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Altissia, during the day, is just a touch on the warmer side of what could be considered pleasant weather, although the constant soft sea breeze provides some relief. In the evenings, the breeze picks up and drops the temperature to something between pleasant and cool—the kind of weather where you’re never sure if you should wear a light jacket or not, and whatever you decide ends up being the wrong choice anyway.
Prompto shivers a little where he stands on the balcony of Noct’s hotel room. A half-smoked cigarette is poised in his calloused fingers, waiting.
Waiting for Prompto to get out of his head long enough to take another drag before disappearing back into the dark recesses of his thoughts again. The sky above him is cloudy, as if the smoke from his one tiny cigarette had multiplied and thickened into one big mass to blanket the stars with.
Too much had happened too soon, here in Altissia. Now they’re dealing with a broken city, a blinded advisor, and a grieving prince.
The latter is the main thing Prompto’s been thinking about tonight.
In the days immediately following the disaster with Leviathan, he’d busied himself with helping Ignis as much as he could, trying not to think too much about Noctis and what would happen when he woke up.
And then he woke up, and Prompto had copped a mouthful from Gladio for spending all of his time with the prince rather than with Ignis, and Prom felt terrible no matter what he did, so he’d ended up running off and spending an afternoon crying in an abandoned section of town near the wreckage from the ritual.
Not his proudest moment. But then again, this one he’s in right now isn’t exactly up there, either.
Prompto’s hand trembles, just a little, as he brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a deep drag from it. He holds the smoke in his lungs for a few moments before releasing a shuddering breath, letting it billow out and drift away into the breeze. All he wants is to be able to help his friends, and he’s even been failing at that lately.
“That’s not good for you, you know.”
The corner of his lips barely curl into a half smile at the sound of Noctis’ voice. Under normal circumstances, his boyfriend’s words might have had a teasing or humorous note to them, but now they just sound…flat.
“Yeah.” Prompto replies simply. There’s a moment of silence, and Prom thinks that Noct’s gone back inside, until he feels his warmth tentatively press up beside him. It’s not the same easy casualness as it usually would be between them, but Noct still leans into him after a beat. They still have to be careful when they’re outside like this, even though Lunafreya’s… “You want a drag?”
“Yeah.” Noctis says, taking the cigarette. He’s not as good at smoking as Prompto, so he coughs a little as the smoke fills his lungs, but he doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t complain when Prom curls an arm around his waist, either. Small victories.
“What’re you thinking about?” Noctis asks once he’s passed the cigarette back, pressing a little closer to Prompto as the wind picks up and nips at their skin.
Prompto takes another drag before he responds. “You.”
Noct sighs. “Doesn’t sound as romantic as it should.”
Prompto shakes his head. “I wanna help you, Noct. I know it’s not that easy, but I just,” He stubs out the cigarette on the balcony railing, his other hand gripping a little at Noctis’ hip, “I just wanna be there, you know? However you want me to be. I hate seeing you like this. Seeing anyone like this. You don’t deserve it.”
The wind’s blowing stronger now, the temperature really getting to be too cool for comfort, and it’s probably going to rain soon. Noctis doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but then he shifts and takes Prompto’s hand. “Come back inside.” He says.
Prompto doesn’t argue, flicking the last little part of the cigarette into the ashtray that sits on the balcony’s tiny round table as he lets his boyfriend drag him back over to the bed. No more words are spoken that night, even if they should be, but Prompto simply sits and lets Noctis curl up against his side, holding him as the rain starts falling outside, and the prince starts to cry.
~
The fire is barely warm enough to cut through the ever-present chill in the air. It’s barely bright enough to make much of an impression on the ever-present darkness, either. Smoke curls up towards the inky sky, a mixture of campfire and cigarette-scented fumes.
Prompto sits alone, as he’s become accustomed to in this awful new world. He doesn’t have that much to do with Ignis and Gladio these days, though he does see them on occasion when passing through Hammerhead or if he braves the trip to Lestallum with some others.
He’s with Aranea a lot more now, but she’s off doing something else for a while, so Prompto sits on his own. Smoking. Thinking. Distracting himself.
It’s not that he’s an avid smoker, it’s just that it’s a thing he can distract himself with sometimes. He’s had his current pack for nearly a year at this point, but that could just be him not wanting to waste rare items every time his mind runs wild.
Tonight—or maybe it was today; time had lost its meaning by now—is the first time in a while he’s let himself at his cigarettes, and not without reason.
According to the date on his phone, it’s the five-year anniversary of Noct’s entry into the Crystal. And on top of that, Prompto took an absolute beating from the group of daemons he’d fought earlier, and he’s still bleeding through the bandages he’d wrapped himself in at the time.
The smokes are just a way to get rid of the pain. Whether they’re more effective on Prom’s mental or physical damage is debatable. Or if they’re even effective at all.
Prompto doesn’t care. He’s still crying, either way.
Most days, he tries not to think too much about Noctis. Which is difficult, because even after five years without him, it’s hard not to think about the person he’d loved so much.
He’s gone a long time without letting his emotions get the better of him. There’s no place in the new world for breaking down and wishing things could be normal again. It won’t change anything, so Prompto’s been channelling all of his energy into doing things to help and protect people so he doesn’t have time to break down.
Thanks to those daemons from before, it seems like he’ll have a little while to lose it as he recovers enough to get back into things. He should just sleep it off. When he wakes up, he can get back to better distractions than smoking.
