Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tutella started work at the arcade a few months before she turned eighteen.  The owner was a friend of her uncle's, offered her a job as a favor to the family.  Regardless of the Crown's official policies on integration, in the eyes of many, once a refugee, always a refugee. By necessity, Insomnia's immigrant community looked out for one another.

She'd only been at it few weeks when a boy approached the counter, fiddling with a camera nervously.  She vaguely recognized him in the way all the regulars had begun to stand out. Ten or eleven years old, at a guess, same as her cousins.  Kinda pudgy, glasses; coloring and features that suggested a non-native, and a far-flung one at that—of Tenebreaian or maybe even Niflheim descent.

With the city's largest refugee quarter starting just a block over, she'd made a mini-game out of guessing the country of origin. She'd even had the opportunity to practice her own East Cygillan with a few patrons, something she rarely got the chance to speak outside of her family.

"This may be a kinda strange question,"  the kid began hesitantly—Insomnian accent, so whatever his roots, he'd been planted here a while, "but is it okay if I take a few photos?"

Tutella shrugged. "As long as you get the permissions of the players, don't see why not."

The kid shook his head, blushing slightly. "No, I mean, of the lights and stuff," and he gestured towards one of the LED decorations in the corner behind her. "I like the patterns it's creating on the ceiling, but didn't wanna come across as…a weirdo or anything."

"The trick, kid, is to embrace the weirdness." She grinned at his slow blink, then waved him on. "Go on, knock yourself out."

The answering smile lit the boy's freckled face.

*****

He stood out more, after that.  Always came in alone, usually on weekends.  Sometimes he would stay for a few hours, shuffling from game to game; other times he'd drop just a few Crown, gone almost as soon as she registered his presence.  He had a preference for shooters, but seemed willing to try most genres, save for those of the more athletic persuasion.

Tutella could never decide if that avoidance was due to the physicality of the games in question or the exuberant crowds that usually gathered around them.  The perpetual line, not to mention multiplayer requirement for the new full-body VR sim room, definitely dissuaded lone players.

And the kid was a loner.

She hadn't seen him turn down anyone's request to jump in if he was already playing, but to the best of her knowledge he never initiated. Once or twice he approached another player, gesturing to his camera.  But he never went on to join them after he'd gotten the desired shots.

And yet—maybe less loner, more just…alone.  He was nothing but smiles, albeit shy ones, whenever he came to the counter to exchange money for tokens, or report the occasional machine breakdown.  He was by no means the only solo kid to hang out at the arcade, but over the many months she watched, he was by far the most relentlessly so.

 *****

The start of university meant a drastic change to her schedule, and it was more than half a year before Tutella saw him again, while she was filling in for a last-minute shift.

"Havocfang Harrowing is down," a vaguely familiar voice piped up from over the counter, dragging her attention from the oh-so-scintillating science of slactuar spotting ( Exploring Duscae:  Flora and Fauna in Extreme had turned out to be a lot drier than the syllabus had suggested).  It took a moment for the words to sink in. Then she groaned. "Again?"

"Yeah, I think it's at least the third time this month. And those are just the times when I've been—oh hey!" The change in tone made her glance up. "Long time no see," the kid finished happily, blush dusting his pale cheeks.

It took her a few seconds to recognize him. That had been happening throughout the day, needing a third or even fourth take to place her former regulars. It was amazing the change nine months wrought in the pre-teen age group.

He was the first she bothered to fully catalog the changes in, though. He'd gained a bit in height while losing a bit in width, face shedding some of the childhood roundness as puberty began. And the grin he threw her as he adjusted his glasses had gained a little confidence.

"Yeah, been a while,” she said, smiling back. “University has been cheerfully kicking my butt, especially with finals around the corner.  But I can thankfully work the late shifts now. Night owl till the end, baby."

He nodded, opened his mouth. Hesitated, started again. Tutella waited him out, curious. He'd never been one to engage beyond necessity, with her or anyone else as far as she could tell.  But now he looked to be arguing himself into taking that next step. "So…what're you studying?"

She moaned theatrically, flopping down upon the scattered textbooks and notepads. "Who even knows at this point."  Head still down, she lifted the nearest book aloft, close enough so he could read it over the counter.

"…the three most notable characteristics," he intoned,  "used to distinguish between a slactuar and cactuars—slactuars and cactuars? That sounds awesome!"

She raised her head, meeting his excited gaze. "You would think…and yet somehow not. So very very not."

"That's too bad." He was fighting a laugh, she was almost positive.

She imbued as much drama into the sigh as possible. "You have nooo idea."

That earned her the promised giggle, infectious if over too quickly. He shuffled, ducking his head, nervous again or perhaps embarrassed. "So, uh,  Havocfang…"

"Right." She leaned back far enough to rap on the door behind her. "Oi, Gary!"

A moment later, the door creaked open, accompanied by a cranky, "What now?"

"Don't whine, your break was over like ten minutes ago! " Tutella pushed to her feet. "Man the desk, HH's down again. I'd complain to the manufacturer, 'cept I'm pretty sure someone keeps purposefully messing with it every time they get bumped from the scoreboard."

The kid, having started to turn away, whipped back around, scandalized. "You're kidding!?"

Tutella patted him on the shoulder in passing. "Wouldn't be the first time, won't be the last."

As the afternoon wore on, in between repairs and the plethora of other tasks that cropped up, he kept drawing her eye. Still keeping mostly to himself,  only accepting a challenge near the end of her shift.

But he grinned as he played (who wouldn't, really, when you were wasting your opponent so thoroughly) and he even singled her out with a jaunty wave as he left.

****

The place was deserted, often the case come shift's end, even the most loyal arcade enthusiast either still abed or finally getting there in the pre-dawn hour.

Belongings gathered, Tutella was debating if five minutes late was too soon to call and demand Kaila get a move on when the telltale patter on the roof signaled the beginning of rain. It must have been a full downpour, to make that kind of racket.

A few minutes later, the whir as the escalator kicked on had her standing, ready to chastise her co-worker for her tardiness. The rapid tread as someone pounded up it, with greater speed and enthusiasm than any of her colleagues had ever demonstrated, froze the scathing comment.

A mop of soaked blond hair crested the top of the escalator, only to immediately flop over the top of the banister, its owner gasping.

A moment later he pumped a fist in the air, waving it slightly. "Let's hear it for 24-hour arcades! I mean," he rambled on, face still pressed into the crook of his other arm, "the rain was bad enough, but I'm used to running in rain.  Light snow even. But I draw the line at hail."

Ah, that explained the noise. Also perhaps Kaila's continued absence. "Yeah, that's fair," Tutella responded.

He glanced up, wiped at his drenched face. "Wow, when you said you preferred the late shift, you weren't kidding."

It took even longer this time, for the recognition to kick in. To be fair, it had been even longer, at least a year since she'd been insane enough to say yes to a day shift, on a weekend no less.  But time alone didn't explain the changes he'd undergone.

He'd not just lost the baby fat but moved on to downright twig. An in-fit twig, if she had to hazard a guess, considering the runner’s calves easily visible in the jogging shorts he sported.  Add to that the absence of glasses, the longer, more stylized hair, noticeable even despite its sopping status, and anyone would need a moment to place him. Or five.

But as her silence stretched, his smile fell, becoming more an embarrassed grimace. "Ah, sorry, ‘course you don't remember me, so that probably sounds weird—"

"Nah, don't apologize, camera boy—thought I told you to own the weirdness."

And like that the smile was back, wattage upped.

"And yes, I've found over the years I'm very fond of dawn, I just prefer to see if from this side.  Though, " she glanced at the time on her phone, " even for me this is pushing it. Next shift is over fifteen minutes late."

"Bummer." He pushed off from the banister, straightening. "But also…hail! So…"

"Yeah, though she could've at least texted."

"Mmm, true, " he hummed as he leaned forward into a lunge stretch.

"And pretty sure there hasn't been hail every Tuesday and Thursday for the past month."

That earned her a short bark of laughter. "Also true."

She watched him continue to stretch for a moment before a thought struck her. She frowned.  "So what about you? Aren't you still a bit young to be out and about so late? Or Astrals forbid, so early--"

"Early.  And I'm fifteen!"

She gave him the skeptical look she'd been perfecting with the gaggle of younger cousins she dealt with on a daily basis, allowing the silence to drag on just long enough for them to hang themselves—

"Okay, in like three months."

Worked every time. But also, "Yeah, that's kinda my point. What self-respecting teenager is willingly dragging themselves out of bed at this ungodly hour?"

He gestured down, at either the stretches or the outfit or both. "No choice really, if I'm gonna do a full run, have time to shower and be on time for school."

"Uh-huh. And you do this, what, like, couple times a week, or—"

"Every morning!" he proclaimed proudly.

"Huh, I take it back."

"What?"

"You were listening, because that is most definitely embracing the weird."

"Hey!"

"And the masochistic," she shuddered, made sure to catch his eye.  "And super-disciplined. Ambitious. Probably even all healthy and shit."

The smile was back, as was a bit of the blush.  He turned away, murmuring what sounded like a quiet, "I try," before raising his voice again as he looked out over the main arcade floor."Man, this place really is dead."

"Yup, usually is 'round ‘bout now."  In fact, unless he'd slipped by her when she'd been in the staff lounge, the only patron was a lone guy tucked in the back corner, playing one continuous game of Taeza for the last five hours or so.

The kid wandered further inside, weaving between the various machines.  Somewhere near the dance games corner she thought she heard a quiet, huffed "huh" before he was on his way back, pulling out a few Crown as he came.

As all the regulars knew to, he bypassed the exchange machine, down more often than not, with a tendency to eat coins even when it was "working."  She was ready with the requisite tokens as he deposited the coins on the counter.

"Figure I can try to get at least a little workout, hail or not. And, okay, yeah, I've always been a bit curious about all the hype…" His expression was a unique mix of challenge, trepidation and longing.

She offered a thumbs up, then leaned over the counter enough to get a clear view as he made his way to Dance Mania.  While it was clear he was new to it, she'd witnessed a lot more disastrous first attempts.

By the time the hail wound down and Kaila finally wandered in, he was really getting the hang of it.

*****

It became a semi-regular occurrence over the next few months, on days when the weather was particularly inclement.  He said it was good to change up the routine, work some different muscle groups. And of course work his way up Mania's leaderboard. There was exercise and healthy habits and all that jazz, but at heart he was still a gamer through and through.

Tutella half-assumed, as the weather grew cooler and the days shorter, she'd see him with increasing frequency.  But despite some bitterly cold and windy days, two months passed without a single early morning sighting.

The time was right, but a slow plodding footfall rather than the exuberant dash had Tutella assuming someone else, right up until the familiar blond spikes came into view.

Without even glancing at her, he flopped face down on the nearest bench.

"Kill me now, and free me from this exam hell. "

Right, she should have known, considering how Miccah and Darius had been the last few months. There'd been a fair share of similar moaning, in between the endless study sessions, sleep-deprived freak-outs and pessimistic complaints that 'they' asked the impossible.

"Yeah, my cousins are going through the same.  But hey, look on the bright side…" Her pause gave him time to glance up with a grunt of inquiry.  "You have three whole years before you have to go through it all again for university!"

His look of misery was so thoroughly tragic she decided to refrain from further teasing.  She'd give it a good effort, at least."So what are your hopefuls?"

"Insomnia Metro Prep,  South Ward Academy and ICCHS." He ticked off each on a finger as he sat up straighter.

Her low whistle was involuntary.  "Wow, kid, you really don't do things by half, do you?" She could tell he was completely serious, despite having just listed the city’s top three public high schools.  But then again, this was the kid who daily dragged himself willingly from a warm bed to tackle a grueling workout routine, come rain or shine. Before school. All with a smile on his face.  She couldn't really say she was surprised.

"All public then, or any private backups?" The tests were easier, and there were a lot more available openings, but—

He shook his head, shrugged, not quite meeting her gaze.

"Yeah, they're all pricey as shit, believe me, I know," she reassured sympathetically.

The tension in his shoulders eased a bit.  She debated asking about cram school, with that lofty of a goal in his sights, but if he wasn't even considering private schools…Based on what she'd observed over the years, his clothes, accessories, camera, gaming habits—all spoke of a solidly middle class background, but one could never be sure. And even that came with a wide range of circumstances.

His obvious discomfort with the subject easily overrode her curiosity. Instead she grabbed up a few tokens. "Here." She proffered them with a little jangle, shook her head as he reached for his wallet. "Nope, on me.  Under one condition." Because really, it hadn't been that long since she'd been there herself. Or maybe it would never be long enough.

He halted mid-reach, waiting.

"Just for today, skip the extra workout and play a few rounds of Shoot 'Em Shut Out. Y'know…the one you've had the top three high scores on for almost a year."

His double-take was almost comical, but she managed to maintain her stern expression. Mostly. "No freebie unless you promise to veg."

Biting his lip, he glanced over to the corner with the dance machines, then to Shoot 'Em, then back to her.

"Yeeeah, guess I could go for top four."  The hint of mischievousness underlying his smile gave her hope.

When Renatus arrived for his shift, she made sure to casually mention he'd  been bumped down on the Shoot 'Em board again. By two positions.

*****

Apparently someone had massively ticked off Shiva, if the unholy mix of sleet, snow, rain and ice was anything to go by.  It was so bad most of her co-workers grumbled about closing the arcade. On the one hand, she could sympathize; she'd nearly fallen half a dozen times on the walk over, and she lived only a few blocks away. But she also agreed with Ricky, whose policy for as long as he'd owned the place had been that any kid, at any time of day, would always have at least one warm, safe space they could escape to for a few hours if the need arose.

So open they stayed.

Which worked out well that morning when a familiar figure bounded up the escalator.

It was almost a week after the citywide results had been posted, impossible to miss for anyone who spent more than two minutes around any group of teens.  And though it impacted her not in the slightest (unlike Miccah's special art school first-choice placement, which had the whole extended family scrambling to figure out how to afford it), she'd found herself speculating more than once this week about how he'd done.

So she felt justifiably annoyed when he didn't even remove his headphones, offering only a casual  'g'morning' as he handed over a Crown.

He was jogging in place, fingers drumming absently on the counter, boots creating a heavier thump than usual—because certain lunatics went jogging even in the dead of winter.  It took a few moments for him to register Tutella hadn't even reached for the tokens. He slowed, eventually offering a nervous throat clear. "Uh, problem?"

"Well?"

"Err…?"

She huffed impatiently. "Results!"

He blinked, looking if possible even more confused.

"On the exams!" And okay, so maybe the situation didn't call for quite that level of gesticulation (it was totally fine, she missed clipping the counter or his nose by a good four centimeters) but really, the suspense had been building. For days. "Did you get in or not?"

"Oh." His surprise seemed genuine. Like it hadn't been the main topic of conversation for every third year she knew, like he wasn't sick to death of answering the same question all week, followed by outpourings of congratulations or sympathies. Like it wasn't even important.

Or he wasn't.

Shit.

Before she could fully dissect that realization, the victory sign was flashed in her face.

"Complete pass, made it into all three!" his delighted voice rang out.

With his drive, had it really been in doubt? Even so.

"Alright!" she held up her palm, and after the barest hesitation the high five was returned. "So which is it going to be?"

He froze with his hand still halfway extended. "Oh…uh…I haven't decided yet. Still waiting on hearing on which school he’s..er…I mean, school details. Gotta, y'know, be sure."

"'Course, makes sense," she agreed, trying to ease his obvious sudden nerves, recalling his previous discomfort around financial topics.  Though all the public schools offered similar tuition options, uniforms, books and other factors could make for a significant difference. "It's a huge decision, best to go in as informed as possible."

"Y..yeah, exactly."

"But hey," she grabbed up the tokens, adding in a couple extra,  "the hardest part is over!"

He grinned and nodded. But as he turned away, she could have sworn she heard a muttered, "If only…"

****

Tutella guessed later that it was at the start of the new school year that he stopped coming to the arcade.  Later, she'd feel a little stab of guilt for how long it took her to notice. Though in all fairness, it coincided with the start of her final year at University.

Suddenly faced with the reality of an undecided future, which was not 'liberating and inspiring', no matter what all her older relatives kept repeating (it was frankly terrifying), she began the mad scramble for a goal or career or in the end at least an internship.

Which ate up most of her summer and reduced her arcade hours to nearly non-existent, and in the end only served to convince her that a nine-to-five office job should be no part of her future.

So it wasn't until well into September that she realized his absence wasn't just during her shifts, but from the place all together.

Weighing the pros and cons of Ricky's offer for full-time hours and a promotion to senior manager, she'd been working through her latest existential crisis the usual way, by emptying virtual clip after virtual clip into an endless parade of MTs.  GAME OVER flashed up, followed by 'New High Score'. She entered her name, satisfied to see she'd grabbed third.

Except something about the rest of the listing seemed off. It took another few seconds for her to realize it was a lack of PRMT on it.

She knew this was one of the many he'd regularly popped up on, if not dominated.  Curious, she wandered over to Shoot 'Em, waited for the screen to cycle through. He was still there, but only once, and pushed all the way down to seventh.  Since the arcade had acquired the game four years ago, PRMT had always been somewhere in the top five rankings, if not all five.

A few casual inquires over the next week confirmed that no one, day shifts or night, had seen him for months. Renatus was thrilled; Gary was quick to point out it wasn't really a true besting if he was 'winning' by default. The ensuing argument lasted for days and finally got all employees banned from the majority of the games for two weeks.

It wasn't unusual, with high schoolers especially; between club activities and added academic pressures, something had to give. There had always been a constant turnover. It was the nature of things, doubly true when kids were involved. She'd known it for years. Taken comfort in it, even, when a few particularly memorable little shit troublemakers stopped darkening their doorstep.

Even so, maybe just this once, she'd wanted the chance to offer a 'so long and good luck'.

*****

The soft ringing of the counter's bell had her hastily dropping the cup of noodles back on the counter and shuffling towards the door.

"Just a sec," she called, navigating the chairs, boxes and other random detritus cluttering the staff room. One of these days they'd clean in here. Really.

"Yes, can I help—oh." He was about the last person she'd been expecting. Though, at past two a.m. on a week night in early November, she couldn't really say who she would be expecting.

"So, still working crazy late nights, huh?" But he sounded more pleased than surprised.

"Still out way earlier—later—than a normal teenager should be?" she countered.

"Touché." But despite the finger guns and accompanying smile, his posture was anything but relaxed.  She waited, silent. Because she was maybe a little curious, and a little pleased. And also a little concerned because it was two in the morning on a school night and he looked tired.

"So, uh…this is probably a long shot but, um… I don't suppose you have any openings. For y'know…like, a job?"

Not her first guess, but… "How old are you again?"

"Sixteen." He grimaced. "Just last week."

"Huh."

"…is that a huh-yes or huh-no?"

It was a 'huh-pretty sure that confirms a theory' but she didn't say so.  He'd never struck her as anything but the law-abiding type. And while minimum working age was technically sixteen for a very limited range of jobs,  this wasn't one of them. Not to mention the strong policies most Insomnian high schools had against their students working, subject to possible expulsion if caught (her own alma mater had been an exception, one that had played heavily in her decision process.)

But there were certain special exceptions.  She'd been pretty young when the Child Integration Law went into effect, but the debates surrounding it had been heated enough to remain memorable. Styled as a way to aid the ever-increasing number of underage, orphaned refugees pouring in from the far flung reaches of Lucis and beyond, tax breaks and other incentives were created for those Insomnians willing to foster.   

But facing complaints about money and resources better spent in other areas, the final compromise had been a steady, gradual decrease of government subsidies as the children aged, with a major reduction at sixteen.  Instead said teens would be given special dispensation to work, to help ease the 'burden' they'd placed on generous Insomnian citizens while simultaneously learning to help 'support' themselves and society.

It had not been a popular decision in the circles she'd grown up in.

For many of those kids, accepted into loving homes and fully integrated, sixteen came and went with no change. For some, though, that particular birthday meant a less-than-gentle shove into the working world.  And then they'd show up at places like this, scrounging for jobs.

Ricky went out of his way to give them a chance, whenever he could.  Unsurprising considering how many kids he and his wife had fostered over the years. None of his own ever worked until they were finished schooling, though. Ricky'd almost certainly say yes to the kid, especially if Tutella vouched for his diligence.

"What kind of hours were you hoping for?"

He glanced up, ray of hope a sunburst across his clouded expression. "Oh, uh, as many as you can give me?"

