Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was that time of year again. The time of year when the nights grew longer and the days colder, and snow fell like so much powder over the city of Insomnia. Shops played Solstice music round the clock, festive music to match the window displays full of colorful lights and ornaments. Everywhere, signs proclaimed they sold ‘the best gifts money can buy this holiday season!’

Prompto liked Solstice about as much as the next guy, he supposed. It was hard not to be cheery when everywhere he looked, he saw words like ‘JOY’ and ‘LOVE’ and ‘FAMILY.’ Not, of course, that he had much of any of those himself. But it was nice to see the rest of the city take on a mood other than black-and-gloomy for at least a few weeks out of the year. 

This year, like just about every year for the first twenty others of his life, Prompto would be spending the holidays alone. It couldn’t be helped, really. His parents were busy with work, they said, and wouldn’t be able to make it to Insomnia to visit him. Fine, that was fine. His school - or, rather, his photography night classes at the local community college - had gone on break two days earlier, giving those students who did have families to spend the season with enough time to travel home. That, too, was fine. And his friends…. 

Well, Prompto didn’t actually have any of those to speak of. There were classmates he’d talked to a few times, sure, like Cindy and her (sometimes terrifying) girlfriend Aranea. And a few who had invited him out once or twice. But none of them really...got him. At least not enough to ditch their plans and make new ones with him for Solstice Eve. Thus, bundled up against the winter wind, he made his way alone through snow-dusted streets back to his home on the edge of downtown. 

Nearly every house in the neighborhood was decorated with Solstice lights. Brilliant blues, purples, and golds flickered in the night air, illuminating the snow in almost magical swirls of color. Prompto couldn’t resist a smile despite himself. It was too cold to pull out his camera for a shot, he thought, but the sight warmed him anyway. And it suddenly made him wish his place wasn't the only house on the block without a touch of Solstice cheer. Maybe he’d pull some old decorations out of the attic later. His parents were bound to have left some lights or something up there, even if they were older than him. 

Dumping his boots and coat at the door, Prompto wasted no time the second he got inside. Yeah, some lights would be perfect, he smiled, humming one of his favorite holiday songs only slightly off key. Or maybe there was even an old plastic tree, packed away in a box just waiting for him to find it. Would there be ornaments? Or candles for the windows, the long white ones that reminded him of icicles. After all, he didn’t need anyone to celebrate the holiday with, right? He just needed to find a way to bring the cheer inside, just for him. 

The attic ladder creaked as he pulled it down from the hallway ceiling. A cloud of dust followed - after all, it probably hadn’t been opened since before his parents moved to Cleigne. Prompto brushed the mess out of the stubborn curls of his hair before climbing up. 

Light from the hall below illuminated a section of space near the entrance. He realized too late that he probably should have grabbed a flashlight from the garage first, but luckily his phone was still in his back pocket. Prompto swiped the screen, then let the small camera light guide him further into the attic. All around, there were stacks of boxes, old albums, even board games from an age when his family thought they might have time for such things. 

As he brushed away layers of dust from a promising stack of boxes in a far corner, he found one label which finally caught his eye. Solstice Magic . An admittedly strange name for plain old decorations, but as his parents weren't really the sentimental type, Prompto couldn't imagine what else it could possibly mean. The box was taped along the top, so he carefully peeled it off the cardboard flaps to reveal…. 

A coat. 

Just a coat?

Prompto's face fell in disappointment. It certainly didn't look like a Solstice decoration from his point of view, but he pulled it out anyway just to be sure. The coat was a worn brown, made of thick, moth-eaten leather and a tattered wool lining inside. As he stood and held the thing up to full height, the ends came down to his calves. It looked vintage, antique even. Probably really expensive when it was new. And it definitely smelled like it had been forgotten in there for quite some time. 

Prompto considered it for a moment. He supposed it could have belonged to an old relative, passed down through the generations until it wound up stuck in a box for him to find. That was almost exciting. How long had it been there? Was it valuable? He could probably take it on one of those antique shows, maybe get lucky and find out it had belonged to someone famous. Or he could wear it (after a good cleaning, of course) and take some photos in the park. It could even be a subject piece in the portfolio he'd have to submit for his year-end project at school. 

Ideas were already spinning in the back of his mind. Prompto tossed the coat over his right arm for now, an afterthought, and resumed the original task at hand. A second box nearby contained exactly what he'd been looking for: a string of lights, several smaller packs of ornaments, a few candles, and even a dusty and balding (but still usable) plastic Solstice tree. Bingo, he grinned. Maybe this coat was just a plain old lucky charm. 

He'd begun retaping box to carry downstairs when, unexpectedly, he felt rather than heard something drop out of the coat's front pocket. A rolled sheet of parchment paper, yellowed and crinkled with time, had landed on the floorboards next to his foot. Curious, he knelt down and lifted it gently with the hand not still holding his phone. It took some dexterity, but he managed to untie the thing one-handed, and angled the light to get a good look. 

The first thing he noticed was that it was very clearly a letter. Hand written in a faded black ink, and smudged so badly it was practically impossible to read. The second was that the numbers across the top appeared to mark the letter as well over a hundred years old. 

Prompto took another long, appraising look at the coat slung over his arm. "Just where did you come from?" he whispered aloud. 

The mystery was one that begged to be solved. Tucking the letter gingerly back into the coat pocket, he propped the box of decorations up in one arm and climbed down from the attic with his new treasure hanging from the other. 

Solstice decorations, he decided in the end, could wait after all. Prompto left them unopened in their box beside the living room rug, and instead took the coat - and the letter inside it - to his room for some old-fashioned detective work. He took photos with his digital camera, then set to work scanning the web for information on period costumes, types of paper, even the elegant, faded handwriting on the letter itself. 

But several hours of research later, he was still coming up empty handed. Whoever the jacket and its contents belonged to hadn't left any records. Not even an old photo or a name with a deed. There wasn't much on his family tree, either, beside the same stuff he already knew: his grandparents had moved from Leide to Insomnia after they'd married, had his father, and his parents had adopted him several decades later. No leads, no loose strings to connect the mystery. 

Which meant, he realized, turning the parchment over in his hands, that the key was figuring out what the letter actually said. Difficult though it might seem, there were ways to do that. The easiest and cheapest would be the photography lab at his school. If he could light the paper from behind, take a long aperture shot of it, and then adjust the contrast values enough, there was a chance he could enhance and even replicate the original text. 

But…. He paused at his desk to yawn into his fist. That would have to wait for Monday. School was closed until after the holiday, and it was already almost midnight anyway. Better to get some sleep, and try the search again in the morning. After all, what else did he have to do on Solstice day? 

He pushed his laptop to the back of his desk and left his clothes in a pile near the foot of his bed. Changed into his favorite pajamas - a pair of yellow chocobo print fleece pants and a blue Justice Monsters t-shirt - and combed his hair down for the night. 

Outside, yet another dusting of snow was just beginning to fall. Prompto settled into bed and watched from his pillow as it gathered on the panes of his window, soft and silent. Something about the sight filled him with wonder, with more curiosity about times gone by. 

