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Prompto wouldn’t consider himself a clingy person. It’s easier to just pretend nothing bothers him and remind himself that people come and go. He doesn’t have to feel attached; he can accept the moment, and then, when something ends, he can let it pass him by. It’s not a hard thing to do, and it doesn’t hurt much. Not more than a paper cut.
He thinks he’s lucky, though. If Noct had broken up with Prompto while they were still in high school, the whole ‘let it pass him by’ part would have been more complicated. They wouldn’t speak to each other, everyone at school would gossip about it, and Noct would probably lock his emotions up and throw away the key indefinitely. At least now Prompto doesn’t have to worry about that. Noct has Ignis and Gladio to be ‘there’ for him, and he’s already insanely busy with prince stuff now that he’s almost twenty. Noct doesn’t have to feel the pain because he can replace it with familiar things. Prompto knows Noctis will be fine, and Noct probably knew that when he ended it.
So Noctis is alright. He most likely doesn’t even consider Prompto anymore. Well, it has been like two months. Noct was probably a wreck for at least a week. Prompto remembers how much he was shaking when Noct ended it. His face was beet red, and his eyes kept shifting around while his throat hitched out, “I’m so sorry, but … we can’t…I can’t do this anymore .” Prompto knew exactly how to handle that. A crying Noctis who wants to break up is easy enough to maneuver. Prompto pulled Noct in for a tight hug, told him that he understood and that he’d always keep a small place in his heart for Noct, and then Prompto let go and walked away.
He can admit that listening to Noctis sob on a street corner at 2 am hurt a bit. Not more than a purple-black bruise.
The walk home felt…weird. It was strange that Noct had called Prompto less than an hour earlier, begging to meet in front of the old coffee shop they used to go to. But Prompto organized the mysterious breakup in his head as a necessary thing. Noctis couldn’t handle dating someone as horrifically subpar as Prompto anymore. Noct was so stressed about it that he had to end it suddenly. It’s easier to pretend a slap to the face doesn’t hurt if you’re convinced it’s all your fault.
He’s been pretty busy recently. Noct ended things in late June, which, after some quick moogle searches, a few well-phrased emails, and a call to his old boss for a reference, gave Prompto the time to drop out of Crownsguard training and apply for art school. He had just enough scholarships and grants to cover the costs, and he started last week. Everything went great. He didn’t think about Noctis more than he usually would. And it hardly even hurt. Not more than a few swift kicks to the ribs.
Prompto is thoroughly convinced that his thoughts about Noctis aren’t a sign of attachment. He knows he can care about someone in a casual way. He saw a cropped, black sweater in the bookstore at the university, and he immediately thought about how Noct would look in it. A guy in his photo lab slouched in his chair in a very Noct-like manner. A stray cat walked down an alley, and Prompto took a picture, thinking that maybe Noct would want to see it.
He wouldn’t.
So Prompto deleted it.
Barely even hurt. Not much worse than when Prompto had appendicitis.
-
It’s almost midnight. He’s slouched on the couch, trying out a new game, when there’s a knock on his apartment door. He jolts just the tiniest bit and turns his head to the door. Nobody stops by after 9 without calling. Well, nobody who knows that he lives here.
“Noctis?”
His Dad?
Noctis shuts off the TV and drifts to the door. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous, but he feels like he’s allowed to be.
He opens the door, and it’s just his Dad, standing awkwardly in his casual clothes.
“Dad? What…it’s like…why are you here?”
His father looks pained. “Can I come in?”
Noctis takes a deep breath before stepping out of the doorway. His father shuffle-limps in after him. Noctis pulls a chair from the kitchen into the living room as his father settles into the nearest armchair. Noctis doesn’t lock the front door.
“Is something wrong?” he asks.
His father doesn’t say anything for a long moment, his eyes resting sadly on Noct’s face. “I…have to ask you to do something that I don’t want you to do.”
Noctis raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“There is no part of me that wants you to do what I am going to ask, but I have to ask you. It’s my responsibility as your father-”
“Dad wait-”
“-to be as honest and open with you as I can. And I know, given our status, that doesn’t always happen. But I always…I always want to put you first Noct. Even…if I can’t do that.”
Noctis runs a hand through his hair. “You’re not making any sense. Couldn’t this wait till the morning?”
His father’s face darkens. “It…really shouldn’t go on past midnight.”
Noctis blanches. “What do you mean?”
“Noctis…your relationship with Prompto-“
“No,” he says as firmly as he can, even though his hands are shaking.
“Noctis, I’m so sorry-“
“He didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Noct-“
“They’re seriously pinning this on him when there’s absolutely no valid evidence against him? Even after you had to fucking subpeona Cor?!”
“I’m so sorry-“
“YOU AREN’T!” Noctis screams. “You’re telling me a committee of old men finds one stupid adoption form from nearly twenty years ago and that determines who I’m allowed to spend the rest of my life with?!”
