Beta read by: SinikkavonWolperting

I do have a song for this one.
Song: Arms By: Christina Perri

I have marked where to start listening at. C:

I just first wanna say, I'm so sorry for this. ;A;

And, a fair warning, this is a deathfic.

Prompto stared down at his bowl of soup, watching the contents of swirl mesmerizingly as it convinced his stomach to do the same and he had to look away from it. He knew he hadn't been able to eat much lately, and he was painfully aware that the others had to have noticed as well; but, he just hadn't been feeling up to it and that's all there was to it. There was no explanation, it wasn't like he felt sick per se, more like it was an on and off thing. "Sorry, Iggy," he sighed, "I think I'm gonna skip out on this one," he quickly apologized, setting the untouched meal to the side.

The adviser only nodded, choosing not to press the matter for the time being; it was clear he'd get nowhere with the blond if he were to start questioning him right now. So instead, he kept a watchful eye on him, taking in his demeanor and minor body language for any telltale signs that he could pick up on. But, thus far, he had come up empty handed, much to his ever growing dismay.

"Plan on going to bed early again?" Gladio asked with a raised eyebrow.

Prompto shrugged, "I dunno, probably," he breathed out and leaned his head back. Sure, he had been hitting the sack earlier than usual lately, but it wasn't like he was exactly going to sleep. He'd be able to for a couple hours before his mind was ransacked by nightmares and unpleasantries, ultimately waking him before he could get a decent amount. So, he'd just end up more tired the next night for that droning process to repeat itself like a fucked up and broken record.

He glanced up at the stars, trying to count them as a sort of distraction, glancing between them and quickly losing count, but he kept adding them up. Adding the same ones in that he had already included, but it didn't matter. His attention soon focused on one in particular, the pulsing of it almost calming and he he couldn't help but grin to himself at the beauty of it. Something flashed in front of it though, a flash of darkened purple, and if he saw right, it seemed like a heartbeat, like it was timed perfectly with his own. And, he jumped, visibly as a startled cry sounded out.

"Prom?" Noctis asked, lowering his spoon into his bowl, "Is everything alright?" he sounded concerned, his eyes focused on sky blue and his brows knit firmly together.

The blond took a few deep breaths, running a hand through his hair, "Y-yeah," he stammered, heart racing, "I think a bird or something flew by," he chuckled at his own paranoia, "I guess it was nothing though." He lowered his head into his hands to rest it there momentarily. "Probably just tired," he muttered rubbing his eyes.

"Possibly," Ignis replied, his interest switching over to fearsome worry, "You should probably head to bed and try to get some rest," he suggested. "From what I can tell, you haven't been getting much, have you?"

He shook his head and slowly lifted it up to meet the other, "No, not really," he admitted, "Keep waking up." But, he left out the reason as to why, assuming it was of little importance. They were all stressed, he knew it, stress can do crazy things. "I'm gonna go ahead and do that," he whispered, pushing himself up and taking a moment as he waited for the initial dizziness of the action to subside.

Each of them kept a steady eye on him on the chance he'd collapse at any second; the kid sure looked like he would at the very least. Gladio grunted once he disappeared inside the tent, "He's hiding something," he mumbled quietly and factually, "I can see it; it's obvious. I don't know why he doesn't just spill the beans already," he sat his empty bowl to the side to fold his arms over his chest, "Gonna beat it out of him if he doesn't open up," he promised.

"I doubt that resorting to violence is the best course of action," Ignis softly scolded, "If anything gets worse, I'm sure he'll say something, but for now, let him deal with it at his own pace."

The prince scoffed to his right, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but for once, I'm with the big guy on this one, he needs to say something."

"It's been three days, Iggy, three days of this aloof behavior and sad attempts at acting like nothing is wrong; he's as transparent as the air itself." He waved a hand for unneeded emphasis, "If we don't drag it out of him, I doubt he'll ever say anything; he's a damn stubborn one." He took a steadying inhale to calm himself before he got too riled up and made himself heard, "All I'm saying is, we need to find out what's wrong with him before it gets to a point where he has to say something. Because we all know full well that's what's gonna happen."

