"In the wintertime, citrus fruit was so rare, and if you got one, it was better than ambrosia."
—James Earl Jones
Today, Prompto is alive.
Prompto knows he's alive because he can feel it. He can feel his heart drumming in his chest, begging his legs to run and his mouth to laugh and his cheeks to smile with every pulse of his blood.
He doesn't know what it is about him that makes him feel this way; where everything is just so much deeper and so much more intense in a way that makes him want to just jump and run and take in as much of it as he can.
He takes deeper breaths, his lungs begging him to do so to compensate for the energy he's storing up inside every square inch of his body.
Today, Prompto's blood roars in his ears as the wonders of the world run past him, and Prompto can't help but love and enjoy all of it with every inch of his soul.
Prompto can't do anything about the sunrise; he can only sit back and watch the sun slowly break her head over the hilltops, stretching her milky pink and orange fingers across the sky, breathing violet breaths into the air, and Prompto can only watch.
Prompto can only watch as the bus rumbles along his route to work. And even though there's a bus driver and a woman breast-feeding in the back, Prompto can't help feeling like the only person awake in the whole world to witness and appreciate the misty magic that descends over the land at dawn.
It's all so amazing and wonderful, and when his bus rumbles to a stop and Prompto has to walk the rest of the way to work, he takes picture after picture with his simple point-and-shoot camera.
For some reason, Prompto feels that there's a huge imbalance here; like a simple point-and-shoot camera is too insufficient of a tool to capture the beauty and wonder of the dawn sky. But it's all he can do, and it makes it feel like it's too much for him, like all of this is solely for him. Like he's the soldier, and it's his job to protect the memory of this moment.
It's in this moment that Prompto feels his best; that he just wants to tell everyone in the world about how great it is to be alive, and how wonderful it is to just exist and drive and breathe and simply be.
And as Prompto continues along the route to work, he knows that today is going to be great.
He can just feel it.
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Today, Noctis needs to be alive.
He needs to be alive, but unfortunately, he doesn't want to get out of bed. Consequently, this appears to create a bit of a conundrum.
For a long while, Noctis simply lays there, smothered by the mass that is his blankets in his cluttered room. Ignis hasn't been able to clean it recently, so Noctis can only lay there in his room bathed in darkness from the light cancelling curtains.
Noctis knows it's morning, because he can hear the birds screaming outside, and with a grunt, he covers his ears with his pillows. Gods he wishes the birds would stop screaming; no one needs to hear how horny the damn birds are at four in the fucking morning.
Noctis groans and draws the blankets over his head, immediately trying to go back to sleep. He closes his eyes, waiting for sleep to come, but sleep doesn't come. Instead, Noctis' eyelids become tired and itchy from trying to sleep, and his blanket no longer feels warm and inviting but hot and suffocating; a coffin waiting to be locked.
Noctis throws off his blanket, but even after taking the first step in getting up, he lays there. He lays there, waiting for something to get him up; some energy or reason or need to just get himself out of bed this morning. Really, he can think of plenty of reasons, but none of them are good enough.
None of them are good enough to get him out of bed; to leave his one safe-haven from the world behind and have to face society without a shield. He wants to go back to sleep, and he wants to scream when he realizes that he can't.
It's nearly 5:00 when Noctis sees his fishing pole leaning up against his wall, and Noctis thinks of something. He really doesn't feel like it, not today, not ever recently, but he knows that it's better than lying in bed doing nothing and wishing for something. Besides, if Ignis comes in and sees him still lying in bed hours later, he's going to bust a vein.
Half an hour later, Noctis is on his way, driving to the edge of town.
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Lean down, grab, stand up, place, repeat.
The actions are etched into Prompto's head.
Lean down, grab, stand up, place, repeat.
Or maybe not his head. More so his body. Muscle memory and all that.
Lean down, grab, stand up, place, repeat.
Prompto thinks he's come to hate muscle memory.
Lean down, grab, stand up, place, repeat.
When he first started working, it was kind of relaxing. The simple action of restocking fruit and letting his mind wander was a nice break from the stress of everyday life.
