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Prompto was used to being alone.
He'd been alone for years. Growing up, it was rare he even saw his parents. Each day he walked to school alone and walked home alone. He sat at his desk in the classroom like a boat adrift at sea. He was used to watching other people talking and laughing together all around him. He was used to being alone in a crowded room. It didn't bother him anymore. At least, he was used to telling himself it didn't bother him anymore.
He wasn't used to being with people. With friends. With Noctis and Gladio and Ignis. He wasn't used to the long drives in the car and even longer conversations with Ignis. Or Gladio trying to teach both him and (a very disinterested) Noctis how to get a fire going at camp, and stifling a laugh with each of their failures. Or scrolling through pictures with Noct long into the night, nestled beside each other to judge Prompto's photos from the day. He wasn't used to Noctis falling asleep beside him as they lay sprawled out on the bed, Ignis and Gladio sleeping in the bed across from them. He wasn't used to how Noct would shift in his sleep and grumble and pull Prompto closer. He wasn't used to how, sometimes, he would wake to gentle, steady breath on his neck or arms wrapped unconsciously and comfortably around him.
Sometimes, all the things he wasn't used to would eat him alive.
He stared long at the ceiling. Light from the motel sign streamed in through the windows, along with the faint desert breeze. The ceiling fan rattled gently. In the adjacent bed, Gladio snored. In the dark, he could see Ignis, still and silent but probably sleeping just as soundly. Prompto turned his head to find Noctis still beside him and still asleep. He couldn't bear to look at him for long. Noct had his head nestled comfortably into the pillow, his face half visible. He breathed slowly, steadily. He had his arms folded before him, hands resting so close to Prompto's side.
It was too quiet. Prompto sat up. Noctis didn't stir beside him. He wanted him to wake and notice his absence and pull him close and say something that could make all the worry gnawing away at him go away.
He slipped out from under the covers. Slowly, he rose, feet silently finding the floor. Anxiety prickled the back of his neck. The voices rolling around in his head grew louder in the quiet. He tiptoed over to to his things and tugged on his jeans and boots. On the stand between the two beds he found his camera. Casting a quick, longing look back to both Noctis and the other occupied bed, he tore his attentions away. At least, he tried to.
What was he doing here? Talking and laughter rattled around inside him. What was he, some useless, stupid commoner, doing here?
"Ughh..."
For how hot the desert could be, it sure was cold at night. Gently closing the door behind him, a surprising chill came over him. It was almost too bright outside. The motel sign buzzed quietly. Tall street lights cast large bluish circles on the cracked concrete road. The Regalia, thankfully, was parked right where Ignis left it. A few other cars peppered the lot. Light emanated from the reception counter, but Prompto didn't see anybody seated there. It was quiet. He couldn't see anyone. The silent road and silent breeze amplified the noise inside him.
He shook his head. Prompto tried to focus on the gentle weight of the camera in his hands. The streetlights barely gave him enough light, but it didn't matter. He followed the path of the motel patio, studying the old, worn tables and chairs through the lens. A tattered book sat abandoned on one table. A couple glass bottles tucked themselves comfortably under a bench. A lonely little flower poked up through just one crack in the old parking lot. It shivered a little in the night breeze.
He took a picture of it. It was probably just a weed. It didn't belong there. It should have been plucked out and thrown away. He took another picture of it, and another from a different angle. Each new angle highlighted something new to hate about it. Lopsided. Not where it belonged. Annoying. Too used to being alone and unable to bear the presence of other people. An anxious, shuddering, weak little thing.
Prompto looked out into the darkness. Beyond the broken concrete, beyond the safety of bright, unwavering lights, loomed the night, unknown. The lights of Insomnia, the Crown City, were long gone. They would never see them again. Prompto realized he could just wander out into the night, past the bright lights, and never be seen again, either. Maybe he should have.
"...Prompto?"
He almost didn't recognize his own name. The camera nearly dropped from his hands. The thumbnail screen showed only darkness. He turned to find Ignis closing the motel room door behind him.
"Are you alright?"
The light concern in his voice made Prompto's stomach twist. He tried to laugh, letting his arms fall to his sides.
