If this looks familiar, it has been previously posted to my AO3 under the same name.

Prompto sat on the tailgate of a beaten old truck and looked out at the dark landscape surrounding Hammerhead. The distant growling and shrieking of deamons made his skin crawl. He closed is eyes and inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of earth and oil doing nothing to calm his nerves.

When he opened his eyes he found his hands moving on their accord to his travel pack beside him. The pack was filled with food, water purifiers, clean socks and underwear, and plenty of ammunition for the handgun on his hip and the shotgun on his back. But what his hands were set on retrieving was his camera.

He sighed heavily. He knew he should stop doing this to himself; should stop looking back at a past he could never go back to, before Noctis had been taken by the crystal, before Gladio had become so overtaken with anger that he could no longer so much as look at Promoto or Ignis, and before Ignis had lost the ability to see what little was left of the light. He knew he shouldn't, but he began scrolling through old pictures. Noctis wining by a hair racing chocobos against Gladio, Ignis cooking one of the group's favorite meals at camp, Ignis expertly wielding his favorite twin daggers against a cactar. Ignis…Promoto had a lot of pictures of his lover.

Were they still lovers, Promoto wondered. He rarely saw Ignis anymore, what with Ignis in Lestalum most of the time and Promoto busy aiding the supply runners who kept the rout between Hammerhead and Lestalum as safe as possible. When he did se him, it was nice, but it was also painful. Maybe that's why no one had heard from Gladio in months. The sight of each other was just too much to bare. But in moments like these, when Prompto found himself somewhere between nostalgia and melancholy, NOT being with Ignis was worse.

He stopped on a picture that made tears well up in his tiered, heavy eyes. It had been one of his favorites at the time it had been taken, but now it just…hurt.

One year earlier

After they had made love in a hotel room all to themselves, Ignis laid on his back propped up on some pillows against the headboard with Promoto nested beside him with his head on his chest. Prompto looked up at his lover and smiled. It was a rare moment of peace and intimacy for them. Ignis wore a contented smile, his eyes that were currently devoid of the tension, worry, and cold focus that usually filled them looked down at Prompto past the curtain of freshly cleaned light chestnut hair.

Prompto had a though. "Can I take a picture of you like this," he asked, then quickly added for clarification, "just your face. You just look so… peaceful."

Ignis laughed quietly. "As long as it's kept private, then yes, you may."

Prompto rolled over to reach his camera from the nightstand. He made sure the flash was off, judging the soft lighting of the room provided by the bedside lamp to be perfect for the kind of picture he wanted, made sure Ignis' face was in the screen but his bare chest was not, and took a picture.

Prompto lost himself and all sense of time staring at that picture. A rare image of happiness and tranquility and…love. Prompto loved Igins, he always would, even if this ruined world tore them apart. This picture of Ignis smiling, of Ignis HAPPY would remind him of all the reasons why; this picture that had been taken in their hotel room in Altisha the night before the Rite of Leviathan.

Prompto sniffled and a single tear fell from his face onto the camera screen. He watched it roll down the image of his lovers face and over the beautiful green eyes that shone with a hope that now only existed in photographs.

This photo, taken on a whim, was the last picture of Ignis smiling. It was the last picture of his eyes.

Prompto hung his head and for the first time sense leaving Gralea, let himself cry. No matter what happened to him, to Ignis, to the world, Promoto would never see those eyes again. This picture was all he had left. That, more than anything, hurt.