Now, as the muscles in his back scream with the tension of bending down over and over, and the tediousness of stocking a shelf of fruit wear on him, his picture-taking euphoria wears off and there's nothing else he wouldn't rather be doing.
Lean down, grab, stand up, place, repeat.
Nothing else he wouldn't rather be doing. Is that a double negative? Prompto isn't sure. English class was never really his thing.
Lean down, grab, stand up, place, repeat.
Placing the last orange on the shelf, Prompto takes a step back to admire his handiwork. That is, if he could even call it that.
Each orange looks exactly the same, side by side. It looks as though they're all melting into one shape, no identity of their own. Without thinking, Prompto reaches over and grabs an apple from the neighboring shelf, placing it with the oranges.
A single apple in a sea of oranges. Something about it makes the whole thing immensely better, more satisfying to look at.
Snap.
Before he knows it, Prompto is taking a picture, trying his best to work around the crappy six A.M convenience store lighting.
Prompto doesn't think there are any real perks to working a shift at CeeZee's other than a paycheck, especially by himself, but if he looks hard enough, he's sure he can find some. There's something surreal about six A.M in an empty convenience store, like his bedroom at 3 A.M or an empty parking lot late at night.
Not how most sophomore-going-on-juniors would spend their Saturday, but considering he's only had the job for a week, he thinks he's adjusting pretty well. He was already used to getting up pretty early; he liked doing so because it left more time to do more things.
Besides, no one comes into CeeZee's at this time. Not hardly anyone, specifically no one. Personally Prompto thinks it's a waste, but apparently the CeeZee's CEO or whatever thinks that being open twenty-four hours is good for business.
Never mind that, because having next to one show up gives Prompto a lot of free time to do basically whatever he wants.
When the sleek black sports car pulls into the empty parking lot, Prompto can only watch.
He watches, but his mind explodes in a million different directions. Directions where the driver of the car could possibly a robber, coming to try and take money from the register. If the dude or gal has a gun, Prompto will probably give him the money. He likes his job and all, but he isn't about to risk his life for a CeeZee's.
Or maybe it's his boss, which would be weird because his boss spends most of her time in the big store deeper into Insomnia. Considering this one is on the outskirts, it would be pretty weird for her to drop by, especially at six A.M.
Prompto rushes behind the counter, ducking below the desk to grab the money box. Technically, since he's supposed to be working the cashier right now, he should have had it out by now. But considering hardly anyone comes in at this time, he's grown accustomed to leaving it in its place until at least eight or nine.
As Prompto searches for the money box under the counter, more and more possibilities swarm his head, until by the time someone actually walks in, he's so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn't notice at first.
When the bell rings, he jumps, which is never a good thing to do when there's something hovering four inches above your head. Especially when that something is a hard something.
"Ow! Shit…" Prompto mutters, standing up and reaching up to rub his head as daggers of pain stab through his head. It's probably good that it hurts though—the pain flushes his face red which, thankfully, hides his embarrassment in what he hopes is a successful manner.
"Jeez, sorry about that," Prompto goes on as he finally locates the money box from under the counter, not yet looking up. Instead, he slams the money box on the counter as he begins rummaging through the various drawers for the key to open it.
"I'm just not used to anyone being in this early—like, it's what, six A.M? And Saturday? I mean, I'm pretty sure almost everyone is used to being asleep right now. Granted, I know I'm awake right now, but I don't count. I'm supposed to be working a shift here." Still not looking up from his business, Prompto nervously rambles on to fill empty space, his tongue a motor in his mouth.
"And like, even if they are up, what are the chances that they're gonna be going to a CeeZee's. And even if there is a CeeZee's, there's that bigger CeeZee's in the middle of Insomnia. You're from Insomnia, right?"
"Yeah."
Hearing that voice, Prompto freezes. He knows that voice. Hands halfway buried in the third drawer, Prompto's head snaps up and he sees him.
Spiky jet-black hair, moon pale skin, and amazingly apathetic. Even without the school uniform and throng of students attracted to his presence, Prompto recognizes him in an instant.