"Just, y'know. Needed a break from the big guy's snoring."
"Ah."
Prompto shifted uneasily on his feet. Ignis's sharp gaze could cut through anything. Maybe that was why he liked wearing glasses, Prompto realized. It wasn't to merely see better, but to let him see through any lie. He looked too put-together, too perfect, like always. Even in sleeping clothes, even with his hair down. Prompto dumbly turned the camera over in his hands, frowning down at it. Ignis readjusted his glasses. Although it saved Prompto from his gaze for only a moment, it was clear he couldn't escape.
"Feeling inspired?"
Prompto shrugged. His gaze fell to the flower poking out from the concrete. "Ohh, yeah. A whole lot."
"Care to share? You didn't show off any of your photos today, after all."
"None of 'em really turned out." Prompto gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Damp, dark caves don't make the best subject matter."
Ignis, standing in the low, warm light of the motel front, shot him a wry smile. "Did you happen to catch Noct falling flat on his face at all?"
Prompto snorted. "Hmmm, I think I missed the, like, third time, but I definitely got the others."
"For all his training and royal blood," Ignis tsked, shaking his head, "you think he'd have a little more grace."
Prompto couldn't help but laugh. It relieved the weight in his chest just a little, but the voices gnawing at the back of his head snickered, too.
"Are you s'posed to talk like that?" Prompto found himself approaching Ignis at the motel front, joining him at the patio chairs. Ignis took it as a cue to lean against the motel room door. He studied Prompto carefully. The blond found anxiety creeping into his voice. "I mean, being his advisor and all?"
"Personal chef? Confidant? Retainer? Babysitter?"
"I mean, you said it..."
"As such, whatever the title, it's just one of my duties." Ignis waved a hand in a too-refined kind of shrug. "Recognizing one's faults is the best way to begin overcoming them."
"Easy for you to say," Prompto grumbled. When he was still unable to escape Ignis's steady gaze, he forced himself to elaborate and tried to look very, very interested in the black camera screen. "I mean, you and Gladio are pretty much good at everything."
Ignis poorly stifled a laugh. "Is that so?"
Prompto raised an eyebrow. "Is being too perfect a flaw?"
"Hmmmmm, maybe."
The blond groaned. He hurled himself into one of the old patio chairs. It gave a sharp groan like it would snap under his weight. The thought made him cringe, but Ignis's smirk made it almost bearable. Prompto returned a playful glare, and Ignis sighed dramatically. He drew a hand over his face for a long moment. Prompto realized he wasn't wearing his gloves -- sleeping with them on would be a little too uptight, even for Ignis -- and he couldn't help but marvel at his pretty, slender fingers. Ignis readjusted his glasses and Prompto bolted upright, causing the chair to groan again.
"Don't worry," Ignis assured him. He brushed one of his perfect hands along Prompto's shoulder and nodded. "I have plenty of flaws, just like anyone else."
Prompto balked. Ignis laughed outright and, somehow, the night didn't feel so cold.
"I work diligently at mine while gently reminding our comrades of theirs, if they're slouching just a bit. One of my many duties, as I said."
The blond raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
Ignis's expression darkened some with a light scoff. "Keeping us all awake, for one. Sleeping too much, for another."
Prompto shook his head. "What about you?"
"If it isn't so obvious, I suppose my working on it is paying off rather well."
Prompto asked another question without realizing it.
"...what about me?"
In the wake of his own voice, Prompto shifted in the creaky chair. He fumbled with the camera in his lap. Ignis's eyes on him were too much again and he had to look away.
"Uhhh," he tried, shaking his head. He idly scrolled through the camera's previous pictures. Almost all of them were too dark to see. "I mean, is there anything I should be working on?"
The night was dark. The cold wind rattled rubble on the concrete. Prompto tried to laugh but it came out uneasy and uneven. Ignis's eyes were too heavy and he could probably see all the words trying to gnaw their way out of him. Despite himself, some succeeded, reaching the air with a careful voice.
"Anything you'd all, I dunno. Hate me for? Kick me out for? Like, like being too annoying, too loud, or kinda useless, or... anything like that. Is there?"
