All Who Remain
~ONE~
If Prompto squinted, it looked like Noctis was only sleeping. Noctis slept like the dead anyway, the last to wake for the day and only after threats of bodily injury, vegetables for breakfast, or the permanent deletion of King's Knight from his phone.
Prompto's eyes were drawn away from Noctis to the sunlight spilling down into the ruined room, so beautiful in its juxtaposition of utter destruction and pure unfiltered light. It was a literal ray of hope obliterating the despair of the last ten years.
That's what this heavenly light was – Noctis giving them a future, a present worth living in, giving them back their hope, and Prompto wanted to strip naked and bathe every inch of his skin in the warmth of the sun's rays. He wanted to take pictures of the dust motes against a backdrop of twisted metal and stone, of the way the light hit the gilded walls, of how it knifed through the darkness and spilled across the floor. Gods, it was enough to take his breath away.
His elation kicked down a notch as his eyes fell from the heavens to the throne, where Noctis awaited them.
He could have been asleep, but the Gods didn't go back on their word. The blood price was paid, and their King was no more.
Of the three of them, Ignis was the only one weeping, but he was doing so quietly and without so much as a sniffle. Prompto cried himself dry when the sun came up, the gradually lightening sky a blur of color that said Noctis had done what he came to do. It was a victory, but a bittersweet one.
He took Ignis' arm lightly and followed Gladio up the steps to the throne, taking care to make sure Ignis didn't stumble. Gladio reached the top first, took a knee and bowed his head in deference to their fallen friend.
To see big, tough Gladio break down almost sent Prompto careening back into hysteria. Ignis was one thing. Gladio, another.
Fuck. Why did it have to go like this? He was the emotional one, not them.
Prompto sucked it up and drew upon the determination that had carried him from lonely, friendless, overweight boy who abused himself with food, to close friend of a future King, a soldier, hunter of daemons, and a survivor.
If he couldn't do this, he wasn't as strong as he thought. If he had to be the strong one now, so be it.
He left Ignis on the top step and approached the throne. Noctis could be sleeping, but his face was too peaceful for it to be true.
Prompto smoothed back Noctis' long bangs and his hand met skin too cold to belong to something alive.
A memory surfaced, from back when they were still in high school. Prompto got his hands on a bottle of whiskey and did what any other sixteen year old would do: he showed it off to his best friend.
They broke into a construction site a few blocks from their favorite arcade and climbed the skeleton of the new building, Prompto complaining about his fear of heights the whole way up, and sat on the roof to spend the evening getting trashed. Noctis wound up with alcohol poisoning trying to prove he could out-drink Prompto, which he did, of course he did, but neither were experienced drinkers and Noctis paid the price. Ignis almost killed Prompto for getting Noctis drunk, keeping him out past curfew, and then calling at three in the morning frantic because Noctis wouldn't wake up and his breathing was all wrong.
Noct's skin that night was almost as cold as it was now. Prompto should have been afraid of what that meant, but he didn't have room for fear anymore, or the time for it. His younger self would face this new future with apprehension and uncertainty, but Prompto lived in fear for too many years to to let it rule him now.
All that was left was a goodbye.
"Remember all those times you said you wanted to sleep forever and we gave you shit for it?" he asked Noctis. "Well, it's okay for you to do that now, buddy. You earned it."
He thought his tears had run dry, but his eyes leaked as he stepped back and offered up a silent prayer to whichever God was listening.
Look after him, Luna. He's all yours now. Take care of him till I see him next, okay?
Behind him, Ignis made a sound lost somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Prompto knew just how much Noctis meant to him. Of the three, Ignis was closest to him, being the one to serve as advisor, parent, and friend, and he'd put everything he had into the task. As often as they joked about Ignis being the team mom, and as much as Ignis loathed the comparison, the assessment wasn't that far off.
Prompto went to his side and offered his arm.
"Wanna go say goodbye?"
Ignis' goodbye tore Prompto's heart out and he didn't even say a word. It was Ignis' silent tears and his soft touch as he inspected Noctis for wounds and a heartbeat, like a parent tending to a sick child.
Noctis belonged to Ignis as much as he belonged to Regis. Prompto hurt on Ignis' behalf and he knew the wounds of loss would never quite heal. Not only had he lost a friend, he'd lost a child.