Had the people who lived here a hundred years ago watched the snow like this? Had they felt the same peace, the same quiet that he felt now? What would the world have looked like back then, without all the skyscrapers and streetlights to obscure the view? The door into the past was closed to him, but as his eyes drifted shut, he thought he could glimpse something in the approach of a dream. 

A warm coat draped over broad shoulders. Leather boots crunching over fields of white. Prompto smiled, the dream seeping into his waking thoughts and fuzzing the edges. Somewhere, the lonely wark of a chocobo, its beak tap, tap, tapping on the glass. 

Ta-tap. 

Tap tap taptap. 

Blue eyes flew open wide. That part hadn't been a dream, he was sure of it. His bedroom was dark except for the dim light of his laptop screen. It shone across the top of the desk, over the King's Knight posters on his wall to the window, where an odd shadow appeared to be moving outside. Panic had Prompto sitting up wide awake in an instant, adrenaline flooding his limbs.

The shadow tapped again. Maybe it was just the dim light, but whatever it was appeared to be covered in…feathers? 

No way. Prompto rubbed at his eyes, straining to see in the dark. It looked like a chocobo. It acted like a chocobo. But there was absolutely no way there was a real live one in the middle of Insomnia, and certainly not at his house of all places. 

Outside the window, the shadow raised its head, opened its beak, and straight up warked . 

Prompto was on his feet in a matter of seconds. Scrambling into slippers, snatching up his camera, and hurtling at full pace for the front door before he could even come up with a plan. He threw the door open just in time to see the bird (a very big, very fluffy black chocobo, oh em gee! ) racing past him and down the street. Without hesitation, he chased right after it. 

Snow stuck to his cheeks as he ran, clung to his hair and the thin cotton of his sleep shirt, but he ignored the cold. It would be well worth it to snag a shot of the rarest creature in Lucis - heck, maybe in all of Eos! This could be the shot that would make him famous, put his name in the annals of photographic history. First the mysterious antique coat, now this? Suddenly, Prompto found himself starting to believe in Solstice magic. 

Up ahead, the chocobo made a sharp left, disappearing between some bushes and into an unlit park. Prompto readied his camera as he crept in after it. "Gotcha now, buddy. You're as good as mine, just stand still…." 

The shadows moved, followed by a soft chocobo-like trill not far from his position. Perfect . A step closer, then another, hardly noticing the snow that had begun to fall in real earnest around him. "Here, little birdy. Go on, strike a pose for me already." Through his viewfinder, he could make out the shape of a tuft of feathers sticking out over the top of a bush. Nice angle! He clicked the shutter as gently as he could, but the sound was loud in the otherwise silent night. Loud enough to startle the chocobo, who skittered away right out of his shot. 

Yet Prompto was determined not to give up that easily. He got to his feet again, ignoring the fact that his slippers - like the rest of him now - were literally soaked with snow. All around, the stuff was coming down harder than ever, creating walls of white that would made locating the chocobo as challenging as a needle in a cactuar patch. Even the sound of its warks were beginning to grow further and further away. Damn, maybe this was a lost cause . In his disappointment, Prompto started to notice for the first time the way his fingers shook from the cold. 

He turned around. Squinted his eyes in search of the trees where he'd come into the park, but those, too, were shielded in a cloud of white snow. Either that, or the park was just a heck of a lot bigger than he remembered. How far had he followed that wild bird chase, anyway? And how was he going to get back home now in this weather? 

There was no point looking for the chocobo like this, he decided. Better to go back, warm up, and try again in the morning when his camera was less likely to get damaged. Sighing, resigned, Prompto tucked his camera under his t-shirt and started trudging back the way he'd (presumably) come. After a few steps, he stopped short. Hadn’t there been a tree right there before? Weird. Had it moved, or was he more lost than he thought? Shivering, Prompto wrapped his arms around his chest as tight as he could. More to the left, maybe. He tried, but gave up again quickly when he realized that way didn't look the least bit familiar, either. 

This had been such a bad idea. Something very strange was going on, there was no mistaking the uneasy feeling growing in his gut. This park, the heavy snow, even the unlikely chocobo - he’d assume it was all a dream if the cold surrounding him wasn’t so painfully real. His feet were freezing. Everything was freezing, and if he didn't find shelter soon…. 

Suddenly, movement at his back caught his attention. Somewhere a bush rustled, and then over the top of it, through the blinding whiteness of the snow, a huge, black monster came bounding straight towards him. It shrieked, giant wings spreading in time with two sets of razor sharp talons, and Prompto screamed as they aimed right for his face. 

“Holy shi---!”

“ Wa-watch out!”

The snow broke his fall. Prompto landed in it rear first, a new surge of icy cold hitting him on impact. The chocobo - and he could see now that’s what the thing was - somehow managed to miss his prone body entirely, instead coming to rest on both large, scaly black feet right next to his head. It warked, warbled, and bent down to get a better look at whatever it had almost squished. 

“Goodness! Are you...alright?” 

Blue eyes blinked rapidly in confusion. Okay, now he knew he was losing his mind. Had that chocobo...just talked? 

“U-um.” Slowly, gaze fixed on the massive black eyes turning this way and that in front of him, Prompto tested his legs, his wrists, his ankles. Besides being numb with cold, he otherwise seemed unhurt. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.”

“Thank the heavens. I was afraid we’d run you over.” 

“Uh, just startled me, is all. Mister, uh, Chocobo. Sir?” Gotta be going crazy, there is no way this is actually happening.  

“…Chocobo?” A pause as the bird’s beak clicked with interest. Then, laughter. Very human laughter, and a pair of thick, black leather boots landed in the snow beside the animal. “I daresay you look more like a chocobo than I do. Though I suppose I can understand the mistake.” 

Prompto swallowed back anything he could have said in that moment. The stranger who was now speaking to him was gorgeous - like, not just handsome (though he was that, too), but dressed to impress as well. Above his boots, he wore fitted beige trousers seamed along the sides with gold buttons; his belt was a thin but elegant band of deep purple, and his double breasted coat - black, like his boots - fit across his firm chest and shoulders as if it had been tailored just for him. Around his neck, his shirt billowed out in delicate ruffles, and as he knelt down to inspect Prompto’s condition, he removed the top hat from his head. 

He looked...like an angel. Or, well, at least like he’d stepped right out of a portrait in an art gallery somewhere. Prompto had never seen anyone like him before. Call him shallow, but years of studying photography had trained him to see the beauty in all things - and this guy was on a whole new level. 

Staring awestruck up into brilliant emerald eyes, he didn’t realize he’d been asked a question until the man repeated it. 

“Young man, can you hear me? Oh, dear. Are you certain you haven’t hit your head?”

“H-huh? Oh!” Prompto pushed himself up onto his elbows so quickly he startled the man back. “I’m fine! Mostly. I was just on my way home, but I, uh, I think I got turned around.” 

“Hmm.” The man frowned thoughtfully - and wow , he was even more gorgeous when he did that - before offering him a hand up. “At any rate, I think you’d better come with me. You’ll catch your death of cold out here in this storm.” 

“O-oh. But, I, uh....”

