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Beneath the trees of New Gridania…
Prompto rolls a blade of grass between his fingers as he leans against the weathered wooden siding of The Roost, listening to the meditative sounds of the Plaza. Birds chirp, singing as they chase each other through the air, and the murmur of the gossiping travelers and dining adventurers inside brings a quiet peace. The summer sun shines through the canopy, pale golden rays shining between dappled patterns on the forest bed below. He watches the shadows dance across the grass and fallen leaves as the trees overhead sway in the wind. The forests of Gridania may not be his home, but there is a familiarity to the warm serenity of the woodland realm of the elves.
Home.
What a loaded word, with more definitions across cultures than the colors in a kaleidoscope. For many, home is the land of their birth. A nation of their people. A village of their neighbors; a clustered home of friends and family bonds made over generations. For others, home is where they rest. Where there is drink and hearth and safety. Nomads call the world their home, as they wander from land to land, their only tether that of the common culture they share with their tribes.
What Prompto once called home is no longer his. The Viera tradition forbids him from ever returning to the place he grew up, and as the years pass his few memories begin to blur and fade. Having chosen exile, what now would he call home?
“Prom!” A familiar voice calls out and cuts through his thoughts. When he turns, he sees the blue flash of the Aetheryte crystal and the unmistakable feline form of his friend materializing onto the dais.
“Noct! Hey!”
Noctis saunters up to Prompto, a playful smirk teasing at his lips. He eyes Prompto over, and the young viera shifts shyly under his gaze.
“Really digging the outfit, really shows off your uh… collarbones.”
Noctis punctuates that last word with a quirk of his eyebrow and a half-bitten lip that Prompto swears is bordering on flirtatious. He blushes, chewing on the inside of his cheek before steeling his nerves and throwing on a confident air.
“Yeah? I thought I’d try something that felt a little more ‘me’ today! Think I’ll catch any eyes?” He asks as he throws a hip out in a dramatic pose, fingers tousling his hair with a flourish.
Noctis’ laugh rings through the air, warm and full-bodied. Prompto expected comments and questions, but was anxious how his presentation would be perceived, and the laughter relieves some of the tension he’d felt tied in knots in his stomach.
“Collarbones or not, people do seem to catch notice of the rare sight of a Viera wandering through Gridania.”
And there was that wistful feeling again. Despite the time he’s spent here, and no matter the more he spends, he’ll always be an outsider; an exotic foreigner visiting from afar. Noct must pick up on the shadow in Prompto’s face, because he gently punches him on the shoulder, his fist lingering a moment as he offers a soft smile.
“It’s the same for us Mi’qote. It’s the ears, I think. People can’t help but stare as they hold back their primal urge to scratch behind them like they would a puppy.”
Noctis reaches up to scratch the back of one of Prompto’s ears, but in a panic he swats away the hand, heat flushing deep across his cheeks.
“Well— well if anyone’s a puppy, it’s you with all that energy you’re carryin’ around.”
Noct shrugs off Prompto’s reaction, his eyes wrinkling from the grin spreading across his face. “Well, we’re fishing today, and if that doesn’t call for high spirits, I don’t know what does!”
This time it’s Prompto laughing, chuckling into his hand as he watches the glint of excitement dance in Noctis’ eyes. It’s a relieving feeling, tension thawing off his shoulders that he hadn’t even realized he was carrying.
Noct always did have that effect, didn’t he?
—
They make their rounds to the various vendors and peddlers, gathering the necessary equipment for their trip. Noctis says it’s a decent hike to his “top secret watering hole” where he’s sworn there will be good fishing, and Prompto doesn’t really mind the idea. He’s always enjoyed walking through the forests, listening to the sounds of life brimming in its reach.
What Prompto does mind, however, are all the stares and sideways glances.
In traditional Viera fashion, the men wear long-sleeved tunics layered with belts and buckles – sometimes even adorned with a shoulderguard. They wear even more belts, buckles, pouches and trinkets over their pants. This is in contrast to their feminine Viera sisters. Like dancers, they wear flowing clothing that flaunts their supple skin and gentle curves. Consequently, their clothing often conceals very little.
Prompto has never felt quite comfortable with the hand-me-down tunic that was smuggled to him soon before he left for exile. It feels smothering and makes him want to shrink into nothingness, to not be perceived by any soul on Eos ever again.
So, today he dons the low-cut bodice he had managed to barter from a merchant traveling to Gridania from Limsa Lominsa. Prompto had to haggle with the gentlemen in earnest; the adventurer’s life was not always a highly profitable one, and the merchant demanded a hefty fee for the clothing. With some charm – and the promise of a few favors – the man relinquished the outfit to Prompto for a reasonable price.
