about the same.
But there wasn’t much time left for them, Prompto knew. Because in only a month or two, Noctis and Luna would finally get married; not for some treaty this time, but as a symbol of peace. Of hope.
It had been Ignis’ idea, and Gladio had expressed his enthusiasm freely. Prompto… well, he had tried, at the very least, and nobody had seemed to notice how he truly felt about it. And he was glad.
None of them had forgotten the way Noct had reacted upon seeing his childhood friend die – even if it had later turned out that the scene had been little more than another mind game executed masterfully by Ardyn.
And so, none of them ever really felt like it was necessary to ask about Noct's feelings for her. It seemed pretty clear.
At the very least, no one had brought it up and Prompto hadn’t either.
And if Noctis hadn't actually felt any romantic feelings for Luna he wouldn't have agreed to marry her. After all, there was no longer any real reason to go along with a wedding he didn't want.
Sure, it would make a nice headline to set the people of his kingdom at ease again and to spread more positivity but now that the threat of war was no longer looming over them, Noct was free to do as he pleased.
(Prompto, of course, did not consider until much later that there could be something else hidden beneath the simple “Alright then” that Noct had responded with after Ignis explained the merits of a wedding. That while Ignis brought up the Idea, his intentions were a lot more complex than he let on.
To Prompto, everything went about the way he expected it to and he left it at that. Tried to smile more when they were out on hunts or driving across the place to assist in rebuilding the destroyed cities. Took as many pictures as he possibly could. Tried to have more fun than ever, tried to make the most of the time he still had left.
Because for all he knew, everything was going to change.)
It was because all of this that he refrained from going to bed with the other two now, from avoiding Noct any longer. A heavy feeling had been churning in his gut all evening, urging him to make up with his best friend as soon as he possibly could, to use every minute he still had left.
It was hard though. It was hard to face Noct when the prince was still looking at him with his brows slightly pinched together but otherwise unmoving and untelling.
In his eyes Prompto searched for a hint, an emotion; anger, hurt, frustration, anything.
But instead they just stared back at him as they always did. Not harsh, not kind. Simply...blue. Blue and alive. Alive but silent.
Prompto had never been able to get behind the metaphors in cheesy romance novels.
Because Noctis’ eyes were… - captivating, without doubt. Piercing, fierce even. But they didn’t betray anything. Nobody’s eyes ever did, at least not to him.
Prompto steeled himself. He didn’t really know how to start this, didn’t know if apologizing would do the trick, if he should be chipper about it, casual, or serious and calm.
He decided to improvise.
Jaw set with determination, he forced himself to hold Noctis’ gaze unflinchingly. Getting his mouth to actually open and produce some kind of apology proved to be a lot harder though. He swallowed dryly and collected himself.
Before a single word could leave his mouth, however, Noct was suddenly getting up from his chair, slowly and deliberately, and for a second Prompto feared he was going to leave. Just like that.
But instead of walking to the tent, Noctis came towards him. Came closer and closer until he was standing right in front of Prompto and staring down at him.
For way too long, neither of them said a word.
Was Noct expecting him to say something first? Probably. But then again he had been the one to walk over here in the first place, stealing the breath from Prompto’s lungs in a way that was nothing short of unfair.
Prom waited for another few painful seconds, then he cleared his throat.
“Listen Noct, I'm- sorry?”, his face went up in flames, “Uhm,…yeah. I’m…sorry.”
He fumbled for more words, but came up empty. His best friend didn't look particularly impressed. Prom closed his eyes and took a deep breath before forcing himself to look Noct in the eyes.
“I’m- I’m really sorry, Noct. For worrying you. And...for being stupid, I guess,” his voice sounded almost painfully vulnerable, heavy with the weight of sincerity.
He left it at that and after a few seconds of silence, he suddenly felt two strong arms wrap around his shoulders tightly, Noct’s chin now resting on his shoulder, his face not quite nuzzling into Prompto’s Neck.
And-… oh.
Oh.
He felt himself melt into the hug, too tired, too caught off guard or perhaps simply too needy to put up a fight; to ask for an explanation even.
Not-so-subtly he pressed his face into Noct’s shoulder, inhaling deeply through his nose.
All at once he felt the tension bleed out of his body and in response he could feel his friend's arms tightening around him even further. Next to his ear, he heard Noct draw in a shaky breath.
“Don’t ever do something like that again.” Noctis’ voice sounded scratchy and rough and-
(He knows. He knows it wasn’t just an accident oh god-)
"...That’s an order”