The brunet sat there silently, accepting what the shield said as nothing aside from the cold hard truth. "I'll question him about it come tomorrow," he finally caved in, his own anxious concern getting the best of him, "It can't be helped, I suppose."

He lied there, listening to the idle and drawling conversation the others were carrying out; he couldn't quite catch the words, but then again he wasn't exactly paying attention; he was too preoccupied with his own wondering and agitating thoughts. Something was wrong, very wrong. And not the 'I'm just catching a cold,' or 'I'm just tried' wrong. This was something devastating and life clutching. Extending his right hand in front of his face, he watched the slight tremor of it, the limb feeling weak and almost not his own, if that made sense.

"What's wrong with me," he mouthed, slowly lowered it to his side. Everything had a subtle ache to it, but it could mostly go ignored; the one thing that couldn't was the sharp and rhythmic pangs in his chest. If he didn't know any better, he'd assume he was having a heart attack. But this was far different, it felt more like his heart was changing and morphing than actually stopping, but he thought maybe it would hurt less if that were the case.

Letting out a small whimper of discontent, he rolled over his his side, his back turned towards the entrance as he curled slightly in on himself, on hand clutching at the fabric over his chest. As the pulsing and throbbing grew more unbearable, he finally considered saying something to the other, seeing if Iggy knew what was wrong, or hell, he'd even be willing to go see a doctor at this point; anything to make it go away.

He forced his hand to unfurl from his shirt and tried to push himself up, but ended up falling back down as his arm gave out from underneath him. It was too difficult, too agonizing to move right now, lying there was easier and hoping it'd pass was the only option it seemed. The motivation to try again was drained the moment his face was pressed back against the pillow. He was too tired to move, too drained and exhausted. 'Tomorrow', he thought, just focusing on keeping his erratic breaths under control. Yeah, this could wait, his body craved what it needed, and who was he to deny it from indulging in the bliss of slumber?

Unaware of how long he had stayed in that stationary position, he felt and heard the others climb in one after another, only slightly conscious of his surroundings as they filed through. Prompto felt himself get shifted over as one of them made room for themselves; he would have moved himself if it weren't for the lethargy buzzing through his form. So, he allowed himself to be pushed around and shoved aside.

And, even with the others long gone, lost in their own dreams and imaginations, the fluttering against his ribs never faltered, his heart never took a break from its attempted escape. He had to bite his tongue occasional to keep from making a sound at some points, and others he was left near breathless from holding it for so long. Luckily though, all of this seemed to be finally catching up to him and his lucidity wavered, teetering on the edge and he willed it over that final hurtle until he was drifting off as well.

Again, images and scenarios plagued his clouded mind; scenes of darkness riddled with that sickening violet haze, fogging the place as it spread to the outer corners and spiraled around him. He tried to fan it away, to push it far away but it was too late; it was already seeping into his skin, absorbing into his bloodstream and flowing through him. He wanted to call out to someone, anyone, to help him, but he couldn't will his mouth to open. In fact, he couldn't move at all, the grip of this invisible force had his hands tied and his legs bound.

He let out a gasp, his breath getting caught in his throat. He couldn't breathe and his sight was quickly following suit, black tendrils snaking around and over his eyes until they were completely submerged in the void. And that ringing, deafening in his ears and vibrating through his bones. This had to be pure torture, worse than death; there was no way in hell that dying was this painful and terrifying. Soon, there was nothing, he was absolutely swallowed up by darkness, consumed by the festering evil that was this nightmare. Not even his thoughts could be heard any longer.

