The One Who Stayed
-They meet up at Hammerhead. Prompto is lonely.-
xXx
It was almost as if he hadn't breathed in hours, not since he had received that phone call.
Prompto's entire body shook from the anticipation, curled up in a booth in Taka's diner. Gladio and Ignis were in similar states, hunched over, the sound of tinny jazz from the small record player in the back not nearly enough to fill the tangible silence choking the room.
Finally, the sound of an engine rumbling into the Hammerhead lot caught their attention, and the three men were out the door by the time that the keys were removed. Gladio walked towards the car without hesitation, with Ignis just crossing his arms and waiting to be addressed. But Prompto… Prompto lingered back, holding his breath, clutching his chest to calm his heart which was currently trying to bust out of his ribcage with how fast it was beating.
The passenger side opened, the rider hopping out stiffly. As they strolled into the light, Prompto almost screamed; that figure, shining in the headlights of Talcott's truck, was his.
"Hey," his gruff voice called.
Prompto nearly collapsed from the sound.
Standing before them, with all the ease in the world, was a familiar figure. He was dressed in the same clothes as Prompto remembered- those cropped pants and combat boots, paired with a tighter t-shirt that matched that dark, dark hair. But the face accompanying the outfit was almost foreign; surrounded by long, almost unruly bangs and a beard that reminded him too much of King Regis, the dirty face was shadowed, haggard. It was the face of a grown man who had the weight of the world on his shoulders, who had both slept too long and too little, who had been forced down a road to which he had finally resigned himself.
It was the face of a man who had filled Prompto's dreams for years.
Prompto grabbed Ignis' arm to alert him of the situation, pulling lightly as Gladio stepped forward. "Hey? That's all you have to say for yourself, after all this time?" the large man growled, disbelief evident in his tone.
However, no matter how different he looked, the light chuckle which escaped the newcomer's lips was enough to set Prompto on fire. He shivered, burying that emotion deep within himself before throwing on the widest, cheeriest grin he could muster. "Noct! It's you! It's really you!" The blond patted Noctis' arm and circled around the man, examining all of the newfound creases and wrinkles in his tired expression.
The other man raised an eyebrow. "It is? I hadn't realized," Noctis quipped, and Prompto nearly cried. It's him. It's really him.
"Well, well. You kept us waiting." Ignis' voice was calm, even- but the small quirk of his lips showed that he, too, recognized the voice of the man before them.
Noctis walked up to his old mentor, clasping his shoulder. "Not like I wanted to." Looking back at the other two, he muttered, "We've got catching up to do."
The other two grunted their assent, turning back towards the diner. It took Prompto a second to catch up with them, however, as he paused and caught his breath. Looking at Noctis from behind as the three others walked towards the door, Prompto had to bite his lip to stop himself from openly weeping. Noctis was different- his shoulders had filled out, his back was wider. His hair swayed in the light breeze, lifting off his neck to reveal pale skin occasionally, before hiding it again. His steps were weary, but sure; fists clenched tight, gaze stern, brow furrowed and set.
Umbra trotted into the light and after Noctis, pausing briefly to lick Prompto's hand, shaking him out of his stupor. The blond started, shook his head, scratched Umbra behind the ears, and began walking after the other three with shaking breaths.
He was Noctis, but he wasn't his Noctis. And that scared Prompto, more than anything.