"Hey Prompto," he says, giving a small, half-hearted wave. It seems surprisingly casual and anti-climactic for a royal encounter, but Prompto doesn't mind. He's been meaning to try talking to Noctis more often.
"Hey; Prince Noctis! Didn't think you would stop around here," Prompto exclaims, surprise splitting a wide grin across his face.
Noctis only shrugs. "Yeah, I didn't think so either."
Prompto wants to be friends with Noctis. He really does; he only just worked up the nerve to talk to him yesterday.. But they only have one class together; they don't even have the luxury of sharing lunch periods. There are really only a few times when the two of them can talk or hang out or even anything along those lines.
It's hard to believe that they've been in the same schooling system for years. It seems like every memory Prompto has of Prince Noctis always involves Noctis on the outskirts, untouchable and out of reach. Like some sort of monument.
Wait, not a monument. The word monument sounds pretentious, and Noctis is far from pretentious. More like an obelisk. It's just as great as a monument, but the word obelisk more subtle. More discreet. Like it's trying to draw your attention away from it, but at the same time only piquing your curiosity.
Now isn't the time to think about that right now, though. Right now, Prompto is leaning across the counter, watching Prince Noctis walk around the store, eyes and fingers grazing the merchandise.
It's so strange, it almost doesn't seem real. The crown prince of Lucis, wordlessly dropping into a CeeZee's at six A.M. It would be odd for anyone, but for some reason, the fact that it's the prince makes it even odder.
The long winding road stretching outside the window and the seemingly endless forest beyond that serve as a constant reminder of just how far CeeZee's is from the rest of Insomnia. The store is just close enough to be part of the city, but just far enough that people only come out here if it's on the way to something else and they're making a pit stop.
Which, in turn, reminds Prompto of how isolated he and Noctis are. Usually, it just feels like him, Prompto, isolated from the rest of society, but now it's become him and Noctis, isolated from the rest of society. Prompto feels like he needs some time to think about how he feels about this.
"Alright; I've gotta ask," Prompto says when the silence has finally stretched far too long and his curiosity is screaming. "What are you looking for, man? Chips or something? Cause I mean, if you came all the way out here for some chips, you're gonna be pretty disappointed—"
"I'm looking for fishing stuff."
It could partly be because the way Prince Noctis said it was so blunt, or partly because Prompto thinks he could have misheard him, but for whatever the reason, Prince Noctis' answer catches Prompto off guard.
"Hm?" Prompto says, unable to hide the quizzical look that passes over his face.
Noctis turns around, now looking at Prompto. "Fishing stuff. I was gonna go fishing this morning," he says simply. "You've heard of fishing before, right?"
"What? I mean, uh, yeah, of course I have! Tons of fishing! I live for fishing! Fishing runs through my blood. " It feels like the longer Prompto goes on, the more elaborate his fishing lies get.
Noctis doesn't say anything. Instead, he only watches Prompto ramble on, slowly tying his own noose.
With a small smirk, Noctis turns back to the shelf, gazing over the rows and rows of fishing lines. "Ah, okay. Nice to know you like fishing," he says with a small scoff. "What's your favorite kind of fishing line to use?"
"Um...the long kind?"
Prompto could actually kick himself right now.
The corners of Noctis' mouth move up to reveal a small grin, and then he chuckles. He actually chuckles. It's an odd, surreal, supernatural experience similar to encounters with the dead, completely opposite to the reaction Prompto was expecting
"Woah! Ladies and gentlemen, do my eyes deceive me? Did the high Prince Noctis, crown prince of Lucis, beloved son of King Regis himself, justsmile? In my store?" Prompto declares the words as though he's a village crier, speaking in a voice that's loud and orotund.
"Haha, very funny," Noctis says, going back to looking over the merchandise.
Prompto shrugs, looking away from Noctis and fiddling with his fingers. He can't quite remember when he started doing that; it always has just seemed like a nervous habit; something he does when he's thinking faster than his mouth can go or speaking faster than his brain can go. And right now, he's trying to figure out a way out of the pothole he believes he's just worked himself into.