“Come now. We’ll have to share the saddle, I'm afraid. Can you ride?” 

“Er, ride…?” 

Everything was happening too fast for Prompto to keep up. Before he knew it, he was being lifted up on numb toes into a stirrup, then slung like a frozen sack of Leidan potatoes onto an actual saddle tied to an actual chocobo. This had gone beyond crazy now. Who in their right mind rode on the back of a big, clumsy bird?

Handsome rich guys, apparently. The man pulled himself gracefully up behind Prompto, reaching around him for the reins as if he’d done this a hundred times. With a click of his tongue, the chocobo lifted its head, let out a weary wark, and began to trot off into the snow with its newly added burden. 

“Unbelievable,” Prompto whispered under his breath, watching the head of the mount bob back and forth in front of him. “I had no idea you could ride these things.”

Like that was somehow the real concern here. He was half-frozen, being carted off to Astrals knew where in a snowstorm by some dude in fancy clothes. If his parents could see him now, they'd flip. 

Oh, well. At least the guy was warm, Prompto thought, leaning a little further back against him in the shared space. He might have preferred a blanket, or the security of his own bed. But the cold was starting to numb his mind now as well as his limbs, making it more difficult to think clearly. Or to keep his teeth from chattering. Or even to stop himself from babbling about incredibly stupid things despite the fact that he could no longer feel his lips “M-my name’s P-Prompto, um, Argentum. What’s y-yours?”  

“I’m Ignis. Ignis Scientia.” 

“Ign-nis? W-weird name, bro.” 

“...Is it?” One perfectly groomed eyebrow arched in question, though the man continued to keep his eyes fixed on the snowy path ahead. “And a name like ‘ Prompto ’ is common?” 

Prompto grinned. Or, rather, he attempted to grin, and could only hope his numb cheeks followed suit “Nope. O-one of a k-k-kind, y’know.” 

“Hm. Tell me, Prompto .” (The sound of his name on that lilting tongue sent him into an inexplicable fit of giggles) “What exactly were you doing on the estate grounds, anyway? How did you get past the guards?” 

“Guards?” 

“Quite a lot of them, yes.”

“Uhh.” Though his mind was feeling fuzzy around the edges, he suddenly remembered his camera tucked under his shirt. He pulled it out, gesticulating as animatedly as his stiff limbs allowed. “Oh, right! I was t-trying to take a shot of your big bird here. He was outside m-my house, and he kinda tapped on my w-window like he was trying to g-get my attention, so I followed him down the street to this pa-park, but then it started snowing a l-lot and I got turned around, and that’s when y-you showed up and--”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” Ignis was staring at him again, expression tight with concern. “I think we’d better get you inside first. You can tell me your story after a warm bath.” 

That...sounded really nice. Prompto smiled, letting his eyes fall closed against the cold and the snow. A warm bath. 

Warm. He needed to get warm.   

He felt like he had walked right into a movie set. Everything in the room was so delicate, from the bed sheets (they might have been silk, but Prompto had never seen the real thing to be certain) to the worn covers on the books that lined the shelves along one wall. Even the rug on the floor looked hand-made, with intricate patterns weaved into the thick wool in muted reds, oranges, and golds. 

All of it looked incredibly expensive. Just how rich was this guy, anyway? And why, if he had so much money, didn’t he bother to buy a proper bathtub? 

Sighing, Prompto flopped against the edge of the oversized, glorified bucket of hot water he’d been deposited in the moment they’d reached Ignis' house. To be fair, Prompto remembered very little of the rest of the ride, save for the way Ignis kept looking at him, frowning, as he’d rushed his chocobo on. They’d come to a large gate, voices around him had spoken in urgent tones, and then several pairs of hands were carrying him through hallways too bright for him to open his eyes. When he’d come to again, he was half-naked, soaking in a bucket of hot water in his boxers, and utterly alone in the strange room. 

He was also acutely aware of just how far from home he had to be. A house this big, with a view of trees instead of skyscrapers and the city Wall, meant he was well outside of Insomnia by now. He couldn’t even call his parents or look up a map because, like an idiot, he’d left his phone back in his bedroom. All he had were the clothes on his back (or, rather, in a pile at the foot of the posh bed) and his camera. 

Fat lot of good a photo of a dumb chocobo was gonna do him now. What had he been thinking running out after it like that? 

A knock on the door interrupted his wallowing. Instead, Prompto began glancing around frantically for a towel. “U-um, hang on a sec!” Come on, there had to be towels even in a weird house like this, right? 

Across the room, the handle of the door turned gently, and a familiar face appeared half-hidden in the crack. “Prompto? Are you decent?” 

“No! I-I mean, not yet. You got any, um….” 

From behind the door, Ignis produced a large, grey linen cloth. “May I?” 

Gulping, Prompto sank down into the water as he nodded. The door opened, and Ignis, dressed now in a more casual pair of black, high-waisted breeches and a billowing white shirt, carried the towel over to him. “I’m glad to see the color’s returned to your cheeks,” he smiled. Prompto wasn’t sure if he was referring to the heat there, but it made him blush harder all the same. “Unfortunately, I won’t able to summon a doctor until this weather clears. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to examine you myself.”

Prompto found, surprisingly, that he didn’t mind at all. Maybe it was the gentle way Ignis lifted his wrist from the water, or the focus in his eyes as he checked each of his fingers one by one. Or maybe it was just that Prompto had always had a weakness for dudes who were hotter than the sun. Either way, he couldn’t help but lean in closer to watch Ignis work. “So, what are you doing, exactly?”

“Checking for signs of frostbite. You were out in the snow for quite some time, dressed in, well. I suppose they’re some type of clothing? Toes, if you please.” 

“Um, sure….”

It was awkward shifting in the narrow bucket, but Prompto managed to turn so that his feet were propped up on the edge. Ignis peered over the rim of sharp spectacles as he examined these, as well. “Lucky, really. Physically, you seem to be just fine.” 

“Eheh. Thanks, you’re pretty fine yourself,” he laughed, awkwardly, then turned bright red when it was clear Ignis didn’t follow. “U-um, what I meant to say was, yeah, totally. I’m good, no need to wait for a doctor or anything. I’m ready to go home whenever you are.” 

Beneath his glasses, Ignis’ frown gave him away. “Home. About that, Prompto….”

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure how to put this, actually. You see, I’m not certain you’re from...here.” 

A creeping, icy sensation began to spread through him despite the warmth of the water. It was his hair, right? It usually was, so bright compared to the darker shades that were common in Lucis. Most people didn't care enough to comment, but…. Prompto swallowed, lowered his feet back into the bath, and looked firmly at Ignis. “I’ve spent most of my life in Insomnia. I grew up here. That’s all that matters.”

Whatever Ignis thought he meant, whatever he saw in the depths of Prompto's eyes in that moment, brought the conversation to an end. Ignis smiled, wearily, and draped the towel over the foot of the bed as he started back for the door. 

"There are some night clothes in the dresser, please help yourself. I shall give you some privacy. Please get some rest tonight if you can." He laid his fingers on the door handle, then turned back over his shoulder to regard his new charge. "And Prompto, for what it's worth, I believe you." 