His father has tears rolling down his face. “Noctis, I don’t want this any more than you do. But the Council decided-“
“Screw the fucking Council, Dad! Overrule them! Pardon Prompto for being born in a different country! Make a stand against xenophobia! Fucking DO something for once in your goddamn life instead of letting them drag you down the fucking gutter!”
His father doesn’t say a word. Noctis is breathing hard and fast, and he can feel the tears cascading down his face. He doesn’t remember standing up. He doesn’t remember throwing a pillow at the wall. He doesn’t know when Clarus entered his apartment.
“Your Highness, that’s quite enough.”
Noctis balls his hands into fists. “Get the fuck out, Clarus.”
The Shield crosses his arms. “You should not address His Majesty as such, even more so your father.”
He can feel his whole body start to shake. He drops back into his seat and deflates. “Why didn’t you do anything to stop it?” He asks weakly, the question directionless.
“We did everything we could, Your Highness.”
Noctis barks out a laugh. “You let old Lucian men decide whether or not the Prince can date an immigrant refugee. You did nothing.”
His father sighs. “Noctis-“
“I don’t care. I’m not breaking up with him.”
“I don’t want you to.”
Noctis looks up at his father, rubbing a hand across his face. “What do you mean?”
“Noctis, I am asking you to do something I don’t want you to do.”
The anger boils up again, but he tries to bite it back. He knows how this is going to end. “And what would that be?”
His father doesn’t answer.
Noctis sits up and stares his father down with the most reprimanding glare he can manage. “What would that be, Your Majesty?”
From the corner of his eye, Noctis sees Clarus tense as his father lets out a soft sob.
“It never mattered what I wanted. It never matters what you want. You’d follow the Council’s orders even if it meant burning me at the stake. You’d tear me to pieces and serve me to the Nifs if you had to.”
“Noctis.” Clarus warns.
But he just shakes his head. “I’m not leaving him, and you can’t manipulate me into doing it anyway.”
“You don’t have a choice, Noct,” his father says.
“I already made it.”
“Noctis, if you don’t commit to end the relationship before midnight, the Council will issue an order for Prompto’s arrest,” Clarus says.
Noctis stiffens. “Wh-what? On what charges?”
“Treason,” his father says, his voice tainted with dismay.
Noctis shakes his head. “That won’t stand at trial.”
Clarus sighs. “It won’t have to. They’ll revoke his citizenship and deport him.”
“But there’s no evidence.”
His father sighs hard. “They’re using an old, out dated law from my grandfather’s time. ‘Non-Lucians living in Insomnia, regardless of citizenship, when accused of treason, are to be immediately stripped of their status and deported to avoid further degradation to the city’s resources and government. The accused will be tried in absentia.’”
Noctis feels like he can’t breathe. “Why does that even-“
“Fear of covert, Niflhiemr spies from sixty years ago. Of the eighty-five people deported during the crisis, fifty-four were legal citizens, twenty-two had valid visas, seven were born in Insomnia, and two were here illegally. None of the people were spies, but all were later convicted of treason,” Clarus says grimly.
“Prompto’s not a spy.”
“He’s a non-Lucian dating the Prince of Lucis with a slew of mystery surrounding his life before coming to Insomnia.”
“He was a fucking baby.”
“The Council believes babies are highly impressionable-“
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
“Clarus, please,” his father says. His voice sounds drawn out and exhausted, and if Noctis wasn’t so angry, he would wonder if he’s ever heard the man sound like that.
Clarus schools his demeanor, replies with a firm, “Yes, Your Majesty,” and walks out the front door.
His father sighs again. “Noctis, I want you to be happy, but I also don’t want a crown citizen thrown to the wayside solely to protect your happiness.”
And Noctis realizes nothing has changed. His father is still putting the safety and security of Lucis over his own son.
But he’s doing it to protect his son and Prompto from an even worse fate.
Noctis hates it.
“Noct, I need your word that you’ll end the relationship and cease all contact before the 8 am meeting tomorrow morning.”
The fear creeps up his throat, and he can’t breathe. He can’t see Prompto ever again. Prompto can’t see him ever again. Who’s going to check in on Prompto after he has a nightmare? Who’s going to keep Prompto from running himself ragged? Who’s going to play online games with Noct? Who will chase all formalities away and just be his best friend?
“Noctis.”
He ducks his head and croaks out an, “Okay.”
-
It’s not till mid-October that Prompto realizes something’s wrong. He hadn’t done laundry in a while, and his dirty clothes were overflowing his hamper and coating the floor of his dorm. It’d been weeks since he’d had the energy for it, much less anything else. When he finally dragged himself down to the laundromat on campus, he did four loads. He managed to fold and put away most of them before passing out in bed.
When he put on his jeans this morning, they nearly hung off him. He has to hold them up, or they slip down his legs to the floor. He takes them off and checks the tag, but it’s the same size as always. He doesn’t understand.
When he finally leaves for class in his joggers (also too big, but the string at the waist helps him forget) he doesn’t think about the pain in his chest, a tight, stretching feeling near his heart.