Ignis didn't say anything. Some beast, some creature of the night, howled far off in the distance, but Prompto couldn't hear it. Prompto's nervous laugh tumbled off. Unsteady fingers gripped the camera in his lap. Despite the chill in the air, heat pinched his face. He bowed his head even further. He felt like a bug, a little weed poking out of the concrete, just waiting to be uprooted and tossed aside. That was something he was used to, after all. He didn't want to just sit and wait for it.
"Why," Ignis said slowly, each word thoughtful, "would you ask something like that?"
"Hah, no reason," Prompto coughed. He wanted to throw the camera to the concrete. He wanted to run off into the night and get ripped apart by whatever it was lurking in the dark. His eyes hurt. Something tightened in his chest and gripped tighter and tighter, forcing him to squeeze out the words. "Just..."
Don't look at me, he wanted to say. I know what it is. I know there's no reason for me to be here. I know you don't want me here.
It was so much easier to not be looked at. He was used to it. But Ignis's careful eyes, Gladio's booming voice, and Noctis -- all of Noctis, everything about him, everything he adored -- he wasn't used to any of it. Pain burned in his chest. He bit his lip but the words kept coming out.
"I wanna know," he said, "...how you feel about me."
Stupid, he screamed at himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He barely heard Ignis's little laugh.
"There is one thing I feel you should work on, now that I think about it. If you think you're prepared for such harsh criticism, of course."
"Yes!" Prompto squeaked. He hoped his spine would snap when he bolted upright. Ignis's careful eyes made him grip his knees and his camera nearly tumbled to the ground. "I gotta know, if there's anything at all -- seriously, I'll try to do better. The last thing I wanna do is -- is..."
"Prompto."
His voice was firm, enough to stop him from shaking, enough to make him freeze completely. His chest tightened so hard he couldn't breathe. He couldn't look away from Ignis as, slowly, he approached. From Prompto's spot in the chair, the other man towered over him. His sharp eyes searched him carefully. Prompto knew. He knew all the words he could pick, all the words like his sharp, precise knives that could slice him open like he deserved. But Ignis's small, gentle smile remained. One of his careful hands found Prompto's face. He sighed and Prompto could suddenly breathe again.
"You are far, far too hard on yourself."
Prompto waited. The warmth of Ignis's hand on his cheek seeped through and slowly thawed him. He nearly choked on his surprise.
"Wh...what?"
"Your flaw. A glaring weakness," Ignis said, waving his free hand. Seeing his fingers swirl through the air suddenly made Prompto so, so much more aware of the fingers tucked carefully under his ear, threaded lightly into his hair. "If you realized just how much we want you here -- and we do all want you here, make no mistake of that -- you might become a little too perfect, yourself."
Prompto blinked. Tears prickled his eyes. A dumb little sound eked from his throat. "Huh?"
Ignis leered. Something dangerous flashed behind his glasses. "Do you doubt my judgment, Prompto?"
"Whhhhh, well, yeah, I mean, no, but..."
His voice failed him. His cheeks burned and probably seared Ignis's hand, but the other man didn't pull away. His gaze remained steady as Prompto felt something crack inside him. Tears slipped free from his eyes and he hated each one. A careful thumb wiped some away. Prompto closed his eyes and leaned into Ignis's hand. Despite his burning face, the flood of terrible thoughts -- lies, his own voice spat back at him, that can't be true, it just can't be -- he let out a sigh. Ignis said it again, like it was as simple a fact as the sky being blue.
"We want you here." His voice grew soft, then, like it was a secret from the dark and all the daemons hiding within it. "I want you here."
Prompto couldn't meet his eyes. Instead, his hand moved to the hand on his face. His fingers slipped between Ignis's and, for a long, pleasant moment, it was quiet. The buzzing lights or the desert wind could do nothing to interrupt just how warm, how wonderful it felt to lean into Ignis's gentle grasp. But then his eyes snapped open. He tugged himself away and Ignis, slightly surprised, stepped back. Prompto sniffled. He wiped at his face and tried not to hate the tears staining his cheeks.
