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Noctis yawns, stretching up high, fingers splayed out to the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. His pencil clatters to the open notebook, and he heaves out a sigh, cracking one eye to look at his study-buddy.
Bleach-blond hair, soft brown freckles scattered across his sharp nose and cheeks, violet-flecked blue eyes glazed over as he doodles chocobos in the corner of his notes.
Noctis has never had a friend—not one he made on his own, anyway. Gladiolus wasn’t his friend at first, more like a begrudging big brother, but he’s softened up over the years. Ignis has been by his side since he was very young, but even then—his father asked Ignis to be his retainer. Ignis hangs out with him because he has to. Prompto just ran up to him after the first day of school and said hi, and that’d been the end of it.
Well.
More like, the beginning of...everything.
They met two years ago, and they’re halfway through their senior year, and Noctis isn’t an expert, but Ignis had told him that frequent heart palpitations around one’s good friend might mean a little something more.
It’s just—Noctis doesn’t want to lose the only real, regular friend he’s ever had in his life. Prompto rarely, if ever, even addresses him as royalty. Sure, he acknowledges his royal duties, the Citadel, training, his private tutoring—but Prompto slings his arm around Noct’s shoulders like he’s just another kid, and he teases him at the arcade, steals his fries (and his sweatpants, holy hell did that make Noct’s brain turn inside out last week). Prompto works at a damn gas station on the weekends, and he still offers to pay when they go out to a noodle truck.
Noctis doesn’t think he deserves to be friends with someone as bright and selfless as Prompto, but the lanky blond insists on hanging around anyway, even when Gladio gives him annoyed looks and Ignis rolls his eyes at his dumb jokes. Noctis loves having Prompto around, he loves his laugh, his smile, his interest in photography, his obsession with chocobos, his love of video games and comics and—
Oh.
Oh, shit.
I love Prompto, Noctis thinks, with sudden clarity.
He leans back too far in his chair and tumbles to the ground before he can warp to the other side of the library and avoid the crash. He goes down with a solid oof, and Prompto’s head jerks up, looking over his shoulder and down at the crown prince on the carpet.
“Dude,” Prompto blinks, paralyzed for all of three seconds before he scrambles to his feet. He sinks to his knees beside Noctis, putting one strong hand between Noct’s shoulder blades, the other square in the middle of Noct’s chest, on top of his tie. “This chem homework is so hard, it’s a physical hazard.”
Noctis snorts, rubbing his head. He knows his face is probably as red as the tomatoes that Ignis forces into his dinner. He avoids Prompto’s gaze, heart beating wildly, and he knows it’s not from losing a fight with gravity. “Sorry,” Noctis murmurs.
“Damn, I thought I was the klutz. C’mon buddy, there can only be one,” Prompto teases. “You all right though? Didja nod off, or what?”
“Something like that,” Noctis mutters, still trying to breathe. Prompto’s hands on him are simultaneously a grounding weight, and a complete distraction, and Noct’s emotions are a wildly swinging pendulum between the two feelings. “M’fine, sorry I scared you.”
“Man, your bodyguards would just never let me live it down if you hurt yourself while out with me,” Prompto muses. “I oughta keep you in a bubble.” He snickers.
Noctis joins in the laugh, shaking his head. He finally manages to turn his head up to look into Prompto’s kind face—and Noctis reels back. He didn’t know Prompto was so close.
Prompto jerks back, hands flying off Noct’s body in defense. “Whoa, hey dude, it’s fine, it’s just me! Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to be so familiar or whatever. I just wanted to make sure you were cool.”
Noctis instantly curses at himself, but he doesn’t know how to say he wants Prompto to touch him again, so he grabs the upturned chair and stands, righting it and slinging it back to the table, plopping down with a huff. He rubs the back of his neck, and hears Prompto grunt and rise back to his own seat.
They sit in terrible awkward silence for another five minutes before Prompto says, “Dude, this chemistry...I don’t understand it at all.”
Noctis had managed to write out five more problems since his embarrassing meeting with the floor, so he turns to Prompto and leans over to see his tragically empty paper.
“Prompto,” Noctis frowns. “You haven’t...it’s blank.”
“Except for the chocobos,” Prompto excitedly points out, gesturing to the cute doodles in the corner.
Noctis can’t help but smile. “You might have an A in art class, but this is way different.”
Prompto sighs dramatically and conks his head on Noct’s shoulder, lighting up the prince’s nerves like a Christmas tree. “The only chemistry I understand is the chemistry I have with you, dude.”
The world grinds to a halt, and Noct’s heart thumps right out of his chest. He watches the muscle sprint across the floor, jumping out of the library window, never to be seen again.
Gods, this boy is ruining him.
“What,” Noctis manages to squeak; at the same time Prompto leaps up and sputters, waving his hands.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” Prompto says, face-palming. “I said it out loud, holy shit I actually--” He peeks between his long, slender fingers at a prince who’s blushing just as hard as he is. “Sorry,” Prompto offers. “I have to move to Niflheim now, it was really nice knowing you.”
“Prompto,” Noctis smiles shyly, tilting his head. He holds out his hand, reaching for his crush. “Come here.”
“You don’t gotta be so nice man, I spilled my guts like a dweeb, s’fine, you can kick me out of your life, it’s what I deserve.”
Noctis smirks. “You’re being really dramatic right now.”
“I’m an idiot,” Prompto says, still peering between his fingers.
“Prompto, sit.”
Prompto sighs, dropping his hands, sinking gracelessly back to the desk chair. “Sorry,” he says again, face still red. “I didn’t mean to--”
“We do have chemistry,” Noctis interjects. With the strength of the gods, Noctis grabs Prompto’s hand, shivering at the warmth. His heart somehow finds its way back behind his ribs, beating wildly out of control at the contact. Noctis is trembling, but he lifts Prompto’s hand anyway and brushes his lips over rough knuckles. He hears Prompto let out a sharp inhale, followed by a slap that can only be the other boy’s hand over his mouth. Noctis dares to look Prompto in the eyes, and his best friend seems near tears. “I like you,” Noctis says, finally, after all this time. “I love you.”
“Man,” Prompto starts, but his face contorts with emotion and he scrubs at his eyes with his hand, sniffing hard. “Please tell me you’re not messing with me.”
“I wouldn’t joke like that.”
The pale hand falls away, and Prompto’s gazing at him like he’s the world; and Noctis suddenly knows what it’s like to be high on life and drunk with love. He surges forward, and Prompto meets him halfway. They both laugh as their noses squish; Prompto angles his head and his pretty pink mouth falls open, meeting Noct’s eager lips.
It’s everything Noctis has ever dreamed of.
It turns out that kissing is a powerful motivator for Prompto—eventually, Noctis helps him finish all of the equations. He's dizzy by the time Ignis finds his way into the Citadel library to collect them; but Prompto grabs his hand and squeezes it tight as they stumble out of the modern palace. Everything about Noct’s world is grounded, and right; and full of perfectly synced chemistry.