-
Over the bulk of the last five years, Ignis never really noticed how much he’d been able to pull away from Noct’s emotional health. If Noct was feeling down, he didn’t talk to Ignis about it; he called Prompto. If he was lonely, he asked Prompto to come over. When Noctis shut himself up in his head, Prompto had the key to opening him back up again. Ignis thought that when Noct talked about proposing to Prompto this past spring, he was being overzealous. The two had dated for over three years but were still young. Ignis didn’t even think Noctis understood what love was.
Then they had to break up for reasons that left Ignis with even less faith in the government he’d sworn himself to almost fifteen years ago. He knew about the ridiculous charges the predominantly conservative Council members planned to put on Prompto. Still, he thought Noct was more intelligent than that. He thought Noctis could see it was a manipulation tactic and that he had every means to fight back against it. When Ignis arrived at Noct’s apartment at 7 am on June 29th, the Prince wasn’t even in bed. He was sitting on the couch in the dark, staring at the wall. When Ignis called out to him, Noct didn’t answer. He jerked away when Ignis placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t.”
Noct’s eyes were red, and the bags under them painted his face in misery.
“Noct, what’s going-“
“Nothing. I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”
And when Noct stood up, Ignis realized he was dressed in his suit, but his shirt wasn’t properly ironed, and the pants had creases from Noct’s curled-up position on the couch. Ignis couldn’t fathom how long Noct had been sitting there waiting for him.
“Why...Let me iron your suit while you freshen up.”
Ignis expected a fight, but Noct just wilted. He shuffled out of his suit jacket before wandering off to the bathroom, dumping his clothes in a pile in front of the door a minute later.
If Ignis had the time, he would have texted Prompto to ask what on Eos was going on. But instead, he just steamed Noct’s suit, ironed his dress shirt, and found him a more ideal pair of socks. When he heard the shower turn on, he snagged some boxers and quietly opened the bathroom door to place them on the counter.
That’s when he heard Noct crying beneath the spray.
Ignis flinched but then quickly closed the door. He pulled out his phone:
Message to Prompto: Are you aware of anything going on with Noct? He seemed alright last night.
Ignis sent the text and briefly went through his notes for that day’s Council meeting. Noctis stepped out of the bathroom five minutes later, his hair dry (he didn’t bother washing it?) and his eyes vacant.
Noct slipped on his suit once again, and they were out the door, an uneasy silence between them. Ignis chose not to pry on the drive to the Citadel that morning.
At 8:02, Councilman Argos asked Prince Noctis if he’d followed through on his commitment. Ignis tensed under the table; there wasn’t anything Noctis was supposed to have completed for the day. His eyes shifted to Noctis, who looked cold and firm.
“Yes.”
Argos’s face shifted in surprise for a moment before schooling back to his general smug demeanor. “Thank you, Your Highness. Myself and the other Councilmembers support your decision.”
Ignis looked to Noctis and then to the King and his Shield. Noctis’ face was somewhat pale but decidedly blank. His Majesty looked…wrong. He wasn’t carrying himself with that stern authority; he seemed wilted and burned out. Lord Amicitia’s face was fighting between enraged and controlled.
And even then, none of them spoke a word.
Ignis never felt more out of the loop in his life.
It wasn’t until their recess at 11 that Ignis pulled Noct aside.
“Noctis, what was Councilman Argos referring to? What commitment?”
“Ignis I really can’t-“
“Ignis, might I have a word with you and my son please?” His Majesty had approached them from the left.
Ignis nodded, but Noctis stepped back.
“No.”
Ignis turned to Noct in horror. This was neither the place nor the time for insubordination.
“Please, Noctis.”
Noctis’ face spelled nothing but betrayal. “I did what you asked. I’m going home. I’ll see you Monday, Your Majesty.”
And then Noctis turned and left the room.
Ignis tried his best. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty, I’ll go retrieve-“
But the King just shook his head. “It’s fine, Ignis. Would you mind keeping your phone with you throughout the weekend? I’m aware it’s your time-off, but I…don’t want Noctis to be alone.”
Ignis steadied his gaze. “Of course, Your Majesty. Might I ask what’s occured?”
Ignis had never heard the King sigh like that. “Noctis chose to end his relationship with Prompto last night at my request.”
“At your…,” Ignis hadn’t known what to say. He trailed off, hanging limp words in the air.
Lord Amicitia quietly gestured to the meeting room, and the King sighed even deeper. “I’m very sorry, Ignis, but I’m afraid we must reconvene. We’ll talk this evening if that’s alright?”
Ignis scraped a response from his head a moment later than he usually would. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
They never had a chance to meet.
.
July was a nightmare. Noctis fell so far away from everything, and Ignis could do nothing but stand by idly. His late nights were littered with many, many frantic phone calls:
“Ignis I c-can’t-“
“Why did he have to ask me like that?”
“It’s…everything just…I d-don’t want this.”
“He knew I didn’t have a choice! He knew I couldn’t f-fight back!”
“I…”
“There’s…there’s nothing anymore, Iggy. It’s like I’ve been carved open from the inside out.”
And that’s when Ignis realized that, yes, Noctis knew exactly what love felt like: Noctis loved Prompto because the two of them fit together in a way Ignis had overlooked for years .