Then he was gone, closing the door behind him. Alone again, Prompto sank down into the water of the bath, and released a sigh. This was the absolute strangest night of his life. Getting stranger by the second, really, and as kind as Ignis was, he still couldn't be sure he should trust him completely. What if he was actually some kind of kidnapper? What if he was only pretending to be nice so Prompto would get relaxed, let down his guard? 

With a yawn, he decided he was just being paranoid. In the morning, he'd try asking Ignis to take him back to the park, where he'd find his way home once the snow storm let up. 

In the meantime, warm pajamas and a soft bed sounded exactly like what the doctor ordered. And if he was really lucky, maybe he'd wake up to find all of it had been a dream. 

It was not, he discovered when he woke in the same room in the same unfamiliar bed, a dream. His limbs still ached from the cold, and between the dull headache and general stuffiness of his nose, he was pretty sure he was coming down with something on top of it all. Great . Far from home and getting sick. What a Merry Solstice this was turning out to be. 

Resigned, Prompto crawled out from under the covers in hopes of finding Ignis as soon as possible. The sooner he got home the better, after all. To his surprise, he found the bucket he’d used for a bath the night before missing from the room, and in its place a chair, a tall mirror, and a set of warm looking clothes. 

For a moment, Prompto didn’t move. It was clear that someone had been in the room while he slept, which was unnerving enough in and of itself. But as he discovered when he pulled on the shirt and pants from the back of the chair, that same someone had also apparently been sizing him up. Everything fit him well, better even than the loose t-shirts and skinny jeans he usually wore. The material, too, was surprisingly comfortable against his skin. He took a look at himself in the mirror. Turned left, right, spun around, and couldn’t resist a grin at the sight that greeted him. The clothes might have been old-fashioned, but the style was definitely a good look. 

Not long after he’d changed, Ignis arrived at the door to invite him to breakfast. “I’m glad to see you up early, Prompto. Did you sleep well?” he asked, smoothly adjusting the collar of the shirt Prom hadn’t quite managed to tie correctly. 

He forced a smile. “Yeah, um. I guess I slept okay. Actually, I was kinda wondering. Do you think I could borrow your phone?” 

Thin eyebrows arched curiously. “My what?” 

“I-if you don’t have a landline, a cell works, too. I just need to contact my family, let them know where I am.”

“I’m...not sure I follow,” Ignis replied, slowly, frowning in confusion. “If it’s a message you need to get out, I could send a rider.”

A...rider? Was that code for something, or was he actually suggesting sending someone, on foot (or, more ridiculously, on a chocobo ), halfway across the continent to pass along a few words? Prompto shook his head in disbelief. “Uh, nevermind. My parents live too far away for anything slower than e-mail, so….” 

Again, Ignis seemed to study him for a long while, looking him over as if he were searching for answers in the depths of his eyes. The attention had Prompto squirming under the intensity of it, and he dropped his gaze to his feet. “Forget it. It was a dumb idea anyway,” he found himself muttering through the heat rising to his face. 

“...Prompto, I’d be thrilled if you could join me for breakfast this morning,” Ignis continued, softer now. “And after we’ve regained some strength, I can take you back to the place I found you last night. Perhaps we’ll be able to get you home from there.”

It was, he thought, a fair compromise. Ignis offered a hand and, still feeling bewildered by the strangeness of this place, Prompto cautiously took it in his own. 

Sitting down to breakfast, it became increasingly clear that he was further from home than he’d previously thought. For starters, the rest of Ignis’ home was decorated in much the same fashion as the bedroom, with tall shelves and weathered books, filigried light fixtures topped with candles instead of bulbs. The dining table, too, looked like something out of an antique catalog - long and carved out of dark wood, covered in porcelain plates, real silverware, and, to his stomach’s evident delight, a veritable feast for breakfast. 

Fresh apples, scrambled eggs, thick sausages dripping with two different kinds of gravy. There was juice, too, and a glass pitcher of something red (wine, for breakfast?) Nowhere in Insomnia had he ever seen such a luxurious spread - certainly not in his own kitchen, where he typically lived on cereal, salad, and the occasional microwave meal. 

He tucked in while Ignis, pleased with his appetite, encouraged him to eat his fill. 

As promised, once Prompto's second plate had been cleaned, they left the dishes at the table and headed out to the stables instead. Prompto was actually surprised to learn that Ignis owned, in addition to the black chocobo he'd already met, three other birds, as well. Two were a pale yellow color - closer to the type he'd once seen in Insomnia's zoo - and one was a brilliant yellow-gold with feathers softer than he could have imagined. This is the one Ignis saddled for him, with a hint of amusement in his smile that said he hadn't missed the resemblance. 

Prompto let Ignis show him how to hold the reins, and practiced a few simple commands for riding. Speeding up, turning, slowing down again - he could almost imagine was in some kind of virtual reality game, except the birds actually snapped at him when he made a mistake. Still, he'd be lying if he said it didn't excite him. Real live chocobos were a dream come true. 

Together, and going slow at first for Prompto's sake, they set out from the large estate and through beautifully manicured gardens. 

Up ahead, a field opened up under heavy grey clouds. Though the snow had thankfully stopped, it was cold - far colder for even the thick linens he wore, and Prompto's teeth were chattering from the wind. He was wondering, numbly, how much further they had to go to reach the park, when Ignis suddenly clicked his tongue and both birds came to a halt.

"…Where are we?" Promptio asked. He darted his eyes around, finding nothing but a smooth, snowy landscape. In the distance, dark fir trees marked the edge of a forest, and beyond that, mountains he almost thought he recognized. "This isn't the park."

Beside him, Ignis dismounted, his boots crunching on the fresh snow. "I found you here last night. I was returning home from the capital, it was a miracle Regalia here even spotted you in the storm." 

Smiling, he stroked his chocobo's beak and she warbled happily at the praise. 

Prompto, however, was hardly convinced. "Dude! First you tell me you don't have a phone, now this? I've never been this far outside the Wall before. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I demand you take me home right now!" 

Thin lips pursed together with incredible patience. "Prompto. I assure you, I'm being as honest with you as I can." 

Chocobo shit! In frustration, Prompto grabbed his camera from where it hung around his neck. Shoved the screen in front of Ignis face, and scrolled rapidly through the photos there. "Look!" he said, pointing to a picture he'd taken outside of his front door. "This is my house. And here, this is where I go to school. This one?" he continued urgently, despite the increasingly distressed expression on Ignis' face. "This is the park I was in last night. Here's your dumb bird, and here's where I got turned around." 

"Prompto…." 

"I just…," he said through his burst of emotions. "I just wanna go home." 

Warm arms encircled his shoulders for a long moment. Ignis held him as the panic gradually ran its course, and despite himself he leaned fully into the hug. Only when the threat of tears had subsided did he finally dare to pull away, careful to keep his reddened cheeks hidden behind the veil of his bangs. "...Sorry about that." 

"Don't be."

When he looked up again, Ignis was smiling down at him. There was sympathy in the way he brushed back his hair, delicately as if Prompto were somehow going to break. 

