Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Honey, I’m home!” Prompto calls out to the pitch dark apartment, the same way he does every evening. After a beat, he sighs and says with a sad grin, “Oh wait. That’s right. I live alone.” The same way he does every evening.

A small joke, one without an audience. The joke itself isn’t what’s funny, see, it’s the fact that he repeats it every time, fully knowing no one is going to answer. A setup to a highly predictable payoff. It’s an anti-joke. The fact that it isn’t funny is what makes it funny.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

Humor is a way to cope. And Prompto? Well, he’s had a lot to cope with lately.

The New Insomnian government is just now getting its legs ready to run, and already there’s small groups of detractors trying to scrap it and start over because of things like ‘not being royalist enough’ despite the fact that there are no living royals from any nation whatsoever. No, apparently a representative democracy is all wrong and disrespectful to the man who brought back the sun.

Five years ago, Prompto would have considered something so painfully political as not his problem. But seeing as he’s in the honor guard for the current governing body led by none other than his good buddy Ignis, it’s kind of his problem now.

Add to that, Gladio’s stress over arguing with Iris over how to handle the rebuilding of their family estate.

“Oh, like what flowers to plant in the gardens?” Prompto had stupidly asked.

“More like what, if any, duty and expectations our family name still carries.”

With Ignis unable to tear himself from work, and the Marshal making preparations for his imminent retirement, that left only Prompto available for Gladio to come vent to.

Oh and speaking of the Marshal, yeah, he was more than a little insistent that Prompto be his protege. Despite, you know, Prompto taking on the title of honor guard for the exact purpose of lessening his level of responsibility. ‘Cor the Immortal’ wanted ‘Prompto the Emotionally Fragile’ to succeed him as leader of the Glaive or Crownsguard or whatever they were calling the military force these days.

After every panic attack, every quiet sobbing breakdown, every racing heartbeat trailing the sound of a door slamming shut, Prompto simply could not foresee himself being in charge of a lemonade stand, let alone the military.

But worst of all, out of all the politics and work stress and daily survival, the single most awful thing on his mind is that tomorrow is the first annual King Noctis Memorial Day.

It’s here.

The one year anniversary of the night they went back into the burning rubble of the Citadel with a plan and hearts full of hope, and left with nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Well, the sun came back. It was certainly one hell of a consolation prize. The sun came back, and Noct didn’t.

Following that, Ignis had locked himself away from everyone in a hotel room for weeks; the occasional sound of crashing furniture or shattering glass acted as the sole indicator he was even still in there. Gladio seemed to wash himself in an immediate acceptance that only cracked and shattered anytime anyone mentioned Noct’s name.

The rest of the living population of Eos was caught up in celebration, survival, or searching for a way to bring back something mirroring the society that once was.

Leaving Prompto alone to mourn the loss of his one true love.

Man. That sucked.

It got easier though. Aranea started dropping by, and she was always good for a wise word or two. One time she even gave him a hug, imagine that.

Ignis began to accept that, whatever went wrong with the plan, he was never going to know. Rebuilding Insomnia seemed to take up his mind enough to start moving on. Either that or he was still just that good at hiding every inconvenient emotion he ever felt.

Gladio had his family, whatever was left of it at least, and they managed to take care of each other. Eventually, Gladio was able to try and be there for Prompto, too. He was trying.

A lot.

Hell, even as Prompto was leaving his station today, Gladio had made sure to meet up and ask if he was ‘handling this well’. This being the festival everyone around them was busy getting together.

Banners and balloons and streamers all setup in the name of remembering Noct.

Felt weird, like everyone was celebrating his best friend’s death.

“I’m good,” Prompto had lied.

“Sure,” Gladio replied, “but if you stop being good-”

“I’ll hit you up.”

So Prompto had hopped on his bicycle and pedaled past big flower arrangements and the construction of food stalls and kinda tasteless merchandise until he finally got home and made a stupid unfunny joke just to relieve the tension in his own brain.

