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His alarm shattered the peaceful air of slumber. Prompto considered breaking the alarm clock—or, at the very least, unplugging it, and, therefore, giving himself another couple minutes of blissful sleep, but he shook the thought out of his mind. Much like how he shook the sleep away, dragging himself out of his temptingly warm bed.
Muted noise from the neighborhood filtered in. One of his neighbors mowed their lawn whilst another walked their dog, their voice shrill and annoyed as they attempted to regain control over the loud barking. Poor thing. Per usual, Prompto’s home was quiet save the sounds of his own existence. He was certain that if it weren’t for his presence, the neighborhood would think his parents abandoned the place.
He yawned as he made his way into the kitchen. He made quick work of turning on the coffee maker (he seriously needed it, even though it would likely make his first-day jitters even worse), and then put two slices of bread in the toaster. Not the best of meals for his first day of high school, but it was what he was gonna get right now. At least, until he could make the trip to the food drive on the weekend.
He shuffled a few songs as he started to get ready. Today was the day of all days, after all—not only would he finally enter high school, but he would greet Prince Noctis and become the mans’ friend! He gave himself an encouraging fist pump in the mirror.
“You got this,” Prompto told his reflection, practicing a friendly smile. “Just don’t be an idiot, and you’ll do great, Prom.”
What a way with words, he thought to himself, dry.
A newer song started to play, the artist crooning about her soulmate in a sultry tone. Prompto remembered listening to this overhead the convenience store he worked at, quietly bopping along to the beat. Unlike most of his classmates, Prompto tried not to think too hard about his soulmate. He didn’t stress about misplaced objects or overtly examine the state of his belongings for what Didn’t Belong.
He knew it would cause him far too much distress if he did, especially combined with his typical anxious state. As much as he could, he tried to tell himself it was out of his control—and it was. Sure, Prompto had gotten many a misplaced item from his soulmate, and vice versa, but none of those items were identifying by any means.
Prompto had a misplaced Carbuncle plushie (he took good care of the plushie and placed it on his bookshelf once he patched it up a bit), a crumbled paper with a scribbled sketch of a dog that suspiciously looked like Tiny, a chipped rewards card for King’s Knight (which: score! His soulmate played the same game as him!), and two mismatched socks (one had a cactuar pattern, and another was a regular gray sock). He amused himself with thoughts and scenarios of Cinderella when he found the pair on his coffee table for a good month, imagining himself trying to find a size match throughout the entire Lucian kingdom.
He wondered what items his soulmate had of him. Prompto wasn’t afraid to admit he was often clumsy with his own belongings. Just a few days ago, he somehow misplaced one of his favorite books. He really hoped his soulmate had that, if he were honest, because Prompto spent many nights denotating his favorite lines and scenes.
Even so, Prompto never expected he would figure out the identity of his soulmate because of a shampoo bottle. Perhaps a misplaced note or something with their name scribbled onto it. A grocery list or a library book.
Not something they would use to wash their hair.
He didn’t notice something was off at first.
He went through the motions of brushing his teeth when he spied a rather expensive-looking shampoo bottle on the edge of his tub from the corner of his eye. Not that there was anything wrong with the bottle itself . . . except there was because the brand itself was far above his strictly-lower-middle-class income. Prompto was certain the shampoo alone would cost him three months of rent.
He approached the shampoo bottle slowly, as if it held something poisonous (and, technically, it was, if consumed in large amounts, but not the point), and picked it up with his free hand. A distant part of him scoffed as he attempted to see if there were any identifying labels, knowing how rare of a chance it would be—and then made a triumphant sound around his toothbrush as he caught sight of scrawled permanent marker on the bottom.
Property of N.L.C.
His toothpaste tingled. The bottle clattered inside the tub, slipping from his grasp from shock. Prompto knew who that was. Everyone knew who that was. There was only one person in the entire kingdom that had those initials. Noctis Lucis Caelum . . . the prince . . . was his soulmate.
No one could blame him for choking. Absolutely no one.
He grasped his bearings once he was no longer in danger of death by toothbrush. It would be an interesting epitaph, that was for sure. He spat out his toothpaste and rinsed out his mouth. His thoughts were suspiciously quiet as he gargled mouthwash and continued his morning routine, distracting himself from the potential anxiety and meltdown over his soulmate being the heir to the throne.
“Maybe it’s someone else?” Prompto said to the steam of his shower, even though he knew it would be unlikely. Only in rare cases (the statistics were less than 1%, going by the latest study published by the International Foundation of Soulmate Systems—Prompto was a bit of a nerd, sue him) were two soulmates separated by country lines. Given the current political state of the entire world, it had not ended well.
He stared at the shampoo bottle as if it would respond. Sadly, it didn’t.
Prompto sighed and finished showering. He stepped out, the steam billowing around him and clouding his reflection, and toweled off. He stared at his reflection a bit longer than normal, chewing his bottom lip as he stared at the freckles dotting his shoulders and his face, the few that dotted the curve of his neck. Did the prince like freckles? Would he find them ugly little marks on Prompto’s skin?
His next breath left a fogged imprint on the glass.
He glanced at the time and grimaced. If he didn’t dress now and eat something, then he’d be late and ruin his entire day. Maybe even his entire life.
He made quick work of breakfast, almost scarfing down the buttered toast and his coffee. His tongue throbbed a bit at the scalding liquid, but he knew it would heal. He couldn’t double-check he had everything he needed, though, which was the only downside to the morning. He barely had time to slip on his shoes and lock the front door before the bus, that would take him a street away from campus, left.