Which would legally be a max of fifteen per week, thirty during official school holiday periods.  "Preference on shift times? Beyond the obvious no school hours?"

"Uh," and now he looked nervous again. "I was hoping for this kinda time? Late shift."

She raised an eyebrow.  Sure, she knew he could get up early. But there was early and then there was her hours. "On weekends, you mean? Or—"

"Yeah, I mean…if weekends are the only time available. But weeknights would be better."

"You know that a parent or guardian has to sign off on both the job and the hours, right?"

He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. "Won't be a problem."

She sighed. "Well, Ricky—that's the owner—prefers all new employees to train on a day shift, weekends if possible."

It was their busiest time, so not only would the most staff be present to help out, but it also served as trial by fire.  Survive a rainy, jam-packed Saturday afternoon, you'd get through anything.

"Just, at the start?" Need warred with…she actually wasn't sure what, but damned if she wasn't curious. Every other high school employee she'd known over the years, herself included, weekend had been first choice. Need won. "Yeah, that should be doable. And then I could switch to nights?"

"Lot of after-school and weekend activities going on?" Her inquisitiveness did have a tendency to hijack her tongue, though she regretted the question as soon as it popped out.  Especially the skeptical note that crept in. Sure, he'd been free a lot, alone a lot, when he was younger.   But there was no reason for that not to change as he grew; he'd done a good butterfly impression with enough other aspects.

Shrugging, oblivious to her internal wince, he answered with a cryptic, "I'm keeping busy enough."

Then he smiled. Smaller, quieter than the normal blazing grin, but with more contentment in that quick lip twitch than she recalled ever crossing his face before.  It reached his eyes and flipped a switch on .

She blinked, and it was gone, expression returned to his normal wattage, and she questioned if she'd seen it at all.

"Well then, hopefully once you're all trained up, we'll be able to accommodate your request."

"So wait." His mouth dropped open, agape. "I've got the job? Just like that?"

"Well, I'll have to confirm with Ricky, to make it official, but…" They'd actually been talking about adding a few people to the roster, for nights in particular. Ricky had been getting more uncomfortable about anyone working alone, especially with the most recent wave of anti-refugee rhetoric.  Acknowledging the noticeable uptick of crime in and around the quarter was starting to get unavoidable.

"Really?!" He bounced up like an overactive moogle's pompom.  "Astrals, I can't, I mean…thanks. Thank you!" Lunging forward, he grasped her hand in both of his, gave it a few pumps.

Tutella found herself chuckling, his relief palatable, enthusiasm infectious.

"Ah ah, but first, the fun part. Paperwork!" Freeing her hand, she gestured him around the counter. "Few things to fill out now, and some stuff to take home, get signed by your guardians…"

Before she ended her shift that night, she'd forwarded the scanned forms on to Ricky, along with her recommendation.

It wasn't like there had been anything stopping her from just asking, from that first day he'd approached the counter, camera in hand. But all the same, there was something supremely satisfying about this being how she found out the PRMT even now still peppering various scoreboards stood for one Prompto Argentum, their soon to be newest employee.

Chapter Text

Prompto sped through training with the exact focus and determination Tutella had expected, and well before winter break, some of her shifts were suddenly a lot less quiet and a lot more interesting.   

As predicted, he was a hard worker.  But, she also quickly discovered, an easily distracted one.  In the end, everything requested or assigned would be done, and done right. Usually in an acceptable time frame, even.  Which could not always be said of some—most—of the rest of the bunch. But tasks were tackled sporadically, the kid flitting from one half-finished job to another like a hyperactive chocobo with too many enticing greens to choose from. (Neither Prompto's increasingly styled hair nor his growing collection of chocobo paraphernalia helped in his arguments to dissuade the obvious associations.)

To her surprise, contrary to the shy persona she'd so long perceived, he was quite the talker. At first she chalked it up to newbie jitters, nervous babble to fill awkward silence. It took a few more weeks to realize that was only half of it. While he did tend to ramble when anxious, it was when he relaxed that the true chatterbox emerged.

For particularly tedious or annoying tasks, he had a tendency to narrate every step--in song.  Annoyingly catchy songs; she'd had one jingle stuck in her head for days. He'd also anthropomorphize whatever object he happened to be fiddling with, building ever-evolving life-stories.  

By January, not a single staff member asked for the vacuum, instead inquiring where 'Sylvia' had wandered off to. Speculations abounded over whether she'd accept Gus the dustbuster's proposal as her family wanted or follow her heart and choose poor, impoverished Juno the mop.  Tutella categorically denied being the one to affix the googly eyes to the whole lot of them. Completely true. Thankfully no one asked who'd first suggested it, though, as she'd never been that great a liar.

Prompto quickly established himself as their resident technophile, be it ooing and ahhing over the latest cutting-edge VR advancement or tinkering affectionately with the oldest retired retro games Ricky'd never gotten around to disposing of.  Their attempts to organize the storage room were in a constant state of derailment as each discovery led to reminiscing and attempted restoration.

On quieter nights, or when their work ethic had abandoned them, if they weren't challenging each other to whatever game's leaderboard they wished to crush that week, they could be found on their phones.

In Prompto's case, nine times out of ten it was King's Knight.  Though it was always single player when she glanced over, his high ranking in multi caught her eye once when he was gleefully showing off his latest rare gear acquisition. Wondering idly if he was part of a regular team or played one of the randomly assigned leagues, she considered offering to hook him up with Darius and Miccah's group--they were always on the prowl for good players--before dismissing the idea.

While Prompto maintained a seemingly easy rapport with both the patrons and the staff, there always remained a…distance. From everyone, herself included, and he shared his shifts with her more than anyone else by far. The air of solitude, of apartness, that'd surrounded him as a kid had never fully dissipated, a lone peak obscured in permanent clouds. Any direct attempt to clear it had him retreating into a self-conscious ball of nerves and deflection.  So she let it go.

Between everything else, it took her a while to realize just how much he was texting.  He always left his phone on manner mode, never reached for it when dealing with a customer.  But an emerging pattern in the first hour or two of his shifts finally clued her in. The phone was left out,  always within easy reach, and he was quick to glance over following each periodic buzz. Sometimes he'd take a moment to tap out a quick reply; sometimes he'd just snort, shake his head.

One night, when the latest inventory report Ricky had dumped on her was taking its toll, the phone was in jeopardy of vibrating right off the counter it was going off so often. Prompto, meanwhile, was failing more and more to suppress his giggles.

Finally the combined need of a distraction and her inherent nosiness had Tutella voicing one of the numerous theories that'd been percolating in her mind as of late. "So…girlfriend?"  

Prompto glanced around, verified he was in fact the only person in addressable distance, then looked back. Completely blank. And not the classic teenage variety of 'I'll pretend to look confused to hopefully hide my total embarrassment over secrets so easily exposed'.  Nope, this was just straight-up confusion.

"Boyfriend?" Was that a blush? Not enough to be conclusive, dammit. She caved. "Was wondering who's blowing your phone up…"

"Oh," he looked down at the device in question, chagrined. "Shit, sorry, I probably shouldn't be texting at work, huh?" He started to slip it into his pocket.

She waved him off. "Nah, you're fine.  Was just being a busybody, ignore me."

He waffled, phone half out. "You're sure? I'll stop if—"

She chuckled. "If you stop, that'll just make me a hypocrite every time I do it. As long as it doesn't interfere with the job, you're good to go."

The phone was returned to its customary position on the counter;  Prompto returned to his flyer folding, her to the inventory sheets.  The silence was interrupted a few minutes later by another short buzz.  They both glanced at it.

"It's a guy from school." Prompto was looking down, eyes fixed on the text, hand poised to reply, but not yet typing. The black-chocobo-levels of rare smile made a quick mad dash across his face. "Just, y'know, a friend."

******

Tutella could hear the raised voices when she was still only halfway up the escalator.  Considering it was just shy of 11 PM on a Tuesday and the place was pretty dead at this time, even during summer break, she could guess the source.

Sure enough, she reached the top to find Renatus and Gary embroiled in their latest argument. A good week and they might limit it to only six or seven utterly pointless debates.  

"I'm telling you, no way it's genuine, just more publicity pandering."  Gary leaned against the counter, coat already on, bag slung over one shoulder, ready to go.

"And I'm asking you--" Renatus paused mid-gesticulation to offer a quick wave, "—hey 'Tella—what'd be the point in making this stuff up--"

Gary scoffed. "I already said, to humanize him or some shit."

"Or y'know—wild idea and all, just throwing this out there—he may be royalty, but he is human. And a teenager. Maybe he just likes games, ever consider?"

Tutella finished stowing her things, rejoined them as they failed to take her arrival as the cue that they could depart. "Okay, I'll bite, what's it this time?"

Gary shoved one of their monthly subscriptions over the counter.  Gracing the cover of the magazine was a face familiar to every Insomnian, despite its surprisingly rare appearance in headlines and everywhere else.

No one was decided on whether Lucian's Crown Prince really was the most boringly proper, remarkably restrained teenager on the face of the planet or if his father simply employed the fastest, most competent PR team in existence, but either way, his royal highness seldom made news--tabloids, social media or otherwise.  She suspected it was some combination of the two.

There was one major exception every year; throughout August, there were various publications and other minor events, officially sanctioned, leading up to the Prince's birthday.

Gamers Guide Monthly was getting out ahead of the pack; there was still over a week left in July. But considering their scoop—if the splash page could be believed, they'd somehow scored a sit-down Q & A with the Prince himself—she could hardly blame their over-eagerness.

"So…" she began, thumbing through the article. "the problem is…?"

"Oh c'mon," Gary groaned. "It's obviously just played up, like 'oh look, the Prince is just an every-man, la dee da."

Tutella glanced away from a shot of his royal highness leaning against an arcade machine—Thrill Thresher III, if she wasn't mistaken—to meet Renatus's eye-roll. "Any reason he can't just be a gamer like the rest of us?"

"He's royalty . Like he's gonna bother fooling around at arcades. And for another thing—"

"Gary just doesn't want to believe some 'spoiled royal brat,'" Renatus interrupted, air quotes and all, "has a better high score in Thresher than he does." He leaned over her shoulder, pointing to the end of the article and the flowery description of witnessing the Prince taking said high score even as he and the interviewer 'chatted'.

"I'm telling you, breaking 200,000 is already almost impossible! They clearly were just plucking a number out of the air to make it sound good," Gary shot back defensively, voice rising once more.

Tutella grinned, dropping the magazine back to the counter. "I don't know, if anyone's gonna have the money to own a private machine, practice all the time, it's gotta be the Prince, right?"

Renatus looked triumphant, Gary disgruntled.

"’Course, most of these kinda articles that GGM runs are usually heavy on the fluff and exaggeration, and they’re not at all above embellishment if they think it'll appeal to the readers, so…"

"Real mature, Gary," Renatus muttered as his opponent stuck his tongue out. Tutella coughed, " glass houses ," before movement in her periphery distracted her.

"Let's get another opinion. What say you, Prompto?" she called as her shift partner for the night joined them at the counter.

"Huh?" Prompto asked, pausing as he pulled off his headphones to blink, confused, at their three expectant faces.

"Renatus believes it's totally possible his royal highness is a not-so-closet gamer like the rest of us; Gary, on the other hand, believes it's all a bunch of malarkey, created to, what was it, "humanize" the high and mighty royals. The proof being, of course, that in reality, no one could beat his high score like that."

She ignored Gary's whined " heeey " in favor of tossing over the magazine in question. Prompto fumbled it open, started thumbing through.

"Well," he began, only to fall silent as he skimmed the article bemusedly.  He started grinning partway through. For a fleeting moment, she thought she even spied the ‘full smile', before it dissolved into a smirk. "Don't wanna make a call one way or another—"

Renatus and Gary's annoyed groans came in sync.

"—but I will say this. That score is totally doable…"

"Bullshit."

"Weeell, I've got higher myself." The grin Prompto aimed at Gary could only be described as shit-eating.  Without breaking eye contact, he reached for his phone. Flipped through a few screens with hardly a glance before holding it out to his co-worker.

Gary took it, looked down, double-took, then swore. "No effing way."

Renatus lunged, grabbing the phone from him, and burst into laughter almost immediately.  He was almost doubled over, offering Gary a less consoling, more mocking back slap, as he handed off the phone to Tutella’s waiting hand.

In the photo, Prompto was leaning against a Thresher machine, pointing with one hand at himself wearing a supposedly innocent "who me" expression; his eyes, however, held the same supremely satisfied sparkle as the Prompto currently standing before her.

His other hand was pointing at the one score visible. She could just make out the PMPT along with a number that looked a lot like 219,550.  Most definitely breaking the 200K barrier, and almost a good 10K higher than the score attributed to the Prince.

She met Prompto's grin, matched it. "Nice!"

"But 'Tella!" Renatus called, sounding suddenly scandalized.  "Do you realize what this means?"

His dramatic pause had three sets of eyes turning questioningly on him.

"Prompto's been cheating on us. At another arcade!"  The hand over the heart and pretend vapors were at bit much…but he did bring up a point.

Prompto's gaze had dropped to the ground; even so from the way he tensed, he clearly felt their eyes on him. "It's closer to my school." He shrugged, shuffling from foot to foot. "Noc—my classmate likes it."

Tutella bit back a sigh, opened her mouth. But Renatus beat her to it, slinging an arm over Prompto's shoulder.  Even odds that he noticed and was just ignoring Prompto's momentary tensing. "Spill, kid. How many other high scores are you keeping from us? Do you have photographic proof of all of them? And does that list perhaps include Hunter's Revenge and/or Racemillion?" Both games Gary consistently beat Renatus on.

Gary was meanwhile continuing to mutter darkly while splitting his time between glaring at the magazine and the phone Prompto had reclaimed.  Tutella left the three of them to it.

Later, long after Gary and Renatus had gone, she came across Prompto in the staff room. He'd just finished snapping a selfie, phone still held out in front.  In his other hand was the magazine, a sticky note adorned on the front, half-covering the prince. From the angle she couldn't clearly make out what it said. The matching note stuck to Prompto's own forehead, with the words "Winner" on it, and his high score printed clearly below, gave her a pretty good guess, however.

When he saw her, the shade of red he turned would do a tomato proud. There was a rustle and clatter, as the magazine went flying and his phone missed his pocket, landing on the floor instead.  He froze, an anak in headlights. "I'm just…um…"

"Y'know what, I'm not gonna ask."

She managed to smother the laughter until after he'd scooped his phone up and scampered hastily back to the counter.

********

It was past four AM. Normally Prompto would be off home ages ago, but summer break meant longer hours legally, of which he'd taken full advantage.  That would change come school starting back up next week, but for now Tutella had been enjoying sharing full shifts with him.

This evening—early morning—found them out on the deserted arcade floor, once more attempting to fix their ever-failing original Justice Monsters.  Though JM4 was due out soon and their own JM3 machine saw plenty of use, some diehard fans' enthusiasm meant they kept this version up and running as well. When possible. It had become more and more of a struggle of late.

But one Prompto was happy to tackle, in quieter moments.  Currently he was on his back, buried almost waist-deep in its innards, checking loose connections and making tweaks throughout. Tutella stood in front, hitting the controls when instructed or handing over one of the many requested tools they had spread out over every available surface.

A buzz had her glancing at her phone.  It remained silent and dark. The source registered a moment later: Prompto's, cast among the various junk scattered about the game top.

She leaned over, reading the text notification while it remained illuminated. "So a 'Prince Narcoleptis' is asking if you're awake?"

"Ahh," came Prompto's muffled hum of acknowledgment, head still hidden. And nothing further.

"Sooo, likes his sleep, does he?"

"Hmm?"

"Narcoleptis?"  She conceded it was possible his parents just had an ironic sense of humor. But…okay, yes, she was fishing, but her curiosity was hungry and would feast on any detail it could grab.

The chuckle reverberated strangely in the confined space.  "’Like’ isn’t strong enough. Love. Adoration. One could say he has almost a royal calling for it. Hence the…" She assumed the bit of a wriggle she could see was accompanied by a hand wave.

Tutella bit back a laugh. "Of course, silly me, don't even know why I asked. Anyways, Sir Sleeps-A-Lot doesn't seem to be doing so now, so…"

"Right. Um…could you text him back for me." One hand stuck out enough to display its grease-covered state, giving her a quick wave before disappearing once more. "Tell him 'Nope, I've just mastered texting in my sleep.'"

She picked up the phone. "Locked."

"Right. It's, uh…2286."

Surprised, she swiped the pin, opened the messaging app. "So trusting."

An amused snort answered her. "Opposite really. Gotta change it frequently, was planning to tomorrow even, so…"

"Ah, paranoid, I like it!" She hadn't even had time to put the phone back down after hitting send before it was buzzing with a reply.

"He wants to know why you're up—" Another buzz. "Also he's bored. And apparently hates being sick. Aaaand now he's calling you." The single buzzes had changed over to a steady hum, incoming call icon flashing on the screen.  "Want me to answer for you?"

Prompto's face appeared, panic flashing across it. "NO!...uh, I mean, no that's fine.  Though, um…" he hesitated, looking torn. "Do you mind if I take it?"

She shrugged. "Be my guest, not like there's anyone around for it to bother."

"Thanks…um," he reached for the phone one-handed—the other still buried deep within the game's workings. He stopped, grimacing at the still heavy grease coating. "Uh, could you…"

Tutella thumbed the 'accept' before handing it over to his ginger grip.  She acknowledge his nod of thanks with a silent head-tilt of her own before withdrawing a few paces to offer him some privacy.

Far enough that if he kept his voice down, she would have heard nothing.  Thankfully—so her snoopier side cheered--he didn't even try, words carrying easily even over the ambient noise of the various games.

"Dude, the question is why are you awake…yeah, even so, sleep’s kinda important… 'Just' a summer cold or not, you really need extra if you're gonna get over it…actually, no, for you sixteen hours is not that much extra….what…no, as you said, it's four AM, the trains aren't even running…and don't even think of suggesting hauling Iggy out of bed to come get me…because, see again, FOUR. A. M… whoa, okay how much cold medicine are you on? ...Fine, fine…how 'bout this, I usually go for my morning run around 5:30-ish, I'll text and if you're still up then, I'll do a route that swings by you.  Deal?...uh-huh…suuuure. Okay, but you have to try to sleep…I'm sounding like him because, and this may come as a shock, he is often right. Or…y'know, terrifying, which equals the same thing, so…Oh, like you aren't…’kay, later."

Silence for a few beats. Then: "Um, Tutella? All finished…"

She returned, taking the proffered phone and giving it a quick swipe with one of the work rags they had lying about. She couldn't help noticing his failure to mention he was at work, or choosing the time their shift ended for the rendezvous.  Her curiosity itched but she refused to scratch. At least in full.

Instead: "Don't you usually crash the second you get outta here? I know I do."

"Yeah, mostly. But summer break’s almost done, and what's the saying--"

"Sleep is for the weak?"

That earned her a surprised snort. "Uh…was thinking more ‘you only live once,’ but guess that works too."

Ah, to be young and impetuous.  And believe yourself immune to the effects of sleep deprivation. The last year or two had begun to tragically cure her of that misconception.

Prompto continued on excitedly, oblivious, "Also, not sure what exact medicine he's on but he is zoooned. No way I'm passing on a chance to witness that in all its glory!"

Okay, yeah, even now in her 'advanced age' of 24, there were still a few of her friends who, if in such straits, would totally warrant a sleepless night in favor of embarrassing stories and/or photographic evidence.  So she couldn't really judge him. Even so…

"Just be sure you don't catch whatever he's got." She winked. "You never know how quickly the tables can turn."

He offered another laugh. "Hah, no worries, I'll be fine."

Which would have been more comforting if a few days later it was a half an hour into their next joint shift and there was no sign of him. And no text or call to explain the absence.  Unlike a few other of their co-workers, Prompto was rarely late, and never failed to contact her if there was a delay.

After the third unanswered text, she finally called. By the eighth ring, she was braced for it to go to voicemail, was surprised when it was picked up instead.  

His voice was so rough she almost didn't recognize it. "..uh, hey…Tutella?" He sounded uncharacteristically out of it.

"Hi, Prompto, was just checking to see what was up…?" A cold, if she didn’t miss her guess.

"Oh…um, yeah, was just grabbing a quick nap before—shit, is that the time? I—" he broke off coughing.