At least we have electricity, he thinks as he flips on the lightswitch and takes off his boots. At least we have fresh food again, he thinks as he adds some peas and chopped bell pepper to his styrofoam cup of decade old instant noodles. At least I have a safe place to come home to, he thinks as he settles into his comfy armchair and opens one of his photobooks in his lap.

Prompto flips through pages of memories of him and Noct: fishing, posing in front of gorgeous landscapes, acting like idiots by the campfire.

At least we still have all this, Prompto thinks. Just wish you were here to share it with.

“This sucks,” Prompto whispers. He stares straight ahead, at attention, in full Glaive uniform next to Ignis, who stands next to Gladio. They’re equally dressed for the somber occasion, standing in the appropriate stance. And they’ve been doing this for two hours now.

“Almost finished,” Ignis replies quietly as an old woman hobbles up to the three of them and bows her head before saying a quick word of gratitude. She smiles sadly at each of them before walking away, making room for the next person.

Whoever had the bright idea to make the three of them act as some kind of weird proxy for Noct so everyone could come pay their respects and speak their gratitude should be fired. Judging by how deeply uncomfortable Ignis has looked throughout the whole ordeal, the person likely already was.

It was well intentioned. Probably. The people wanted to have a way to thank the King of Light for his sacrifice, and what better way than to speak through the three guards who accompanied him to the final battle? So the idea was to have the three of them stand in front of the grand memorial statue built in Noct’s honor, and anyone who felt they needed closure could come speak their peace.

As it turns out, everyone who spent the last ten years fighting, surviving, struggling, or simply growing up in the darkness, wants some of that closure.

Two. Hours.

After the old woman leaves, a familiar face takes her place. Under the brim of a Hammerhead logo cap is the apologetically smiling face of Talcott Hester.

“How you guys holding up?” he asks.

Gladio nearly deflates from the release of pressure.

“About as well as can be expected,” Ignis replies.

“That bad?” Talcott asks with a small laugh.

Prompto smiles back at the kid, trying to think of anything witty to say, when something dark catches his eye. He jerks his head to the left, across the crowd of people watching them, and squints his eyes.

He doesn’t see anything but he knows it was there. Something. Someone? Familiar. A flash of black hair on a lazily smirking face.

He looks harder. There’s nothing there.

Great. With all the fuss of doing something for the people to commiserate, no one considered the mental toll it might just take on the three of them.

Well, Prompto sure is considering it now.

“Good news is, the line is almost done.” Talcott looks between the three of them and nods his head. “Try to catch up with me later, if you can. I found some interesting relics on my last outing. Thought you might like the photos, anyway.” He smiles again at Prompto and waves before leaving, making room for the next mourner.

The air is starting to smell like fried food and from somewhere comes the sound of a tuning guitar. The actual celebration part of the day is about to start, and Prompto simply can’t wait.

Because he’s going to go straight home.

He was going to go straight home, anyway. But then Cindy showed up and well, he has to catch up with her. They’d become good friends during the long night and he feels kinda guilty for not checking in with her at Hammerhead as much as he should.

“Paw Paw’s gettin’ along, as usual,” she says as she accepts the grilled meat skewer from the vendor. “I offered to bring him but he said ain’t no point. Not much for crowds. He wanted me to tell you hi, anyhow.”

“Glad he’s still kicking,” Prompto says.

“Now, how about you? How’s life going in New Insomnia?”

“Fine,” he lies again. “Can’t complain.” Though he could.

“Uh huh,” Cindy drawls, her empty hand placed firmly on her hip. “I’m sure you’re doing just dandy what with all this celebratin’ going on around you.” She looks at him sadly and takes a bite from her skewer.

“Heh. You know me.” Prompto shrugs his shoulders. “I’m kinda…happy….that everyone else is happy. You know?” It’s not entirely a lie. “Like, this is what Noct died for. This is his sacrifice. He did it so all these people could eat and sing and play and...do this.” He waves his hand in the air, gesturing vaguely at the folk band in front of them and the group of small kids playing with a rubber ball.