So on August 1st, Ignis took a month’s worth of notes, several discarded drafts, and a polished proposal to a meeting with the King.
“I found a way to fix this, Your Majesty.”
And the King’s eyes brightened just the tiniest bit. “Tell me more, Ignis.”
-
Prompto doesn’t remember November being so cold.
His dorm mattress is too thin, and his hip and shoulder bones always fall in a spot that makes laying down worse than standing up. So he pulls himself out of bed after two hours of waiting for sleep.
His inbox is littered with emails from his professors about missed assignments. Instead of replying, Prompto gets dressed and heads to the gym. Maybe a few miles on the treadmill will help him sleep.
He doesn’t think about Noct. He can’t, really, because he’s distracted by the bullet holes in his lungs. He figures it’s the cold making it hard to breathe.
-
It’s early December when Gladio knocks on Cor’s office door. A soft “Come in,” beckons the Prince’s Shield into the Immortal’s office.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
Cor looks up from this paperwork languidly before gesturing to the chair opposite him. “Sit down.”
Gladio hesitates. It’s been happening more recently. Doesn’t matter how many times his father pounded it into his head that he has an unwavering responsibility to the throne and the kingdom. In early October, he found Noctis curled up in a ball in the training room, sobbing his eyes out with his hands and wrists bruised from slamming himself into a training dummy over and over again. Since then, Gladio’s been listening more to Ignis’s late-night ramblings. If the break-up with Prompto was driven by as much political bullshit as Ignis says, then maybe there’s something structurally unsound with the Lucian government right now. Gladio’s loyal to Noctis. There’s no changing that. He’s come back around to accepting the King’s authority ever since he honored Ignis’ proposal. But he doesn’t know if Cor’s on their side. The Marshal should be, considering how he argued that Prompto posed no threat to the Prince, and Cor’s always had a soft spot for Prom. But Gladio just doesn’t know anymore .
Cor looks up at him. “Is there a problem?”
Gladio shakes his head. Loyal or not, this isn’t an issue he can fix now. He sits down.
Cor eyes him coolly but puts his paperwork aside before broaching conversation. “How are you?” He finally asks.
Gladio wasn’t expecting pleasantries. “Fine. You, sir?”
Cor waves a hand in the air before standing up and walking over to his bookshelf. “I’m well. We’re having a casual conversation, Gladiolus.”
Casual. Right. Gladio doesn’t think Cor even knows the definition of the word.
Cor pulls out a book and makes his way back to his desk. “How’s training with his Highness?”
“It’s…been better.”
Cor doesn’t look up from the book he’s opened. “Tell me more.”
“He’s not keeping his cool. He’s fighting with his heart and not with his head,” Gladio replies.
Cor still doesn’t look up. “Do you think his heart should be elsewhere?”
Gladio curls his hand into a fist. “Depends who’s asking,” he says and immediately regrets it.
Cor lifts his head, his gaze carrying a weight Gladio doesn’t understand. “The Field Marshall of the Crownsguard, who’s sworn on his life to protect the Prince. Also, the Prince’s half-uncle, if that helps you lower your guard at all, solider.”
Gladio closes his eyes. “I…I’m sorry, sir.”
Cor sighs. “We aren’t at war, Gladio. Not even a civil one.”
“Ignis said-”
“Ignis is unpacking over a century's worth of xenophobic laws to help promote social stability in Insomnia and provide better security for ‘Non-Lucian’ citizens and refugees. Ignis is working to fix the problem on a political level.”
Gladio shoots Cor a condescending look. “That’s what he told you?”
Cor sighs again. “That’s what he’s doing. His efforts might have repercussions.”
“Might is one way of putting it.”
Cor turns the open book around and pushes it closer to Gladio. “I’ll ask you again: Do you think Prince Noctis’ heart should be elsewhere?”
Gladio tilts his head down towards the book. It’s a profile of an infant brought to Insomnia twenty years ago. The child was found in a Magiteck facility, the very first one, apparently. Operatives covertly extracted the child and brought him back to Insomnia. After running some tests that are above Gladio’s pay grade to understand, they gave him a birthday and put him up for adoption.
“So a kid in Insomnia was rescued from a Magiteck facility?” Gladio asks.
Cor raises an eyebrow, so Gladio goes back to the profile. The ‘tests’ were based on files the operatives also brought back. According to the files, the infant had a barcode on his wrist and was initially created to become a proto-MT.
Gladio looks up, but Cor just gestures back to the book. Gladio holds in an eye-roll and returns to the profile, skipping to the end. The child was adopted by two Insomnian business people: Defectus and Aurum Argen-
“Holy shit,” Gladio says. “Prompto’s an MT?”
Cor’s face gets cold. “Prompto Argentum is 100% human. There was nothing about him that resembled the Magiteck infantry when we found him, and the same goes for now.”
Gladio slides the book back across the table, despite wanting to throw it out a window. “How many copies of this exist?”