He awoke with a jolt and a throbbing headache, not too dissimilar to the ones he's had these last few days, but it seemed to be getting worse with each passing day. Sweat coated his face, trailing down in beads down his face and neck. Every morning started with this jarring pain and this disengaging ringing that plucked him from reality for a few moments before finally allowing him peace. Groaning, Prompto turned to his other side in an attempt to face away from the blaring sun as he protectively wrapped an arm over his eyes. The movement felt stiff and unnatural, but it served its purpose. That dream replayed a few times on their own accord.

And, he would remain in that position, recalling the previous night's imagery, staying there until the pulsing ceased long enough for him to get his bearings. But, this time took a fair amount longer than he was growing accustomed to, which deeply concerned him. It was getting worse. Clearly something was horribly wrong, but...but it was nothing. It had to be nothing, he refused to accept otherwise.

"Prompto," the prince called to him, beckoning him to get up; it had been the fourth time in the last thirty minutes that someone has peeked in and asked him to come out. He waved a hand to signal that he was on it, not trusting his voice, afraid it would cause new stabs through his skull. "Dude, if you aren't feeling well, all you have to do is say so," he muttered and left the blond to himself. He sighed deeply, knowing he couldn't stay there forever, despite how much he craved it.

He curled in on himself, preparing both mentally and physically for the discomfort that was about to come; and, holding his breath, he sat up and waited for his world to cease in its rotation, nausea became something that came with the package. Honestly, he wanted to curl back up and be sucked into oblivion, anything to escape this misery. Raising a hand to press it against his head, he hesitated, something that hadn't previously been there catching his eye. He froze, arm suspended mere inches from his face as darkened veins stretched from beneath his wristband, subtle pulses navigating under his skin with each burdensome beat of his heart.

His breath hitched has trembling fingers touched the edge of it, teasing it as they debated following the order. Swallowing roughly, a trickle of sweat sliding down the side of his face, he lifted the leather, icy grips claiming him as his breath caught in his chest. "Wha-what the hell?" he croaked to himself, his headache and faltering hearing momentarily abandoned with a fearful replacement. The quickened breathing and near hysterical state hastened his heart rate, causing the tendrils to snake further up his arm, agonizingly palpitating through his arm, leaving a numbing sensation in their wake.

"Stop," he begged desperately, gripping his arm in their path.

"Prompto?" His head snapped to the side, blurred vision staring into questioning emerald ones, "Everything al-" Ignis cut himself off to see the way the blond had his arm cradled to his chest, hiding it from view. "What's going on?"

The only response he received was the gunners quickened and weighted breaths, his wild eyes, gazing; wild and pleading in appearance. "I-I," he stuttered, becoming light-headed and disoriented. "I'll be right back," he sounded disconnected form himself, like the voice belonged to another. He stood on uncertain legs, threatening to drop him back down with the next step, which they remained true to.

Shocked, the adviser grabbed on before he could go down and caught a glimpse of the purple roots that decorated the younger's arm, "Prompto..." he started, but was interrupted as he violently wriggled free of his hold.

"I have to go!" he repeated, stumbling and losing his footing to land ungracefully in the dirt. He was left shuddering and near hyperventilating in a panic-induced reverie. He glanced around to the others, each sharing the same expression, all of them glancing to his arm, which now throbbed with a scorching hatred. Gripping his arm closer to his chest, he scanned around him, "I...I," he began pushing himself backwards.

Noctis was the first to step froward, staring down at the blond with his own concern running through him, "Prom?" he asked, reaching a hand down only to have it swiftly swatted away. "What's going on?" his voice raised in pitch, but lowered in volume and he glared at the violet, coloration, the hue of it looking disturbingly familiar. "Ignis," he breathed, eyes drifting up to the adviser, who had his attention locked on the appendage. The same horror the prince felt reflected in the brunet's expression.

Prompto's vision blurred again, this time he could see hints of black at the edges, framing his sight and slowly trying to crawl towards the center. Choking on his own breath, he staggered back to his feet and wavered dangerously. With another flick of his eyes, blackish flesh now covered a majority of his arm and continued to grow upwards, "Stop," he gasped, gritting his teeth.