“These...portraits, in this tiny box of yours,” he continued, gesturing to the camera still clutched between Prompto’s hands. “I must admit, I’ve never seen anything like them. You said last night that you’re from Insomnia?” 

Slowly, Prompto nodded. 

“I just...don’t see how that’s possible. None of those places look familiar.”

Realization was sinking in through the layers of cold and denial. Again, Prompto studied the mountains that lay beyond the forests ahead, and at last knew where he’d seen them before. They were the peaks of Galahd, visible on a clear day peeking over the top of the city’s Walls. Snow-capped, jagged. As impossible as it seemed, there could be no other explanation. He was in Insomnia. He was standing in the park, around the corner from his neighborhood. And Ignis was telling the truth, because the problem wasn’t location, it was time .

His home - and all the people and places in it - didn’t exist yet. 

Shock left him shivering from far more than the cold. 

“Prompto? Are you alright? You look as if you’re about to faint.”

“Uh, I think you were right, Ignis,” he said, his voice an oddly high pitch. “I’m not...from here.”

The sad look in green eyes spoke volumes. “No, I don’t think you are.”

“Then. How am I supposed to go home?” 

Ignis hugged him tight again as tears - frightened, lost - began to tumble down freckled cheeks. “I don’t know, Prompto. I’m so sorry.” 

The ride back to the manor was uncomfortably silent. Prompto stared ahead, eyes looking at nothing in particular, as their birds trotted over the snow. Slightly behind him, Ignis watched him sulk with increasing concern. 

Despite his host’s invitation to lunch - and later, dinner - Prompto wasn’t in the mood to eat. He wasn’t in the mood for much of anything other than laying in the bed of the guest room he’d been given and scrolling through the photos on his camera’s memory card. Not that he expected to find any clues there, or anything else that might help him find his way back to his own time. He simply...missed it. Missed home. 

Rolling onto his back, he hugged his camera to his chest. It would be Solstice Day in Insomnia. All the TV channels would be playing classic movies back to back, and the streets would be full of kids playing with their new bikes, scooters, and basketballs. Prompto might, if he was lucky, get a video call from his parents on their break from research, and he’d be heading out at sunset to snap shots of the city illuminated in the snow. 

Maybe it was his fault for not appreciating what he’d had before he lost it. Maybe it was just his chronically bad luck. Sure, he supposed things could have ended up even worse than he had it now. What if he’d landed in the middle of a battlefield, or had frozen to death in the blizzard because Ignis hadn’t happened along? 

A pang in his chest had him backtracking. Ignis . The man had been so kind to him, and really, honestly, he probably owed him his life. And in return, how had Prompto thanked him? By taking up space in his house, accusing him of kidnapping, and refusing to eat his food? Ignis, like a perfect gentleman, had asked nothing of him in return. 

Like it or not, Prompto was probably going to be stuck here for a while. And if that was the case, he had to at least make things right with the one person who had shown him sympathy.

The hall outside his room was bright with afternoon sunlight, but it was still chilly. He hugged his arms tight around himself as he made his way toward the central stairs, where Ignis had led him that morning for breakfast. Large as the manor was, the open layout made it easy to navigate back to the dining area. There, he found the table empty save for a setting at one end: a plate stacked with delicious looking dualhorn steak, potatoes, carrots, and dessert made (he discovered on closer inspection) with ulwatt berries and cream. 

A note written in dark ink on a piece of folded parchment indicated the entire spread was for him. “ Prompto, I hope you’ll find this meal to your liking when your appetite returns. I have some business to attend in the gardens, and would be honored if you’d join me later. There’s something I would like to show you. - I.S.” 

Prompto couldn’t resist a smile. The steak smelled delicious enough to have his stomach growling with overdue hunger. By the time he’d cleaned his plate, he was feeling full of energy, clutching his camera excitedly to go visit Ignis outside. 

The gardens were easy to spot from the front of the house. Prompto had seen them earlier, when they’d taken the chocobos out from the stables and crossed the grounds. While there were few flowers in the winter chill, an overhand of ivy welcomed him through the entrance way, and rows upon rows of green leaves, spuce, and ferns greeted him on the other side. Ignis, too, stood in the center, bundled in a warm coat and gloves. He was humming to himself while he carefully pruned a rose bush. 

“Hey, uh, Iggy.” 

Surprised, Ignis looked up over his spectacles at the unfamiliar nickname, but relaxed the moment he recognized its source. “Ah, good to see you up and about, Prompto. What a pleasant surprise. Did you find my note?” 

“Mmhmm.” He joined Ignis beside the bush, and whistled low. “Wow, do you take care of all these yourself? I didn’t take you for an outdoorsy kinda guy.” 

Ignis chuckled. He placed the trimmers he’d been using into a leather satchel at his hip, and began removing his gloves. “I find gardening soothing, when I have the time for it. I usually spend the spring and summer months in the capital on business, so unfortunately, I rarely get to see these in full bloom. Still, knowing they’re well cared for is solace enough for me.” 

“Huh, well, I’m sure someone gets to enjoy them. How about your--” Family , he nearly blurted, before catching himself just in time. It occurred to him that he didn’t know whether Ignis even had any family - if he was married, or had children - and he suddenly blushed to realize his mistake. “I-I mean, I’m sure they’re really beautiful. A-anyway, what kind of work do you do?” he asked instead, changing the subject as smooth as the backside of a garula.

The way green eyes studied him with amusement nearly made him melt right through the snow. “I act in part as an advisor to the king. Now, now, it’s not as prestigious as you might think,” he laughed when Prompto’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “He’s young, and sometimes stubborn. I often feel that my job is more child rearing than actually advising him on political matters. But the position, as well as this estate, were left to me when my uncle passed, and I fill both roles to the best of my ability.”

“Oh,” was all Prompto could think to say. Nevermind the time gap between them - Ignis was leagues ahead in every respect. He couldn’t be that much older, maybe two or three years, and yet he had already accomplished so much. 

“And how about you, Prompto? May I ask what it is you do, er, back home?” 

Once again, he felt his face flaring with embarrassment. “Um, I’m a student, actually. I take these photography classes at night, but sometimes I pick up side jobs, like family photos, weddings, portraits, that kind of stuff.” 

“An artist? How lovely. It suits you,” Ignis brightened. 

“R-really? Thanks.” His fingers worried around the strap of his camera. “You’re, uh, kinda the first person that’s ever said that to me.”

“Truly a shame, then. Prompto, may I ask a personal question?” Ignis waited for his nod before continuing. “Would you mind showing me more of your work? These portraits in your portrait box.” 

“Camera,” Prompto corrected, giving him a small smile. “And they’re called photographs. It’s kinda like...capturing an image or a moment and saving it on a computer chip. Or, um, a tiny canvas, I guess? Here, maybe I’d better just show you.” 

Taking a step back, he lifted his camera up to frame Ignis against the backdrop of snow dusted green. A few gestures - move a little this way, look into the lens - and he pressed the shutter to take the shot. Ignis leaned in as he turned the screen for both of them to see the impressive result. 

“Wow. You’re super photogenic, Iggy.”