Cor cracks a rare smile. “This is the only one. It’s only in my office now because I ordered it from Intel. Since it’s not a digital archive, it normally resides in a locked vault only accessible to the King, his Shield, and the Field Marshall.”
“Which is you,” Gladio says.
“Correct.”
“Astrals. Why are you telling me this?”
“Because your father asked me to. He’s worried about you.”
Gladio crosses his arms. “He couldn’t tell me this himself? I’m pretty sure he has more time than you do at this point.”
Cor grimaces. “You aren’t wrong.”
Gladio does his best not to slouch in his seat. “So who else knows about Prompto?”
“Only yourself, the King, and me.”
Gladio quirks an eyebrow. “What-”
“Your father wanted me to talk to you. I decided to share this with you because I thought it might help you understand.”
That tiny hole in his loyalty starts to widen within his chest. “Understand what?”
“Understand why his Majesty thought he could ask Prince Noctis to break up with the person he wanted, and most likely still wants, to marry. Understand why Prince Noctis actually broke up with Prompto instead of defying his father. Understand why Ignis is fighting so hard to remove as much institutionalized xenophobia from Lucian lawbooks as he legally can.”
And then it clicks. “All of this to protect Prompto?”
Cor nods. “To protect a Lucian citizen from being deported, which would most likely lead to visas being denied and further deportations. To keep Prompto in Insomnia long enough for Ignis to realize he has the ability to help change this. To keep Prince Noctis from warping himself into a stasis coma long enough to get him back with the person he loves. To keep his Shield from losing faith in his father’s legacy.”
Gladio flinches.
“Gladiolus, I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Cor says. “You don’t have to agree with every motion the Council, the Throne, or the people pass to remain loyal. You have the same exact responsibility as your father: to protect the Lucian kings and, if they fall, help them stand back up long enough for the rest of us to get our act together and change things. That’s what it means to be a Shield. Do you understand?”
Gladio nods.
-
It’s so cold, and Prompto doesn’t know what to do. Running is the only thing that keeps the burning feeling in his chest away. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a heart anymore, and that’s why everything hurts so fucking bad.
-
“Astrals, Ignis, they approved it?”
Ignis nods. “Insomnian law enforcement and administrators no longer have the power to arrest or deport residents based solely on ethnicity or former citizenship in other countries. We’re still waiting on the county judge panel to overturn precedent concerning forced absentia trials-”
“You’re way over my head now, Iggy. Where’s Noct?”
“He’s speaking with his Majesty. He wants to stop at the apartment before heading to Prompto’s house,” Ignis replies.
Gladio cracks a grin. “I’m coming with you. I wanna see blondie’s face.”
Ignis winces. “You think everything will be fine between them?”
“They are the two most painfully ‘in love’ people I’ve ever seen in my life, Ignis. They’ll get passed this easy.”
Ignis’ expression doesn’t change. “Do you think Prompto’s alright?”
Gladio’s demeanor drops. Ignis watches him try to form a reply but fail over and over.
“Noctis should be done soon.”
-
Prompto almost feels like the outdoor track is warmer than his dorm room. Maybe it’s because running is the only thing that keeps him kind of warm anymore, but he can’t really think straight. His limbs are on fire, and his chest feels like a bomb keeps going off over and over and-
-
Text Message
Noctis: i know you haven’t been answering this whole time and i don’t even know if you’ve been opening these but
Noctis: i
Noctis: i need to tell you something like ‘in-person’ tell you something. i can be at your house in an hour
Noctis: promise me youll be alright when i get there?
Noctis: i just
Noctis: i really wish i knew if this killed you like it killed me
Noctis: i dont know if thats selfish
Noctis: but when we ended things you…
Noctis: never mind. im gonna be at your house soon.
-
Prompto doesn’t remember dragging himself off the tartan track flooring, but apparently, he managed it. He’s walking back to his dorm when he sees two campus safety officers in front of the building. He goes to walk passed them, but they stop him.
“Are you Prompto Argentum?” the shorter one asks.
Prompto Argentum’s heart was carved out months ago. Surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt anymore. The soldering iron that’s been painting silhouettes in his thoracic cavity for the last few months must have fallen out when he tripped on the track.
The taller one eyes him. “Kid?”
Prompto shakes his head. “No, I’m not. Is something wrong?”
“Nothing to worry about. Have a good night,” the taller one says.
“Yeah, you, too.”
-
“Do you think he’ll hate me for never checking in on him?”
Ignis sighs. “You didn’t really have the option, Noct. It’s probably Gladio and myself who are responsible on that end.”
Gladio tucks his hands behind his head as the three of them walk through the Citadel. “I don’t know about you, Iggy, but I didn’t really…feel obligated?”
Ignis gives Gladio a scolding look, but it’s Noctis who replies before he can get a word out. “He’s your friend, too, Gladio.”
Gladio rolls his eyes just as Ignis’ phone starts ringing. “I didn’t feel obligated at the time?”
“What about, I don’t know, at any point in the last six months?”
“Is you not ordering me to a good excuse?”
“No.”
Ignis rolls his eyes as he checks the caller ID on his phone. He doesn’t recognize the number, but he answers.