"Hey, no worries, it's fine. How about—"

"—I can be—" Wheeze. "--be there in 10…15 min, just—" Hack. "—just gimme—"

"Promp—hey, Prompto—Listen!" She rose above his attempts, finally drove him down to a sniffling silence. "Prompto, it's not a problem. Take the night off—"

"That’s--" Tutella was pretty sure his interruption was supposed to be a protest, but it dissolved into another coughing fit before the second word. She again waited for it to wind down. She couldn't help but fret while she did. Over the years, through a combination of observations and off-hand comments, she'd put together enough of an idea of his home life to know it wasn't the rosiest of pictures.  Even so, she really hoped someone was around right now. Being sick sucked…being alone and sick was ten times worse. Or so she assumed, never actually having to face that circumstance. Being ill was one of the few times she was grateful for being constantly inundated with relatives.

Over the line, Prompto was finally catching his breath, quieting down to just heavy pants. She jumped in before he could."Look, I'm plenty used to solo shifts, did them for years, it's no problem—"

"B-but, what about the convenience store attack? Ricky said none of us should be there alone, especially at night,  and--"

She steamrolled over his argument. "All the more reason you shouldn't be wandering around here without your full wits about you. All the cameras are up and running, I've got this. You, meanwhile, clearly need to get some rest, Mr. I'll-be-fine."

She meant it jokingly, but the silence that answered her held a remarkably guilty quality. Or perhaps worried. "You've gone to the doctor, right?" More silence, ominously so. "Hey, Prompto, look, if it's a money concern, talk to Ricky, he'll be happy to work something out—"

"No!...I…yeah,  if I'm not feeling better tomorrow, I will."

She had severe doubts, but there was little she could do right now.  "Well then… get some sleep, and I'll see you—"

"Thursday," he firmly replied. "…Thanks Tutella, and sorry about this."

Come Thursday, though, when her phone rang a few hours prior to the start of their shift, she was unsurprised to see Prompto's number flash up.

"Hiya, Prompto, how're  you feeling?"

She thought the rattle was meant to be a chuckle, but maybe just a cough.  The voice that followed was gravel-rough, even more so than before. "Um…not…not great." It was barely a whisper, and the muffled susurration in the background of his call made it difficult to parse. "I'm really sorry, but, um.."

"You're not gonna make it tonight? No worries, I'd actually already talked to Rosa just in case, and she said she'd be able to cover, no problem. So—"

"—I'm really sorry. I can make it up, I swear, if you'll just—" his voice was still low, but the apologetic urgency was unmistakable.

"Prompto, seriously, it's fine. You're sick, it happens to everyone, it really is no big deal." From her end, at least. From his, she was less sure.  If he was this bad off and alone, not making it into work might be the least of his worries.

"I just—" This coughing spell sounded even stronger than three days prior;  if it'd been that long and had had no improvement…Then over the continued coughing there came what sounded like knocking, followed by a muffled voice.

Prompto bit off his cough, began to address someone clearly other than herself.  "No, seriously, I'm fine, you don't need to come in…Yeah, the shower is helping.  A lot. " Ah, shower, that explained the background hiss. Another unintelligible mumble. "Iggy really doesn’t need to go to the trouble—” Though inarticulate, the frustrated tone still carried through door and phone. “Oh, well…um…soup sounds good, then. I'll be out soon."

Listening to this exchange eased a worry that had been building quietly but steadily in the back of Tutella’s mind for the last few days. She wondered if it was this frustrated caretaker she had to thank for Prompto not pushing to make it in when clearly he needed more time to recover.

Another brief, hacking wheeze, and then Prompto's voice returned at mostly full volume. "Ah, sorry, I just—"

"You've just been getting the TLC that's most effective in clearing sucky summer colds right up?"

She sincerely hoped that's what was going on. The kid most certainly deserved it.

"I've been kidnapped, is what I've been." But the disgruntled words were betrayed by a tone that sounded an awful lot like contentment.  It suited him.

"So then, I'll see you when you're better."

"I can be there—"

"When. You're. Better.  And not a moment sooner….got it?"

"Err…yes?" he finally responded, meekly.  

"Don't worry, Prompto, I guarantee. The job'll still be here waiting for you."

 *****

Tutella didn't know exactly when Prompto stopped carrying around his camera, relying on his phone instead, but it was well before he'd started high school. Shortly after he began working for them, she’d asked about it.

He waved the question off with laugh--too lazy to bother getting it fixed after it'd started glitching. So he claimed. He'd said it flippantly, but she was learning to read him enough to pick up on the well-buried frustration.  And laziness was a trait she rarely associated with Prompto.

So when he walked in a few days after his birthday, shiny new camera dangling from his shoulder, the bounce in his step and the sheer happiness radiating off him was easily explainable.

"Niiice," she offered a low whistle as he brought it to bear, snapping a shot of the arcade floor. "Someone had a good birthday, huh?"

He brought the camera back down slowly, paused, as if truly considering the casual remark, far more than it warranted.

"…Yeah, I really did."

It came out quietly, almost wonderingly.  She fought the sudden strong impulse to kick something.

"So, pick that up with birthday money, or…"

"Uh…no." He continued to look self-conscious.  "Apparently I haven't been as…uh…as subtle around my friend as I'd thought about which one I'd been eyeing."

From a few off-hand comments, Tutella had gotten the impression said friend hailed from a different income bracket than them. This all but confirmed it; she wasn't a camera expert, but could see that it was no cheap model.  With the way Prompto got squirrely about money, she was almost surprised that he had accepted it at all.

Tutella wondered what the trick had been—she and Ricky both had been largely unsuccessful in getting Prompto to taken even a hint of financial aid beyond what he felt he'd unquestionably worked to earn.

"…So, do I get to see the results of this new upgrade?" It had taken a while for him to warm up to the idea, but over the months he'd slowly started sharing the occasional photo with her and a few others on staff.  The kid took nice shots. And often adorable, with the number of animals littering his photos.

Prompto handed over the camera in passing as he headed to drop the rest of his things off in the staff room. Considering he couldn't have had it for more than a few days, there was already an extensive catalog of pics to scroll through.

"These are gorgeous, where'd you take 'em from?" she asked as he returned, turning to display one of the series of sunset shots, the skyline of the city laid out behind some kind of roof or balcony garden.

"Oh, uh, friend's apartment. He lives in a high-rise downtown." That cinched it, no question friend was moneyed.

"Aaah, so is this the narcoleptic one himself, then?" she asked, brandishing the next photo. This one had been taken after the sun had fully set, just the barest hint of washed-out pink left in the sky. Off to the side, blended so well with the other deep shadows in the foreground she’d missed it at first, was a lone silhouette, gazing out at the last rays of the fading sun.

"What?!" Prompto was suddenly in her space, lunging to grab the camera out of her grip. "Shit, how did we miss that one?" The question was clearly directed at himself. His brow furrowed as he hunched over the screen, furiously flipping through the remaining photos.

"Um….Prompto?"

He started guiltily, glancing back at her.  "Oh, uh, sorry. My friend has this thing about photos.  Or, well, his family does. They--I always try to clear them off before I share anything. "

"I…see." Kind of.  She couldn't say she was all that fond of the majority of photos of herself.  Even so, this seemed a bit…extreme. Though if the family was paranoid, maybe that explained why Prompto got strangely tight-lipped around the subject of his friend.  

Or maybe that was still just too personal;  as much as Prompto projected the air of an open book, the kid could be as readable as a top-secret document, with all but the few elements he chose to share redacted.

But it did explain, at least, why in all the various selfies and other photos Prompto had shared, there had nary been a glimpse of this elusive 'friend'. Enough so that she'd had to bite back a joke or two about his existence, resisted only because she had a feeling Prompto would take such a crack all too much to heart.

He took a lot too heart.  Deeply so. On occasion it worried Tutella,  in that way that was almost certainly none of her business, how much effort and concessions he seemed to go to for this 'friend'.  No question it was good Prompto had found friendship. She just hoped the other kid was…well…worthy.

Chapter Text

Tutella hated to ask. Prompto had already worked most of Silver Week, Summer Solstice and Ascension Day. She thought she’d get by without claiming his Invokement as well.

But yesterday Rosa had approached Ricky about a combined birthday/year-end party for her baby sister. The original venue had cancelled last minute, claiming an accidental double booking. But everyone knew it was really the looting and subsequent fire at the pawn shop Rosa's parents owned. The cops had declared it was a random act, teenage vandalism gotten out of hand. Though it had been the only shop hit, and not so coincidentally the only shop in the neighborhood run and owned by someone of Niflheim descent.

In the past few months, even in the immigrant quarter, few wanted to risk 'catering to the 'Nifs' in case of prejudicial spillover.  The fact that Rosa's father had come over when he was a kid, barely spoke the language or remembered his country of birth, mattered little.

Similar incidents had been on the rise as of late, the community becoming increasingly fractured. Which had made Ricky more determined than ever that any kid felt welcome.

So instead of the usual relatively quiet Invokement, the arcade was going to be hopping come year's end, and it was turning into an all hands on deck situation. It didn't help that several of their full-timers had already requested time-off months back.

“This coming Tuesday?” Prompto looked up when she broached the subject less than a week out.  “You mean Invokement Eve?”

“Yeah, look, I know it’s not fair to ask. You keep doing all the holidays—”

He was shaking his head, sunny grin in place, not even a hint of a hiding cloud. “Nah, Tutella, it’s fine, seriously. Don't usually do much for the Invokement, just watch the ceremony on TV…this actually sounds kinda fun.”

“A bunch of newly minted teens, up waaaay past their bedtime? Chaotically crazy is the word I believe you’re looking for.”

He just laughed.

Less than an hour into said party and on his third spill cleanup, Prompto's laugh had taken on a bit of an hysteric edge.

Tutella had just finished resetting the change machine for the fourth time. Gary and Paul were currently scrambling around setting up the recently arrived food while Rosa helped the significantly-smaller-than-needed number of adults wrangle her sister and friends through setting up the Six's Offerings. Clyde and Decima, the arcade’s newest employees, were stuck dashing between them all, shared go-fers for the evening.

"Seriously, that Leviathan chalice is huge, heavy and painfully, ornately unmissable—not even gonna ask where Ricky found it—how many times can it be 'accidentally' knocked over?!" Prompto groused as he trundled the mop bucket back behind the counter, heading for the storage room.

“Told ya,” Tutella replied helpfully.  Not in the least smugly. Never.

“Okay, I take it all back, oh wise one!" She could hear his continued mutters as he passed. "...and there’s six more hours of this?!” he moaned through the closing door. 

Before she could reply, the birthday girl herself bounced up to the counter, a half dozen chattering companions in her wake.“Oh oh, it’s almost time, can you turn it on?”

Tutella reached for the remote.  While shrines throughout the city would be hosting their own versions, it was the royal one, broadcast from the Citadel itself, that everyone tuned in to year after year.  And not just because all six of the head clerics seemed determined to outdo each other during their respective invokements, the presentations of the offerings growing more extravagant every year.

The cameras were scanning the crowd, focusing on the occasional grandiose outfit or choice VIP.  The gathered nobles and celebrities were already taking their places, hovering by their tables.

With a swell of music, the commentary cut off and as one all guests straightened, turning to face the entrance. The camera zoomed in on the King as he entered, paced by his Shield, and on their heels the closest of the advisor council.   Following a brief pause came the crown prince and his own retinue.

Tutella fought an eye-roll at the squeals of delight coming from the girls (and not a few of the boys) grouped around her.  Apparently she failed that fight, if Rosa’s grin was anything to go by as she ambled up, propped her elbow on the counter. “Oh, c’mon, if nothing else, at least our future leaders aren’t too hard on the eyes.”

This time Tutella didn’t even try to hide it. “Cradle-robber much?"  Sure, he wasn’t a bad-looking kid, but seriously, he was like, what, seventeen?

Rosa grinned. “Was talking more about his men.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, keeping an eye out to make sure none of the tweens had ventured too close.  “Wouldn’t mind the Prince's Shield shielding me. Or just climbing him like a tree, either way.”

Tutella considered.  She was pretty sure she still had a few years on the man in question, but…Rosa may have a point. “Nah, go for the one with glasses. All prim and proper, stick-up-his-ass put-together like that? Help remove it and betcha he's the real animal in the sack!” she whispered back.

Not quite quietly enough, however, if the choked laugh-cough as Prompto stepped out of the store room was anything to go by. An almost comically scandalized look accompanied it.

"Whoops, and that's my cue…" Rosa pushed away from the counter, waved back to Decima who was wildly gesticulating from over by the food . "Okay, you bottomless pits, food’s on!" she hollered, leading the charge to the buffet tables they'd squeezed in at the back.

"I can cover here for a bit if you wanna grab something…" Tutella began. Prompto was still looking a bit wide-eyed. "Shit.  Sorry for the totally inappropriate-for-work comment—"

He started. "What, no!...well, okay probably." She winced but he quickly waved it aside.

"No, don't sweat it…just…y'know…the mental image there and—" he gave another laugh, less choked this time. Shook his head as if to shake said image out. "I think I will just go grab something to eat…"

He wandered back a bit later, half the gaggle of girls in tow. While there were TVs throughout the arcade, all set to the same channel, the only one you could really hear anything from over the ambient noise of the games was the one by their counter.

Over the next hour or so there was a revolving hoard of viewers sprawled over the various benches and floor in front of them—they kept having to reiterate the need for a clear walking path from the escalators to the games—offering running commentary on the night's ceremonies.

"So," someone piped up from down below, "bets on what the Prince is looking at that has him so engrossed?" It was true that the majority of the time whenever the feed cut back to the high dais, the Prince's gaze was focused down. The large altar table they sat behind hid whatever it was from both camera and the rest of the attendees present in the shrine.

"Gotta be his phone," one of the girls down back offered. "My friend's cousin goes to the same school as him, and she said he said—"

"Yeah, yeah, we've heard all about your 'inside source,'" birthday girl Reina chimed in. "And yet where are the pics as proof from this supposed 'cousin'—"

"Kevin's real! And I've told you a million times, they're super strict about photos. He says just last week they took a girl's phone for accidentally posting a selfie that had, like, half of Prince Noctis's blurry head in the background—"

Over her shoulder came a soft snort and a muttered 'accident'. Tutella turned, raised her eyebrow at Prompto, but his attention was on the TV.

"Suuure, awful convenient—" Reina was not convinced. Nor were many of the others, based on the snickering.

"— Anyway , Kevin says the Prince is on his phone like… all the time."

Prompto rolled his eyes, gave another sniff of what sounded like disapproval.

Below, the argument continued on, unaware or uncaring of their eavesdroppers' opinions. "Oh c'mon, he wouldn't dare…I mean, during the Invoking? No way!"

"He so would.  Betcha he's texting or something!"

If Tutella hadn't already been looking right at Prompto, she knew she would have missed it, the expression flitted past so swiftly. Even so, she was positive she must have misread whatever it had been; the Prompto she knew was rarely so gleefully maniacal .

"Ooh, give," she nudged him conspiratorially. "What're you plotting?"

"Hmm…what? Oh—nothing." Shaking his head, he slouched back in his chair.  She continued to watch speculatively for a minute or two before a panicky shout from further into the arcade that sounded a lot like Clyde having a nervous breakdown demanded immediate attention.

Prompto was just slipping his phone back in his pocket when she finally returned, the evil glint back in his gaze, but now with an added air of anticipation.

"Still not gonna tell me?" she hissed. He just tossed her the most innocent look his baby blues could manage. That cinched it, he was definitely up to something.

"It's nothing…just remembered this thing at school, thought of a way to get a little payback--"

He was interrupted by a swell of noise from the kids grouped down in front, a mix of titters and whispered noises of concern. On the screen the camera flipped to focus once again on the royals, the Prince specifically, who seemed in the middle of choking—laughing?—no, a coughing fit.

A glass of water procured by the attractive glasses guy and a wave from the King, and the ceremony was back on track. Poor kid, really. They'd already been through two Astrals, and it was Ifrit's hour…the amount of smoke, sitting that close, would set anyone off.

"Payback? What—" she returned to the question as the commotion died down, only to find Prompto's seat empty. She glimpsed his blond head as he ducked and weaved his way back towards the VR section and an impatient-looking Paul.

Though she couldn't quite put her finger on it, something about Prompto's stride put her in mind of a victory strut.

*******

It was a good hour before his shift was due to begin when Prompto stormed into the staff room.

Tutella glanced up from the order forms in time to watch him roughly throw his bag in the vague direction of the coat rack, missing by a mile. He didn't bother to fix it as he whipped around and stalked back out without even a hello.

The door slammed hard enough it bounced back open, allowing her to meet Renatus's bewildered look as he turned from the counter with her own equally surprised one. "Soooo, that was different…"

Tutella nodded, pushed the paperwork aside. "Yeah, you don't say. Which way'd he go?"

"Beelined straight for Shoot 'Em…"

There was nothing quite as therapeutic as blowing baddies away on an old favorite.  Especially when the latest upgrade meant said favorite had been pushed back to the classic games corner, virtually empty most times.

But not even ten on a Friday, and a long weekend at that, meant the arcade was still packed. She crossed paths with two regulars beating a hasty retreat, presumably vacating as soon as they'd caught Prompto's stormy expression, as rare and foreboding as a desert thundershower.

His jacket—his school jacket, and that was an odd sight in and of itself; unlike most of them, Prompto never changed into his work clothes here, always arriving already adorned in the mandated polo and slacks—had been discarded on the floor by the machine.

Sleeves rolled, gun up, eyes narrowed, Prompto was headshotting one enemy after another.  He gave a minute flinch as she cleared her throat, offered no other acknowledgement.

"Want to talk about it?"

Shrug.

"Venting  can help, and I'm happy to listen…"

Shrug number two.  She hesitated, weighed the options; pushed on. "It's just…I can't help but noticing you seem a bit…upset—"

That did it.

"Upset? I'm not upset. I'm not ' unreasonably' upset . At all!" She could practically hear the air quotes, certain if not for the gun, there would have been over-exaggerated finger motions included.

"Weeell, can't really speak to the 'unreasonable' part without hearing the circumstances, but as for the upset…."

Prompto turned away from the screen long enough to offer a death glare. Also long enough to get killed, ’Game Over’ flashing up. With a huff, he dug into his pocket, popped another token into the slot and returned to firing without another word.

"I just saw Tulmus--Tulmus of the 'the world ending will not drag me away from beating my last high score' fleeing as if a ravenous coeurl was snapping at his heels.  I'm pretty sure it only took one look at your face to achieve this feat. Soooo…upset? I'm gonna go with yes ."

A growl was the only response forthcoming for the next few moments. Then: " Fine , yes I'm upset! Happy?

"I'd go more with 'concerned', really. Do you—"

" But ," Prompto plowed on. "I don't think it's unreasonable to be upset about being made to think your friend just plummeted to his death, even for a second. Even if, okay, yes, that is a ridiculously cool new trick. Great that he can finally do it. Less cool is using it to give me a heart attack."

Tutella didn't have moment to ask--much to her curiosity's disappointment--before the rant raged on. "I don't think it's unreasonable to be mad about almost falling to my own death.  Or getting laughed at for, y'know, not wanting to die . I don't think it's un-fucking-reasonable to be angry that my camera is now lying scattered in a million fucking pieces on the pavement—"

"Shit, the camera? That su—"

He continued as if he hadn't heard. "And I don't think it's unreasonable to believe, even if you do have more money than the Astrals know what to fucking do with, that doesn't mean you can be casual about other people's shit just ‘cause you can easily buy a replacement. Or ten. " Each sentence was punctuated with a clean kill, points racking up like crazy.

The distinct buzz of a wildly vibrating phone cut off both the tirade and the score spree as Prompto dropped out of his firing stance to wrestle his cell out of his pocket.  Meanwhile the blood-red letters of another lost round filled the arcade screen.

Growling in frustration, Prompto raised the phone to hurl it at the nearest wall, not even bothering to glance at the caller ID.  Tutella lunged forward just as it left his hand, plucked it out of the air upon launch.

"Ooookay, let's not do anything you'll most definitely regret."

Prompto opened his mouth as if to argue, snapped it closed again, thought unvoiced.  Instead he turned back to start yet another play-through.

Tutella took a deep breath. "For what it's worth, no, none of that sounds like what you're feeling is at all unreasonable." At least from what she could piece together.  There were a few points she could really use some clarification on, but for the moment…

The phone buzzed again in her hand. A text this time.  Hoping for both a salve for her itching curiosity and a hint as to how to next proceed, she scanned the notification as it popped up.  Mr sleep addict himself, just as she'd predicted.

'C'mon pick up!'