"S-sorry," he tried, voice caught somewhere between a choke and a laugh. "I, I guess I'm more tired than I thought."
Ignis sighed and shook his head. "It is rather late. We should at least attempt to get some rest, if we're hoping to be productive tomorrow."
"Y-yeah."
Prompto breathed. The tightness in his chest dissipated. The burning in his face refused to go away. His eyes carefully rose to meet Ignis's when he offered the blond his hand.
"Shall we?"
Wordlessly, he nodded. Prompto's hand found his. Long, slender fingers gently clasped his hand. Prompto found himself standing and Ignis drew him back toward the motel room door. Maybe he was more tired than he realized -- the screaming tumult inside him gave way to a soft, pleasant wonder at just how warm Ignis's hand was in his own.
The light was on within the little room. The little lamp on the stand couldn't hope to illuminate the whole room, but it tried. In one bed lay Noctis, completely undisturbed, curled up on his side with the covers drawn around him. The grumbling came from Gladio, sitting on the other bed. He yawned briefly before he snapped fully alert, dark eyes catching the lamp light.
"What's up, Iggy?"
"Nothing of note," Ignis said. "Merely a little trouble sleeping, thanks to some awful noise. It seems to have finally stopped, though."
Gladio ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. "C'mon, my snoring can't be that bad."
"Prompto and I were considering making you sleep outside." Ignis shot the other man a wry grin, only for Gladio to return the gesture.
"Never too late to set up camp."
"Nearly too late to get a good night's sleep, though."
Gladio laughed, but when his gaze met Prompto's, his smile evaporated immediately. He rose from the bed at once. In the low, warm light, his impressive physique cast an equally impressive shadow.
"Prompto?" The concern was plain in his voice. "What's wrong?"
Prompto fumbled on his own feet. His hand slipped free from Ignis's as he plodded to his bed. He set the camera on the stand between the two beds and sat. Noctis shifted behind him, but Prompto quickly brought his attention back to Gladio.
"I'm fine, really," he managed, shaking his head. "Just gotta get some sleep."
Gladio grunted. He didn't sit back down. Instead, he leaned in close to study Prompto closely and frowned. His both hands found Prompto's shoulders. The old motel and the dark night and all its daemons could fall away to nothing and he would remain in place thanks to his strong, warm hands.
"What the hell," grumbled Gladio. "Have you been crying?"
"He was worried," Ignis explained simply, precisely, "we would leave without him."
Prompto choked on a dozen attempts to argue, but Gladio's firm hands kept him still. Gladio eyed him carefully. A fire burned deep in his dark eyes, as always. Any trace of sleep was gone. He was just like Ignis, Prompto decided -- too smart, too capable, too handsome, too hard to read. Prompto's eyes wandered away. Gladio moved back slowly. He opened his mouth to say something, but another voice grumbled over him.
"Prommmmp-tooooo..."
Everyone turned. The bed groaned. The covers pooled around him as he sat up. His body was upright, but his brain remained firmly in the clutches of sleep. Noct's eyes fluttered open and lazily floated around the room. He found Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto just beside him. Then, his eyes fell closed again. A grimace tugged at his face. He grumbled something and cursed Prompto's name again. He scratched his head of perpetually-messy dark hair. Gladio's hands left Prompto's shoulders. Ignis readjusted his glasses. Prompto moved to turn himself around more and face Noct properly, but he didn't get a chance.
Noctis's arms found him. They wrapped around his waist and hugged him tight. Prompto yelped when Noct fell back down to the bed like a brick suddenly remembering the influence of gravity. Both he and Prompto landed in the nest of covers with a muted thud. Prompto couldn't move. Noct shifted against him and nestled his face into his back. The heat of his whole body crept into his own. Prompto let out a shaky breath. His wide eyes found Ignis and Gladio, the two watching him closely. They exchanged glances of their own. Gladio snorted. Ignis smiled and shook his head.
"That's that, then."