Cindy nods her head, turning to face the band and finishes the last bit of meat on her skewer. She taps the sharpened end against her lips and hums for a moment. “You know, they say the one year anniversary of a traumatic event is twice as difficult to process as the event itself.”

Prompto frowns and turns to her. “What?”

“It’s true,” she says louder, pointing a finger in his face, “cause now you got the big reminder of the pain and the milestone making it seem more important than it was before. So now it hurts twice as much.”

“Who says this?” he asks in exasperation. This isn’t the sort of conversation he’s always known Cindy to be good for.

“Psychologists. Like, say, this nice girl I’ve been seeing…”

Prompto feels his face lighten up. “Seriously?!”

Cindy chuckles. “It ain’t nothin’ serious but, you know, I really like her. Real smart lady. Her car broke down outside the Quay, got a tow to Hammerhead and had to bunk down for a few nights. Got to know each other real well.”

Prompto gasps. “Cindy!” he says, throwing his hand over his chest in mock offense. He’s so happy. Seriously. Getting to hear about anyone having a good thing going in their lives is like a hit of healing magic directly to his brain.

“Not like that, get your dang head outta the gutter! Anyway. She works at the clinic here and I was-”

A loud clatter of metal rings out around them; multiple empty kegs fall from their already precarious stack onto the concrete below. The woman in charge of the beverage cart yells and runs to stop the one rolling into the children’s ball game.

“One second, Cindy!”

Prompto, on instinct, rushes in to help. He grabs one of the empty containers trying to roll away and turns to walk it back to the pile when he sees it again.

Just a flash.

Dark hair, blue eyes, and a look of apology before disappearing behind the long row of food carts and merchant stands.

Prompto blinks. It couldn’t be.

He sets the container down and rushes behind the pile, pivoting on his heel and sprinting down the same path. He apologizes to a row of people as he knocks into them, trying desperately not to trip as he hops over a wooden crate and takes a sharp turn into an alley to find-...

There’s nothing there.

“Of course there isn’t,” he sighs. Then he chuckles. “I’m really losing it, huh?”

Maybe Cindy’s girlfriend is right. Maybe he’s not holding it together as well as he thought.

“Bbbbbrow?”

Prompto looks down at the piles of cardboard boxes where a stray cat is peeking out from behind. She flicks her ears left and right, before stepping gingerly over a crushed aluminum can and padding towards him.

“Awe. Hey, kitty kitty.” Prompto kneels and stretches his hand out for her to investigate. She’s a gorgeous calico with a bobbed tail and large tufts of fur coming from her ears. She rubs her face against the tips of his fingers and purrs. “You’re a sweet one, huh?”

She’s also a hungry looking one. Real skinny. It would explain why she was so quick to approach a stranger.

Prompto spends a few more minutes scratching the side of the cat’s face before gently scooping her up into his arms. She simply looks up at him, closes her eyes, and continues to purr.

He smiles back. “Alright. Guess I’ll take you home and get you something decent to eat. How does tuna sound?”

The cat makes a trilling noise and rubs her head against his arm.

Prompto decides to feed the stray cat, give her some fresh water, and a warm place to sleep for the night.

He can’t think of a better way to honor the memory of his beloved.

Chapter Text

“Honey, I’m home!” Prompto calls out before letting the cat jump down to the floor below. She trills again before running off towards the living room. “Oh wait, that’s right. I li-...”

Prompto is hit with three sudden realizations: the lights are all on, it smells like someone made dinner, and there’s a pair of shoes he doesn’t recognize sitting by the door.

He darts his eyes around his apartment, making sure every detail lines up with the fact that it is indeed his and he didn’t just stumble into the wrong unlocked door by accident.

His camera bag is hanging by the front door, and the framed photo on the wall is the one he took in Lestallum two months ago.

This is indeed his apartment.

Which means…

Prompto darts his hand into his coat and grabs hold of the pistol he keeps holstered there. The floor creaks as someone begins to walk across it. He raises his gun and readies himself to act when he hears:

“Welcome home. I picked up some pizza.”

