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They shouldn’t be doing this.
He definitely shouldn’t be doing this.
But when Noctis’ eyes hover on Prompto's lips for a split second too long at the end of the night, Prompto wants to give him an answer to this unspoken question.
Wants to, but finds the possibility of him giving the wrong answer too daunting to dive right into the topic.
Headlights flicker, signaling Noctis’ car ride home. A second too long in indecision interrupts any potential for the Q&A session.
“Looks like your ride is here.”
The prince's head turns towards his royal chariot.
“…Right.”
They have a two-week break off of school, starting today. The holiday was kicked off with a dance. They weren’t even planning on going at first. Something like a school dance wasn’t something Noctis would typically want to do, given the propensity of his schoolmates talking, looking, judging him rather than ever actually interacting with him. Hell, it wasn’t even really something Prompto would want to do, given his own propensity to being more awkward than he’d like to be around his peer group.
Noctis is going to be occupied the whole break, which is righteously unfair in Prompto's opinion. Noct “getting to go” to the dance was a hard-fought negotiation between him and Ignis. Prompto isn’t certain of the terms, but in addition to his full attention for two weeks, there was some bit about vegetable servings and attending council sessions. Prompto is not sure the bargaining was worth it for Noct, with an outcome of spending the night with just himself, but despite it not being their “scene”, they had fun together.
Well...they always have fun together. And isn’t that the thing? Despite a rolling list of differences, they matched up pretty well. They have a vastly different background, vastly different life trajectories, but have somehow found commonality in the mundane.
An evening together, just embracing those stereotypical teenage experiences? It was like in the movies; in so many ways, the night out fit the bill of a quintessential date. And now they’re at the end of the night and that want to end it like a movie sparks something in Prompto’s belly.
As Noctis takes a slow step off Prompto's porch, both massive regret and divine inspiration strike the blonde like lightning, one right after the other.
“Oh! Hey, wait! I just remembered I've got something from school in the house for you. Can you come in real quick before you go?”
The inquisitive look that Noctis gives him is followed by a ‘just a minute’ hand signal to the driver. Prompto frantically waves at the driver as a preemptive apology and follows suit with the same signal.
Just a minute.
The sound of his heart beating roars in his ears as he fumbles with the key to unlock the door.
Crossing the threshold and closing the door behind them, Prompto tries to take a deep breath that is not quite calming before turning to his friend.
His best friend.
His only friend, which makes this next move all the more nerve-wracking.
The step towards him feels a mile long and Prompto is sure the silence of the foyer and the hammering of his heart can’t possibly coexist.
“Prom, wh—?”
Trembling fingers touch the prince’s cheek, making the question abruptly die in his throat. He is stock-still under the light touch; so motionless that Prompto thinks he might have stopped breathing altogether. Their eyes meet for several beats before Prompto’s wander down the path of Noct’s smooth skin to his mouth. His eyes flick back up and they lock briefly one last time as if to say “this is happening unless you stop me” as Prompto gathers the courage to close the distance.
It’s a first for Prompto and he suspects it’s probably a first for Noct too.
Noct, whose lips feel softer than they look.
Noct, who's his best friend.
Noct, who's the heir to the throne.
Noct, who's kissing him back.
It’s short and chaste. Sweet in its inexperience. It’s everything. Every too long glance, every brush of a hand, every playful jostle at the arcade.
Their lips barely part and neither boy breaks the sound of their soft breaths intermingling in the small space between them. The moment is fragile; breaking it feels like a crime. It’s that moment after jumping, and really truly falling; it’s leaving that safety of the concrete platform of “we’re just friends” and diving headfirst into the possibility of more.
Prompto swallows the moment, cognizant of time, and finally tears himself away to take a step towards grabbing a book from his abandoned school bag.
“Here.”
It’s a token to conceal. A cover for the driver, who is likely to come to the door if Noctis doesn’t get back out there soon.
Noct thumbs through the book and recognizes it as the one they’re meant to read over the break. He has his own copy at home. He swallows and tries to think of something, anything to say.
The blonde clears his throat. Breaks the silence with a not-quite-successful casual approach. “See you in two weeks?”
There’s not enough time to talk about this, but then again, Noctis isn’t one to talk much…ever.
At the heart of it, Noctis knows this isn’t right.
It’s not right for him to want to want this; not right to string this boy's heart along to some definitive moment in the future when whatever this is and whatever it could be must end.
But he’s so overwhelmingly thrilled that Prom took the chance that he doesn’t want to logic himself out of this stupor. The happiness of the moment overshadowed the daunting fact that there is no way this would ever have a happy ending.
They shouldn’t be doing this.
He shouldn’t be doing this.
But Noctis wants to answer the question; wants to take that uncertain look off of this freckled face; wants to be as brave as Prompto.
He steps forward and takes his hand. With a gentle tug, he recaptures his friend’s lips in a pact that he hopes answers as a resounding yes.
“See you in two weeks.”