That morning when he had tried it on and looked in the mirror, something inside him clicked into place, and a resonant feeling echoed through his core. For the first time in a long time, a smile had greeted him in his reflection. For the first time in a long time, he felt he could be seen.
Now, he really wishes he couldn’t be seen at all.
Sweat beads at his neck and his palms feel clammy, his heart beginning to thump in his ears when finally Noctis hooks him by the elbow. “Come look at this!” Noctis chirps with excitement. The touch of his arm is warm and grounds Prompto back to the earth, his focus brought to the thing Noctis wanted to bring to his attention.
The mi’qote points at a charm that hangs from a display shelf in the shop. It’s a cute baby chocobo chick, its plush yellow form sitting squat with part of its shell resting on the crown of its head. Noctis takes it into his palm to show to Prompto, speaking in an eager tone, “It’s a lil chocochick! You could totally hang this off the handle of your rod! For good luck!”
Noctis practically shoves the charm into Prompto’s hands, and he blushes with the sentiment.
They make their way to the vendor processing transactions, carrying their gear and snacks — and charm — in tow. As Prompto hands over a pouch of carefully counted gil, the clerk greets him with a smile, which quickly turns into a flush, panicked expression.
“Will that be all ma’am – er, sir – um… distinguished customer? Hah…”
A blush spreads across their face, a quiet nervous wisp of a laugh whispering off their lips; and for some reason, it stirs a warmth in Prompto’s stomach.
Distinguished customer. Neither sir nor ma’am, but some elusive third thing, he thinks to himself. He doesn’t realize he’s smiling when he and Noct make their way from the store.
—
Prompto’s always loved to join Noctis on his fishing ventures. He loves the way Noct’s face lights up just at the thought of it, how he can ramble on for hours about the impact of weather conditions, seasonal currents, and – he claims – the moods of the fish that day. Prompto laughs to himself thinking of the memory of a pouting Noct, empty bucket in hand, complaining like a young boy who’d been stood up by a date.
Noctis casts his fishing line again, the whirring sound of the reel punctuated by the quiet plop of his lure sinking into the waters. Prompto’s own bobber drifts across the surface, gently blown by the wind. He chances a glance over to Noct, and in the light Prompto can’t help but admire the line of his jaw, set in total concentration. A tightness pulls in his chest, but it’s cut short when a gasp from Noctis startles him.
“Prompto, your line!”
He looks down to his rod and sees the handle of the reel spinning wildly. He hadn’t even realized that he’d hooked something.
“C'mon man, you’re gonna lose it!”
Noctis takes a grip of Prompto’s rod, placing his hands over his own to pull it back in an attempt to prevent the fish from swimming away with his entire spool of fishing line. His hands are rough from the callouses he’s formed between holding a rod and swinging a blade, but their warmth against Prompto’s own stirs something in his stomach.
“Alright, I’ve reeled it in some, but you can bring it home, easy!”
He pulls Prompto’s free hand and places it on the handle of the reel and then relinquishes the rod. Prompto misses the touch.
He starts winding, pulling against his aquatic opponent. Whatever it is, it’s fairly strong, and Prompto’s rod strains in his grip as he swings it wide to match the pull of the fish. Sweat beads against his brow as he draws the fish in closer, its struggle getting harder for him to fight against. To and fro they pull each other, an erratic dance to the choppy rhythm of the groaning rod and whining spool.
A crisp, loud splash breaks the relative quiet as Prompto’s trophy crashes through the surface of the water, sending droplets sparkling through the air. A deep sigh escapes him, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in his concentration. A beat later Noctis is cheering in his ear, his arms thrown around his shoulders.
“Look at the size of that! You caught a friggin’ beast, Prom!”
He wraps a hand around Prompto’s bicep and squeezes, and the Viera feels goosebumps shoot up across his skin at the touch. “Didn’t realize you were packing these guns this whole time, dude! You’ve been holding out on me!”
Prompto fumbles, his brain short-circuiting. “N-Nah, you were the one who did most of the work, I just — I just finished what you started.”
Noctis laughs, and before long so does Prompto. They spend several hours doing the same, though Noctis somehow catches nearly five times the amount of fish Prompto does, though that’s not difficult to do, seeing as he only manages to catch two or three on his own after the first.