The next followed swiftly on its heels:

'Dude seriously where r u?!'

In front of her, Promtpo had sunk once more into the game, ignoring both her and the phone she held. Which kept going off.

'Checked school, ur house, the arcade…r u hiding?!'   But not this arcade, she noted. They all knew Prompto 'cheated' on them, as Renatus liked to tease.  The reverse was less known, apparently.

'Said was sorry.  I didn't mean to laugh!'

'What u want me to say? ok yes, ur right, I'm an asshole, fine!'

'Just talk to me!'

'Coward.'

'Shit. Mean about the avoiding, not the afraid of heights thing. I really didn't realize.'

'Please just fucking answer ur phone!'

Growing up in a big family, Tutella had understood at a very young age that the people you loved the most were also the ones who could invariably drive you the most nuts. Learning how to flip world-ending-when-in-the-heat-of-the-moment arguments into private jokes you laugh about for years to come had been requisite for harmonious survival.

Conversely, she'd known Prompto long enough to recognize that loneliness had been his main, if not sole, companion for most of his life.  Judging from his current absurdly out-of-character behavior, Tutella was fairly confident in thinking arguments of this nature were anything but the norm for him. Wondered if this was actually his first real argument, at least with a friend.

Tutella watched the boy in front of her furiously fighting electronic foes.  She gripped the now-silent phone a little tighter; somewhere out in Insomnia there was another kid who appeared to be equally melting down.

"Look," she cleared her throat. "It's probably none of my business but…a little advice, from one who's both refereed and partaken in more rows than I can count…"

He gave no answer, but there was the slight, telltale headcock that suggested he was at least listening.  "Sometimes, yes, the best call can be to just walk away. Sometimes, it may even be best to make that distance permanent, if being around a person is doing more harm than good."

She didn't miss his grimace, pushed on. "But, if that's not your intention, then, in my experience, the longer you let it go, the worse it gets and the harder it can be to resolve."

Prompto snorted angrily. "So, what, I'm just supposed to get over it? Just forget I'm pissed and--"

She threw up a hand. "Woah, no. I'm not saying you shouldn't be angry. Or that you have to abandon your grievances, sounds like you have some pretty damn valid points.  Points you should talk over, work things out together.  The important question you need to decide is, do you want to work things out? Sounds like some of this has been maybe building longer than just today."

There were aspects of this friendship that sometimes pinged as...off.   Secrets, possible class incompatibility, a level of bending-over-backwards accommodation that she questioned was at all returned or even acknowledged.

On the other hand, having watched Prompto go from that lonely awkward kid to an outgoing growing-in-confidence teenager, Tutella was loathe to discourage anything that aided that transformation.  Loathe to advocate ending a friendship when they still seemed a rarity for him.

Either way, she knew she was lacking in far too many details to paint the full picture, much less judge it fairly. Ultimately it was up to Prompto to make the decision.

She could be wrong, but based on everything she knew, she was pretty sure she knew which he'd make.  Decided to give a bit of a nudge to see.

"So, you could talk things over, air your complaints and work on a resolution. But that can be taxing, might take some work.  So maybe it'd be better to just…go your separate ways. Put some distance between you, stop hanging out entirely. Maybe just call the whole friendship quits." She paused, let each word sink in. "Is that what you want?"

Prompto had been growing tenser as she spoke, shoulders hunching. At the question he slowly lowered his arm, gun dropping to his side. His eyes were saucer-plate wide as he turned to her. "No…" He swallowed, once. Shook his head. "No…no, not even a little."

"Shit!" Suddenly he was a ball of motion as he scrambled to return the gun to the charging slot, whipped around to face her. "Phone, phone, shit, gimme the phone. I gotta—"

His franticness would have been comical if not for how truly heartbreakingly panicked he was at the mere suggestion.  She hastily stepped forward to hand the cell back.

A sudden scream of pure terror cut throw the clang and clamor of the arcade, freezing them both in their tracks. Moments later the shout was drowned out by the piercing wail of the fire alarm. The accompanying emergency strobe lights reflected in Prompto's eyes as they met hers.

She could see the moment it registered, her own realization kicking in right on his heels.

"Oh fuck, is that smoke?"

Chapter Text

It was a good thing Ricky arrived when he did.  Tutella was getting desperate enough for answers that doctors' orders, family's wishes and lack of crutches be damned.  The fact that she was filled to the gills with high-grade painkillers made the decision even easier.

Sitting up, covers thrown back and good leg hooked over the side of the bed, she was debating the best way to detach herself from the oxygen cannula  when the door opened. Ricky was only halfway through a gentle 'Hey' when she brandished her phone at him, hand and voice equally shaking.

"Two, Ricky. The article says two d-dead. Who? Not…not any of the kids? No one will tell me anything!" Her throat may have felt like it'd gone ten rounds with rough sandpaper and lost all bouts, but she scraped the words out all the same.

She loved her family, she did. And when Tutella had first opened her eyes after what was apparently going to be the first of several surgeries, a little in pain and a lot scared, there was no sight more welcome than their familiar, loving faces surrounding her.  Mom and dad, aunt and uncles, five of her cousins, even her brother, whose work near Hammerhead and the hassle of going through the checkpoints often meant months between visits, had all dropped in over the course of the morning.

But in a supposed bid not to 'overtax' her—she'd been trying and failing for the last two hours to convince them that they were in fact doing the exact opposite—they had all been frustratingly spare on the details.

Those that she could remember were bad enough.  Smoke and flame and a lot of scared kids. Sprinklers that kicked on only to fizzle back out almost immediately.  Pitching her voice to carry over the clamor as she pointed out exits, corralled teens into semi-organized lines to avoid bottlenecking.  Trying to project calm while ignoring the wild desperate pounding of her own heart.

Susie—too young to be out this late, but Tutella knew it was better than her situation back home —screaming about her brother and his friends stuck in the VR Simulator chamber. Prompto shouting he'd get them and scrambling off before she could argue. All lights suddenly going out and what seemed like an eternity before only scattered dim emergencies kicked back in. 

It was around then that the thin scrap of order they'd been maintaining started to fray. She wasn't sure of the exact moment that rising fear clicked over into blind panic, but a shout from behind had the crowd shoving forward. Susie had stumbled, gone down, and instinct kicked in. Tutella had managed to shield the girl, roll them out of the path of the stampede. Or mostly.  Failed to tuck one leg in fast enough.

Things got a lot less clear and a lot more painful after that. She thought it was Renatus who'd gotten her outside, but couldn't be sure.  The last thing she recalled as the EMTs were bundling her into the ambulance was a rising swell from onlookers—the building had begun to collapse.

No matter how much Tutella reached, no further memory rose to fill in the gaps, so she’d resigned herself to rely on others’ accounts. And maybe at last she'd get one.

"Who? I gotta know…" Tutella croaked.  No matter how bad.

Ricky had halted at the initial demand.  Now his expression softened ever so slightly.  Coming forward, he gently grabbed her shoulder, eased her back into bed.  She opened her mouth to protest, but he beat her to it.

"The first wasn't even connected to the arcade. Late-night janitor working down in the café. Apparently the alarms didn't go off in the first floor units until it was too late."  He paused, took a deep breath. Tutella braced. "The second was Mr. Devons—Tulmus."

Her own breath hitched, mind stuttering to process this new altered reality. Tulmus had been a regular for as long as she'd been at the arcade. One of the few of the over-twenty crowd. Coming by only at night, usually to blow off steam after a long shift.  She flashed to her last glimpse of him as he'd hurried away, grumbling at Prompto's uncharacteristic outburst. There had been a running joke among the staff that between his laser focus and the noise-cancelling headphones he always wore, he'd miss a bomb going off if he was in the zone. Or maybe just a fire alarm.

She choked somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "What…how…"

Ricky sat on the bed beside her, arm encircling her shoulder. He sighed. "Details still aren't entirely clear. According to the last bunch out, they'd heard shouting as Prompto was freeing them from the sim chamber. He apparently ordered those kids to continue out on their own and then went back for Tulmus.  But...by then the structural integrity of the building was compromised. Roof had started to cave. By the time they'd gotten to them, Tulmus..." Ricky shook his head.

Tutella closed her eyes, began to take a slow breath. Froze, eyes popping back open. "Wait, then…Prompto? Is he…" Ricky's expression told her more than she suddenly felt ready for.  But she couldn't stop, not now. "How bad?!"

More than two dozen hospitalized, the article had also said. She hadn't had much time to look; it was only after her brother had finally convinced their mom it was alright to leave Tutella long enough to grab lunch that she'd been able to talk a nurse into bringing over her phone.  She hadn't done more than a cursory search before Ricky had arrived. Not enough details, not by half.

Ricky's voice was grim. "It's…not good. " She caught his grimace out of the corner of her eye. "That's actually one of the reasons I stopped by again."

She thought she'd heard her dad greeting Ricky earlier, one of the many times she'd dozed off mid-conversation throughout the morning.  Had wanted to spring up and demand details then and there, but the pull of drug-aided sleep had been too strong.

"What do you need? I can…is he…what…" She allowed Ricky's raised hand to grind her questions to a halt—it wasn't like she was managing much coherent speech anyways.

"Prompto was unresponsive when they found him.  They've got him stabilized for now, but he's yet to regain consciousness.  And the doctors are hesitant to say when—" Ricky took another deep breath, briefly closed his eyes before opening them to meet hers once more, "—or if, that will change."

Tutella swallowed, but held onto the new swell of questions bubbling up. Knowing Ricky well enough to sense worse was somehow coming. "Meanwhile, both emergency contact numbers we have for him are going to voicemail.  We were able to track down the company his parents work for, but they were unhelpful beyond acknowledging that, and I quote, 'the Argentums usually go several weeks between check-ins when in the field, and we shouldn't worry'. Also that they had no reliable way to get a hold of them otherwise."

Tutella felt the words like a physical blow. She known, known for years, that Prompto's  parents were somewhat absent—but to go weeks without even contact?

"I've already talked to most of the staff, but you work with him the most.  Has he ever mentioned anyone else, family, friends that look after him when they're out of town? I went by his house, but the neighbors didn’t know much. His school hasn't been much help either; they've confirmed they have the same emergency contacts but otherwise are legally unable to give out any other information on their students."  The frustration was clear in his voice. Tutella could only guess how many hours he'd been at it, and with everything else he had to be dealing with.

"The police—"

"Hah." The quick response had her swinging around in surprise. That kind of cynicism she expected from her uncle, even her dad on occasion. But from Ricky? In all the years Tutella had known him, she couldn't remember a time he looked this…defeated, exhausted. Angry.

Apparently the hits weren't done coming. "What does that mean?"

Ricky sighed again, shook his head. "Never mind. Later. Prompto's the important thing right now. So?"

Tutella wanted to protest, wanted every hurdle out and in line before she started jumping them…but Ricky was right.

"Extended family…right." She racked her brain, came up with nothing. "He's never mentioned..." As Ricky's expression started to fall again, she pushed on. "But he has a friend  he hangs out with a lot, even crashes at his place sometimes, I think. If anyone would know…"

A memory of their last conversation floated to the surface.  The fight he and Prompto had had. But if the kid couldn't put that on hold at a time like this, he shouldn't be around Prompto anyways.

Ricky perked up. "Excellent. Name?"

Tutella opened her mouth. Closed it again a moment later.   She knew he was a classmate of Prompto's…along with presumably several hundred other kids.  And that he lived somewhere downtown…as did thousands of others. He liked sleep and hated having his picture taken, and his texts cracked Prompto up more often than not. Beyond that…

"Shit…" Privacy was all well and good but she was suddenly wishing she'd given her ever-present curiosity a bit more leeway and pushed for some actually useful details.

Ricky scrubbed a hand over his face, shoulders sagging. "That's alright. Don't worry, I'll—"

"Wait!" Tutella pushed herself straight, recalling the nurse's question when she'd grabbed her phone for her. "In the cabinet, with my stuff, is there a second phone?"

In all the commotion, she'd never gotten to hand Prompto’s phone back to him, had shoved it into her pocket beside her own.

It took Ricky only a moment or two of searching before he found it. "S'not on." He frowned as he handed it over.

"Probably just out of juice," she reassured them both. Her own had been.  Thankfully Prompto’s used the same charger as her own phone, even if it was a significantly older model.  With her shaking hands it took three tries to get the cord in, but after a moment she breathed a sigh as the blinking battery sign lit up the screen.

"Will probably be a few minutes before it'll turn on." She turned to Ricky's expectant face. Hesitated a moment before pushing on. "Ricky…the police—"

He shook his head, but she didn't let that stop her. "They're dismissing this as another accident, aren't they?"

He refused to meet her eyes for a moment before finally giving a nod, releasing a deep exhale. "For now…yes."

"Bullshit!" The rising tide of anger was almost a relief as it swept aside the warring fear, pain and grief that had been battering her up to this point. "Two fires in less than as many months, only a block apart?"

Ricky lowered himself into one of the chairs by her bed, gaze still averted. "Lots of old buildings in the immigrant quarter, faulty wiring and such."

"And you of course pointed out we had our annual inspection less than a week ago."

"Yup."

"And how do they explain the sprinkler system's failure?"

"A tragic coincidental blockage. "  

Despite the myriad of bruises, strained lungs and a compound fracture that had her leg in a temporary cast from foot to knee, she was still ready to storm over to the authorities herself and demand some real answers.

"Tell me it's not getting left at that."

Ricky dredged up a tired smile from somewhere. "It's like you don't even know your uncle. He's got a group of fifty or so and growing down at the station now, combination of pissed-off parents and other local business owners. But…"

But they both knew how easily even a large number could be overlooked. Just unreasonable, ungrateful refugees making unnecessary noise.

Tutella shifted, restless. "I should—"

"You should rest up and focus on getting better.  Your dad said your ankle's going to need at least one more surgery, maybe more?"

She sighed. "Yeah,  they can't operate ‘til the swelling's gone down.  And both the doctors and my parents agree it's probably better if I stay admitted ‘til then. "

In her lap,  the phone gave a chime before flashing up the boot screen.  A moment later it was on, and buzzing as multiple notifications hit at once.  Eight missed calls and twenty-nine unread messages.

Tutella tapped to open them, only for 'PIN needed' to flash up.  Fuck. She tried to recall what Prompto'd told her all those months back. But even if she could remember, he said he changed it frequently.

The partial text of the last message received sat unblinking on the lock screen.

'Fine. If Iggy's right &  it's space u want, u got it. U ever get over yourself, u know where to find--'

She glanced up, found Ricky's look of inquiry waiting. The timestamp placed it from a few hours ago.       

"Well, shit."

*****

At three a.m., the halls of the hospital were nearly silent. It had taken some convincing to assure Tutella's nurses that she was usually awake at this time.  The fact that she'd spent a good portion of the last twenty-four hours asleep only compounded the problem. It had taken even more arguing to get them to agree to getting a wheelchair and bringing her for a jaunt up to the ICU. 

The cast was awkward to maneuver in but once settled, the ride wasn't too uncomfortable. The nurse who'd finally taken pity and given in talked about his kids as he pushed Tutella to the elevator. Though they were now grown, they used to frequent the arcade back in the day.  He was still chatting as they arrived, but Tutella barely registered the words. Just murmured an absent acknowledgment when instructed to ask one of the ICU staff to page him when it was time to return to her room.

The majority of Tutella's attention was taken by the prone figure on the bed, small and pale against the white sheets, surrounded by various machines beeping and hissing away.  If she hadn't known it was Prompto, she would have been hard-pressed to identify him, blond tuft half-hidden by a swath of bandages wrapped about his head and face mostly obscured by an oxygen mask.

Laid out above the covers, both arms sported multiple dressings, and more bruises and scrapes adorned the skin not bandage-wrapped.  The open-necked V of the hospital gown revealed another white strip coming over the collarbone and continuing down under the fabric.

"Ah, kiddo," she breathed. She'd been wheeled close enough to be able to reach out, take one limp hand gently in her own.

"Oh, wasn't expecting anyone this late. He's quite the popular fellow, isn't he?"

Tutella blinked up at the woman standing at the end of the bed, chart in one had. She smiled when Tutella met her gaze. It took a minute longer for the words to register.

"Wait, he's had visitors? His parents, family?" Maybe Ricky had gotten through to them at last and forgot to let her know. Or maybe his friend. He had yet to text or call again; Tutella even now had Prompto's phone tucked in her lap next to her own, just in case. But maybe he'd heard some other way…

The nurse—Kelly, her name badge read—shook her head sadly. "Unfortunately no. We've still been trying, but nothing yet.  But I know several sets of very grateful parents have all been by, as well as a few of the kids themselves, sprung from their rooms. . They're saying he's a hero. You too, so Jim tells me."

It took a moment for Tutella to place the name of the nurse who'd brought her up here.  Her mom had mentioned before she'd left for the night that several similar visitor hopefuls had come by Tutella's room that afternoon and evening. They had been thanked and politely asked to return later when Tutella was more recovered.   

Truthfully, after Ricky's multiple bombshells, Tutella had been more than thankful for her mom's intervention.  Despite spending more than half of it asleep, it had been a long, hard day. And seeing Prompto lying lifeless in front of her wasn't making it any easier.

"I didn't really do anything. But Prompto…yeah, he was amazing. Hear that, you did great!" She gave his hand a gentle shake for emphasis. "Now how's about you wake up, so we can shower you with all those well-deserved accolades."

"Now that sounds like a good plan." Kelly's gentle smile returned as she bent over one of the many machines, jotting down a note or two from the various readouts.  They spoke for a few minutes more before she continued on her rounds.

Light was starting to creep in through the window at the far end of the bay of beds and Kelly was on her third pass before Tutella asked for Jim to come get her.

******

Sunday saw the return of most of those her mother had turned away the previous day, quick visits in between her relatives’ longer stays. Recovering kids and their families stopped in to offer their gratitude as they were discharged. By Sunday evening, all but herself, Prompto, and two asthmatic teens who'd had extreme reactions had been treated for smoke inhalation, minor burns, and a few sprains, and sent home.

Tutella had mixed feelings about the attention, touched by the thoughtfulness but questioning the deservedness. Maybe if she'd done something differently, noticed someone out of place, been quicker to respond, none of it would have even happened in the first place.

By the time she bid Renatus a good-night—after confirming his well-being, she'd tried to offer her own thanks, but he'd assured Tutella her family had already expressed the sentiment profusely—she was exhausted enough she thought she might actually sleep the night away.

But when two a.m. rolled around she once more found herself wide awake. It took a lot less cajoling this time to be brought up.  Nurse Kelly was again on duty, unsurprised to see her and happy to fill her in on any changes.

Which weren't much.  No backsliding, so that was something, but also no signs Prompto was any closer to waking up.  And nothing more on the friends or family front either. No one looking for him besides the other arcade-goers.

Prompto's phone had never been more than a hands-breadth away. Though she'd glared at the lock screen several dozen times over the last thirty-six hours, the last text message refused to change,  or the PIN magically reveal itself.

At any other time she'd praise the kid for respecting Prompto's wishes, for giving him his space.  Now she fervently wished he'd be a bit more demanding and just call . She couldn't be sure, but if Prompto's phone was like hers, she should still be able to answer it even locked.  But stubbornly silent the phone remained…just like its owner.

****

Though Monday was a holiday, neither of her parents' jobs had it off, so Tutella’s brother kept her company for the first part, before heading out, back to Hammerhead.  Her doctor stopped in shortly before he left to inform her that the swelling had reduced enough that they'd scheduled her second surgery for tomorrow morning and to be sure to get a good night's rest.

The ICU was a lot busier this early in the evening, her wheelchair much harder to maneuver around the various staff and visitor bustling to and fro, and she was warned she couldn't stay long.  Even so, she was glad she'd pushed to do so.

The nurse on staff confirmed she was only Prompto's second caller that day—the first would be Ricky, who'd also stopped by to check in on Tutellla at lunch.  She knew he had to be busy, but she was hungry for further news, no matter how bad.

And bad it was.  The police had all but abandoned the investigation, content with "a tragic accident"  and the dangers of old buildings. Tutella's uncle had apparently told Ricky he should be grateful they weren't trying to pin the blame on him due to negligence or even some crazy insurance scheme.  At least not as yet.

The arcade itself was a goner, most of the building collapsed and as of that morning, still too unstable to begin going over, but Ricky sounded doubtful about there being much salvageable.  Ricky did mention his hope to rebuild or relocate…but Tutella could hear how forced the positivity was. And when pushed, he admitted a lot would be contingent on both the police and even more the insurance investigation that was yet to even get underway.

