Chapter Text
On most days, Prompto was proud of himself. He had lost a considerable amount of weight all on his own over a steady course of time. Granted, Noctis was the catalyst for this change, but Prompto didn't feel bad about it. He didn't regret it in the end. Outside of fighting bad guys and running headlong into danger, he had a pretty healthy lifestyle now, far better than it was before. On every plane, he was much better than he was before. Most days, he remembered that.
On other days, he felt low. He questioned his motivations; he wondered if losing weight was really all it took to make and keep him happy. On those days, he struggled with the answer. A reminder of what he had done was permanently etched on his skin. His stretch marks had faded over the years but only somewhat. T hey were still there, still prominent. Most days he could love them, and he did...!
Just... not today...
Today, Prompto stood in the bathroom mirror. His left hand held up his shirt. His right hand rubbed over the small bump under his belly button. He felt that gentle softness and rubbed over the numerous stretch marks that came up from his thighs and over his hips. He looked to his left arm, touching under his tricep as he knew there were marks there too. Lighter, standing almost white against his pale skin, but they were there. He took in a breath, lips quivering as he continued touching over himself, retracing the numerous markings and feeling as many as he could over his skin or through his clothes. He frowned at himself in the mirror as he stroked his right thigh . His jeans covered the stretch marks, but he knew they were there.
He stood there too pained by the familiarity, too numb to move. He heard their suite door click closed and slowly pulled down his shirt. He smoothed it over his hips and over his groin and stared up at his reflection and regretted what he saw. His lips curved down in a frown and slapped his hand over his reflection, jerking his head away so he wouldn't have to stare at the damned thing anymore. A sob started, a dry shuddering of breath, but he locked himself up before the tears came. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, fiddling with his shirt one last time before he turned away. He opened his eyes, soon seeing that the door was opened. He stared at it in horror. How could he have forgotten? The others could have barged in on his intimate, self-loathing ritual and saw him.
Or worse– and the thought made his stomach turn– they could have thought that he wanted them to see.
The train of thoughts was enough to make him frustrated, upset. He pinched under his right arm and yelped when the skin broke. H rubbed at his arm, feeling the small prickling of blood and could only think "Good". He headed out.
"'Ey, Prompto," Noctis greeted from his position near the armoire .
Prompto looked around, quickly noticing that Noctis was alone, and gave a weak laugh. "Hey, Noct... Bring anything back?"
"Iggy's got it in the car," Noctis replied with a wave of his hand.
Prompto ducked his head down and slid his hands into his back pockets. "Cool, cool..." A beat. He drew in a breath as he stood up straight, pointing his thumb over his left shoulder. "Hey, did you—"
"You okay?" Noctis cut in, squinting his eyes in Prompto's direction. "You got this... look on your face."
Prompto's face fought for the right expression. He smiled too quickly, sharply, but managed to fight it down into something manageable. He fought so valiantly with that that he didn't have any strength left to tackle his voice.
"Tryin' to tell me you don't like my face, Noct?" he asked, voice trembling with emotion just barely contained. He turned his head away quickly.
Shit.
Noctis moved away from the wall and stepped closer to Prompto. His voice was low, an attempt at comforting, when he said, "No, that's not what I meant..."
… Fuck.
Prompto took a step back to keep distance between them. Noctis froze. Prompto felt bad again. Noctis canted his head slightly, pushing his hands palm down towards the ground slowly. The universal sign of calm.
"What happened?" Noctis asked again, quieter this time, concern touching the grainy drag of his voice.
"I'm just... having a bad day."
"Okay... Is that it?"
Noctis moved forward slowly, reaching out his hand unsurely to take Prompto's. But then the blond grabbed Noctis' wrist and pulled it closer. He used his other hand to push up his shirt slightly, allowing Noctis to touch at the baby fat on his belly and the stretch marks Noctis surely felt as soft ridges.
Prompto spoke with an audible strain. "This is it..."
Noctis sighed, not one of exasperation. Pity, maybe, but something heartfelt. More sympathetic.
"Prompto," Noctis breathed, touching for a moment over the stretch marks before pulling his own hand away.
Prompto knew of was more out of respect, but some part of him shared Noctis' imagined disgust. He wouldn't want to touch for very long, either. Noctis' hands came to rest on Prompto's waist. Over his clothes, Prompto noted distastefully. Noctis took a step closer, meeting Prompto's gaze easily. Prompto's lips tugged down in the left corner , and he felt that burning desire to look away. To run or lock himself in the bathroom again. But he didn't. He, almost frightfully, stayed in place.
"You look good," Noctis started. "I'm proud of you, yeah?"
"Proud of me?" Prompto couldn't keep himself from repeating the words, disbelief in his voice.
"You did this on your own, didn't you? You've done so well to keep it up."
"Yeah, but… the marks are…"
"A part of you." Noctis rubbed his thumbs over Prompto's waist, idly. "It's okay, really it is."
Prompto squinted his eyes, suspiciously, and then looked away. "You're just saying that."
"Prompto." Noctis moved closer until their fronts were touching, tipping his head to meet Prompto's gaze. Prompto's heart leapt in his throat; he was shocked by the steely, serious look in Noctis' eyes. "You've seen the scar on my back."
Prompto hesitated before talking. "Y-yeah, but I—"
"You've seen. the scar. And you don't think any less of me."
"… No."
"You don't think it's ugly."
Prompto looked offended. How could he? Cool, maybe, but he didn't think it was hideous or anything. "No, I—"
"I deal with it. It's mine. I want to say that I would rather have the stretch marks, but I won't take that away from you." Noctis frowned slightly, a small, pleading action for him. "You've done something great for yourself. You know that, right?"
There was an argument to be had. Surely there was, but Prompto's self-loathing, all of his dissatisfied logic, had gone quiet. He tipped his head down, staring at Noctis' chest. He curled his fingers around Noctis' wrists.
"Yes," he whispered.
"You look amazing, Prom. Stretch marks and all. Just reminds me that you're more dedicated than I would have been." Noctis smirked. "Jogging every day? If I had a choice, I woulda passed on that."
Prompto laughed in spite of himself. He brought his head up to meet Noctis' gaze. "You would have," he said softly; there was still a touch of sadness in his voice.
Noctis' lips quirked up in the right corner. He gave Prompto's hips a squeeze. "Come on. Let's head to the arcade."
"There's an arcade?" Prompto's voice lilted, slowly livening up.
"It's at the diner. Come on, let's go."
Noctis laced his fingers with Prompto's and pulled the blond out of the room. Prompto looked to the back of Noctis' head, smiling softly. He was grateful for him. Completely and utterly grateful…