Eventually, the sun starts to pull low on the horizon, its honeyed amber rays shimmering off the water’s surface. The small crate they brought with them to carry their catches in is full to the brim with fish and ice. It’s got straps nailed to the side, which Noctis uses to throw the crate onto his shoulders like he would a backpack.
Prompto helps him with the rest of their gear, organizing lures and bobbers, hooks and bait into Noctis’ old tackle box. There’s a soft smile on his friend’s face as he quietly works, and Prompto notices it’s the most calm Noctis has been all day.
The setting sunlight highlights all the best of Noctis’ features, the line of his jaw, the crest of his cheekbones. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t noticed how the Miqo'te has matured in recent years. Baby fat melting away to reveal a lean, graceful physique. Eyes more focused and keen after all their time exploring Eos and all it has to offer them.
And yet there are still things Noctis has maintained from his youth. His hair is still frazzled and unkempt, a perpetual bed head splayed around his furry ears. His aged slip-on boots that he’s so adamant to keep because can’t keep laces tied to save his life. There’s a warming comfort to the familiarity that is kept, even through years of growth and change. Prompto admires everything about Noctis, and the moment here seems to stretch into forever.
Something fuzzy nestles itself squarely into Prompto’s ribcage.
—
Branches and dried leaves crack beneath Prompto’s feet as the triumphant duo make the trek back home. Twilight casts an ethereal glow around everything in the forest, and the usual din of forest chatter grows quiet as the daytime creatures retreat to their nests and dens to slumber. Their nocturnal counterparts still patiently wait for the last rays of daylight to disappear over the horizon before emerging, and Prompto finds solace in that tranquil in-between time. It gives him time to collect his thoughts, wondering when would be the best time to bring up his musings, and how best to present them without being misunderstood. How do you tell such a steadfast friend that there is an entire side of you they didn’t know about? That a part of you feels as alien and displaced as the non-native trout population?
He pulls at the hem of the corset cinched around his waist, fingers tracing the thread of each stitch with a worrisome repetition.
“Noct… there’s something I wanted to tell you,” he mutters.
Noctis pounces on top of a large fallen tree trunk, walking its length with acrobatic balance.
“What’s up?”
Prompto scrunches his nose. It’s enough anxiety just trying to share his private thoughts without having to vie for the attention of his absentminded and easily-distracted friend.
“It’s kind’ve important, do you think you could come down?”
Noct’s ears flatten in embarrassment and he sits on the edge of the tree, patting the exposed wood beside him to beckon Prompto over.
“Sorry. Why don’t you come up here and we can sit and I can give you my undivided attention?”
With an exasperated sigh, Prompto hoists himself up onto the moss-covered wood and sheepishly scoots next to Noctis.
“What is it, Prompto?” Noctis asks.
“Do you remember the day we met at The Roost?”
Noctis nods quietly.
“I was so out of place after leaving the village. I looked different from everyone else, I dressed differently – I felt like a puzzle piece misplaced in the wrong box.” Prompto takes a shallow breath, a knot forming at the back of his throat.
Bark flakes away as he scratches anxiously at the tree’s rough surface. His gaze is fixed forward, unmoving as memories race past his mind’s eye.
“You were eating all alone in a corner. You looked so lonely and forlorn. I wondered to myself how no one had offered to share a meal with this cute Viera.”
Cute. An interesting choice of words that nearly trips Prompto up as he continues, pretending like he hadn’t heard it.
“Lately, I’ve felt that out of place feeling again. Well, I have for a while, really. And no – it’s not that I don’t have you and the others, I just… it’s been something,” he gestures vaguely at himself, “on the inside.”
Noctis hums in affirmation, breaking his attentive silence.
“Whatever it is, I’m here to listen.”
Warmth pools in Prompto’s stomach, battling the tacky coldness on his tongue. It’s enough to give him courage to press on.
“When Viera come of age, we’re assigned… a role, of sorts, that aligns with the gender that presents itself at the time. Before then, gender is ambiguous.”
A rut begins to form where his nails have run across the naked wood.
“When I came of age, I was given the role of the guardians of the forest, which aligns with those assigned with the masculine gender. At the time, I felt this mix of emotions that left me feeling so confused. I thought that leaving the forest to roam on my own would make me feel better, but it hasn’t – despite all the wonderful things I’ve experienced since then.”
He takes a beat, gathering himself with a deep breath.
“I know it probably sounds silly, but it’s like – like my skin doesn’t quite feel right, y’know? And I keep thinking back to when I lived in the village, before the ceremonies…”
He lifts his hand and folds it with the other, rubbing his thumbs against each other in a slow rhythm.