Gladio yawned. Ignis moved to the stand between the beds and set his glasses beside the camera. He pat the space beside the trapped Prompto, smoothing the sheets some. With a frown, he tugged some of the covers free, tugging some unconscious grumbling from Noctis in the process. He properly spread them out over both the prince and Prompto. Meeting Prompto's wide eyes for a moment, he slowly, carefully lay down at his side. He pulled the covers over himself as well and let a sigh. His head settled deep into Prompto's pillow. He turned to his side and eyed Prompto again, gaze darting to the arms around his waist and Prompto's almost-terrified eyes.
His voice was quiet, something only for Prompto and the blush burning his face. "Is this alright?"
"S-shhh-sure," the blond managed voicelessly.
Something heavy dropped on the other side of the bed. Noctis somehow drew himself closer to Prompto, sleepily muttering into his back. Prompto could feel his lips through the thin fabric of his shirt and he shivered. Noct's legs tangled with his. Another arm settled along both his and Noct's waists. From the other side of the bed, Gladio groaned.
"I guess," he said, answering no one. Ignis laughed.
He looked so different with his head half buried in the pillow, just beside Prompto. His light hair nearly fell over his eyes, swept along his brow. His eyes closed. The collar of his sleeping shirt highlighted the length of his neck, the necklace drawn along his skin. When he glanced to Prompto once more, a hand ventured to his. His fingers slid between Prompto's own and grasped him lightly, a sharp contrast to the firm grip at his waist and the heavy weight at his hip. Ignis sighed. Prompto's eyes darted all around the room. Even with his eyes closed, Ignis was impossible to watch. The warmth of his hand, and Noct pulled against him, and Gladio's arm drawn over them both were almost too much to take.
Grumbling again, Gladio shifted. He reached over the three to the stand between the beds, one completely full and one completely abandoned, and clicked off the lamp. Darkness flooded the room in an instant. Noctis said something else into Prompto's back. He supposed he said "goodnight," but Prompto couldn't bring himself to think much more of Noct's lips pressed against his skin.
"Um." His throat felt dry. Comfortable warmth surrounded him in the dark. He felt Gladio settle at the other side of the bed. Prompto could barely see Ignis's eyes open again. The hand on his own drew back.
"Is this alright?" His voice was a secret, vulnerable and small in the darkness. Prompto grabbed his arm and he felt Ignis bristle.
"Yeah," Prompto said. It was a little too loud, but Ignis and their two unconscious companions didn't seem to mind. Prompto swallowed hard. He could feel Noct's steady breath against him. Gladio was nearly on the verge of snoring again. Even in the dark, he could feel Ignis's steady gaze. Prompto had to hide, but he couldn't pull away. He wasn't used to any of it, but he could only pull himself closer, managing to answer him again. "...yeah."
Prompto pushed his head to Ignis's chest. His arms wrapped around his waist and, just like Noct, pulled him close. His hands slid flat along his back. He buried his face in the thin, light fabric of his shirt and he knew he could feel just how hot his face was. Drawing Ignis closer, he felt his arms move around him in return. He had to maneuver carefully around Noct's grip, but the master tactician wouldn't be defeated so easily. His face settled in Prompto's hair. He sighed and Prompto thought he could feel the flutter of his heart in his chest.
"Is this alright?" he asked a third time, voice nearly muted by Prompto's hair. Prompto couldn't help but chuckle a little in return. He shook his head the best such a position would allow, trapped between his wonderful companions.
"You don't have to keep asking, y'know."
"Ah." His voice seemed far away, slowly drifting to the depths of a comfortable sleep. Prompto felt him sigh and ease against him. "A flaw of mine, then."
"It's okay."
With his head tucked just beneath Ignis's, Prompto shifted a little. He parted the collar of his shirt just enough to kiss bare skin. His skin burned as if a blush consumed his whole body, and Prompto could feel it spreading through his own. The voices were quiet. The night was dark and cold, but he was warm and cradled in the arms of his friends. Noct mumbled into his back. Gladio started snoring again. Prompto closed his eyes and buried himself in their warmth.
He was too used to being alone. But Noctis and Ignis and Gladio, together -- wrapped comfortably around him, breathing softly, unwilling to let him go despite how stiff and uncomfortable they'd all likely be in the morning -- meant the world to him.
He could get used to it.