He almost collapsed onto his seat once he climbed on and exhaled shakily as he stared out the window. Not many people were on the bus, thankfully, as it meant he would have some more time with his thoughts. That, and no one would try and make conversation with him. Not that he hated it whenever it happened, but sometimes, he just wanted to stare out the window and listen to music instead of entertaining random strangers on public transportation.
So.
Noctis Lucis Caelum, huh?
Shiva’s tits, Prompto swore to himself, not even caring about the somewhat sacrilegious curse. Was it sacrilegious? Prompto wasn’t entirely sure. His parents followed the rites and ways of the Six, but they were more laidback in their worship than the rest of the neighborhood. As it was, they tended to worship the Fulgarian the most as the astral was typically seen as the guardian of travelers.
But. He digressed.
Did this mean Prompto would be a prince? A prince-consort or whatever the terminology went? He heard stories of spouses of the crown getting adopted by other noble houses if they were commoners or lower noble birth, so would that happen to him or was that some outdated practice? Oh, god, would they even be allowed to, like, get married or would his obviously Not Lucian features make the council balk?
Let’s slow down here, Prompto told himself. He had to stop the brakes somewhere, and he was going to stop them right at the thoughts of marriage. He didn’t even want to think about what that would mean for him. Just the idea of being known as the prince’s soulmate was enough to send him spiraling—but being known as the prince’s future husband?
Prompto stared at a stain on the windowsill. Very, very hard. He hoped he didn’t look nauseated. If the other bus occupants got a front row seat to everything he’d eaten in the past month, them Prompto would simply head over to the Rock of Ravatogh to shrivel up and die.
He tugged the wire for his stop once he saw the outline of the main building come into view. It was early enough that a few handfuls of students milled about. He noticed the gates had already been opened, thankfully, so he slipped in with a pack of upperclassmen. He rifled through the front pocket of his bookbag only to find a startling lack of a chocobo-patterned lanyard.
His stomach dropped to the ground once he rooted through his entire bookbag, the conclusion rising to the front of his mind. Prompto lost his student ID.
Right before the first day of class, should he add. He needed that little plastic card to open his locker and purchase lunch (with really cool keycard tech). He would be able to get onto campus without problem, especially since he had the schools’ uniform and everything, but still. It might take some time for them to issue him another ID card, and it probably would cost money. Money that he really, really didn’t have, given he was a scholarship student.
All that academic grit and hard work, all that pep talk in front of many, many mirrors and stuffed animals, down the drain within minutes just because Prompto couldn’t get a grip over himself and keep track of his fucking belongings—
Before he could spiral into his mind and anxiety further, a hesitant voice from behind pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Hey, um—you’re Prompto, right?”
He startled out of his inner meltdown and blinked up to see the prince of fucking Lucis standing right in front of him. Curiously, Prompto noted the slight blush scrawled across Noctis’ features, something his stupid brain cooed over, and then he noticed the student ID card the prince fiddled with.
“Oh!” Prompto brightened. In the back of his mind, he noted how the blush darkened. “Yup, that’s, um, that’s me—and you found my ID!” He took it back once Noctis handed it to him, and then just had to have a fight with his lanyard to clip it back on. Way to look cool, huh? “Where was it?”
It took Noctis another minute to respond. When Prompto looked at the teen once more, he swallowed, throat dry, at the way Noctis looked at him. Eyes and expression soft, and gentle, warm in a way that Prompto had once dreamed of, all those years ago. It doesn’t help that the clear evening sky nicely framed the princes’ features.
He looked at Prompto like—
Like—
Like he was someone worth love.
“By my, uh, my video game consoles,” Noctis replied, perhaps even softer than his expression, and then rubbed the back of his neck. Prompto recognized the shy and nervous gesture for what it was, though a part of him was utterly bewildered that the prince was shy and nervous because of him. Another part screamed like a fan about to meet their favorite popstar for the first time. “It’s a good thing I got Specs to drop me off early—I might’ve missed you.”
There were a lot of things Prompto wanted to say.
Words tangled together on his tongue. They scraped over the nooks and crannies of his teeth, nestled in the root of his mouth, mangled with the emotions that creaked inside his ribcage. We’re soulmates, Prompto should say.
“Your shampoo smells nice, dude,” was what came out of Prompto’s mouth instead. Because of fucking course, it did.
There was another pause of quiet as he stared at Noctis, and Noctis stared back, before he made an ungodly noise in the back of his throat, ears burning hotter than Ifrit’s flames, and covered his face with his hands.
“I’m gonna go crawl into a hole now,” he said; voice muffled by mortified anguish and the palms of his hands. “And die.”
Noctis laughed. It was a sound Prompto wanted to bottle and immortalize forever. Okay, Shakespeare, let’s take it down a notch, he told his inner monologue. “I’m not sure I like that plan,” said the prince, features softening from the smile on his face. “Since I literally just found you.”
Prompto’s face burned, and he ducked his head. He couldn’t even begin to explain the emotions rising up in his chest if he tried.
Noctis hesitated for a moment, fingers twitching at his side, before he set his shoulders back, determined, and reached for Prompto’s hand. Prompto honest-to-astrals short-circuited when their fingers entwined, a burning heat spiraling up his arm. He knew what that white-hot hum signified. Knew that if he glanced down at his uncovered wrist, he would see Noctis’ name penned in an unmistakable golden shimmer.
“Who’ve you got for homeroom?” Noctis questioned as he guided Prompto to the front doors of the school. Away from the throng of students that grew, and grew, with each passing minute. Away from the prying gazes and whispering excitement that rippled in the air over the crown prince discovering his soulmate. “I’ve got Bryant.”
Prompto blinked. “Small world,” he remarked with a snicker. “So do I.”
They shared a smile, and Prompto knew then, no matter what, that things would be fine. He had Noctis at his side, after all.