"Prompto, calm down," Gladio said, but his own mind was racing, his own pulse thrumming against his ribs.

He didn't hear him though, couldn't hear him over the chorus of rings and whispers, "No, no, no," he repeated, tone losing its usual spunk. Stepping back, he looked back at the others, mouth uselessly opening and closing in silent questions and pleas before he ultimately spun on his heel and ran, just ran. He heard them calling after him, heard their own footsteps chasing after him, but why? Why bother with him now? They all knew what those colors meant, what this disease of distortion entailed, and he didn't want them to deal with it dammit. "I'm sorry," he muttered to no one, hand tightening around his arm, alarm amplifying at the lack of feeling in it, but he could feel his fist clenching at his side.

He didn't make if far until his body was forced to cease, the inferno becoming too much for him to fight off and tolerate; everything burned; everything promised to erupt in fire and he couldn't take it anymore. Fresh tears streamed down from the sheer pain of it and he felt his knees buckle. "Get away from me!" he sobbed, leaning forward until his head touched the ground. "Please," he quietly begged. Their steps continued to approach despite what he wanted.

"Prompto, we want to help," Noctis tried to reason, inching forward with a hand extended, "Ok? Just let us see what's wrong."

The blond froze and laughed bitterly, "You can see what's wrong!" he snapped, jerking his head to face the other. He gazed at his friend, stared at him through a hued film that breathed with him, "Just go back," he shuddered, hands trembling at his sides; his right hand twitching nearly uncontrollably as it craved to wield that wight it's come to know so well.

His attention flicked over to Ignis who came to a sudden halt to Noctis' right, then to Gladio on the left. "Guys...come on," he rasped, facing away and tilting his head back to gaze at the sky, "I-I don't want to hurt any of you."

"You're not gonna hurt us," the raven stated, stepping closer, slowly until his hand rested on one shaking shoulder, "Whatever is happening, we can...we can figure it out, alright? So just come ba-"

"Don't you understand?!" He shouted, back on his feet in an instant, gun trembling noisily in his right hand as the barrel was pressed firmly against the other's forehead, "I can't," he uttered. "You know I can't, so I'll ask you again," his fingers loosened around the pistol, allowing it to droop slightly, "Please, all of you, go back." He dismissed his weapon and clutched his wrist with his left, forcing to to lower back down. Breathing through clenched teeth, he began backing up, only making it a couple steps when he tripped over his own feet and collapsed onto the ground.

Ignoring the warning, the prince leaped forward to help him up, the action quick and unpredicted. The others felt the hearts stop and their ears ring with the deafening shot that sounded out.

"Noct!" The adviser was the first to break out of the initial shock, already at the prince's side, arms around him to keep him upright, "Noct, speak to me," he demanded, hand in search of an entry wound. The shield said nothing, but he was on the gunner in an instant, pinning him as he glared down into blue eyes...too blue.

Growling, Gladio pried the gun from his now slack grip, "What the hell are you doing?"

Prompto lied there, panting, eyes wide and stunned, "I-I told you to go," he sobbed, "I told you to go back, why won't you go back?" His eyes spent a few moments darting around, as if searching for things that weren't there before he chuckled again. "It hurts," his voice deadpanned again, and Gladio could feel the light convulsions beneath him that were swiftly intensifying. "It hurts," he repeated, eyes closing as fresh tears eased out of the corners.

"Noctis," Ignis repeated, oblivious to what was happening a few feet away, "Can you hear me?" He dug in his pockets, frantically feeling around until he found what he seeked. Taking the vial in his hand, he crushed it against the prince's chest. "Hang on, this will take a moment." Gently, he lied him flat on his back, finally seeing the wound; just below his ribs. Looking back up, he found his eyes open, but staring off, most likely due to his shock.

Noctis swallowed hard, "He...he shot me," he whispered, surprised.