Sitting by Prompto's beside, Tutella let her mouth ramble from one aimless topic to the next, while her thoughts whirled at triple time. Nurse Kelly had said talking could help, just the sound of a voice; the subject didn't matter. But Tutella was loathe dump everything truly weighing her down on the off-chance any of it permeated.  Prompto's body had taken enough hits; his morale didn't need any more as well.

*****

Less than an hour into post-op recovery, the drug-induced haze was still strong enough the buzzing of an incoming text barely registered. Staring at her still-dark screen, confused, it was another minute before Tutella put two and two together and flailed for Prompto's phone, placed carefully on the bedside table.

It took a moment of hard concentration before her vision focused enough to parse the new message.

'I get ur pissed, but actually skipping school to avoid me?! Seriously?! WTF dude!'

It took another two read-throughs before the meaning actually coalesced.  Groaning, she dropped her head back against the pillows. She had a sudden overwhelming sympathy for Prompto's urge to chuck the phone across the room.

She allowed herself a few more satisfying visions of shaking the stuffing out of certain sleep-loving-but-really-could-use-more-details-like-oh-a- name friend of Prompto's before a stray thought surfaced from the sea of drugs in which she floated.

School….  It took a bit of fumble-fingered navigating to access the right employee file, longer to find the school's contact number. She wound up postponing the call until after lunch to give herself and her faculties a bit longer to recover. And because she didn't have the energy to go into it with her mom who'd arrived along with the food and thought Tutella should be focusing a hundred percent of her energy on her own recovery.

In the end, it was a decision she was coming to regret.  At least if she was high, she might have been able to find some amusement in the situation. Or maybe her mom would have been able to make some headway; Tutella herself had hit an impasse.

"Look, I get it, you're not going to give me any names. That's fine, but maybe you could just, like…tell the people he hangs out with?"

The voice on the other end of the line sounded equally as frustrated. Good to know she wasn't alone in her misery. "As I've already stated, miss, our academy takes great pride in the respect we show to all our students’ privacy. Without the student's, or barring that, their guardian's direct say-so, I am not authorized to release any details, to anyone. About anyone. "

"Yes," Tutella growled, "but that's half the issue, we're trying to find said guardians. Are you telling me there's no extenuating circumstances? Couldn't you—" Another buzz from Prompto's phone distracted her. Reaching for it, Tutella took a deep breath. It wasn't like she'd be getting anywhere anyways. "Fine, I get it, thanks for your time."

Without waiting to hear whatever useless last platitude the receptionist had to offer, Tutella mashed the end-call button and dropped her phone, turned her attention to Prompto's.

'Forgive him or don't, that's your business'

In the moment it took her to process it was a different sender—'The Big Guy,' and she bit down another surge of annoyance at Prompto's contact-naming habits and their entirely uninformative, unhelpful nature--a new message replaced the first in the notification box.

'But make up your mind and drop a line. For Iggy's and my sake if nothing else.'

Okay, the mention of an 'Iggy' seemed very vaguely familiar,  like she'd overheard Prompto say it at some point. But who the hell was the Big Guy?!  Were they all schoolmates? Prompto only ever seemed to reference a single friend, not a group.

The phone buzzed again.  

'Cause the not knowing? It's starting to drive a certain brat just a little, y'know—"

The rest was again lost behind the lock screen. But yeah, Tutella could sympathize; she was starting to feel 'a little, y'know—' herself.

After a few minutes went by with nothing further, she concluded that was the less-than-helpful end.  So it wasn't just one friend's name and contact info she was utterly lacking, but three.   She'd like to believe that increased the odds of one of them stumbling across the news, but the truth was, there wasn't anything for them to stumble across.

The fire had been only briefly covered by most of the major news outlets. And if these friends had no knowledge of Prompto's connection to the arcade, which she'd already suspected was the case, nothing the news reported would further enlighten them. Due to both his status as a minor and the ongoing lack of parent or guardian on scene, Prompto's identity beyond 'arcade employee' had been left out of the few sources that had chosen to report.

Tutella was starting to seriously ponder the effectiveness of marching down to the school with a giant sign 'Do you know Prompto, please call!' and her number. However, while this morning's surgery had gone well, she was, as the doctor had already warned, going to need at least one more to properly situate the last of the pins. Which meant her movements were hampered for the foreseeable future.

Maybe the twins would do it…though considering what the school personnel had been like on the phone, odds were high security would chase them out before any contact was achieved. Even so…  

She dozed off still debating, awoke again late enough that any action was per force delayed until the next day.  Except continuing what was becoming a nightly vigil.

Tutella's mind was running in circles, formulating increasingly harebrained schemes while offering only the barest of replies to Nurse Jim's attempts at conversation, so that it took a moment to fully process what was before her.

Or rather what wasn't before her, as the bed Prompto had been occupying for the past three nights was decidedly empty.

"Oh, hmmm…" Jim hummed behind her.  Tutella couldn't even manage that, heart suddenly in her throat. Because this didn't look temporary, off to a scan or whatever.  The bed looked freshly made, covers tucked in tight, and all the previous equipment off, stowed away or absent entirely. All signs of Prompto’s presence erased.

Tutella hadn't realized she'd made a sound, but suddenly Jim was kneeling in front of her. "Hey, honey, I'm sure it's fine. Let me—"

"Oh, hi, Tutella, I was wondering if you'd be by tonight—what's wrong?" Nurse Kelly's cheerful voice interrupted. Before either Tutella or Jim could say anything she apparently pieced it together, following Tutella's fixed gaze on the empty bed. "No no, don't worry! It's good news." Kelly was all but beaming as Tutella swung around to face her.  "He woke up earlier this evening."

"Prompto's awake?" Tutella felt as if a giant weight had been lifted. "Where is he—did he mention—can I—"

"Well, I don't believe he's awake now. It was only very briefly. But he was cognizant, was able to pass the majority of quick tests the doctor gave him, and even recalled some of the events of the fire. In fact, his main question was if you were all okay.  He's been shifted from Intensive to Progressive Care and moved into a room down the hall, if you'd like to—"

"Yes!" Tutella jumped at the offer, belatedly glanced back at Jim, whose time she was further taking up.  He offered an encouraging smile as they made their way back past the nurses' station and to a room a few doors down.

The lights were down low for the night, but still enough to make out Prompto's sleeping form.  The oxygen mask had been replaced by a simple cannula, allowing for the first time a full view of his face, the cut on his temple, deep bruising around one eye. Beyond the IV and heart monitor, he apparently no longer required any further devices. Maybe it was that, or Kelly's assurances, but for the first time in nearly four days, he looked asleep rather than unconscious. Or worse.

"Did he give you a way to get in touch with his parents? Or someone else to contact?"

Kelly's expression lost a bit of its cheer.  "No, unfortunately. " She heaved a frustrated sigh. "He was unsurprised we hadn't been able to reach them. Or maybe resigned would be more accurate. And said there wasn't really anyone else. "

Tutella found herself gripping the cell she had tucked in her lap, thought about the texts that had come in earlier that day, proving the existence of not one but at least three someone elses.  But Prompto hadn't asked, hadn't expected them.

She took in the rest of the room. There was space for two other beds, but for now he had the place to himself. "Any idea when he's going to wake up again?"

Kelly shook her head. "He's still very weak. In his condition, it'll probably be very sporadic and only for short periods for a while yet."

Tutella bit her lip, considered. Thought about waking to her family, about all the ongoing visits. Thought about her doctors' advice about staying positive and the repeated approval of her obviously healthy—if at times almost overwhelming--support system . Thought about Prompto waking up, alone. Again.  

"I don’t…I don't suppose I could get transferred up here?"

Kelly looked at her questioningly.

Tutella gestured down to her propped up leg. "I'm stuck here for another few days at least. Not like I have anything better to do. And, well…then he'd have some company whenever he deems the waking world worthy of his attention." And maybe she could even get him to unlock his damn phone.

Tutella watched the two nurses share a look, Jim shrugging at Kelly's raised eyebrow.  "Not sure…but let's see what we can do."

*******

In the end, the transfer didn't go through until just after dinner on Wednesday. Tutella had stayed into the wee hours of the morning, and then come up again for a bit in the afternoon, but Prompto remained stubbornly asleep the entire time. The staff assured her all his vitals continued to improve, however, and they were more and more hopeful, barring complications, about a solid recovery.

Tutella had settled down into her new digs, and was faffing about on her phone when a slight rustle from across the room drew her focus.  Though she'd put the lights low for the night, there was still more than enough to reflect off of Prompto's eyes, half-open as he blinked hazily around the room.

"Hey kiddo, you back with us?"

She waited as his roving gaze slowly zeroed in on her."'tella?" His voice came out a rusty squeak.

"Got it in one." She realized she was grinning, unable to contain it.  "How ya feeling? Should I call the nurse?"

Prompto frowned, taking a moment to reply, and when he did it was in the form of a question of his own. "W-hatcha doing here? Th-they didn't say you'd been hurt?"

Which meant he probably hadn't heard about Tulmus yet either.  A good call, most likely, considering how much distress he was already displaying as he struggled to focus on her.  She waved the concern aside.

"Just my leg, no biggie. But it means I get to keep you company. And you're the one that's had us all worried. "

"Oh…sorry?"

She shook her head again, pushed on hastily before having to decide if he sounded more confused or doubtful. "Speaking of…" She grabbed up his phone from the bedside table. "You've had quite a few missed calls and messages. How about you…what?"

The sight of what looked a lot like tears glimmered in Prompto's eyes even as his face fell. "Isn't…isn't it too late?"

It was Tutella's turn to blink, confused. "What?"

"Doctor said…a few days, it's Tuesday? Wednesday? An' you said, longer I left things, worse it'd be. He's probably…I messed…m-messed everything up."

Tutella knew it was at least in part the drugs; she herself had been on a painkiller-induced emotional rollercoaster for five days now. But even so, in all the years she'd known Prompto, she couldn't recall ever seeing him tear up, let alone full-on cry.  Which was most definitely what he was doing now, even if the sobs were mostly inaudible, tears silently streaking down his face.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, no, that's not what I'd meant." Throwing aside her covers, she scrambled up. In the past few days, she'd gotten pretty good at the one-legged hop for maneuvering short distances like trips to the bathroom.  She hastily exercised the new skill as she hobbled the few steps over to his bed. "I just meant, in normal circumstances, delaying an argument can make it worse, but even then, not impossible to resolve. And this is like the textbook definition of extenuating circumstances.  I'd be kinda shocked if he doesn't pick up on the first ring." At least she sincerely hoped so.

Water and skepticism together dripped from his eyes in the look that he offered her.  She pushed on nevertheless, mentally crossing her fingers that she wasn't making a mistake. Gingerly hoisting herself on the edge of his bed, she proffered the phone.

He managed to raise his hand all of an inch before weakly dropping it again as if dragged by an invisible weight.  His eyelids, meanwhile, had dropped to half-mast. Shit. They'd said brief, but still.

"Right," she tried again, pulling the phone back. "I'll drive, you navigate. What's the PIN?"

Face scrunched in what she hoped was thought and not pain, Prompto finally shook his head slowly, defeat felling his features. "I can't…I think I changed it that afternoon. I don't…I don't 'member to what…B-but…doubt it matters…" his voice faded at the end, and a moment later he was asleep once more.

"Fucking Astrals!" She couldn't help it, but he didn't even twitch at the outburst.  Tutella stayed perched on his bed for a while longer, until it was clear he wouldn't be waking again any time soon, before she slowly made her way back to her own bed.

******

It was going on midnight. Nurse Kelly had just left after a quick chat and a top-up for Prompto's IV. The main difference, Tutella had quickly come realize, with the Progressive Care unit compared to where she'd been earlier was the frequency of nurse rounds.  Even after being moved from Intensive, Prompto was still being closely attended. Kelly said they'd try to be a quiet as they could and suggested Tutella pull her privacy curtain around the bed when she wanted to sleep.

Tutella was in the middle of debating whether to do just that. Though twelve was early to call it a night for her, it'd been a long day and one in which she'd gotten the least sleep since being admitted.  She was tired enough that it took a moment to place the sudden music as a ringtone, longer to register that it was not in fact the phone she was currently playing on that was making the racket.

Prompto's.  She’d ratcheted the ringer up to max volume back when she'd first turned it on. Her own phone clattered to the floor but she ignored it as she lunged, fumbled hurriedly to slam the 'accept' button just as she confirmed the caller ID as 'Prince Narcoleptis' himself.

" —nally!" The voice on the end of the line was already racing on. Sleep-loving he might be, but he sounded wide awake right now.  " I get that you're pissed, but this whole disappearing off the face of Eos? Not cool! Where are you?   And don't you dare say at home, ‘cause guess what, that's where I am, and you sure in the hells aren't!"

It was like a verbal hose set on full blast, the words rapidly pounding against her ear.  It took a moment to catch up, another to interrupt the stream.

"Hey, can you--listen!"

Dead silence suddenly from the other end. She drew a breath to continue, but was again beaten to the punch.   "Who the fuck are you and why do you have Prompto's phone? If you've done anything to him, I'll—"

"Hey! Slow your roll there. Prompto’s..." Tutella's first instinct was to assure him Prompto was fine, but it was so far from the current truth that the words stuck in her throat.  "Prompto's right here with me now, and—"

"Fine, put him on."

"Can't, he's asleep. But if you—"

"Can't you  wake him up?  Or tell me who the fuck you are. Or—"

"—or you could let me get a word in edgewise and I might do so.  I'm starting to think you may actually be more of an entitled little shit than I've been dreading. "

It didn't shut him up quite like she was hoping, but it clearly knocked a lot  the wind out of his sails, if the sudden shift in tone was any indication. A little hesitant and a lot confused. "That you've…I'm…what? Who are you?  

For the first time it sounded like genuine curiosity rather than insistent demand.  The tremor of vulnerability was a surprise as well. She was suddenly reminded that she was talking to not only Prompto's friend, but also a kid . No matter how much the one-sided communication, or lack thereof, that had been going on for the past week had been driving her nuts, it wasn't fair to take it all out on him.

She took a deep breath. "I'm Tutella, Prompto's boss."

"His bo—Prompto doesn't have a boss. He doesn't have a job ."

Tutella winced. Right…she'd been fairly sure Prompto had been keeping that detail from his friend, hated to share a secret that wasn't hers to tell. But…she glanced across the room. The worried frown Prompto had worn as he drifted off had mostly smoothed in slumber, but the tears were still fresh in her memory. 

She knew she was doing what she could for him. But she wasn't his parents or family. Wasn't his best friend.  But she was gambling the kid on the other end of the line still was.

"Look, I don't know what to tell you, don’t really know why he hasn't told you." Though she had her guesses. "But he very much does have a job. He's been working with me for over a year now."

"A year —"

"But," she pushed on, denied his interruption this time, "that's not really important. What's important is last Friday…I don't know if maybe you heard about the fire, at an arcade?" Sure, there hadn't been enough coverage, but there had been some .  And she knew for a fact he and Prompto gamed together, thought it would’ve permeated that circle if nothing else.   

"No…wait, maybe? Down in the refugee district? Some injuries…and didn't…didn't some people die?"  A thread of real panic wove through the question. "Astrals…Prom! Is he—"

"He's alive!" she quickly interjected. "But he's…" She hesitated over how much detail she should give over the phone. Went for reassuring.  "He's doing a lot better than he was. But his parents are MIA—" The decidedly cynical snort was a sentiment she could wholeheartedly get behind. "And well, he could really use a—"

"Where?"

"What?"

"Where is he?"

"Uh, Insomnia East General, Progressive Care. It's late now, but if you have time tomorrow, maybe you could—" Hang up apparently, she finished silently as the dial tone sounded in her ear. Her attempt to call back was once again thwarted by the damn lock screen.

Well, that was…she couldn't decide what that was. Was still debating when Kelly stuck her head in again. "Hey, I thought I heard you talking.  Did he wake up?"

"What? Oh, no, not since earlier. Phone."

Kelly glanced down at her watch. "Late call."

"Yeah…" Tutella thought back on its abrupt end. "And possibly a late visitor as well. A friend of Prompto's."

"Oh," Kelly smiled. "That'd be nice. Not big on late night visits here usually, but…well…" She glanced over at Prompto, expression softening even more. Tutella knew she wasn't the only one who'd both noticed and been bothered by the lack of friends and family; sad for anyone, but fundamentally wrong for a kid so young.  "I'll let 'em know to keep an eye out."

After rescuing her own phone from floor, Tutella tried to go back to the game she'd been playing, but the majority of her attention was out in the hall, listening to every squeak and shuffle as the hospital staff moved about.

In the end she needn't have worried; the rapid patter of feet pounding down the corridor less than a quarter of an hour later was impossible to miss. As was the loud demand for “Prompto Argentum's room."

Tutella heard the start of the nurse's urgent request to keep his voice down, only for it to cut off sharply. The next exchange was frustratingly too quiet for her to make out, but a moment later the door Kelly had only partially closed was slammed wide open.

Tutella opened her mouth to deliver her own reprimand;  it was well past midnight and a lot of people, Prompto not the least of them, were trying to sleep. But her tongue tangled on the first syllable.

Suddenly a slew of question that Tutella had been piling up and carefully stowing for some time now were answered. And a hundred new ones instantly sprung up in their place.

Because--unless Tutella was mistaken, and she had a terrible sinking feeling she was not--crashing into the room with hardly a glance her way, making it to Prompto's bedside his singular focus, was the current heir to the throne and future king of all of Lucis, the Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum himself.

Chapter Text

Tutella blinked. But somehow the tableau before her remained utterly, unbelievably unchanged.

Royalty was something you read about in newspapers, caught glimpses of on TV. Royalty was gossiped about at work and bitched about when grandiose ceremonies or visiting dignitaries created traffic jams and commuter delays.

Royalty was not something that burst into hospital rooms at one in the morning. Royalty did not stand panting for breath, staring fixedly down at the sleeping figure on the bed, hands twitching but refraining from fully reaching out.

Except, apparently, when it was and did.

Movement in her peripheral drew Tutella's eye, Kelly and one of the other nurses crowding into the doorway.  She met their surprised glances with a bewildered shrug of her own, as blindsided by the turn of events as anyone.

"What's his condition?" The sharp question made them collectively jump.

Kelly caught Tutella's eye, head tilted, a silent request for permission. As the accident happened at work and as a minor, Prompto had technically been in the arcade's care. Until such time as his parents or other guardian appeared, Ricky—and Tutella in his absence--were functioning in that capacity.

Tutella gestured the go-ahead. Because she'd been waiting days for someone to show up. And he was Prompto's friend and needed to know. Because despite it being past midnight, he'd still rushed right over. And also: Crown Prince. What was she supposed to say? No?

Said Prince remained quiet, gaze unwavering from Prompto as Kelly began. No sign he was even listening but for the subtle tightening of his shoulders with each subsequent addition to the list: concussion, cracked ribs, partially collapsed lung, fractured hip, minor burns, bruises, scrapes and of course all the complications of smoke inhalation.

The exhale of relief was audible, however, when Kelly got to the part that Prompto had awoken and that initial signs pointed to a good chance of recovery.  Though it would take time. And support.

Tutella didn't miss the subtle emphasis Kelly placed on the final words. Nor did the Prince, if the returned tension to his hunched frame was any indication.  But he offered no response, save to take the last half-step forward, sinking to sit on the edge of the bed, hand finally finishing its reach to gently grasp Prompto's limp one.

And then nothing further.  After a minute or two passed unchanged, Tutella glanced back over to the nurses, who seemed to be in the middle of a hushed-but-growing-louder argument until finally, "Well, maybe we should call someone…" came across loud and clear.

Tutella fought a sudden burst of edging-on-hysterical laughter.  Who do you call? Security? Ah, yes, hello, the Prince has invaded my room, can you…remove him? Remove me? Offer an impromptu etiquette lesson?

"No." Regal command thrummed in the single word, halting the nurses’ frantic discussion and Tutella's rapidly deteriorating composure.  "You're not going to call anyone." He had yet to move, focus locked on Prompto's still-too pale visage. But even three-quarters turned away, Tutella still caught his grimace.

"Just—" The rigidness left his shoulders all at once, slumping down, voice dropping. "I need a little time to…Look, they'll be along soon enough, so, let me stay like this for a bit? "

It was as if two young men inhabited the same space, wavering between royal assurance--the second highest authority in the land--and an ordinary distressed teen, heartsick with worry for his friend.  Tutella wondered which it was that finally swayed the nurses as they withdrew with a quiet, "Of course, your highness. Buzz if you need anything ."