Prompto lowers his hands and raises his eyebrows because that voice. That voice is unmistakable but…

It’s Noct.

But it can’t be.

But it is

He’s there, with that lazy crooked smile and his black hair hanging in his face and the cat purring loudly in his arms.

“I like what you brought better, though.”

Prompto drops to his knees, his gun clattering to the ground as he catches himself with his hands.

“Oh. Oh wow. I’m really hallucinating.”

The image of Noct walks over towards him, socks shuffling against the carpet, before he carefully lets the alley cat back down.

“Prompto,” Noct’s voice says carefully, “you’re not hallucinating.” He kneels down, right in front of Prompto, and lays his warm hands over both of Prompto’s. “It’s me.”

Prompto looks up, into that scraggly bearded face and sparkling blue eyes and…

And…

And he throws his arms around Noct’s neck because it’s him, it’s Noct, it really truly is! It looks and sounds and smells like Noct there is no mistaking it. When Prompto squeezes Noct makes a squeaky little sound of glee that’s completely and perfectly Noct.

Prompto feels tears streaming hot down his cheeks as he gasps out “NOCT!” because really what else is there to say?

Noct snakes his arms around Prompto and squeezes him back and it takes Prompto to another time, another place. A loud and creaky mattress in a freezing cold room in Zegnautus. A lazy morning with just the two of them alone in the tent outside of Hammerhead. One last desperate moment of quiet before the final fight in the Citadel. A hot afternoon in Noct’s apartment, game controllers long abandoned on the living room floor.

Prompto is broken from his sprint down memory lane by a loud and menacing yowl coming from his side.

Noct pulls back first and laughs, and Gods, it’s the most beautiful sound Prompto has ever heard. He lays a hand on the cat’s head and whispers, “Don’t worry, we didn’t forget about you.”

Prompto roughly scrubs the tears from his cheeks and eyes and sighs, trying to take in as much of his senses as possible. Trying to ground himself in this reality he hopes never shatters.

“...how?” is all he can finally bring himself to say. “How did-...? We, we found…all we found was- We thought we screwed it all up!”

“Yeah,” Noct says quietly, “everything went exactly right. Just as Ignis planned. Except…it takes a little while for a human body to come back from complete oblivion.”

Prompto laughs, short and hoarse but it feels incredible. “You don’t say!?”

Noct’s face is so soft and perfect when he leans forward and whispers, “Shiva thought I needed some more time but, I was a little impatient to get back.”

“Yeah?” Prompto whispers as Noct puts his hands on his cheeks. “So this is real? Like, for real real?”

Noct laughs again and nods before leaning in completely and giving Prompto that kiss he’d been chasing in his dreams for over a decade.

Prompto sighs through his nose before opening his mouth into the familiarity of routine. Comfort. Noct.

A soft paw lands on Prompto’s face as once more the cat protests how much this reunion does not involve her dinner.

“Okay, okay,” Prompto mumbles as he pulls himself away from Noct’s lips and reaches over to pick up the cat. “I’ll get your tuna, you little menace!” He laughs, feeling more tears pricking at his already sore eyes. He stands, helping Noct up as he does, and carries the cat into his tiny kitchen.

There is indeed a box of fresh pizza sitting on the counter that Prompto recognizes from one of the food stands at the festival.

“So, that was you playing hide and seek,” Prompto says with a smirk. He places the cat down on the counter before retrieving the tin can of flaked tuna.

“Yeah…sorry.” Noct looks at Prompto apologetically as he slides into the plastic stool on the other side of the counter. “Wasn’t really sure how to say hi without making a scene, so figured I’d just meet you here. You should really lock your front door, by the way.”

Prompto finishes opening the tuna can and places it down for the cat. She digs in voraciously, and mews her contentment as she chews. The sound is cute, and obviously makes Noct melt.

He always had such a soft spot for cats.

Noct reaches out slowly and scratches the top of the cat’s head. She doesn’t react. “The whole coming back thing was…weird. I just woke up on the throne, covered in a mountain of flowers, and walked outside to find my name painted on banners everywhere. Oh, and my three best friends looking completely miserable.”