"I...I know," the brunet replied, still finding it hard to believe himself. He cut his eyes over to the others, his core chilling over as he witnessed shadowed wisps trailing from the blond's form, over half of his skin now tinged with bubonic rot. "Gladio..." he stiffly muttered, "Gladio!"

The shield saw what was happening before the adviser could remind him and immediately jumped off Prompto just in time to dodge another bullet. He stood by idly, unsure what to do as the other jarringly clambered back to his feet, his body struggling with the action and spasming even as it held him upright. "Gla...Gladdy..." he sounded out, the name sounding inorganic coming from his still lips; a slight echo accentuated the syllables. His breaths rattled in his chest and wheezed out of his throat, "Noctis?" His altered vision landed on his friend, lying a few feet away, and the cry that ripped from him wasn't human in the slightest.

Gladio took a few steps back as Prompto gripped his own head, clearly struggling with himself, "Ignis, I think you should get Noctis back to camp," he suggested, eyes never leaving the younger. "Now!" he yelled over his shoulder.

"No," Ignis glanced down at the tight word, "I'm not going back," he stubbornly and weakly pushed his hands away from him, "I'm staying, he needs help." He got to his feet, both against Ignis' words and his physical restraints.

"Noct," He grabbed the prince's wrist, forcing him to look back at him, "I'm sorry but...I don't think there's any helping him," he flinched at his own words, hating the eye contact he made with the raven during that information. He slowly shook his head, "This isn't something that can be helped." Noctis stopped breathing for a moment, looking for some sort of lie in those green eyes and balled his fists when he saw none.

The sensation of ice, ice and detachment intertwined the prince's logic and emotions; he felt nothing. And, he shook his head slowly, "No, that's not true," he pulled his hand, but the grip on it wouldn't budge, "That's not true dammit!"

"Noc...tis," he whipped his head towards the call of his name, "Noct..." Prompto was looking right at him, those piercing eyes digging into him, pleading and hopeless. His face though, expressionless, void of his own person, "Noct...is, pl...please," he continued to beg, still only concerned with the other's safety.

He took a step closer to his friend, black now emitting from every inch of his being, "Prompto, I'm not leaving you," he declared, blindly walking towards him with his hands showing, a gesture that he meant no harm. "I'm staying right here, buddy," he choked out, eyes glistening over, "You can beg all you want, but I'm not going anywhere." He saw it, that flash of recognition in Prompto's eyes and focused on that, "You understand me?"

Gladio watched, ready to intervene if needed, keeping an observant gaze on the two of them; and, Ignis did the same from his position, ready to summon his blades at a moment's notice. Neither of them wanted to resort to it, but the prince's well-being was priority. The adviser saw it a fraction of a second before it could happen, "Noct, get away!"

-MUSIC-

The warning kicked him into action, looking to Ignis as he jumped back, he heard the warped and animalistic cry of pain as he was roughly shoved to the side, followed directly by another shot. This one missing its mark. There was a splutter and more sounds of distress that lulled his attention back over. More strangled gasps reached his ears as he turned, eyes falling to rest on his shield's back. Fearing the worst, he yelled out for him, a sick feeling overtaking him when he realized what happened.

Gladio stepped back far enough for the prince to see his hands gripped tightly around the hilt of his blade. "Gladio," he mumbled, almost inaudibly; his sight blurred and hearing wavering in and out. The brute didn't say a word as he pulled back, blood, darker than it should be, splattering out after it, decorating the grass at their feet. "Prompto..." his felt dizzy, everything seemed to spin uncontrollably as his body acted on its own, but arms were around him, holding him back.

"Noc-is, stop, y-u ne- to stay ba-k," he was barely listening, he fought against his anchor, nothing else mattered right now, only getting to his friend.

"Let go!" he shouted, keeping his eyes forward while Prompto fell back down to his knees, gasping for air. "Dammit! No, Prom!" He flailed fruitlessly, kicking out with his feet. "Gladio! Stop!" he yelled his loud as his lungs would allow when he saw Gladio raising the sword to point it at the blond, daring him to make another move. "Get you hands off me!" he bit, trying to shake the brunet off him.