“Is that...me? But how…?” 

“It has to do with little things called photons,” he started, pleased with the look of wonder spreading across Ignis’ cheeks. “The light gets sucked in through the lens, projected onto a digital sensor, and then saved into these tiny little pieces of information called bits.” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t….”

“It’s basically magic,” Prompto finished with a grin. Ignis stared at him for a moment, then released the breath he’d been holding as a laugh. 

“Very clever. I think I like this magic ‘camera’ contraption of yours. Could you take a portrait of both of us together?” 

“Like a selfie? You bet!” As he slipped into the space against Ignis’ side, was aware of his warmth, his gentle arm coming to rest around his waist, and the smell of herbs and flowers surrounding them both. It was a moment he definitely wanted to capture forever, both on film and in his memories. Whatever happened, if he ever managed to get back home, he would always remember his time here with Ignis. 

“Say greens ,” he smiled, and tucked his head at the last second under Ignis’ chin for the perfect shot. 

They strolled through the garden for some time together, Prompto hanging from Ignis’ arm and photographing the amazing array of plants they passed. Ignis talked to him about the state of the kingdom, the war that was building in the south, the young king’s hobbies (surprisingly, fishing was high on the list), and even his own life at the estate. As it turned out, he had never been married - far too busy with work, was the excuse he gave - nor did he have any family left in Lucis. His closest relatives lived across the sea in the nation of Tenebrae.

Prompto listened with increasing interest. It seemed like despite the difference in their experiences, they shared at least one common thread. “I’m all alone, too,” he blurted out when the conversation had come to a lull. “My parents travel for work a lot, and I haven’t seen them in over a year. I don’t really...hang out with anyone at school, either.”

“Surely you have friends, at least?” 

He shook his head. “Nah. Not close ones, anyway. I guess I’ve always been more comfortable on my own. As long as I’ve got this little guy with me,” he smiled, holding up his camera again. “I never get too lonely.” 

Ignis looked as if he wanted to say something. Opened his mouth, then shut it again, still mulling over the right words. At last, just as Prompto returned to snapping shots of the ivy growing up the fence posts, he cleared his throat and said, “There’s something I’d like to show you, if I may.” 

“So...that’s Insomnia? It looks so small from here.” 

From the top of the ridge, looking north across the fields they’d traveled, Prompto could just make out the grey towers of the Citadel. Surrounding it were narrow streets and low buildings, all winding out in a network of activity. He could almost imagine, if he closed his eyes, watching the progress of time spread the city far beyond the shadow of the castle. Skyscrapers, roads, billboards, and eventually the Wall itself conquering the land and sky alike. 

“It’s a half day ride from here into the gates of the capital. But, if what you say is true, I imagine one day it will be much easier to reach.”

“Yeah,” Prompto laughed darkly. “Once they cut down the forest, and tear up your pretty garden to put in eight lane highways, things are much better.” 

The arm around his shoulders hugged him closer. “All things change with time, Prompto. It doesn’t make me love this land any less. And besides,” he chuckled. “The future can’t be all bad. Not if you’re a part of it.” 

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he kept quiet, answering instead by shifting closer to Ignis’ warmth. Yeah, he missed home. He missed his computer, and his phone, and t-shirts and indoor plumbing. But he was beginning to think that life here had its benefits, as well. For one, the air was cleaner than he’d ever imagined, crisp and fresh and energizing. For another, he could see and ride chocobos whenever he wanted, rather than read about them in textbooks or online. 

And, most importantly, there was Ignis, who in only two days had already taken up permanent residence in his heart. 

Wish I could take you home with me , he sighed, settling back in his arms to watch the shadows of late afternoon stretch across the empty fields.  

Time began to pass more quickly than Prompto could keep up with. Between learning his way around the manor and spending every free moment in the company of his generous host, he got so caught up in the day to day routine that a week passed by without him realizing it. 

Life had become comfortable in Ignis’ home. He’d gotten used to the baths and the oil lamp beside his bed. He’d even taken some fashion tips, trying the new shirts Ignis brought him until he’d found a style that suited his tastes. His favorite outfit was a pair of loose black trousers rolled up to his knees under a loose ruffled white shirt and a red vest which Ignis said was made of anak fur. When Prompto ran his fingers over the soft fabric, it shimmered beautifully in the light. And the way Igns had looked at him when he tried it on made him never want to wear anything else again. 

He’d put it on again that evening, as well, when he descended the stairs to find the mood unusually somber. Ignis was still setting the silverware at the table, but there was a distant look in his eyes, a hollowness that definitely hadn’t been there before. He looked...tired, Prompto realized. Had something happened? 

“Am I too early for dinner?” he asked, voice gentle. Ignis looked up quickly - as if just noticing he was there - and pushed the shadows of his face back with a smile. 

“Not at all. I’m afraid I got a late start, is all.”

“Let me help you, then.” 

They arranged the plates and silverware in silence. Ignis brought out several dishes - a rich-smelling stew, salad with olives and crumbled cheese, black current jam spread on slices of fresh bread - and Prompto filled each of their plates. Yet, while he dug in like a man starved, Ignis across from him barely touched his meal. He seemed unfocused, lost in thought. Prompto watched his hands fumble his silverware for the third time, until at last he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore. 

“Iggy, what’s going on?” He set down his own fork to give Ignis his full attention. “Is it the food? Did I do something wrong?”

“Prompto, I--” Shadows passed over him again. Ignis dropped his face into his hands and sighed so heavily that Prompto felt his heart sink with it. “I received a message from the Citadel this afternoon. War has broken out with the Empire on the border. I’m…. I’m to go with the King to the camps.”

Panic shot through his veins like ice. “W-wait, what? Like, to fight? When? Why do you have to go?” 

“The carriage is coming for me tomorrow. As advisor, it is my duty to accompany Noctis even into danger. And I would do so gladly, except….” Those sharp, green eyes peered up, so full of emotion and regret. Prompto pushed back his chair, and was running to him before he could finish his thought. 

“Don’t go then. Iggy, don’t go . Think about your garden! A-and your chocobos, who’s gonna look after them if you’re…?” This was too much. Prompto had read about the old wars between Niflheim and Lucis. He knew how most of the battles ended, and he knew how few usually came back. To think Ignis was going to be sent out there, and without even time to properly say goodbye…. It wasn’t fair. “What about me , Iggy?” 

  “Prompto….” Those arms, more familiar now but never, ever enough, wrapped around him, pulled him in close. “I wanted to help you. To get you back home, but instead I…. I’m so sorry. I have to leave you.” 

“Let me talk to the king - what’s his name, Noctis? I can change his mind! Please, Iggy,” he was practically sobbing now, fingers clutching the front of Ignis’ shirt as if somehow he could hold him in place forever. “Don’t go.”

Fingers brushed through his hair, and Prompto buried his face in the center of Ignis’ chest. They stood there, holding each other close, until long after the food had gone cold on their unfinished places. “Dear heart. Would you accompany me to the gardens one last time?”