Kelly's last quick glance as she pulled the door closed behind her made it clear that offer included Tutella. Which was a glimmer of comfort as she was left alone with just the Prince and a still slumbering Prompto.

Alone…it finally registered what the nurses had been going on about.  Wasn't royalty supposed to come accompanied by…like, an entourage? Advisors and counsel and security.

"But… someone knows where you are, right?" Tutella hadn't exactly meant for that to be the first thing she said to the Prince. And then recalled that it wasn't, in fact, because that had been calling him a little shit right to his face…to his ear. Whoops. Did the fact she didn't know the identity of who she was addressing at the time make it any less…treasonous?

The glare he finally turned to shoot her, ninety percent disgusted impatience with that ten percent niggling guilt, translated to a hard no in teenage boy speak. Years of arcade work had granted her a fair level of fluency.

So…in all of Lucis, Tutella and two nurses were the only ones who knew where their crown prince was at. Great, no way in which that could backfire tremendously.

Meanwhile the Prince's piercing stare continued to rake her over. "You were the one on the phone. His…boss." He seemed to nearly choke on the last word.

"Tutella. Yup…yes, that'd be me. Your highness," she tacked on for good measure.  Was she supposed to keep her eyes averted? Or even address him directly?

"Why are you sharing his room?" Eyes narrowed, suspicious.  Oh yes, pissing off royalty had definitely been on her agenda for this evening.  "I saw plenty of empty ones in this hall alone."

She shrugged, resisted the urge to shy away, seek cover from the burning glare."First time he woke up was to just hospital staff. And it's not like I have anywhere else to be." She gestured down to her leg. The cast made her overheat so she kept sticking the injured limb out from under the covers. "So I thought it'd be less lonely for him, to have at least one familiar face around. Your highness."

"Oh," He wilted once more at that, the fight draining away. He turned back to Prompto. She could see his thumb running slow circles over the back of the hand he still held.  "You said over the phone it'd been a fire. But his injuries…yours…what exactly happened?"

Tutella took a deep breath before beginning. She stuck to the basic facts, keeping it as clinical as possible because the last thing she needed was to have a full breakdown in front of the prince.  She'd already blundered into enough faux pas already without even trying.

When she got to the part about Prompto heading back not once but twice to rescue others, the prince scrubbed a hand over his face, heaved a deep sigh. "Of course he did. Reckless heroic idiot . " Both fondness and pride suffused each word.

"Yeah." She sighed. "But…he doesn't know yet…that the last guy he went back for, that's when the roof came down.  They barely made it to Prompto in time…but Tulmus…" She shook her head, throat suddenly tight. "…Prompto'll be devastated."

From what she could see of his face, the Prince's frown had grown.  "Did…did Prom know him well, this Tulmus?"

"Not particularly. But he's been a regular for years, at least as long as Prompto's been coming, probably longer." It wasn't going to be the same. Then again, that was going to be true of a lot of things, regardless of how much she was currently avoiding that thought.

"Years?" The prince's latest question was a more-than-welcome interruption to her own spiraling thoughts. "I thought…didn't you say something about having the job for only a year?"

"Prompto started working for us a little over a year ago.  But he's been frequenting the arcade since before I started working there, which was…man, almost eight years ago now."

"I…see." His tone suggested anything but. His brow was furrowed, lip being worried over, face scrunched in hard thought as if tackling some great riddle. "He's…never mentioned it."

Tutella could see the wheels turning, but towards what end she couldn't be sure; whether it would be better to spin them harder or apply a brake was unclear.  So she waited. Thankfully not for long.

"I guess…that makes sense, though." The prince blew a frustrated snort, turned back to face her. "Because he's never mentioned me, has he? On the phone, you didn't know who you were talking to…and when he woke up, he never asked for you to contact me, did he? Has just kept me separate, like I’m not even a part of his real—shit."

She'd only known him for a few minutes, outside of magazine spreads and news programs, but she was confident that the seemingly emotionless façade the Prince’s expression hardened into was in truth the exact opposite.

"I think I've…been mistaken." He released Prompto's hand, pushed abruptly to his feet. "I should probably go."

"Oh hells no." Tutella's mouth was off and running long before her brain caught up. "Sit your ass back down."

“Uh, what…” He froze, eyes wide. "But…I mean, he probably doesn’t even want me here—"

"Sit. Down." Amazingly he did as told, meekly settling back on the bed's edge. Which was around the time her brain finally caught up and loudly reminded her just who she was addressing. "Er…thank you…your highness."  

He stared wide-eyed, confusion evident.  She took the pause to gather her thoughts, cleared her throat.  "Before we address anything else, that last one? Not wanting you here?" An image of slow tears rolling down Prompto's cheeks flashed across her memory. "I can say pretty confidently that is the farthest thing from the truth."

Skepticism replaced mystification, but he didn't interrupt, so she pushed on.

"Has Prompto ever mention that he knew the Crown Prince? I can without a doubt say that no, that has never come up. " She held up her hand even as his mouth opened. " However , was I aware he had a friend he spent most of his free time hanging out with, who he texted at all hours and whose messages never failed to crack him up? Then yes, I've known about your existence for quite some time."

The expression shift was small, but she was pretty sure she read relief there. Still questions, still some doubt. But the relief was the most dominant.  Gaining confidence, she continued. "Now, as to why he's never told you about the arcade and all that, I can't be certain. But I have some guesses. You met at the start of high school, right? So—"

"No."

The single quiet denial derailed her just as she was sinking into the groove. "Oh?"

The prince shrugged, glanced back and down to Prompto. "I mean…that's when we started hanging out. But we actually went to elementary school together.   I even thought for a time we might—“ He cut himself off with a sharp head shake. “But in the end we barely spoke. And now he acts like we never even met back then. I mean, sure he changed a lot in those three years, but not enough to not recognize him." Eyes still on his friend, the prince's lips twitched in a small smile. "I mean, he's kinda memorable, y'know?"

Tutella found her own smile blossoming, because yeah, he really kind of was.  Though that revelation did bring up a myriad of other memories to reassess when given the opportunity. For now, though…back to the argument at hand.

"But high school was when you really began to hang out, yeah? It was at that same time he stopped coming to our arcade.  Which means he wasn't keeping anything from you, not at first. I mean, you must have known he'd frequented some arcade, where else was he gonna pick up all those mad skillz?"

Unless he'd been keeping that from the Prince too? Maybe downplaying his abilities so as to not outshine his royalness…

But no, that didn't sound like the Prompto she knew, and sure enough, the Prince's smile had grown a bit further.  "Yeah, I guess we always talked about which games we'd played, not where we'd played them."

"Exactly. Prompto only came back when sixteen rolled around and he found himself in immediate need of a job."

And the frown was back. " Needed? What happened at sixteen--?" While the calculation was still pending, the prince’s hand crept back to once more entwine itself with Prompto's. Tutella saw the moment he finished adding two and two together and got foster kid reality. "Astrals, his parents really do just suck."

"Yes," she agreed dryly. "That is becoming more and more abundantly clear."

"Still, I don't see why he couldn't just tell me. I mean…shit." The growl of frustration was heartfelt.  "He's been working at night, hasn't he?" Before she could confirm he was plowing on, "He has to have been, it’s the only time I don't regularly see him. This past year, he started dozing off in class almost as much as me…said I must be contagious. Fuck."

His distress was unquestionably genuine. And while upsetting royalty was its own kind of new and special stress-inducing insanity, there was a part of her wholeheartedly relieved at the show of awareness and concern.

"And if you had known, what would you have done?" she finally ventured.

"Helped him, obviously!" he exploded, free hand slapping agitatedly on his thigh.  

"Uh-huh. And," she prodded gently, "knowing Prompto, how would that have gone over?" Because unless he acted completely different with the prince than everyone else…

As if punctured by a pin, he deflated, the fight fizzling out with a drawn-out sigh. "He would have done everything to refuse it. So instead…"

She nodded. "He doesn't even mention it. "

"…sounds about right." He glanced back at Prompto, before meeting her eyes once more, expression rueful. "Guess you know him pretty well, huh?"

She risked a grin. "Had a long time to observe."

"And did you observe that he can be fucking frustrating?" But the fondness was back full-force.

"As you say…your highness."

The prince shook his head, offered an absentminded wave. "Not needed."

It was Tutella's turn to blink, confused. "Pardon?"

"I prefer Noctis."

*****

It became quickly apparent the Prince…Noctis—because, sure, just call him by his given name, that wasn't at all intimidating—intended to stick around for the long haul. On her next rounds, Kelly arrived with a chair—one that looked a great deal more comfortable than any of the others Tutella had experienced in the past few days here—and tucked it back on the other side of the bed, out of the line of traffic for the nurses as they did their frequent check-ins.

The prin—Noctis—barely made use of this extravagant comfort, scooting forward to the very edge of the seat, entire upper body draped over the bed, head pillowed on his crossed arms. He watched, eagle-eyed, as Kelly made a few adjustments, looked over all the readings. After she left, his stare continued, intently cataloging every scrape and bruise visible.

Meanwhile, Tutella was rifling through her memory, reviewing and reevaluating every conversation in which Prompto’s ‘just a classmate’, oh-so-normal, not-at-all-noteworthy friend had come up.

The silence finally dragged on long enough that Tutella’s curiosity bubbled up and eventually spilled over into verbalization."Um…do you…Can I ask you something, your highne---er…Noctis?"

His eyes broke off their perusal briefly to glance at her before flicking back. He offered a shrug which Tutella took as permission.

“…were you really texting in the middle of the Invokement ceremony?”

It took a moment to register, perhaps too out of left field. Then he groaned, dropped his head to shield his face momentarily before looking back up sharply, stricken. “Please tell me you weren’t the one who wanted to climb Gladio like a tree?”

Tutella coughed, her turn to be surprised. “Uh…no.”

He settled back, looking relieved. Fleetingly. Then: “Wait…not the thing about Specs then?”

Tutella couldn’t be sure as to the identity of ‘Specs’ but between the suggestion of glasses and now knowing Prompto had shared Rosa’s comment, she could hazard an educated guess.... She fought a blush. “I can’t believe he told you that…” she offered her own moan. Betrayed, so betrayed.

Noctis looked to be sharing the sentiment. “Why do you think I started choking?! There I am, minding my own business—”

“…texting, in the middle of a ceremony—”

“A six - hour ceremony. And I wasn’t texting, I’d just been fiddling with King’s Knight when Prom’s message came in. And like…he never texts me when he knows I have official stuff, so of course I’m gonna open it, what if it was an emergency or something. Instead I’m faced with disturbingly graphic stick figures illustrating overheard conversations and—”

“Wait, what? He drew it?” Tutella was caught between indignation and laughter.

Noctis nodded woefully. “And then I wind up getting my phone taken away for a week…not to mention making an ass of myself in front of oh, just the entire country!”

Tutella was pretty sure cracking up at your future monarch’s misfortune was a decided no-no but she couldn’t help herself. “He did say something about payback…”

Noctis looked further aggrieved. “My last prank only got him in trouble with a single teacher…and that had been an accident! So I happened to mix up his study period and history class--”

“'Accident'. Suuure.” Tutella offered all the skepticism that statement was owed; she’d been involved in—or attempted to strenuously avoid—enough of her own share of prank wars to know how likely that was.

“Whole. Country. On national TV!”

“So,” she grinned conspiratorially, “you must be planning something really good in return…”

But surprisingly his expression fell, face closed off. “…yeah. Only that backfired spectacularly.” He sighed, reached forward to brush an errant strand of hair off of Prompto’s pale face. “I don’t know if he mentioned it…or well, you had his phone, so maybe you saw. But before this happened, we kinda…he and I…”

She saved him the further struggle. “Had your first real fight?”

Biting his lip, Noctis bunched his shoulders again. Nodded once.  “So he told you.”

“More like he arrived an hour early for his shift in an uncharacteristically foul mood and I made it my business to pry it out of him.”

“Oh…” He trailed off and Tutella waited, curious how much he would elaborate given the space to do so.

Quite a bit, as it turned out.  She found herself wondering just how long Noctis had been wanting and waiting to unburden himself.

“I’d only meant to surprise him…okay, yes, give him a bit of scare.  As revenge. He so had it coming! But when I jumped off the roof I didn’t actually think he’d follow me!"

"Wait, what?!"

Noctis shrugged. "Okay, fine, not quite, but he did lean far enough over that when I popped back up he ended up falling. So like, close enough to amount to the same thing, right?"

Tutella could feel herself going a bit bug-eyed. "Hang on. Go back to you jumping off the roof?!"

"Just for a bit. I had it covered." He waved it aside like it was nothing. Her sympathy for Prompto had already been high; now it was off the charts. But Noctis was still going on, oblivious. "The real problem was I just didn't know he was that scared of heights."

Right. That was the problem. But she bit her tongue, left him to go on.

"…I mean, we’d been up on the roof dozens of times before, I just had never noticed how much he avoided the edge. And then he just...flipped out, started yelling. And I…I…well….”

“Were surprised, off-balanced, and got defensively angry in return?” she suggested wryly.

Noctis nodded, hung his head. “…unfortunately, yeah…” he agreed glumly.

“Well…in his defense, not only did you give him a heart attack, you broke his camera, so—”

“Right, shit—” He pushed himself fully sitting, shoved a hand into the oversized front pocket of his hoodie. “Almost forgot.” Noctis pulled out what looked an awful lot like Prompto’s camera. But whole and unbroken. He stared down at it.

“They couldn’t repair his…but we were able to at least retrieve the memory card. He said I couldn’t just expect to fix all my problems with money.” He looked up at Tutella, face troubled. “Which, I don’t. Or don’t mean to. But…I didn’t know what else to do. I mean, it was my fault it got broken, I should replace it, right? I know that doesn’t make it okay, I do…but—” His hands flexed around the camera, opening and closing anxiously.

She opened her mouth, whether to reassure or break down the problem further, she had yet to fully decide, when he stiffened, expression stricken, cutting her off.

“Wait, before…did you say Prom showed up early for his shift?”

“Uh…” she began shuffling back through the recent conversation. “Yeah, he—”

But he was already plowing on. “Was that…if he hadn’t, does that mean he would have missed the fire? Was he only there at that time because—shit, was it my fault he—”

“Woooah, slow down.” Tutella threw up a hand to stop the rush that had the makings of a full-blown panic attack.  “Your highness—Noctis, look at me.” She waited until he dragged his eyes up. “Yes, it is true that if Prompto had arrived at the normal time, the building would have already been rubble. But—” She cut off whatever further tangent he was intending to sprint down. “Who’s to say if events would have played out differently. Prompto might have come earlier anyways even if you hadn’t argued.” Unlikely, but it had been known to happen. “Or maybe the fire would have sparked at a different time. Or…”

She trailed off, wishing she hadn’t thought it even as it popped into her head.

“Or?” he prompted. Tutella’s mouth felt dry, words stuck.  The exact cause of the fire was still in question, no matter how certain she was in her own heart. She wasn’t yet ready to voice the possibility that maybe whoever had set it was waiting for Prompto to show up. He and Rosa were the only two current workers at the Arcade who were or could be mistaken for a ‘Nif.’ Maybe whoever these fuckers were, considering their earlier targets, that might have factored in.

She shook her head. “Look, we can’t focus on the ‘what ifs’, they’re just that…’ifs’, unrealized possibilities. What we do know is there are several kids who very likely would be dead if Prompto wasn’t there. That’s what you need to focus on. And on the fact that he’s still with us, and with proper support and care—”

“Which he’s damn well going to get.” The snarl was quiet, but fervent. Determined. She nodded her approval.

“He’s gonna get better. So…” She glanced about for anything to distract, get the conversation back on more optimistic notes, and her eyes came to rest on the camera Noctis still clasped. “How ‘bout we focus on that—you can tell me how in the world you got him to accept that as a present in the first place?”

Noctis followed her gaze, a slow smile creeping back to transform his troubled expression. “So it’s not just me, huh? That he balks at receiving stuff from.”

“Nooope. And believe me, both Ricky and I, several of the others, we’ve all tried. No dice. So what’s the secret?”

“Well, I pointed out that it was a gift for both this year and last, as he had conveniently not mentioned when his birthday was until like a good two months past. And an early Invokement gift as well, since I knew he’d try to get out of that too.”

“And that worked?”

Noctis shook his head sheepishly. “Not even a little. He was in the middle of explaining how it was way too nice for him to accept for something as ‘unimportant’ as his birthday.” His tone had gone almost bitter. “But then Specs calmly interjects with--” Noctis dropped his voice, over-articulated each word as he began to clearly quote: “’That is unfortunate, as you are the only one his highness will sit for photographs of late and thus his father was hoping to commission you for an official portrait. But of course only the best of equipment will do…’ And really, what’s Prom gonna say to that?”

Noctis’s father…in other words, the King. Poor Prompto. “Yeeah, low blow there.”

He shrugged, smirk re-emerging. “Probably. But…it worked.”

*******

They continued to chat quietly, broken only by the nurses rounds, meandering from one topic to the next, centering around their common point of reference still snoozing away beside them.

Eventually Tutella found herself yawning, eyes a fight to keep open. Glancing over, she realized Noctis had already succumbed, face obscured by the fall of his hair as he’d come to rest with his head pressed against Prompto’s arm. The even rise and fall of his back as his breathing transitioned into sleep was the only motion.  

Taking that as her cue, Tutella eased herself from her own bed, hobbled as quietly as was possible on her casted leg to the bathroom to give her teeth a quick brush and use the facilities.  She tucked herself back under the covers, shifted to get comfortable and was just dimming the lights when a slight glimmer caught her attention.

Prompto, eyes half-open, blinked at her through the faint glow of the remaining medical equipment. She flicked the lights back on to low. “Hey kiddo, back with us?”

He nodded, cleared his throat weakly. “I-I guess..”

She smiled. “Emphasis on the us.”  His vacant look spoke volumes about his lack of comprehension. She nodded to his other side, let her grin grow.

Brow furrowed, Prompto fought to turn his head to follow her gesture, even that effort clearly taxing. It was obvious the moment the sight of Noctis—still sound asleep, one arm having slowly wormed its way up and over Prompto’s waist—registered. Prompto’s eyes went saucer-round.

“N’ct?” He managed to slur. Tutella was debating what she could safely throw to wake Prince Charming when she was saved; Prompto’s surprised gurgle, accompanied by a frantic shifting, slight in his weakened state but still enough to do the trick.

“Wha…? I’m up…I’m—Prompto!” Noctis was instantly as alert as if he’d imbibed an entire Ebony in one gulp. “You’re awake! You’re—how are you feeling? Are you—”

Prompto’s brow had yet to unfurl, forehead terrain grown rougher if anything. “Noct? You’re here?”

“Of course. Would have been here a lot sooner except someone neglected to mention this whole job thing!”

Though Prompto’s range of motion was severely limited, he still had enough to hunch down, crestfallen. “Oh…right…sorry.…” It was a strain to hear the soft apology. After a beat, it was followed by a hesitant, “Are you mad?”

“No. Not even a little,” came Noctis’s rejoinder without a pause. But then he faltered, voice lowered. “Are you?...’Cause, I mean, you totally have a right to be. I was a total dick and I understand if you--“

But Prompto was shaking his head…or at least Tutella was fairly sure that was what the slight back-and-forth rocking against his pillow was meant to be. “No, n-not mad, not anymore.” He could only rasp out the last word, immediately started to cough.

Noctis was in motion before Tutella had even fully registered, jumping up to fill the cup the nurse had left, holding the straw carefully so Prompto barely had to tilt his head to sip at it. After a couple swallows he closed his eyes, turned away slightly.

“Do you need anything else? I can call the nurse, or…” But Prompto’s soft “Noct” had him trailing off. “Yeah?”

Prompto seemed to steel himself, forced his eyes back open to dart a look up at Noctis, then over at Tutella, before focusing down on his shirt.  “Are we…are we still friends?”

The prince was a statue of alabaster and obsidian, not even a breath for motion, grey eyes blown wide in surprise. And then he was a ball of furious movement once more, practically throwing himself back to Prompto’s side. “What? Of course we’re still friends! Why wouldn’t we be friends? That wasn’t even on the table!” And then he stopped again, as if plowed headfirst into an invisible wall. “Unless…you don’t want to be friends anymore?”