The shield took deep breaths, his own chest clenching at what he'd just done; but, he had acted on instinct, on what he had been trained to do all his life: protect the heir, and that's what he was sticking to. No matter what...or who that threat was, he'd prevent it from happening. "Don't move," he commanded, a slight tremor in his tone, "Please, stay still." He glared down at the blond, black blood streaming from the corner of his mouth. Pants of breath puffing more of that obscured mist from his lungs.

He seemed to ignore the man and looked straight over to Noctis, his shoulders shaking and he wailed out once more, falling forward onto all fours, "Make...it stop," he pleaded, fingers digging into the earth. Blood continued dripping from the gaping opening through his chest, "I don't...I don't...want to...do this...please." He gazed back up at Gladio, then to his sword, "Don't...let me," he cried, keeping his eyes on the blade's edge, "End..it."

"I can't do that," Gladio answered simply, dismissing the weapon, "I just can't." As much as he knew he it had to be done, it pained him to accept. "It wouldn't feel right with Noctis right there," he admitted, the prince's desperate commands still reaching him. "Ignis, let 'em go," he finally asked, not wanting to hear those pleas any longer, unable to handle the sound anymore. He hesitated, but he obliged, retracting his constricting hold in the raven.

Noctis made it to the blond's side a moment before his arms gave out and turned him over to lie in his hold, "Prom, hang on, we're gonna get you out of here, alright?" he cupped one hand against his clammy and iced face. "Iggy!" he called out, "We need potions, or antidotes, anything!" Prompto coughed, the ooze sprinkled across his shirt, "Ignis!"

"Noct..." Ignis sighed, not moving from his spot and only lowered his head, "You know they won't help," he tried to reason, but the truth stung him as well and he averted his gaze further.

"No, no, no no," his voice cracked when Prompto gasped again, breathing clearly difficult and agonizing for him, "Just hold on." He glanced around, his cloudy and frantic stare darting between the others, "What are you two doing, do something! Someone, there has to be somethi-" he was cut off by another click. "Prompto..." he slowly looked down, his gun gripped tightly in an unsteady grip and his heart sunk.

"I'm sorry," the blond uttered, "So, so sorry," he could barely hear his words as the barrel was shoved against his own temple.

Noctis grabbed his wrist and pulled it forcefully away, "No! No, you're not dying!" he shouted, keeping his hold on the limb and preventing it from returning, "You're not doing it, you son of a bitch!" He didn't care that he had tears streaming down his own face, pride be damned.

Prompto shook his head, and turned it to bury into Noctis' shirt, "I want out," he begged, "You kn...know it's the...only way." His hand remained clenched around his weapon, his fingers never slacking, "Noct," he whined, "Please, I want...to go out...while I'm me." He gasped, another wave of crippling pain coursing through him, "Let me...end this...myself. You guys...shouldn't have...to," his voice broke off.

Gladio stamped over to the nearest tree, his fist connecting with it, "Dammit," he growled, punching it again, then again. And, a few more times. Ignis was unnaturally silent, his face hidden as he glared at the ground.

The blond stared into twilight eyes until he had no other option than to nod, "If...if that's your wish, then I'm here for it," he stated flatly, trying to keep it together for Prompto's sake, he didn't want the image of him being a mess the last thing he saw. He watched unwillingly as the pistol was brought back to aim at his temple, still trembling dangerously; Noctis assumed from a combination of suffering and fear. Blinking the moistness away and gulping down his emotions, he placed a steadying hand over the blond's, helping to lessen the rattling. "You won't be alone in this," he promised, "I won't let you do this alone."

"Thank you, Noct," he muttered, finger dancing over the trigger and his heart protesting violently against this choice. "Sorry, I...couldn't stick by you..til the end," he closed his eyes, and with a last sigh, he pulled his finger. The shot silenced everything, not another utter and not another whisper; nothing but peace to put an end to his misery.