“Dude!” Prompto yells, an energetic burst of joy bringing back something he’d long written off as lost for good. “It was a nightmare! Worst memorial service ever, please don’t die again!”

It’s a joke, one that falls from Prompto’s mouth before he can consider the implications but now it’s out and there and the air between them shifts. Uncomfortably.

Noct reaches his hand across the counter.

Nah, that’s not enough.

Prompto walks around the counter to where Noct’s sitting and leans into him, between his legs, until their foreheads are touching. Noct’s right hand moves behind Prompto, resting on the small of his back, while his left takes Prompto’s right. They thread their fingers together in a motion that’s so ingrained between them despite not having done it in so long.

“I missed you,” Noct whispers just as Prompto thinks it. He moves his head slightly, rubbing their noses together and squeezing their hands a little bit tighter.

“Still doesn’t feel real,” Prompto confesses. And it doesn’t. Yesterday he was trying to make peace with how much the rest of Eos was going to leave him behind in his mourning and now…now Noct’s breath is warm on his cheek and Promoto can feel his pulse beating in a steady rhythm where the palms of their hands meet.

Noct is here. Really here. More than that, he’s alive. Truly.

They kiss again, now unbothered by hungry stray cats, and Prompto quickly gets to see for himself exactly how alive Noct is.

They’re lying in Prompto’s twin sized bed, both attempting to catch their breaths as the sunset’s deep red and orange lights bleed through the vinyl blinds hanging over his window. For the last three hundred and sixty four days, this time in the evening always sent a spike of anxiety through Prompto’s stomach, making it cramp and turn. The lingering fear that the setting sun would not be rising back up in ten or so hours, and everything he’d lost would be for nothing became part of his normal routine.

This time, though, he’s able to appreciate how lovely the colors truly are, as the grounding weight of his lover’s body lays draped and sweaty over his own. He trails his fingertips over Noct’s back, feeling the old wound from his childhood there.

“You still have that scar,” Prompto observes idly.

“You still have that soul patch,” Noct replies before gasping a laugh against Prompto’s neck.

“And what about it?!” He rather likes his small patch of facial hair thank you very much! Unlike some people who can just grow a full beard in a day or spend half an hour every morning scraping theirs down to nothing, Prompto is incredibly proud of the bright colored almost-goatee he’s been sporting the last few years.

Noct reaches up and runs his thumb over Prompto’s chin. “Just…looks like a squirrel is hanging out on your face…”

Prompto gasps. “N-no it does not!”

“Yeah, you’re right…more like a chocobo chick.”

If he weren’t so extremely exhausted and feeling clingy as hell, Prompto has half a mind to kick Noct out of bed. Instead he huffs and holds Noct closer to his side.

“Anyway, it’s like I said,” Noct whispers, “Shiva wanted me to stay longer. But I said the body I left with was more than enough. Scars, limp, and all.”

Prompto bites his lower lip as his fingers graze over the raised skin across Noct’s spine. He’s feeling…guilty. Like there’s an unspoken implication that Noct rushed his healing to hurry back for Prompto. Like he could have taken a little more time and come back with nerve endings that didn’t light up every morning or a knee that could actually withstand walking up a flight of stairs without throbbing.

And Noct, just as he always had, senses that trepidation in Prompto because he pushes himself up onto his hands and leans down over him. “Hey? It’s nothing. Being away from you hurt way more.”

Prompto doesn’t know if that’s true, but he does for once know exactly how much that particular pain hurts. It’s healed now. Or healing, rather. And he supposes there’s plenty they can do for whatever is lingering in Noct’s bones. A cane would be an easy start. Prompto got so good at metalworking during the long night, he’s sure he can make Noct anything he might need to make getting around a little easier.

“Just…tell me,” Prompto says as he puts a hand to Noct’s cheek and brushes aside the hair there, “whatever you need.”

Noct’s stomach chooses that exact moment to grumble.

“Right!” Prompto yelps. “The pizza!”