Prompto’s exhale was unmissable in the suddenly silent room. His smile was watery when it emerged, but genuine, the real one, rare and blazing. “Nn. Not a bit. Best friends.”

Noctis started breathing again,  soft grin appearing to match Prompto’s. "Best friends." He agreed, leaning forward, once more reclaiming Prompto’s hand. With his other hand, the prince reached up to begin slowly, comfortingly, carding fingers through Prompto’s hair.

Prompto gradually began to blink: once, twice, then his eyes fell fully shut. Within moments he was dead to the world once more. Noctis left both his hands right where they were.

Tutella watched for a few more moments, feeling more settled than she had since that first whiff of smoke. She was debating whether third time would be the charm in attempting sleep for the night when a noisy jingle that sounded a lot like the King’s Knight battle theme started blaring from across the room.

Prompto didn’t even twitch, but Noctis sighed, untangled his hand from Prompto’s hair long enough to wrestle a phone from his pocket. “Didn’t realize it was that late,” he muttered as he thumbed on speaker and tossed the phone onto the bedspread before reaching up to continue the slow strokes.

“Yeah, Specs, what’s up?”

To Be Continued…

Chapter Text

“Yeah, Specs, what’s up?”

"You, apparently," came the crisp, dry response from the other end of the line. With a touch of what sounded like sardonic, barely suppressed annoyance. Noctis's earlier impression really had been spot on. "Imagine my surprise upon arriving at your apartment to find you not only up and awake, but also gone .  A particularly fascinating feat seeing as your locator still puts you squarely in your bedroom.  Care to explain?"

"Right, so…Prompto figured out how to hack my tracker a while ago. So I can tweak my location when I need to…"

"Did he now?" For three short words, they were rendered remarkably threatening.  Tutella fought the urge to groan. Oh Prompto, sure, lets just futz around with the Prince's security devices, no biggie.  Across the room, she could just make out Noctis's nervous swallow.

"But, uh, I've only done it a handful of times, I swear."

A moment of silence that held a distinct note of disbelief. And then: "And your current whereabouts?"

Noctis squared his shoulders, clutched Prompto's hand a bit tighter and opened his mouth.

There came a muffled comment from the other end of the line, someone else speaking in the background. 'Specs' cut back in before Noctis had a chance to get a syllable out, his tone suddenly a lot more urgent. "Is this updated data correct, you're at East General Hospital?"

Noctis grimaced.  "Yeah, but I'm—"

"What's your condition? Do we need—"

"Ignis!" Sudden silence in response to the barked name. "I'm fine .  I’m not here for me, I'm here for Prompto."

"I see."

"No, no I really don't think you do." The bitter laugh held a touch of hysteria, sounding a lot like lingering panic and alarm from earlier in the night. "He's been here almost a week! A week . And I wasn't, because I thought he was avoiding me, cause I was giving him 'space.' Because I'm a crap friend who hadn't even realized he'd had a job for the past year.  A job he almost died at. And I might never have known without breaking the stupid rules.  So no, you really don't see. But you might when you realize that I have no fucking intention of leaving here.  School, training and meetings be damned!" Noctis kept his voice low throughout, presumably in deference to Prompto still sleeping soundly beside him, but he was nearly panting by the end, and the expression he wore was hard, determined.

Tutella thought she heard a quiet sigh from the speaker, but couldn't be sure. The "Understood" was clear enough though. Followed by a clipped "We'll be there shortly," before the distinct beep of a call being hung up.

Noctis huffed a sigh of his own, glared down at the now-silent phone. But neither hand relinquished its contact with Prompto.  After a moment he glanced up, shot Tutella an apologetic look. "Sorry, looks like you're gonna be further invaded tonight…err…this morning, really, I guess, seeing as it's almost 6."

Tutella shrugged, fought off a yawn. "No worries."  What was she going to say? No, your highness , I'd rather you and they didn't? And even if it wasn't royalty she was talking to, she couldn't find it in herself to resent the intrusion, not when it meant Prompto wouldn't be getting abandoned any time soon.

*****

Despite the 'invasion' arriving less than thirty minutes later, Tutella and Noctis had both been dozing off once more. They jerked awake as the door shoved open, two men striding determinedly in, two men she easily recognized from news and TV appearances, always in attendance with the Prince.

Tutella's sleep-addled mind couldn't help the first thought that crossed it being, Rosa's right, you really could just full-on climb him, and what an adventure that'd be! Followed swiftly by, no matter how good slim, prim and proper 'Specs' had looked on TV, the camera did not in fact do him justice.

Her third thought was to remember she was in a hospital gown and hadn't slept in almost a day.  She found herself hunching down in the bed, hiking the covers higher.

Fortunately for her, both of their focus was entirely on the far side of the room, at the Prince blearily blinking up at them.

"If your goal was to scare the shit out of us, congrats. Success." That from the big guy.

Noctis just scoffed. "It's really not a big deal."

Tutella just managed to suppress her own groan, kept the 'C'mon, read the room' comment internal.  The other two didn't bother, a loud huffed 'tut' coinciding exactly with a disbelieving snort.

"Noct—"

"I'm fine,"  Noctis plowed on, runaway locomotive sans brakes plunging down a steep grade. "The same can't be said of Prom, however. So if you're not here for him you can turn right the hells back around."

There was a beat of silence, then a gruff, "How bad is it?"

Noctis's determined masked cracked, the worry glimmering through. "Not great. Though better than earlier this week, apparently.  It'd probably be more helpful to get the details right from the doctor. Maybe there's something more we can even do for him…I know a potion’s probably off the table at this late date, but I don't know. Something. And while you're finding that out, Tutella and I can get back to trying to catch a bit of sleep before he wakes up again. "

"Tutella…?" Following Noctis's nod in her direction, she suddenly found herself faced with the full force of twin looks of intense inquisition.  

She lifted one had out from under the covers to offer a small wave. "Hi…?"

Glasses-wearing hottie--Ignis, she was pretty sure that's what the Prince had called him over the phone--cleared his throat. "Pardon our intrusion. Are you—"

Before she had to formulate a proper, hopefully coherent response to whatever his inquiry was going to be, Noctis jumped in again.

"She's Prompto's boss. And she's been looking out for him this week." The unspoken 'when I failed to' came through loud and clear in the bitterness of his tone. "And she's probably as tired as I am, seeing as we've both been up the whole night. So…"

Tutella tried to summon a smile, offered a 'He said it, not me' sheepish shrug.  The big guy rolled his eyes. Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose, let out a slow breath before glancing back at his charge.

"You'd no doubt sleep more comfortably in a bed of your own. "

The look of defiance as Noctis hunkered down further in his chair, his grip visibly tightening on Prompto's hand, screamed 'Wanna bet?'

The big guy shifted slightly, just enough to draw Ignis's eye. The two men shared a moment of silent communication, though communicating what Tutella couldn't be sure.  But from the satisfied smirk that settled on Noctis's face, she had a feeling he'd won this round.

They both left shortly after, though the big guy said he'd be back as soon as he hunted down another chair.  Ignis would in the meantime be hunting down the doctor…as well as Prompto' s parents, apparently, as Noctis tasked him with just as they were exiting.

‘Good luck with that,’ Tutella wanted to shout. But hey, with the resources of the Crown behind him, he probably would have better luck. With that buoying thought to help carry her, the journey into sleep was a swift one.

*****

She'd pulled the privacy curtain before drifting off; it had been late enough that morning sunshine had already started brightening the room. She couldn't be sure how many hours she'd been out, but even with the drape pulled, the light of the room beyond suggested full daylight.

She could make out muffled voices—no doubt what woke her.

"That's it. Small sips." It was the deeper voice of the big guy, she hadn't caught his name earlier. Something Amicitia presumably, if he was the Prince's Shield. Prompto's soft, rasped “Thanks, Gladio” informed her moments later.

"No problem, blondie. Anything else you need? Noct'd probably want me to wake him, but—"

"No!" came Prompto's quick rejoinder. "Let him sleep."

"Good plan."

Nothing further for a bit, and Tutella wondered if Prompto'd already dropped off again, prepared to do the same herself.

Then: "I don't suppose…"

"What'd ya need?"

"…The doctors…were kinda vague. About everything that happened. I was wondering if you knew more?"

Tutella winced.  As much as she wanted to spare Prompto the pain of knowing  just how bad things went down, she remembered how much the not-knowing had driven herself insane. She debated hauling herself up, spilling it all right now; weighed it against the siren call of a few more hours of sleep to fortify her before that conversation.

Unaware of her silent dilemma, Gladio did as best he could. "I'll be honest, kid, only know the barest of details myself. "

"Oh….well. Um…d'y'know if they've been caught, at least?"

Tutella froze at the question, mouth gone dry. Shit, of course he'd want to know— need to know that.

"Who?"

"The guys…who started it?"

"Started what?"

Prompto let out a growl of frustration. "The fire. The guys who started it, were they arrested?"

"Uh…" Even before he'd gone further, the obvious uncertainty was damning. His words just sealed the deal. "I thought…wasn't it an accident?"

"What? No! Is that what…but…if—that means they're still out there!" The first panicked hitch in Prompto's breathing had Tutella throwing herself up, grabbing for the curtain. He was already clearly starting to hyperventilate by the time she'd hauled it aside. "W-what—what if they hurt someone—else?" He barely squeaked the final word out, breathing becoming rapid.

Noctis had been awoken by the commotion, threw himself up onto the bed to wedge himself beside Prompto, rubbing his shoulder and cajoling him to “Breathe, just breathe—Gladio, what did you do?! —it's okay, deep breaths.”

Gladio himself had leaped from his chair only to halt, standing frozen by the foot of the bed, a bewildered look painting his features while he shook his head in denial or just confusion.

Tutella reached back, slapped the 'call' button.  The nurses came rushing into the room moments later, with the doctor as well as Ignis close on their heels.

By the time things quieted down once more and the medical staff retreated after a stern reminder not to stress him like that, Prompto was out again—just asleep, the doctor assured.

The door had barely closed on the last nurse’s heel when the Prince pounced on his Shield—verbally only. Physically, he remained almost completely still, as he was still squeezed next to Prompto on the bed, and the latter had fallen back to sleep using Noctis's side as a pillow.

"Seriously, what the hells was that?! What did you say to him?"

Gladio shook his head. "I'm honestly not sure. But," and suddenly Tutella had his undivided attention. "I’m hoping you might have an idea? Because while I can't say I've discovered much in the last few hours, everything I read definitely said it was an accident…"

And like that she had all their focus.  Joy.

" That's what set him off?" Noctis jumped in before she could formulate her response. "It wasn't an accident? Are you saying someone did this to him?" And then it was a very pissed-off focus.  Even better.

Tutella drew a deep breath.  "The authorities have determined it to be an accident…"

"But?" Gladio's tone left no room to dodge.  Which meant she had to straight up say that she was pretty sure 'the authorities' had made a mistake…or were outright lying. The authorities who worked for the government, which meant, indirectly or directly, they worked for the Crown.  Whose son she had to say it to. No sweat. Really.

"There were some…ah, factors that make us question it."

"Like?" The Prince, this time. It was so nice to see they were all such a united front.

Or maybe not entirely, as Ignis spoke up. "I'm assuming this has something to do with the rise in unrest seen in that district in the last six months.  Particularly the surge of tension in the past week?"

"Unrest," she rolled the word around in her mouth, fought not to spit it out along with the sour taste it created. "That's one way of putting it."

"What does that mean?"  Noctis was clearly losing hold on what little patience he'd been maintaining.

Tutella sighed.  If she was going for it, might as well go all the way. "It means us immigrants and refugees aren’t the most welcome of neighbors.  And with the upswing in Imperial movement and machinations, anything that can be even remotely associated or even just mistakenly related to Niflheim has been targeted. This wasn't the first incident this year.  Astrals, it's not even the first fire .  We've all been on edge.  But between the fact the building had only just passed inspection, the sprinkler system mysteriously 'malfunctioning', and only the most perfunctory of investigations happening before it was all written off, I think we have a right to be suspicious. Not to mention…"

She trailed off.  She was less sure of the last part, and the fire inspector who'd talked to her had immediately dismissed it, said the fire had just been moving rapidly, and they'd probably just been 'confused' in their 'panic.'

"Not to mention what?" Noctis’s glare helped loosen her tongue.

"Right after the alarm had kicked on, both Prompto and I swore the fires had broken out at two separate places, on the far sides of the arcade from each other.  Awful big coincidence for an 'accident'."

Ignis adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat. "And I'm guessing this is the common sentiment of those and their families who were in attendance the night of?"

"I mean…I haven't talked to most of them personally…" Tutella shrugged, thought about the updates Ricky, her uncle, and to a lesser extent her parents and cousins kept sending her about the ongoing protests. "But yeah, I'm pretty sure it's the majority."

"I'm guessing you've heard something on this, Ignis?" Gladio asked.

"I had not heard it connected with this incident specifically, but there have been reports this week of several occurrences between crowds and police down in the refugee quarter." 'Occurrences.' Riiight. Tutella fought an eye-roll as he went on. "It’s not exactly my department, so I'd only seen the briefest of mentions, but—"

"—but you're going to find out more. Right?" Noctis’s voice wasn't particularly loud, or even angry. But there was a levelness to it, an unnatural stillness that hinted at a deeper well of danger.  The rather normal, if a tad awkward, worried, at times unsure teenager he had been presenting as for the past few hours had allowed Tutella to mostly forget that he was also the heir to the Lucian throne.  A throne that now and always had served not just as rulers, but as the nation's greatest protectors. Its finest, fiercest warriors. The look he wore now came as a sharp reminder.

Ignis bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. "It's going to the top of the list."

"Speaking of, where are you at with Prom's parents?" Noct asked.

"Still working on it." Ignis held up his hand before the Prince could start further grousing. "It has only been a few hours.  I assure you, we'll see results soon. In the meantime, might I suggest a bit more sleep?"

In truth, now that the adrenaline had begun to wear off, the sleepiness was definitely returning.  A glance at the clock showed they'd in fact only been resting for a few hours. Tutella glanced over at Noctis. It looked like another protest or maybe just a question was on his lips, but after a minute he too gave in.  Barely shifting, keeping Prompto resting right where he was, the Prince slipped down a bit until he was more fully supine before letting his eyes immediately drift shut.

Tutella watched for a minute more before nodding to the other two men and following suit.

*******

Her phone was ringing.  It took a moment for it to pierce her sleep, another for Tutella to grope for the bedside table and drag it over.  

Ricky. She hit answer before it fully registered where she was.  Hospital room…her shared room. Shit. Across, Prompto and Noctis were both still asleep, the former almost entirely hidden from view by the Prince wrapped around him.  Of Gladio and Ignis there was no sign.

Considering her ringer hadn't made either slumberer even twitch, she wasn't too worried. But she still kept her voice soft as she answered."Hey, Ricky, what's up?"

"Tutella, good. Glad I reached you. Now, I don't mean to worry you—" Always the surefire words to do just that. She felt her heart rate immediately kick up. "--but I thought it would be best to give you a heads-up in case anyone stops by there as well."

"What happened?"

"Nothing…yet." Ricky's voice was low but rapid; in the background she could hear the sounds of other conversations. "Or at least I hope nothing. Your uncle is of course already writing this off as some grand conspiracy but…I don't know.  Maybe I'm just being 'naively optimistic' like he says, but this feels different."

Tutella fought down the urge to shout, mindful of the lucky bastards still sound asleep. "Ricky, I have no idea what you're talking about.  Maybe start again from the top?"

A deep breath from the other end of the line. "Right, sorry.  A couple hours ago, some members of the Crownsguard , of all things, show up at my office, wanting to go over details of the fire. Soon as they leave—with the warning that they'll most likely be back with follow-up questions after they inspect the arcade remains—I start getting calls. Turns out they're canvasing the whole neighborhood, talked to a number of the kids that were there already.  Now, like I said, your uncle's convinced it can only be bad news—worse news—some kinda Crown cover up or something, but—"

"Yeeeah. Um, question," Tutella interjected. Glanced around the room, confirming the conspicuous absences. "Of the guys who came, did one of them happen to be wearing glasses, light hair, nice suit and…"

Tutella trailed off as the door clicked open. Registered Ricky's hesitant negative just as the man in question strolled in, coffee can in hand.  Nodding silently to her, he made his way over to one of the empty chairs, gestured briefly as if to say 'Go on, don't mind me.'

She cleared her throat, changed course. "Never mind. What about a big guy, scar over one eye and—"

"Yes," Ricky jumped in. "That was one of them. Damn, did they already bother you? I was hoping—"

"—No, no. Well, not exactly." Tutella looked up, found Ignis's eyes on her.  "But your instincts are as good as ever. Pretty sure they're on our side." Another brief nod, then Ignis went back to whatever he was doing on his phone. Tutella turned her full focus back to Ricky.  "Or, well, Prompto's, which is the same thing in this case."

She didn't have to see Ricky’s face to picture it, the confusion clear in his tone. "Prompto? What does he have to do with this?"

"It's…uh, complicated. But yeah, I'd give 'em whatever they need. "

"If you're sure? I mean, when the guy you mentioned showed up, I did think he looked familiar, though I didn't peg him for a friend of Prompto's. But I guess maybe I've seen him hanging around the arcade…"

Tutella couldn't help the little snort. "Ah, no, not exactly. " She looked over to Ignis again, but he seemed to no longer be paying attention at all, unconcerned. And truth was Ricky, at least, should know, if they really were investigating.  "You probably just recognize him from the news…or maybe it's his father you're thinking of."

"The news? What do you mean…who's his father?"

"Uh… Clarus Amicitia."

"Amici—the King's Shield?!" Ricky sounded incredulous. "Why on Eos is the Shield's son personally investigating some random fire? Astrals, tell me your uncle isn't correct, and there is some royal conspiracy."

Tutella couldn't fully hold back the giggle. "Ah, no, not as such. And he's not there acting on his father's behalf, but rather his own charge's."

Ricky paused for a moment to parse that, just long enough for his "Wait, you mean the Prince?" to coincide with Noctis’s muffled interjection, "I mean, Clarus probably will get involved too if I talk to my dad. They're both pretty fond of Prompto as well."

Tutella missed Ricky's first attempts to solicit a response, too busy staring at the Prince, who hadn't even deigned to raise his head, face still mashed into Prompto's shoulder.  Because of course the King knew and liked Prompto. It tracked; after all, he was Noctis's father, and what wasn't there to love about Prompto…but even so. Tutella felt her brain stutter as another wave of 'royalty plus real life, does not compute' rolled over her.

"Tutella!" Ricky dragged her attention back to the phone. "Why is the Prince interested in the fire? In Prompto?"

"Uh, because they're friends?" The Prince's one visible eye was open, and seemed to be glaring through the lock of hair half-covering it. "Best friends," she amended.  With a slight nod, Noctis shut his eyes once more, snuggled in tighter.

Ricky was quiet for a moment, digesting. "Oookay…that's...can't say that's what I was expecting."

"Yeah…it's been an interesting morning. But, I think if anyone can get to the truth…"

Ricky grunted in agreement.  At his request she gave him a quick update on both her own and Prompto's condition before bidding him goodbye and good luck with the investigation.

Hanging up, she gnawed on her lip a moment before biting the bullet and just asking. "Soo…um, the King…your father.  Being all 'fond' of Prompto and all, how likely is it that he's going to visit?"

*****

The hope to avoid a surprise visit from the King wasn't the only reason she moved back to a separate room. There was also the fact she'd only just managed to put off any of her family dropping by that day; the odds that she could keep them at bay tomorrow as well were low. And the whole ‘holed up in a room that included the crown Prince and several of his entourage’ thing was not something she wanted to explain.  

Noctis had still been doing his best octopus impression around Prompto when she'd left. Shortly before her move, as she'd been gathering her things, that latter had woken once more.  More alert and for longer than any of the previous occasions, he'd refused to be put off any longer.

Telling him about Tumulus had been as hard as she'd feared.  Prompto's expression had crumpled, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. Tutella had felt her own filling as well, her throat closing on the words of reassurance she'd prepared but had somehow misplaced in the moment.

The Prince sat silent by Prompto's side, one arm wrapped around his shoulder. After a bit Noctis  cleared his throat, spoke low enough she had to strain to hear him as he began to explain what Gladio and Ignis had both been alternatingly up to, how much progress they'd already made on getting to the bottom of this.  That it looked like Prompto—and Tutella and many of the others—had been right, and that the fire had been deliberately set. And that they weren't going to stop looking until the culprit had been caught.