"Sorry man," Prompto finally says with an unintentional smile. "I just wouldn't associate the Prince of Lucis with fishing and all. I-I mean, it just seems like you would be doing more..."
"Princely things?" Noctis suggests.
"Yeah! Exactly! Princely things," Prompto exclaims. "Do you have like, a huge room and a bunch of servants and papers to sign and a million royal summits and stuff?"
"Mmm...I'm pretty sure my dad does a lot of that. I won't actually be doing a lot of that stuff 'til I'm king," Noctis says, stifling a yawn.
Prompto would never admit it, but hearing Noctis casually referring to the prince of Lucis as "dad" is both weird and cool on so many different levels.
Finally finding what he's looking for, Noctis stands up, walking over to the cash register and placing his things on the counter. Looking down, Prompto sees he only bought two things: a super baleen line, and some sort of device resembling a chocobo.
"Whoa, what's this?" Prompto exclaims, eyes going wide at the sight of the chocobo device. Looking back on his initial reaction, he would want to stab his past self in the foot, but right now in this moment, his electric blue eyes are huge and his fingers are fiddling with the chocobo device placed on the counter.
"Oh yeah, big fishing nut," Noctis says with a chuckle. Prompto gives a playful glare and scoffs.
"Come on dude, really; what is this?" Prompto insists.
Noctis shakes his head, smiling. "It's a poppeck chocobo." When Prompto responds with a blank look, Noctis goes on.
"It's a type of fishing lure," Noctis explains. "It's like...it's supposed to look like a chocobo, and when you put it in the water, fish swim towards it, and like...I don't know, it just attracts fish."
"Really? But like, wouldn't the sight of a chocobo scare them away? Cause like, chocobos eat fish and all. I mean, it would be counterproductive. But it's not , because it obviously works." Prompto can feel himself doing it again; the thing where he starts thinking faster than his mouth can handle. He realizes it as soon as the words slip past his lips, and he realizes just how fast he's speaking.
However, before he can apologize, Noctis chuckles. He chuckles again. Glancing at the clock mounted on the wall, Prompto realizes that he's made the prince laugh twice in the past five minutes. Granted, he was laughing at Prompto, but it's not malicious like most of what he's used to.
Instead, it's more lighthearted. Amused, in a way. Prompto decides that he likes this kind of laugh. Grinning back, Prompto quickly swipes the chocobo over the checker-outer-thing of which he was never certain of the name, making sure it beeps before he goes back to inspecting it.
"I'm gonna guess that you really like chocobos," Noctis says, leaning forward so that his forearms are folded lazily on the counter.
Prompto scoffs. "Chocobos and machines and stuff. You sure that was just a guess?" He jokes, and Noctis shrugs in response.
"Not exactly," he says, nodding his head at something behind Prompto. Looking away from the poppeck chocobo for just a moment, Prompto notices his backpack: bright yellow with black stripes, a dozen chocobo plushies hanging from the zippers.
Fire explodes in Prompto's cheeks when he sees them. He always liked his chocobo plushies; he even named every single one of them. Now though, in this moment when he's alone with the prince and trying to make a good impression, all he sees them being is childish.
"What? Those? Oh, um...those aren't mine!" Prompto blurts out, the gears in his brain scrambling for a plausible excuse.
Noctis gives him a look that Prompto can't exactly place. "Really?" He says, arching a single dark eyebrow.
"Yeah, really!" Prompto confirms, nodding his head a little more vigorously than needed.
"Oh, I see," Noctis says, and for a moment Prompto is left standing in bewildered disbelief, wondering if he actually pulled it off.
Then, Noctis goes on. "So that kid walking around school with that backpack and those chocobos is just your twin brother?"
Dammit. Prompto knows he's never been the best liar, but since Noctis already knows the truth, Prompto figures he might as well just lean into it.
Prompto continues fiddling with the poppeck, looking up every now and then to give Noctis a smirk. "Oh yeah, totally. His name's Mopto."
"Mopto?"