“Hello?”
“Hi, am I speaking with Mr. Ignis Scientia?” A young woman replies.
“Yes. May I ask who’s calling?”
“Hi, Mr. Scientia. My name is Lorem Milvus, and I work with at the Student Services Center at Insomnia Art Institute. I’m calling on behalf of Prompto Argentum.”
Ignis stops walking. “Prompto?”
Noctis turns instantly. “What? Give me the phone.”
Ignis holds up a hand as the woman continues speaking.
“Yes. Prompto is currently a student here at the Institute. It seems we didn’t have any emergency contact information for him on file, so we had to pull some strings to find any previous emergency contacts he had. You were listed as his emergency contact when he worked at…Sharp Eye Insomniac Photo Studio.”
Ignis never imagined he’d feel this out of the loop twice in the same year. “Yes…? Can I ask why you’re calling?”
“Oh, right right. Sorry about that. It’s come to our attention that all five of Prompto’s professors this semester expressed concerns about Prompto’s well-being. Have you been in contact with Prompto? Or do you know his parent’s contact information?”
“As far as I know Prompto’s parents haven’t lived in Insomnia for some time,” Ignis replies. Noctis isn’t even trying to hide the fact that he’s straining his ears to hear the conversation. Gladio is leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed, seemingly waiting for news. “I…haven’t spoken to Prompto in a few weeks. Is he alright?”
“Well, all his professors were concerned about his attendance and a few missed assignments. One, in particular, mentioned that Prompto looked unwell. She was worried he might be sick.”
Ignis frowns. “I’m under the impression his health has declined to a point where the situation is serious?” Noctis is insatiable with his gesturing.
“I’m afraid so, Mr. Scientia. I’m not authorized nor equipped to provide any type of medical diagnosis pertaining to Prompto, but I can see here that the Health Center reached out to him a few times. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like he’s replied.”
“Are you sure he’s still on campus?”
“We know he attended one of his classes last Thursday, and the Director of Student Life reached out to his RA, who claimed to see him over the weekend a few times and once yesterday.”
Ignis tosses Gladio a quick look then says into his phone, “Excuse me, Ms. Milvus, would you mind holding on for just a moment?”
“Of course.”
Ignis puts the call on mute before moving down the hallway and searching for the Art Institute on his navigation app. Gladio follows him on his left and Noctis on his right.
“Iggy who was that? What’s going on?” Noctis asks.
“Care to fill us in?” Gladio follows up.
“I’ll explain after I finish the call,” Ignis says hastily. The Institute is twenty-six minutes away with the evening traffic. Ignis unmutes his phone and brings it back up to his ear. “I apologize Ms. Milvus. I actually happen to be somewhat in the area this evening. Could I possibly stop by campus?”
“That’s just where I was headed, Mr. Scientia. Prompto’s RA also mentioned that he didn’t look well at all. I personally called Prompto this morning, and the Health Center called him this afternoon, but he didn’t pick up. If I hadn’t reached you this evening, we would have to take steps with Campus Safety to locate Prompto and have him speak to someone at the Health Center as soon as possible.”
Ignis pushes open the back door to the Citadel parking garage. “The situation is that dire?”
“Yes, sir. I’m afraid with suspected eating disorders we really prioritize student safety and stability on campus.”
Ignis freezes right in front of the car. “I- excuse me did you say eating disorders?”
-
“You can’t run like that every day, Prompto. You’re body is gonna start eating it’s own muscle.”
“Heh…well maybe. I’ve just got a lot of stuff in my head you know? Running helps clear it.”
Gladio grimaces. “Well, have you tried anything else? Like talking to someone maybe?”
Prompto laughs. “Yeah…well no. I like running.”
Gladio runs a hand down his face. “Let’s make a deal. You and I will go on runs Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday mornings at 6 am, rain or shine. With some training sessions with Noct on top of that, your head should stay pretty clear. That sound alright to you?”
“Sure.”
-
“Prommmmmmmm don’t gooooooooooo. Gimme cuddles,” Noctis whines. He slips his arms out from under the covers and gives Prompto the most pathetic grabby hands he can manage.
“Noct, I’ll be back in like thirty minutes tops. I just gotta clear my head.”
“No head clearing only cuddles,” Noctis moans.
“Cuddles after I run,” Prompto says, a broad smile on his face.
Noctis pouts and throws the blanket over his head. “Cuddles after you run AND shower.”
Prompto laughs before slipping out the bedroom door.
-
“Prompto?” Ignis calls out, stepping out of his car.
“Oh hey, Iggy, what’s…what’s up?” Prompto replies, clearly winded.
“Why on Eos are you running in the rain?” Ignis asks, lifting his hood over his head.
“I don’t know I just felt like it? Needed to clear my head.”
Ignis catches the shivers wrecking Prompto’s body. “I’m on my way to Noctis’ apartment. Why don’t we both head over?”
Prompto hesitates, and Ignis frowns. “Prompto?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.”
-
Noctis grabs Ignis’ hand. “Iggy we gotta go, c’mon.”