Neither of them had much appetite left. The left the table uncleared, instead took the back door out through the kitchens onto the grounds. Prompto looked up at the starry night sky through the tears in his eyes, trying to memorize the clarity with which he could make out each constellation, every winking distant sun. The sky here, in this time, was beautiful. The snow beneath the moonlight was beautiful. The gardens, growing up to wrap them in a moment of peace, of privacy, were beautiful, and his chest ached to think this would be the last time he and Ignis might share it together. 

Dark boots came to rest in front of the rose bushes, and Prompto stopped with them. He reached down, seeking out gloved fingers, and found them already twining with his own.

“I…. Prompto, you must be freezing.” It was as though Ignis was seeing him - really seeing him - for the first time that evening. He looked over the thin sleeves of his shirt down to trembling knees beneath tight leggings with mounting concern. “Forgive me, I wasn’t thinking about…. Here, take this.”

His coat was off before Prompto could protest, settling instead around his own shoulders. It was heavy, lined with wool and warmer even than the hearth in the room he’d been staying. Most importantly, though, it smelled like Ignis, and that had his chest clenching tighter than anything else. 

Hugging it closed around his body, he offered a sad smile in return. “Thanks. You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all, dear heart.”

There was that nickname again. When had Ignis started using it? He couldn’t recall now, but it felt so natural, so perfect on that lilting tongue. It made his heart flutter into his throat when he heard it. Made him want to stay forever, right here at Iggy’s side, just to hear it again, and again, and again. Was that such a selfish thing to ask? To defy fate, to change history, just to be with the one person who had ever made him feel like he was worth something?

“Prompto. I have a confession to make.” Ignis spoke quietly. His breath was white mist in the frigid air. “The night before you arrived, I was standing here. Right here, looking up at the sky just before it filled with clouds. The stars were….”

“Beautiful,” Prompto finished. 

Perfect lips curved in a smile. “Indeed. I am not a religious man, Prompto, but when I looked up at those stars, I felt something stir within me. Hope, perhaps. Desire to escape this lonely life. It sounds childish to say it now, but when I gazed upon those stars, I was moved to make a wish.” 

A wish. Prompto held his breath, and leaned in closer. 

“I wished...for love. For someone to breathe life back into this old home, and into me. Prompto, I believe that you were the one that the stars sent me. You are my wish come true.”

“Iggy….” 

Tears half-frozen on his cheeks melted again, began to fall anew. What surprised him even more than Ignis’ words was how badly he wanted to believe them. How he wanted to think their meeting was somehow destined, a Solstice miracle to give them both a taste of true, genuine happiness. Because that’s what this was. Prompto was happy , happier than he’d been in a long time, and he owed that to the man standing before him, watching him with hope swimming in his emerald eyes. 

Ignis started to speak. He opened his mouth - in a question, perhaps, or in apology - but Prompto beat him to the chase. Pushing himself up onto his toes in the snow, he surged forward to slot their mouths together, as if he could capture Ignis’ breath just as it fell from his lips. 

There was no hesitation, no resistance. Ignis melted into the kiss as so much relief washed over him, both his arms and his warmth moving to encircle Prompto, to draw him close. And in turn, Prompto clung to his shoulders, curled his fingers in soft, brown hair and pulled him down deeper into him. 

Yes. Yes , this was where he belonged. This night, this garden, and in Ignis’ arms. Come morning, he knew that everything would change again. But for one night, he wanted to simply live. 

“Prompto.” Those lips, so hot, so tempting, still brushed against his own when Ignis spoke. “You’re trembling. Are you cold?” 

Smiling, he shook his head. “No. Your coat’s nice and toasty . ” 

Ignis chuckled as he ran his finger tips over the lapel of the coat, bringing them to a rest over Prompto’s heart. “Please keep it. For me. I think it suits you.”

“Oh, thanks. But, um. Don’t you think it’d look better on your floor?” The coy smile he’d attempted turned to laughter at the sight of Iggy’s confused expression. “Future joke. Don’t worry, you’ll get it someday.”

“I would very much like that.”  

Prompto leaned up to kiss him again. “Then...let’s go back inside.”

The fire had died to a smoulder in the hearth, but Prompto found that he was plenty warm even without it.  

In fact, wrapped in gentle arms beneath the thick blankets of Ignis’ bed, he couldn’t think of anywhere - or any when - he’d rather be. This moment was absolutely perfect. 

Yet try as he might, he couldn’t fight the sleep that had been tugging at his eyelids for the last half hour. As they lay together, content in the afterglow, he began to drift off to the sight of soft green eyes and kiss-bruised lips. To light brown hair falling across the pillow, and the trail of beauty marks he could count on one bare shoulder.

Movement stirred him again, dream-like as that now-familiar mouth grazed the bridge of his nose. “Thank you, Prompto,” Ignis whispered. “For coming into my life.”

A hum in answer. He smiled, closed his eyes, and let Ignis envelop him with the whole of his body. 

“Should I wake you in the morning before I go?”

“Yeah. I wanna -” He paused, yawned, then tucked his head back into place against Ignis’ neck. “I wanna say good-bye.” 

“It won’t be forever. I promise.”

“I know.”

“Prompto.” For a moment, Ignis couldn’t speak. He seemed to swallow back his words, sighing as he found better ones. “I will find you again. Somewhere, someday. Whatever it takes..” 

Sleepily, Prom pressed his lips to the pulse he could feel beating beneath the skin. “I love you, Ignis Scientia.”

“And I you, Prompto Argentum.”

“Say it again, Iggy,” he smiled. 

“I love you.” Lips pressed to the top of his head, desperate, lingering. “ I love you .”

When Prompto opened his eyes again, he was back in his own bed, in his old room, wearing chocobo-print pajamas and a thin blue t-shirt.

He blinked against the light. The morning sun had skirted past his curtains to shine directly into his eyes across the room. It fell across the surface of his desk, over his laptop and the open notebook beside it where he recalled scribbling down names, dates, and dead ends. Slowly melting snow drip, dripped down from the icicles above his window panes onto the sill below, a steady but constant rhythm. 

In complete contrast, Prompto’s heart was pounding a mile a minute. He bolted up in bed fast as lightning, panic already surging through him. “No, no…. Nononono!” This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right. He had just been with Iggy. He’d only closed his eyes for a second. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

He hadn’t meant to come home. 

A quick pat down of his mattress uncovered his phone, half tucked under his pillow and still almost fully charged. He held his breath as he swiped up. 8:00 am, December 25 . 

Prompto couldn’t believe his eyes. 

It was still Solstice morning. How was that possible? He’d been gone for at least a week, hadn’t he? So much had happened, so much within him had changed. It had all been so real, there was no way it could have been a dream...right?

Fighting back tears, Prompto scrambled to his feet and next reached for his camera on the desk. Photo evidence, the selfies he took with Ignis - none of them were there . Even the photos he’d taken in the park, of the chocobo racing through the streets. All of them, gone. 

No, no no! 

It had been real! Prompto bit down so hard on his lip he could taste blood. Ignis was real , he could still feel him, still smell him and taste him on his lips. Iggy…. 

“Where did you go…?” he whispered into the empty silence of his room. 