She left soon after Prompto once more fell asleep, with the assurance she'd be back to check in on him later.

Tutella couldn't help but notice the room she wound up in was a significant upgrade to the one she'd been in previously.  And the one that Prompto had been moved to when she wheeled herself over the next day after lunch was even fancier, a corner room with large windows, and a big couch that folded out into what looked to be a comfortable bed.

Prompto was unsurprisingly asleep when she arrived, but the Prince was awake and welcomed her warmly. That may have had something to do with how he'd been laboring over missed school work, all the while bemoaning over how hard a taskmaster Ignis was being up until her appearance.

She chatted with them for a bit, allowing Noctis to use her as an excuse for distraction. She let them know her next, and hopefully final, surgery had been scheduled for tomorrow, and if all went well, she was hoping to be discharged the day after.

In turn they let her know there had finally been results in the hunt for Prompto's parents, though it couldn't exactly be called progress.  Ignis recounted the details of the call in clipped sentences, his voice too calm, overly controlled; rage barely contained. Murder was in Noctis's eyes as he spoke; she was fairly sure it was reflected in her own.

They were apparently somewhere in the wilds of Cleigne, and had zero intention of returning any time soon. Their research was simply too important to be interrupted—for any reason.  Noctis's conclusion was Prompto was too important to be trusted to them, so it was probably for the best anyways.

Tutella was just debating how best to enact a tactical withdrawal—Ignis's increasingly frequent glances to the unfinished homework were becoming harder and harder to ignore--when Prompto decided to once more join the land of the living.

The timing couldn't have been better as a knock coincided with his groggy greetings and Ricky poked his head around the door. Introductions were made all around. While Tutella knew him well enough after all these years to notice  Ricky's slight hesitation and nervousness, she doubt any of the others, even Prompto, picked up on it. And he even managed his first words to royalty to not be anything insulting or demanding—Tutella envied him immensely.

Ricky offered up a warm smile to the room at large before focusing in on Prompto. "Weeell, someone's looking a good deal better.  So good to see you finally awake, kiddo!"

Prompto offered  a smaller but no less genuine smile in response.  "Thanks, Ricky. And…" A shadow passed over the sun, eyes suddenly downcast. "I'm sorry.  About Tulmus. I should have been able to—"

Noctis was half out of his chair, mouth open, and Tutella found herself also instinctually trying to rise, albeit a good deal slower, but Ricky was quicker than either of them.

"Hey, hey, none of that. You did the best you could, more than anyone would of asked of you. As I'm pretty sure everyone here has already told you." Ricky's smile had gone sad, but not disappeared. "We can all be sorry for his loss, but no one, most especially yourself, should hold you responsible.  Let's keep that blame squarely where it belongs: with whoever started that fire in the first place."

Ricky held the gaze until Prompto's shoulders loosened and he finally offered a brief nod.

Satisfied, Ricky straightened up away from his crouch by Prompto's beside, squaring his shoulders as he turned to address Noctis. "I wanted to express my heartfelt gratitude, your highness. Part of the reason I came by now was that I was hoping I may catch you here. From what Tutella has said, it's you we have to thank for the reopened investigation."

Though Noctis's expression remained mostly steady, unchanged, Tutella thought she detected a slight shift—awkward embarrassment at the praise.  Ricky continued, oblivious or perhaps just unconcerned.

"On behalf of myself and our community, I wanted to express how grateful we all are for this reprieve. Now that further investigation has confirmed it was arson,  it looks like the insurance is going to come through. We’ll be able to rebuild." Ricky glanced Tutella’s way, eyes bright, before his gaze continued his sweep over to encompass  Prompto, grin growing. "In fact, I've been looking at some potential spots, and if all goes well, we may even be able to expand."

********

Tutella was attempting to rearrange the crutches enough to reach the door handle when a knock interrupted her. Well, that solved that problem.

“C’mon in,” she called gratefully. Then blinked in surprise to see Ignis standing on the other side.

He took in her full dress, lack of wheelchair, and nodded. “Your surgery went smoothly, I take it?”

She grinned. “Yes. Freedom, at long last! Was just gonna swing by to see Prompto on my way out. Walk—err, hobble and talk?”

He nodded, stepped aside to fall into slow step beside her. The crutches were definitely going to take some getting used to.

"So what brings you?" she ventured after a minute of concentration.

"Prompto had been growing anxious to know how you were doing, and so—"

"Lemme guess. The Prince grew anxious over Prompto getting worked up, it's up to you to worry about the Prince getting worked up, and so suddenly here you are.  Man but you have a fun job, huh? Must keep you on your toes!"

It was only briefly, just out of the corner of her eye, but she was almost sure she saw a smirk twitch across the solemn expression he usually wore.  After spending some time with him over the past few days, she was starting to realize the overly serious façade definitely had some chinks in it.

"Quite."

She took another few hobbling steps, considered. She'd had a…question that at been niggling at her for quite some time. This might be one of her last chances to ask it head on. Now or never. "He does really care about him, doesn't he?  The Prince, about Prompto, I mean."

"Indeed. Is that somehow surprising?"

Tutella shook her head quickly.  "Not at all. That's…it's good to know."

She took the raised eyebrow as an invitation to expand. “I’ll admit. I’ve had my…concerns at times. I mean, I'll be the first to say I've been in no way getting the whole picture, not until this week really." Tutella grimaced, took a deep breath, trained her eyes on ground as she made her careful way forward.

"But, well, I’ve known Prompto for quite a few years now. He’s a good kid, always has been. But he was also a lonely child, little to nothing in terms of friends. And well, you know first-hand what his family's like." Ignis’s grimace echoed her own. She went on.

"His friendship with the Prince, I've watched it develop and evolve…at least in terms of how it's affected Prompto.  I've seen the effort he's put into it. It means the world to him. Has for a long time.” Considering what the Prince had said that first night, about when they had actually first met, far longer than she had even realized. “I guess I just worried—wondered--if the Prince is aware of that, if he actually…” she trailed off, debated how to most delicately phrase it. A bit familiar she may have gotten with them over the last few days, but it was still the Crown Prince about whom  she was speculating.

“Appreciates his significance to Prompto?”  Ignis filled in the pause for her.

She nodded in quick agreement.

Ignis was silent for a moment, the uneven rubber thwack of her crutches on linoleum the only sound. “For the majority of his life, Noct has been surrounded by people who, regardless of how they may or may not feel personally, must always for the sake of duty put ‘the Crown Prince’ before the person.  As a result, he manages to both simultaneously take for granted and also completely dismiss as undeserved or disingenuous the majority of attention placed on him."

His tone was even, but she thought she detected a note of regret in the words.  "So is he aware of his significance, that he can be significant, not as heir apparent, not as the future king but instead as a ‘best friend,’ as just 'Noctis', first and foremost? To be honest, no, I doubt it’s occurred to him, so far removed from his norm. "

She opened her mouth, closed it again as he went on.

“However, in return, I doubt Prompto is aware of just what his friendship means to the Prince.  As stated, it is duty that draws the majority of the people into Noctis's direct orbit. Either that or ambition or greed. And I’ll admit, when Prompto first attached himself to the Prince, the latter were very real concerns—”

He held up a placating hand at her noise of protest. “Part of my specific duty is to be on the watch for such behavior.  But it was quickly apparent that was not the case. Prompto wanted to be around Noctis not because he was the Prince, but rather in spite of it. Prompto is one of the few, if only, people in Noct’s life, to whom he is 'Noctis' first and 'the Prince' second.  And that small but crucial distinction means, as you put it, the world to Noct as well. So while he may not realize or recognize his own significance, of Prompto's, he is and will no doubt remain very much aware. ”

He punctuated the last with a wave of his hand. They had come to the open door of Prompto’s room.  From this angle, Tutella could just about see all of the bed, and its current double occupancy. The two of them were pressed shoulder to shoulder, phones out.  Though Noctis had dropped his own in his lap in favor of reaching around to attempt to relieve Prompto of his.

Prompto himself seemed to be muttering something about playing one more round, but his eyes were at half-mast at best, his head coming to rest on the Prince's shoulder. Noctis's expression was soft as he gently chided him about taking it easy, there'd always be later.

Tutella couldn’t help but smile at the sight, didn’t miss the upturning of Ignis’s mouth as well. “Point taken,” she whispered before hobbling on in.

To Be Concluded

Chapter Text

She saw Prompto one more time before he was discharged from the hospital. Back for a follow-up appointment, she made time to swing by his room afterwards. Despite it being over a week she was somehow unsurprised to find the Prince still holed up with him.

Apparently Prompto had been repeatedly insisting it wasn’t necessary, but Noctis—sounding downright boastful—assured that apart from school and a few critical meetings, both of which Ignis had “all but literally dragged him to,” he had barely left Prompto’s side.

Prompto looked close to mortified at Noctis’s proud recounting, but Tutella easily detected his joy barely buried beneath.

The news cycle for the last three days had been covering the unfolding case of what had been branded “serial arsonist hate crimes.”  While Tutella herself was fairly certain she had never seen any of the three men implicated, Renatus, Paul, and Decima all had been called in as witnesses. Along with their testimony, the men had also been caught on camera on at least two separate occasions scooping out the arcade prior to their crimes.  Mostly dayshifts though, when it was more crowded and they stood out less.

The fact that one of the men was the nephew of the Chief Fire Inspector for all of Eastern Insomnia was why everything had initially been swept aside, only to come to light with the unwavering dedication of the Crownsguards investigation.

The crimes, and even more so the subsequent cover-up, had been making waves, not just inside the refugee quarter but in the government halls as well, at least according to Noctis.

While Tutella had heard several of her co-workers’ various accounts, as well as having her own firsthand encounters with the investigation, she was still more than happy to listen to the Prince’s version. Took a certain amount of comfort in his own almost bloodthirsty glee as he passed along Gladio’s and Ignis’s part in the arrest of the suspects. Noctis had lobbied to be allowed to participate himself, had been forced to be content with his two main men taking point instead.

When Tutella had first heard of the arrests, some of the lingering fear had begun to be assuaged. Hearing Noctis’s further assurances that, no matter their standing in the eyes of some of the council, neither the main culprits nor the man who’d covered for them would be escaping punishment was a comfort she hadn’t realized how badly she’d been needing until she felt its weight lifted. Could see the same sentiment reflected in Prompto’s eyes as the Prince spoke.

The conversation moved from there on to Prompto’s imminent release, scheduled tentatively for the day after tomorrow. Prompto was trying—and mostly failing, if Tutella was any judge—to argue that he’d taken up more than enough of Noctis’s time; his parents would be home eventually and he’d be fine taking care of himself.

Noctis nodded, rolling his eyes. “Sure, whatever. But you’re still coming home with me.”

Prompto’s response was to start the whole argument over again, giving Tutella the distinct impression it had been ongoing for quite some time. She also was fairly certain who was going to win in the end—though she may have been biased; it was certainly the outcome she was rooting for.  Self-sufficient Prompto may be, but there was no reason he had to be, not in this case, not when he had someone—more than one someone, unless she missed her guess—who was eager to relieve the burden.  One he’d obviously been carrying on his own for far too long.

And besides, though a week had done a world of good, Prompto still looked far too unsteady to be left on his own. But Prompto was also infinitely stubborn, as she well knew. So who could really say…

A few days later, however, sure enough, when she threw him a casual just-checking-in text, the reply she received immediately answered the question.

‘ Hey Tutella, I’ve temporarily had to confiscate Prompto’s phone. And the computer. He’s trying to over-exert himself…again. Keep telling him he doesn’t have to catch up on all his schoolwork immediately :-p But I’ll let him know you said hi – Noct’

Tutella found herself laughing. Well, he was certainly getting attentive care, if nothing else.

*****

Though she continued to keep in touch via text, it was over a month until she saw Prompto in person again.

Rather than trying to rebuild, Ricky had decided to purchase a new place, more than double in size. Along with the arcade getting an expansion, he’d been approached by an advocacy group with—entirely coincidentally, reeeeally —direct ties to the Crown. They were hoping to work with Ricky to open a youth center attached to the arcade, with a particular focus in immigrant and refugee relations.

It had taken a bit to get the new permits in order, and the needed renovations on the new space to be completed, but all things considered, the details had fallen into place remarkably quickly. Tutella hardly had to venture a guess where the expedited treatment they were receiving at almost every turn was coming from.

Ricky had left a standing invitation open to all the former employees that their jobs would be waiting for them once they got back on their feet. All but three of their former staff were taking him up on the offer—though several had to wait a bit to give notice to the temporary jobs they’d found in the interim. It was only in the last two days that there had begun to be actual stuff for them to do anyways.

It was a Saturday and Ricky had reached out to anyone available to descend upon their new digs for the day, helping to get the newly bought—and a few miraculously recovered—machines set up and functioning, along with decorating and other odds and ends. Though with the walking cast, Tutella could function almost normally, Ricky had been insistent she not strain herself.

She had been lectured more than once to stop trying to do too much and found herself forced to sit back and delegate, overseeing the day’s labors from on high.

Thus she was the first one to notice Prompto’s entrance, coming in the newly finished employees-only entrance—the main one wasn’t scheduled to be finished for another few days.

He looked worlds better than last she’d seen him. He was walking under his own steam, for one thing. All the bruising had vanished, and there was nary a bandage in sight. He was moving a bit on the slow side, gingerly, but that was to be expected.  When Prompto had texted to say he’d try to make it, both her and Ricky had stressed that he not push himself too hard, there was no rush.

But Prompto being Prompto, she couldn’t say she was surprised. No, the surprise was who was ambling in next to him—though really, as soon as she caught sight of him, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t predicted it.

“Prompto!” Renatus caught sight of the newest arrival before Tutella could determine how she should go about addressing the Crown Prince deciding to crash their set-up session.  He dropped what he was working on and beelined for the door, Gary, Rosa, and Decima only a step behind when Renatus pulled up short, presumably having registered who was keeping careful pace with the arcade’s wayward employee.

“Renatus, what the hells—holy shit!” Gary’s loud exclamation as he plowed into the gawking Renatus seemed to succinctly sum up all their feelings, judging by the expressions of surprised awe plastered across all their faces.

Prompto offered a smile and wave. “Hey guys, sorry I’m late. Certain people may have destroyed the alarm clock.”

Noctis shrugged. “Told you there’s a reason Specs gave up trying to use one with me years ago.”

Prompto shook his head in exasperation. Everyone else silently watched the exchange with frozen, wide-eyed wonder.

Tutella found herself echoing Prompto’s motion, both for her co-workers and the Prince in equal measure. “No sweat, Prompto. We told you you didn’t have to push. And welcome, your Highness.”

Noctis’s gaze swung to her, a frown pulling at his casually calm façade. “I told you to call me Noctis.”

Tutella could feel eyes on her as all her underlings’ focus suddenly ping-ponged between them. Gary was throwing a particularly betrayed look her way.

Prompto broke the spell with grin, and an almost comically loud ‘whispered’ chiding, “Noct, that’s not any way to talk to a future boss-hopeful!”

Noctis looked grumpily contrite. Tutella raised an eyebrow. “Oh, do tell?”

Noctis and Prompto exchanged a look before Prompto gave the Prince a nudge forward. After a moment, Noctis grudgingly left his side, made his way over to Tutella.

As soon as Noctis cleared his orbit, the spell was broken, all the other employees crowding around Prompto. Even as the Prince made it to Tutella’s side, he turned most of the way back around so he could observe the proceedings closely. Tutella fought a grin.

“They’re just excited to see him, it’s been a while. They won’t hurt him, I swear.”

Noctis reluctantly swung back to face her.

“So, you’re in the need of work, are you?” she began when his silence continued.

He shrugged.

“Or just want an excuse to keep an eye on Prompto?”

Except for faint blush of pink across his cheeks, his expression remained unchanged. Even so, it was more than enough. It was downright adorable how quickly he struggled to cover. “It’s a good way to reach out to the community, especially with all that’s happened.  Ignis agreed, though I think for him it’s more a hope I’ll learn some practical skills or whatever. He was pretty easy to get on board.”

Tutella doubted Noctis had fooled his advisor as to the true reason behind his request, but she nodded along, letting it pass. For now, at least. Ample time for teasing if this went the way she was fairly sure it would. The Prince rather seemed to have a knack for getting what he wanted. “And Gladio?”

Noctis smirked. “Haaaates the idea, says it’s one big security nightmare.”

“Surprised he didn’t follow you, to be honest.”

“I convinced him to wait outside…we’ll see how long that lasts.”

Tutella secretly hoped it wasn’t too long. To see Rosa’s reaction, if nothing else.  She’d refrained up until now in mentioning certain conversations and whose ears they’d made it back to, but now…a lot more things were suddenly looking to be fair game.

“So how’d you convince him in the end?”

Noctis shrugged again, smirk growing. “Didn’t. My dad, for whatever reasons, whoever knows with him, sided with me and Ignis. So here I am.”

Tutella thought about what Ignis had said, about the people the Prince was often surrounded by, how good it was for him to have Prompto, to have some normalcy, and thought she could guess the King’s—or at least the father’s—reasoning.

“If the King wants it, guess I can’t say no then, huh?”

Noctis squirmed. “Uh…actually, he was quite clear that I had to ask—and earn it—just like everyone else. So…um…do you have any positions available? And if so…how would I go about applying. Normally?”

“Hmmm. Weeeell, lemme think…” Tutella drawled, drawing it out. Teasing royalty had become alarmingly easy, she’d discovered back at the hospital. Noctis was twitching beside her, shuffling his feet, glance continuously darting back to Prompto.

Renatus, Gary, and Rosa were all crowded in close, the two former squawking loudly, clearly already mid-squabble. Rosa and Prompto both seemed to be torn between laughter and eye-rolling.

Noctis was on the balls of his toes, clearly itching to rejoin his friend. Tutella granted him mercy. “I think we might have something available.”

She reclaimed his attention. Mostly. “Really? So…what do I need to do to…like, get the job?”

“Well, if you’re Prompto, show up at the two in the morning looking like someone’s kicked chocobo chick and it’s yours.” Tutella gave him a slow head-to-toe glance. “So, y’know, close enough. I’ll tell you what I told him—I’ll run it by Ricky, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

On the one hand, there was no doubt it would mean a crazy amount of increased attention. But with that would also come increased security, and judging how it’d worked in the hospital, it’d probably be surprisingly unobtrusive. And truthfully, knowing there were a few extra eyes looking out for the place…after all that had happened, Tutella couldn’t say that wouldn’t give her a bit more peace of mind.

“Soo?” Prompto had detached himself from the masses, made his steady—if slow—way over. “How’d the ‘interview’ go?”

Noctis nodded, clearly pleased. And clearly trying to hide--and failing miserably--just how pleased he was by Prompto’s return. “I’m hired.” He looked back to Tutella. “Right?”

She smiled. “Tentatively, yup.”

Prompto crowed. “Told ya it’d be no problem. This is going to be so awesome!”

Prompto was all but beaming, that true smile, the rare one. Though the way it was just stuck there, no hint of being its usual quick coy self, Tutella had a feeling its ‘rareness’ was more and more going to be a thing of the past. At least when the Prince was about.

“C’mon, let’s get to work. Over here, I think—” Prompto started off, all but dragging Noctis behind him. “Yes! I thought these looked like ‘em. Come help me put these lights up!”

“Lights?” Though they’d begun drifting off, Tutella could still easily make out their conversation, Noctis’s skeptical tone.

“Yeah, these were always my favorite decoration at the old place. So glad they were able to find replacements. Now we just gotta—”

“Whoah, stop. No heavy lifting. Remember?”

“Yeah, but—”

“No lifting. Of. Any. Kind. Don’t make me go call Gladio, you know he’s been all too happy to enforce that rule.”

“Dude, we agreed, there’d be no more carrying me about!”

“The agreement was as long as you stopped trying to push yourself too much. So…”

“…Fine…” Prompto’s capitulation was soft enough to be almost inaudible. But moments later his mood and volume perked back up. “Now let’s see. Hmm, maybe over here.” The two of them crossed back in front of her, Prompto leading a trailing Noctis, two large boxes under each of the Prince’s arms. He was shaking his head.

“Idiot. All these games we could be going over, and you wanna fiddle with lights! You’re such a weirdo.” He wasn’t even trying to hide the fondness, though.

Prompto twirled in place to begin walking backwards as he addressed his friend. His eyes twinkled as his glance darted beyond to Tutella, offered a wink as their eyes met.

“Eh, but doncha know? The trick is, Noct, you gotta embrace the weird!”

The End!!