“Ignis?” Gladio asks.
“Yes I did,” Lorem Milvus continues over the phone. One of Prompto’s professors, the one I mentioned earlier actually, said she was concerned about Prompto’s weight. She didn’t want to make any assumptions, but she said that eating disorder or not, Prompto looked malnourished.”
Ignis falls back into himself at just the right moment. “Alright. Thank you for letting me know. Where should I meet you on campus?”
There’s a voice in the distance on the phone. “Excuse me, Mr. Scientia, I’ll be just a moment.”
And now Ignis is the one on hold.
“Iggy?” Gladio asks again.
“I’m on hold,” Ignis replies softly.
“Well then let’s get going,” Noctis says, his hand on the car door. “He needs us.”
Gladio grunts in affirmation, and Ignis unlocks the car.
.
They’re halfway there when the woman finally takes them off hold.
“I am so incredibly sorry, Mr. Scientia.”
“That’s quite alright,” Ignis replies smoothly. He fervently lectured both Gladio and Noctis about not saying a single word once the call reconnected.
“I was just speaking with the Director of Student Life. He actually would like to join in on this call if that’s alright with you?”
Ignis nods to no one. “Yes, of course.”
There’s a few clicks and then- “Hello, Mr. Scientia. My Name is Dr. Grex Ludus. I’m the Director of Student Life here at the Unviersity. Ms. Milvus is still at the office, but I am currently on my way to Prompto’s dormitory. The name is Lucis Hall, and the address is…”
Noctis slips the phone out of the holder, mutes the call, and punches in the address while the director keeps talking.
“...We’re all very concerned about Prompto, and I’m glad that Ms. Milvus managed to track you down. At this point in time we’re aware that Prompto is in his dorm room and has been for some time. The two campus security guards posted outside the building unfortunately didn’t recognize him when he came back around 2 this afternoon.”
Noctis throws Ignis a stern look, and Ignis takes a deep breath while the Prince unmutes the call. “Has anyone talked to Prompto at all?”
“Since Ms. Milvus was able to get in contact with you, we’ve opted not to intervene on the matter just yet. Prompto won’t be able to leave the building if he tries though.”
Noctis gives a pained look and mutes the call again. “They’re gonna freak him out, Iggy. If he sees guards all over the place he’s gonna wanna run away, whether they chase him or not.”
“I’m aware of that, and if you unmute the call I can relay what you just said to the director,” Ignis says dryly.
“C’mon, Noct, it’s been too long,” Gladio pushes from the back seat.
Noctis sighs and unmutes the call.
“Dr. Ludus, I think the heavy campus security presence might make Prompto uncomfortable. He doesn’t handle intense confrontations very well.”
“I’m afraid this is the approach we have to take for these situations, Mr. Scientia. If Prompto’s parents were involved it would be a different story,” Dr. Ludus replies.
“And what about his fiancé?”
“Uh…excuse me please give me a moment,” Noctis says in the worst Ignis impersonation to ever hit Ignis’ ears before frantically muting the call. “Oh my fucking gods, Ignis, what are you doing?”
“I’m giving us an in, Noct. I’ve been playing political games for the last three months, and one of my dear friends is in crisis. All of this,” Ignis gestures wildly at nothing and everything, “was to keep Prompto safe. I’m not letting ridiculous college administrators get in my way. Now unmute the call.”
“Iggy…”
“Are you saying you don’t want to marry Prom? After all of this shit?” Gladio probes.
“No! I want to. I just…haven’t really…processed that it’s a reality yet…,” Noctis says, tapering off.
“Astrals, whatever. You have less than ten minutes to process it,” Gladio says, slipping the phone from Noct’s hand and unmuting the call.
“Mr. Scientia?” The director asks.
“Yes, I apologize for the interruption. I have Prompto’s finacé in the car with me, and as you might guess he is gravely concerned.”
“His…his finacé? Ms. Milvus, did Prompto list himself as married?”
There’s a soft sigh on the other end of the phone. “Mr. Argentum wouldn’t list himself as married if he was engaged, Grex.”
“But do we have an emergency contact for his fiancé? Or anyone else beyond Mr. Scientia?”
Ignis tries his best not to be insulted by that.
“The only numbers we have,” Lorem Milvus says, “are Prompto’s cell phone, his home phone which is disconnected, and a few extracts after contacting his former employer at the photo studio. There were a few numbers listed there, but Mr. Scientia’s was the only one I found to be reliable.”
(Ignis doesn’t see it, but Gladio’s been slowly grinning wider and wider as the administrators’ conversation has progressed.)
“But could any of those have been his finacé?” Dr. Ludus asks.
“Unless Mr. Scientia can confirm that Prompto is in relations with high members of the Lucian government then I don’t believe so.”
Gladio mutes the call as they turn onto the main campus road. “Well, Noct? Have you processed it?”
-
“You know I love you, right?”
“Dude! That’s so out of left field!”
“Prom, I’m serious.”
“And I’m serious! How could I possibly know that you love me? It’s not like you say it every day, multiple times a day. Probably multiple times an hOUR HEY!”