But there was still one place he had yet to check. He remembered it then, draped over the back of his chair like an afterthought: the coat . The one he’d found in his attic, moth-eaten and weathered with years. Only, when he lifted it up now, in the light of the morning sun, he saw that it was practically new, the leather supple and smooth, and a rich shade of tanned brown. The wool lining, too, was clean, and as Prompto wrapped it around his shoulders for the second time, he was overwhelmed by how strongly it still smelled of him.

Ignis’ name left his lips in a sob. 

He tugged the coat tight around him as he curled back up on top of his sheets. Buried his face in the warmth of it and tried, tried to will himself asleep, as if somehow in his dreams he would be transported back there. To a time and a place and a love as real as the coat he wore. 

It didn’t work. Try as he might, each time he opened his eyes it was to the same view of his own, lonely bedroom. No matter how much he tossed and turned, no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, nothing changed. Why couldn’t he control the magic - or whatever it was - that had sent him to the past in the first place? And why had it picked his happiest moment to rip everything away from him again? 

A cruel joke of the universe, perhaps. But Prompto certainly wasn’t laughing. 

He threw himself onto his other side again, cursing his luck and the whole stupid Solstice season, when an odd crinkling sound caught his attention. Something had fallen out of the pocket of his  - Iggy’s - coat onto to the sheets beside him. A roll of parchment, tied around the middle with a thin blue ribbon. 

Could it be…? 

Cautiously, Prompto flicked his eyes over to the notebook open on his desk. The parchment he’d found that night, the yellowed, fragile letter with the faded ink, was no longer tucked in between the pages where he’d left it. Suddenly, his fingers began to tremble. 

“You left this for me, didn’t you? That night…. After I went to sleep. You knew I would be gone when you woke up.” His heart caught somewhere in his throat. Fresh tears threatened to fall, held back only by the dam of his curiosity. If he was right, then…. 

Prompto unrolled the letter to find Ignis’ handwriting, flowing in clear, beautiful script, down the page. 

My dearest Prompto, it began. This time that I have had with you, while regrettably short, has been the best of my life. Your arrival marked the breaking of the clouds over my heart, and where once was darkness, there is now only you. And though our paths are destined to lead us apart far too soon, here you shall remain with me always. In blue skies. In rose petals and snow-frosted leaves. In the taste of a warm summer breeze, I shall remember you. 

With my love, and the knowledge that somewhere, someday, we will meet again. 

Yours, Iggy 

Chest aching, heart shattered, Prompto clutched the letter to his chest and sobbed. 

“Hey, long time, no see, short stuff.” The voice, and the greeting on it, belonged to none other than Aranea Highwind, one of the few students in his night class who had bothered to learn his name. Not that she ever really used it, of course. “Have a nice break, kiddo? Get up to any trouble?” 

She winked, and nudged her girlfriend Cindy, who was unpacking her bags at the table beside her. “Aw, Nea, you know Prom’s a perfect angel. Oh, hey, nice threads! Was that a Solstice present?” 

Her fingers brushed over the sleeve of Prompto’s coat as he passed and, shyly, he offered them half of a smile. “Sorta,” was all he said. It was enough to send them both into hyperdrive. 

“Prom, hunny, don’t tell me!”

“Who’s the lucky guy?” 

“Nea, don’t assume. Who’s the lucky person? And please say you’re seein’ them again?”

“Uh.” He willed the heat from his face, and instead focused his energy on pulling his things - a binder, some pencils, his camera - out of his bag. “We haven’t been able to keep in touch. It’s...complicated.”

Knowingly, blue eyes met steel grey as the two women held a wordless exchange. Whatever they decided, it was Cindy who extended their diplomacy. “You ever need an ass kicked, you let us know, hunny.” 

“T-thanks, will do.” Prompto flashed a weak grin, then ducked down behind the privacy of his open binder. 

Class would be starting soon. Their professor, a woman whose background in biology and passion for animals had literally changed the face of modern wildlife photography, would stride through the door, drop a stack of papers on the desk, and fly into a fast-paced lesson without giving anyone a second to breathe. Usually, Prompto loved Dr. Yaegre’s enthusiasm. He’d always looked forward to her classes in the past, and yet now…. 

Flipping to the front of his binder, he found the letter again, right where he’d put it. Iggy’s letter. Like the coat, it hadn’t left his person since that morning he’d woken up all alone back in his own time. Several times a day, he’d take it out, look at it, run his fingers over the words. But already the letter was showing the effects of his constant attention. The ink was smearing, the edges of the paper were starting to wear. So, still unable to part with it, he’d stuck it between two sheets of plastic in his binder and brought it to school.

If they'd known, Cindy and Aranea might have found it pathetic. They might have told him to move on, to find a real boyfriend in his own reality to obsess over. But how could he do that when he knew in his heart that Ignis was the one? 

The bell chimed, and their professor still hadn’t shown up. While other students started chattering, gossiping about whatever research they assumed had swept Dr. Yaegre away, Prompto pulled his phone out of his pocket. He’d been in the middle of reading an article about the history of the Niflheim-Lucis border wars. This one had seemed promising: it was the first one he’d found that mentioned not only King Noctis, but the men who had stood by his side at the time. Namely, a ‘loyal advisor’ who had ‘bravely followed him into the Battle of Altissia’ - but that’s where all accounts of Ignis seemed to stop. 

Absorbed in his phone, Prompto missed a new figure enter the classroom. 

“Good evening, everyone. Forgive me for the intrusion.”

Blue eyes shot open wide. That voice…. 

“I’m Dr. Yaegre’s TA. The professor’s had some urgent business at Neeglyss, and so I’ve been asked to hand out your review sheets for the exam next week. 

Prompto wasn’t listening anymore. He was staring, utterly breathless, at the man standing next to the white board, adjusting his glasses in an almost nervous tick. He wore a long sleeve shirt beneath a red vest, and dark jeans well-suited for an office or (maybe Prompto was biased) a nice coffee date. But despite the change of clothing, there was no mistaking the soft brown hair, the green eyes behind sharp lenses. The familiar lips curving up in a shy smile. 

It was Ignis!

“Wow,” Cindy whispered suddenly to her girlfriend at the table in front of him. “Getta load of Mr. Dapper.” 

Aranea scoffed. “Not my type. And I get the feeling that’s mutual.”

“Nea, we talked about this…. Hm? Prompto? Where are you--?” 

He was already moving, books and bag discarded at his table as he made his way toward the front of the room. Eyes turned to him. The TA, busy shuffling several stacks of paper on the professor’s desk, very nearly startled when he glanced up to see him. But still, Prompto didn’t - couldn’t - stop. 

“Um, hello, there. Can I...help you?” 

Without thinking, Prompto reached out for his hand. Clasped it between his own and smiled through watery eyes. “It’s me. It’s Prompto.” 

Green eyes blinked rapidly, and a soft pink rose to color his cheeks. But, Prompto noticed with a flicker of hope, he didn’t pull away. “Have…. Have we met before? You look awfully familiar, Prompto.” 

Maybe he was crying, maybe he wasn’t, but his heart felt full enough to burst with Solstice magic of his own. “Yeah, we did. Ages ago.”