He can almost hear Noct’s voice, lightheartedly jabbing at him about it. He can almost see him sit down and ask for a drag anyway, then cough because he’s always been terrible at it. He can almost feel his boyfriend’s laughter at his own ineptness, and Prompto wants so badly to kiss him silly.
But he can’t.
Because Noct’s gone, and he needs to accept that and get on with things.
“Keep on keepin’ on.” He whispers to himself, and wipes his eyes.
He doesn’t cry again for a long time.
~
For the first time in ten years, Prompto feels just a little warmer. Even though the sun still remains an unknown to the world, there’s a hope. A small beam of light amongst it all, cutting through the darkness in such a way that a lamp or a campfire could never achieve.
Noctis is back, but Prompto’s stomach is still twisting itself in knots realising that it won’t be for long. It’s a cold tendril slowly spreading through him, sapping away that warm happiness he’s had for only a few hours after a decade of nothingness.
He’s shaking as he sits at the edge of the campsite, conflicted about whether or not he should go back to the others. Part of him wants to stick by Noctis’ side for the entire time they’ve got left, but another part of him is terrified of getting too comfortable and having his heart broken all over again when…
He takes a particularly deep drag of his cigarette, exhaling the cloud of smoke as a stray tear streaks down his cheek. He should go back. It’s selfish to stay here.
“Still doing that, huh?”
Prompto wants to sob when Noctis sits beside him, some mixture of relief and dread settling itself in his stomach. He passes the cigarette to his best friend, instead. “Hasn’t killed me yet.” He says.
Noctis hums in response, clearing his throat after he’s exhaled the smoke. “Surprised Ignis never killed you for sharing them with me.”
“He doesn’t know, does he?”
“‘Course he does. Ignis knows all.”
Prompto can’t help the quirk of his lips, the quiet laughter that bubbles up out of his throat. He stubs out the cigarette, flicking the last of it off the edge of the haven. “Yeah, good point.”
They fall into silence for a while, and at some point Prompto finds himself leaning against Noctis, breathing in his still-familiar scent and gently bumping their heads together. “I missed you so much.” He whispers eventually. “Felt sick sometimes from how much I missed you.”
“I’m sorry.” Noctis says. His arm is around Prompto’s shoulders, and he pulls him in a little closer. His words are heavy, not just an apology for the past ten years, or for anything even before then, but one also for all the years to come, once the light is brought back.
Prompto doesn’t respond with more words. He can’t. So he kisses Noctis, and Noctis kisses him back, and it tastes like dirt and smoke and salty tears, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that they get this moment, because this is probably one of the last they’ll be able to get.
“I love you so much,” Noctis murmurs when they part, “I hope you know that.” Tears are slipping down his cheeks in earnest, and Prompto can feel that it’s much the same for himself.
Prompto still can’t bring himself to make words, so he nods, and he holds Noct close. Eventually, he’ll be able to give a real response of “I love you too”, but for now he knows Noctis understands.
For now, they’ll just stay like this.
~
The sun is warm on Prompto’s face, and he’s still getting used to it after two years, but at least he’s happy now. It’s still a little bittersweet, but it’s nowhere near as bad as it could have been.
By some great miracle, Noctis was still alive when they’d run into the Citadel to find him after the sun rose. Pinned to the throne by his father’s sword, he’d been unconscious and breathing shallowly, but he was alive.
He’s got massive scars across his chest and back now, his limp is worse than it’s ever been, and Prompto knows he’s in constant pain, as much as he tries to deny it. But Noctis is alive, and that’s what matters most.
They’d married last year. Prompto’s still getting used to that, too. It’s something they never thought they’d be able to do, but this new world has changed a lot of things, and now here they are. Prompto doesn’t need smokes to try and numb his pain anymore, because he’s got the sun on his skin and the love of his life beside him.
It’s morning, and they’re sitting in bed, making the most of their downtime before things pick up for the day. The sun streams through the open window and illuminates the room, warming it enough that their blankets aren’t really necessary now.
Prompto’s got his head propped on Noctis’ chest, listening to the ever-comforting sound of his heartbeat as Noct’s fingers run softly through his hair.
“What’re you thinking about?” Noctis asks, voice still a little slurred from sleep. Even now, he’s still awful at waking up in the mornings.
“You.” Prompto replies easily. He traces over the largest scar on his husband’s bare chest, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss over the area when Noct shivers.
“Copycat,” He says as he leans a little further back into the pillows. The movement makes him wince a little, but that’s the only indication he gives of any discomfort the small action causes him, though Prompto can guess it’s much worse than he’s letting on. “I’m thinking about you.”
Prompto smiles. “Well one of us is gonna have to change.”
“You’re still such a dork.” Noctis chuckles, gazing fondly down at him.
“Only for you, babe.” Prompto laughs and leans up to steal a kiss.
“Bullshit it’s only for me, Prom.”
“You got me there. But you still get the most of it.”
Noctis snorts. “I love you, you absolute dork.”
“Love you too, you big sappy nerd.”
This time Noctis initiates the kiss, and it’s a long time before they part, basking in the warmth of each other’s company and the light that sets everything in their world aglow. It’s been a long road for them to get here, but things have changed, and Prompto gets the distinct feeling that things are really going to be alright this time.
Although there may still be the odd occasion where the two of them share a cigarette for old times’ sake.