“Prompto, look at me.”
“I can’t look any where else considering that you’ve tackled me.”
“I love you. I love you more than the stars can handle shining. I love you as sure as the trees stand tall. I love you-”
“Noct, lemme interrupt you to say that your poetry isn’t half bad.”
“ Prompto.”
“ Nooooooct. ”
“...”
“Aww don’t give me that face. I love you, too, buddy. I always will.”
-
Noctis nods. “Yeah. We’re gonna straighten all this out, and then Ignis is gonna plan our wedding.”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
Gladio unmutes the call. The trio didn’t miss anything beyond a back-and-forth between the frazzled director and the clearly overworked Lorem Milvus.
“-certain we have nothing on his parents?”
“I did as legal of a thorough investigation as I could, Grex. With all the new policies going around I’m not too keen on poking into anyone’s life outside that which would be strictly necessary.”
“I’m not sure you understand the severity of the situation here, Lorem.”
“Grex, the sole person who actually knows Prompto personally and is willing to help you is most likely arriving at Lucis Hall any minute now.”
“Yes,” Ignis interrupts. “I believe we’re pulling up in front of the building now.” Ignis spies a harried man clutching a cell phone and immediately clocks him as the director. “We’re in a silver sedan behind a large black SUV.”
The man outside turns around, spotting them instantly. “Y-yes I see you. Thank you for your help Ms. Milvus.”
Lorem sighs deeply. “Anytime, Dr. Ludus. My best wishes to Prompto, Mr. Scientia.”
“Thank you,” Ignis replies, ending the call.
Before Noctis can tear out the car, Gladio places a hand on his shoulder. “Me and Ignis first, Noct. And keep it cool. Remember what we practiced.”
Noctis forces himself to take a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Right. Okay.”
Ignis eyes him warily. “I know the ride here wasn’t necessarily reflective of the situation but-”
“I know, Specs.”
“He’s not gonna be how you remember him, Noct,” Gladio says calmly.
“He’s Prompto. That’s all that matters.”
-
Two long-sleeve shirts, a sweater, a pullover, three blankets, and his coat on top of it all, and Prompto’s finally almost warm. He hasn’t been this close to it since…he lost Noct. It’s been six months, and he’s really not over it. He thought he’d be able to tell his and Noct’s kids stories about them someday. He thought maybe…he wouldn’t be alone ever again. That all the pieces would line up perfectly, and they’d be together and-
And now he’s crying right as someone knocks on his door.
He usually ignores it and pretends he's not in, but Accentus, his overbearing RA, saw him come in this afternoon. The guy’s a painter, and he’s nice enough, but he always asks Prompto how he’s doing and right now…Prompto wouldn’t be able to convince anyone he’s fine.
Well, maybe his parents.
They never responded when he emailed them about Art school. He didn’t even both mentioning the breakup with Noct.
Another rap on his door.
Prompto huffs in a deep breath and wipes his eyes. He should probably at least tell Accentus to fuck off. Then maybe he’ll actually get some sleep before his run in a few hours. He could even go now since he’ll already have stood up. There’s too much noise in his head anyway. Maybe if he actually manages to break a sweat people won’t even know he’s been crying. His runs haven’t really been ‘runs’ lately cause he’s so tired. He’s spent most of his time wandering around campus at a mild pace. He wipes his eyes again. Maybe that’s why he’s crying so much.
Losing his heart, his home , tore him up so bad inside he can barely even move. It didn’t even hurt at first so why does it hurt so much now?
He hears footsteps outside his door and muffled talking. Accentus probably ran into someone else and decided to annoy them. That’s good. Prompto needs sleep anyway.
Another knock and then, “Prompto?”
Prompto jerks. He knows that voice, but he doesn’t dare answer. Wouldn’t it hurt more, letting his heart back in after so much time away? Is there even anything left in him to carry one? Does he deserve it?
“Prompto? Are you awake?”
Prompto slowly pushes himself up. His coat falls on the ground and the rest of the blankets crinkle around his hips. The cold air ripples up and down his back and arms. Maybe having a heart will keep him warm.
But does he deserve it?
“Prom, can I come in?”
He pushes the rest of the blankets back onto the bed and quickly tucks his knees into his chest. Whatever’s left inside him is pounding like crazy, and there are spots in his vision. He should have stopped at the dining hall this morning. Maybe if Noct’s here then the spots will go away. Maybe Noct will chase away all the bad things, and Prompto can feel real and warm and safe and-
“Prompto, I’m gonna come in okay? Ignis and Gladio are here, too, but it’s just gonna be me right now, okay?”
Prompto nods in the darkness just as the door unlocks and creeps open.
“Prom?”
He can’t handle it.
Noctis flicks on the light.
He really can’t handle it. His heart is right there, and he just…tucks himself back into his knees.
“Prompto, what…”
Granted, Prompto’s dorm is an absolute mess, but he doesn’t think that’s what Noct’s freaking out about.
But then there are arms around him. His heart slides right back in, like it never even left. And Prompto’s finally , finally warm.