"Yep; we don't have any classes together, so you'll probably never see us in the same room."
"Ah, alright," Noctis says, nodding along as though this makes perfect sense. "So was it Mopto or Prompto that I talked to on Friday?"
"Mmm...probably Prompto," Prompto says after looking as though he's putting real effort into remembering this important piece of information.
As he speaks, Prompto bites the insides of his mouth: a trick he taught himself when he's trying not to smile. He's learned the hard way that smiling when you shouldn't be smiling usually doesn't lead to anything good, especially during something important.
Prompto considers not smiling like an idiot in front of the prince to be something important.
"Okay, okay," Noctis says, nodding along. "So who am I talking to now?"
"You know, I want to say Prompto, but I really can't be sure. I mean, who knows? Maybe this isn't Prompto or Mopto. Maybe I'm just a hologram."
"If you're just a hologram, then how are you holding my poppeck?" Noctis prompts.
To this, Prompto can only shrug. "I'm a very...palpable hologram."
"Haha, very funny. You know I still have to go fishing, and I'm losing darkness here, so…" Noctis says with a smirk, drumming his fingers on the counter.
As soon as Noctis mentions this, Prompto's head shoots up, eyes rushing to the window. The pale blue of an early morning sky assaults his eyes, and instantly his brows snap up.
"Shit man; I'm sorry! Got kinda distracted there, you know?" Prompto fumbles through his words, scrambling desperately for an apology as he begins to shove the poppeck chocobo into a plastic bag along with the fishing line, handing it to Noctis as fast as he can manage.
Even so, Noctis takes the bag with a shrug. "S'cool."
And with that, Noctis is at the door.
However, just as he places one foot outside, he stops. "And uh...I can look into how that poppeck chocobo works, if you want."
"Hm? Oh don't worry about it; I'm sure I can figure it out," Prompto insists with a grin, and Noctis shrugs again.
"Alright, if you say so."
And as Prompto watches the prince walk outside to his car, he notices a faint smile spread between the prince's lips.
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"Argh! I'm telling you guys; I was so stupid!"
Prompto's groans echo loudly through the empty park, ricocheting off of the surrounding brick buildings and shooting skyward into the open air.
"Really, I mean 'I thought you would be doing more princely stuff?' Gods, I bet I sounded like such a jerk!"
With a loud, wounded moan, Prompto buries his head in his hands, falling backwards onto the shortly trimmed grass. It stabs and itches on the back of his neck, but right now, Prompto doesn't care. With his stomach still churning at his last encounter with the prince, he wouldn't mind if the ground suddenly cracked open and swallowed him whole.
At least underground he wouldn't have time to think about his shift at CeeZee's that morning. He had never been the best at paying attention, but for the rest of his shift, his focus had completely reset.
He filled up the slushie machines with the wrong flavors, his mind kept wandering when he worked on fixing the fritzy soda dispenser, and he was pretty sure he had given a bunch of people more change back than he owed.
All the while he ranted about this, his audience of ducks and geese watched inattentively with beady black eyes, keeping their attention fixated on the bread in his hand.
"Ugh, and I kept smiling like an idiot the whole time —like, can you guys imagine?"
The only response Prompto gets is the hissing of a goose when he doesn't give out the bread fast enough.
"Jeez, chill out Remus—don't you want your kids to eat first?" Prompto says, ripping off a chunk of break and throwing it far past the goose he called Remus. The bread lands at the feet of a trio of goslings, not young enough to be considered babies but not yet old enough to be full-fledged geese.
Their wings aren't fully developed, little bits of baby fluff sticking out, and they haven't developed the stripe that geese have over their eyes. It's looks like someone took the head of a baby and put it on the body of an adult.
Prompto sighs, stretching his legs out in front of him as the watches two of the not-quite-goslings-but-not-quite-geese fight over the single piece of bread piece. The third one takes a tentative snap, but is quickly chased off when one of his siblings hisses at him, and instead waddles off to float in the water.
Prompto knows he's a lot more confident than he was in middle school. Thinking back on it, he looks at his middle school years and cringes. Seventh grade Prompto was an absolute nightmare, but he likes to think that as a sophomore going on junior, he's grown a lot more.