“Think it’s still good?” Noct asks with a laugh. He untangles himself from Prompto and begins to stand up.

“I think it’s fine,” Prompto says as he stretches his arms and sits up, “so long as we don’t tell Iggy.”

…

Prompto and Noct quickly look at each other.

Shit

“Have you-?!”

“Do you have a phone?!”

“They have to know!” Prompto yells. He grabs his pants off the edge of the bed and starts frantically pulling them on. Every moment Gladio and Ignis aren’t aware that their best bud is literally standing right here in front of Prompto is a moment of treason. “Shit, we need to tell them right no-”

Prompto’s stomach interrupts the revelation with a reminder that he hasn’t eaten a full meal all damn day.

“Food first,” Noct says as he buttons his shirt back up, “then phone call.”

It goes about exactly as Prompto expected. They call Ignis first, who answers and immediately asks Prompto if he’s alright.

“Never better, Iggy,” Prompto says before turning on the speaker phone.

“Is that so?” Ignis asks with doubt in his voice. He sounds distracted, probably by a stack of neverending paperwork.

“Yep. I’ve got a friend over. He’d really like to say hi to you.”

Ignis makes a sound of annoyance at Prompto’s game but quickly hides it behind calm neutrality. “And who might that be?”

Prompto pushes the phone towards Noct and gestures with a wide grin on his face.

So many years ago, when they were stupid teenagers high off their own immaturity, they’d play phone pranks like this. Small, harmless little jokes just to frustrate Ignis, or Gladio, sometimes Cor or Monica. Always in good fun.

This time isn’t a joke.

Noct hesitates a moment before leaning towards the phone and says, “Hey Specs.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. A quick inhale and finally, Ignis replies, “This isn’t funny, Prompto.”

“It’s-!” Prompto starts to yell.

“It’s really me, Iggy. You should come over, we’ve got plenty of pizza.”

The cat jumps onto the counter and mews loudly, long enough for Ignis to take a moment to quietly stew in disbelief before speaking again.

“I’m on my way.”

He hangs up.

Prompto immediately dials Gladio with the stupidest, widest smile plastered on his face.

“Prompto. Everything alright?”

Noct gives Prompto a look that says he’s getting the idea he was kinda isolating himself this past year.

Which…fair. He kinda was.

“Yeah. In fact, we’re throwing an after party. You should come, Iggy’s already on his way.”

Gladio sighs. “An afterparty? Really? After all that? And who is ‘we’?”

Noct takes the initiative and answers: “Prompto and me.”

After a brief moment, the line disconnects.

“You uh…think he’s coming over?” Noct asks. He reaches over and picks up the cat who hasn’t stopped asking for more attention.

“Uh…yeah.” Prompto shrugs and grabs another slice of pizza. “Probably.”

They arrive together, presumably because they caught each other on the way over.

Ignis is silent and still as the statue they stood before all morning. Prompto thinks he can actually see the gears turning wildly between his eyes.

Gladio gasps out a few disjointed words of disbelief, an angry syllable here and there, before collapsing into tears like Prompto has never seen before.

Noct takes both of them in his arms and, in the way only he can, brings them back into a solid state of reality. He’s here. They’re together. Everything’s okay again.

Everything’s okay again.

“I apologize for ever having doubt,” Ignis finally says, as if he ever had anything to be sorry for.

“What the hell took you so long?!” Gladio asks between wrecked sobs.

“Come on, guys!” Noct demands, that joyful glow still shining bright through his features. “Do you know how hard it is to put an entire human back together in the astral realm?”

There’s questions lingering in the air. What does all of this mean? Where is Noct’s place now in New Insomnia? How do they continue on after a year of learning to carry on? What exactly has changed now, if anything?

Those were questions they could find answers to later.

Much, much later.

Noct turns back and takes Prompto’s hand again, as the alley cat jumps onto his shoulder with a loud purr. He smiles, that perfect awkward Noctis smile that has always settled like glowing embers in Prompto’s heart. It’s warm and bright and Prompto feels, for the first time in his entire life, like everything is perfectly alright.

He’s home.