“I miss that ambiguity, Noctis. I don’t feel like I quite fit in either of the roles, and that in-between is what makes me the most comfortable.” The knot tightens. “I’m genderfluid. And I know it will be hard making adjustments but it would make me really happy to have the support of my best friend.”
He turns his gaze towards Noctis, his hands folded over his slight, feline chest. He looks stoically forward, deep in thought. It spikes an itchy anxiety in Prompto’s ribcage.
“You’ve been so uncharacteristically quiet, Noct. Are you upset? I’m sorry, this is a lot and I ambushed you with it and it’s weird and –”
Noctis takes Prompto’s hands in his own, and Prompto can hear the ocean pounding in his ears, the warmth pooling in his cheeks. Noctis’ lips brush against their knuckles and he pulls Prompto’s hand to rest on his cheek. His brows are furrowed gently, and his eyes are softer than Prompto has ever seen them before.
“Prompto, thank you so much for telling me this. I can’t imagine how much strength it took to muster up the courage to share this intimate and personal topic with me.”
Prompto flushes, this was certainly not the response he expected. His ears turn hot at the tips.
“How can I best support you? What do you want me to call you by?”
Prompto swallows hard, the anxiety tentatively abating. He looks away from Noctis.
“Well, I’m still Prompto, but.. I guess it would be nice if you could use they/them pronouns for me with the others?”
Noctis tilts Prompto’s chin gently with his fingers to face him again. Prompto blushes even deeper and their ears burn white hot.
“Done. You’ve got it, Prom.”
“T-thank you.” Prompto stutters.
Noctis pulls them in for a hug and Prompto’s whole world bursts into dizzying colors, feelings rushing at them like a churning river.
After a quiet moment, the two slip off the tree and resume their journey home. Noctis continues chatting away like nothing’s changed, and it brings a warm comfort to Prompto’s heart.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.
—
When they arrive in Gridania, they take their catch to a fishmonger and sell the bulk of it, keeping some to take to The Roost to fry into a delicious indulgent dinner. Bellies full, they traipse around the city, Noctis asking questions about Prompto’s journey and how they’ve felt. Prompto is happy to share after keeping it tucked away for so long. They feel at peace, able to find comfort in their closest friend.
Friend. Something tugs in their chest at the word.
Eventually, Noctis leads them to the riverside near the Aetheryte crystal, plopping down onto the plush grass. He releases a long, drawn-out sigh. He looks so relaxed, and Prompto finds themself admiring all his features in the pale lights of the night. They barely notice their fingers brush against his, until Noctis turns to face them, ears quirked backwards as if in embarrassment. Prompto is perplexed and curious.
“What’s up, Noct? You look like you’ve run over a puppy or something.”
Noct’s ears flatten a little more and he blushes.
“Well, I don’t wanna steal your thunder or anything, but there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you too, Prom.”
“Oh?”
“Earlier, you mentioned that you wanted the support of your best friend.”
“Of course, you are my best friend, after all.” Prompto giggles into his hand.
“Right, but –”
The itchy anxiety returns, like ice in Prompto’s veins.
“But? Are you saying you don’t want to be friends anymore?”
“No, Prom, that’s not what I’m –”
“Is it because of what I said? We can just pretend like it never –”
Prompto has never been kissed.
Well, not in the proper way. Not like this.
It’s so sudden. Noct’s hands fly up to grasp at either side of Prompto’s face. They’re warm and soft and hold them more gently than they have ever been before. His fingers curl up their jawline, brushing gently through their hair. The river of feelings returns, moreso akin to a tsunami, threatening to pull them into the undertow. Noctis leans in closer, lips like velvet pressing into theirs and Prompto gives in, sinking below the depths.
A soft sound escapes their mouth when Noctis pulls away, and a yearning ache burns in their stomach in the absence.
“I love you, Prompto.”
Fire blooms in Prompto’s chest, and they press back into Noct, throwing their arms around his neck. They turn into each other as they kiss, clicking into place. It’s a rush they’ve never felt before. When they part again, Prompto can feel their lips tingling.
“I love you too, Noct.”
They sit there together for a while, time meaningless. It could be minutes, hours, Prompto can’t tell and doesn’t care. Their whole world stands peacefully still. Fireflies flicker in and out of sight, moonlight pouring gently through the canopy. Prompto started the day so anxious, so afraid. They only hoped that things wouldn’t fall apart, they never imagined this would be how things ended up. Their fingers interlace tighter with Noct’s, and a great weight lifts off their shoulders.
Finally, Prompto feels at home.