Granted, most of the time he still feels like the seventh grader who ate lunch in the library and did nothing but take photos all day, but now he thinks that he just hides it much better than before.
Getting up, Prompto goes to the edge of the pond, where the lone not-quite-goose-not-quite-gosling swims by himself, kicking up ripples in his path.
Ripping off another piece of bread, Prompto throws it into the water, watching it soak and expand as the bird curiously swims closer, snapping the food up in his beak.
Prompto throws the next piece closer to him, and the next piece after that, until the somewhat-goose is practically on top of him.
Putting some bread in his palm, Prompto holds it out and watches the little bird eat the bread straight from his palm, giving small, soft honks as he does so.
Prompto has never been much of a nature man, but birds are different. They're not the big, huge, rip-your-face off animals, and while some of them can be mean as sin, Prompto loves coming out here during the spring and summer to sneak a peek at their goslings, slowly watching them grow into full-fledged geese.
And so, as the somewhere-between-gosling-and-goose nibbles on the bread from his hand, Prompto looks down at him with clear blue eyes and smiles.
"Heh. I think I'll call you Strider," he says, wanting desperately to pet the not-so-gosling-or-goose and ruffle his feathers, but he already knows he's pushing his luck by having Strider eat out of his hand. He doesn't want to ruin the moment.
"I don't know, man. What do you think I should do?" He asks, taking a bite from his orange and feeling the sweet juices run across his tongue, momentarily curing his woes. It's probably best that eating the orange is therapeutic, because the only words of comfort he gets from Strider is a blink and a head cock.
"Then again, I don't think you'll give the best advice when it comes to relationships and friendships and stuff," Prompto says with a small, light-hearted scoff. "I mean, like, I heard geese mate for life, but don't you fight and scream at each other over mates during your mating season?"
If geese could shrug, Prompto is sure that this one would have done it. Strider lifts and ruffles his feathers, wiggling his neck as he does so.. Truth be told, Prompto knows it's not a shrug, but he chooses to believe that it is because then it feels like he actually has someone to talk to who listens to him.
"I think some other birds have pretty good tips, though," Prompto continues. "I mean, apparently a lot of tropical birds put together dances and stuff."
At that, Prompto immediately thinks of himself dressed up in a flamboyant toucan costume, shimmying all over the school hallway in an attempt to win Noctis' attention. When he does, he just about bursts out laughing, doubling over himself at the sheer thought of it.
However, when he does Strider backs up a bit, startled. Prompto instantly snaps back to attention. "No no, wait! I still have food," he insists, throwing a fat chunk of bread at the gosling-goose.
Strider nibbles at it, but still keeps his distance from Prompto, causing Prompto to sigh, but continue their so-called "conversation."
"Then again, I heard that chocobos do this one thing where they all bring gifts like food or something to the mate they want, and I think that works pretty well."
Just then, Prompto's mouth stops as a light-bulb in his head turns on.
And then he has an idea.
A grin splits Prompto's cheeks as he suddenly shoots up from his seat on the grass. "Strider, you're a genius!" He cries over his shoulder as he sprints up the hill and out of the park, back to his house to find some notebook paper and a pen.
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On Monday, Noctis finds a note attached to his locker.
Hey Noctis!
Sorry about the whole CeeZee's thing; I didn't mean to be rude or make you late to your whole fishing thing! Can you be late to that? I don't know if that's really something you can be late to, unless you were going to a fishing competition, but I think if it was I would have seen a few more cars passing by. This is Prompto, by the way!
Anyways, I just wanted to say that it was really nice to have met you! We don't have a lot of classes together, but I wouldn't mind if you stopped into the store from time to time.
How about this: if you answer this question and bring it back to the store, you can get a free something from the store. Sound cool, right?
Here's the question: what was the name of your childhood pet? Simple question; you don't have to answer it if you don't want to, just thought it would be cool.
Sincerely, Prompto
Noctis reads Prompto's letter, and he smiles.