Prompto couldn't imagine how that must have felt. Children of his own were not in his future, but he used to imagine if they were, they would be his whole world and he would give them every bit of love he was denied and then some. That kind of loss, even the imaginary kind, would be devastating.
Gods, this was hard. Every part of Prompto's life thus far had been tough, but this was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. Harder than facing his own daemons in the Magitek labs. Harder than coming home every day to an empty house. Harder than breaking the habit of eating his feelings. Harder than any blow Ardyn dealt him down in Zagnatus Keep. Harder than telling the truth.
It would be easy to let grief and bitterness swallow him whole, but to not appreciate what Noctis did would be ungrateful. As much as it hurt, as hard as it was to let him go, Noctis wouldn't want any of them to cry over him.
He would want them to go outside and stand in the sunshine.
~X~
As eerie and abandoned as Insomnia seemed in the dark, there was something hair-raising about the way it looked in daylight. The place was a ghost town. Not a soul emerged from hiding after the dawn came, and not even a breeze stirred the litter in the streets.
Prompto wandered aimlessly for a while, Gladio half a block ahead on his phone trying to get in touch with Iris, Ignis a step behind Prompto. He remembered places he'd been with Noctis in this part of town and the things they'd done here. None of it was beyond what ordinary teenage boys got into and consisted mostly of hanging out, playing games, and eating, but it was worth revisiting.
All the places they used to go lay in ruin. Inside the arcade, the machines were covered in dust and debris, some lay on their sides with broken screens and consoles salvaged for parts. Nothing except fixtures was left inside the camera shop where Prompto used to stare longingly at equipment he couldn't afford. The cafe where they spent afternoons after school was a pile of rubble.
Parked outside the drugstore was a motorcycle, miraculously left undamaged. Prompto ran his hand over the dusty tank, sure the color underneath was something dark, only to find cherry red paint beneath the layers of filth. Just for the hell of it, he climbed on and tested the weight.
Not too heavy. The tires were in good shape, too, but in need of air.
"Hey Iggy, take my picture," he said.
"You're asking a blind man to take photos?" Ignis asked, but Prompto was delighted to see a hint of amusement in his face. "Why not ask me to drive as well?"
"You'd still be a better driver than me," Prompto said. "Come on. Just aim toward the sound of my voice then push the button."
"As you wish," Ignis said and took the camera from him.
Prompto planted both feet on the ground, crossed his arms over his chest and grinned until the shutter clicked once, then twice, and Ignis handed the camera back.
He checked the shot and smiled. "Good job, Iggy. You got my good side."
"I managed to capture a photo of your ass, then," Ignis deadpanned. "You must be so pleased, considering how often you show it."
Prompto cackled and climbed off the motorcycle.
"Gods, I love you Iggy," Prompto said and claimed his friend's arm. "Never stop being you, okay? Not ever."
Ignis frowned.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah, why?"
"You're unusually... composed."
Prompto scratched his chin and cast a sideways glance at Ignis. Thank the stars Ignis couldn't see his face. Prompto was pretty good at hiding his real feelings, but Ignis used to be pretty good at figuring out when Prompto was pretending. And with everything that had happened in the last couple of days, Prompto didn't want to add any more stress on top of that.
"You know me," Prompto said lightly. "Just trying to stay positive."
"I am grateful for that. You almost made me forget for a moment."
"I'll be here all week," Prompto said. "Don't forget to tip your waitress."
Up ahead, Gladio leaned against the shelter of a bus stop, his hand to his forehead as he spoke into his phone. His dirty face was streaked with tears and Prompto got choked up again.
Nope. He wasn't going to cry. He had way too much on his plate to waste time on tears.
~X~
Days after Noctis was interred in the tomb inside the Citadel, beside his father and the modern-era Kings before him, Prompto sat on the floor of his room at the Levelle and packed an overnight bag. He wasn't sure if he was actually coming back to Lestallum, at least not long-term and attempted to stuff everything important into a space meant for a few articles of clothing and a toiletry case.
Damn. He needed a bigger bag. Iggy might lend him one, but then he'd have to answer questions he wasn't ready to deal with. Plenty of time for that later. For now, if anyone asked, he was off to take pictures of the ruined world in daylight with the intention of publishing for posterity. Hell, maybe he'd actually do it. Somebody had to document what it looked like out there.
That sounded good, right? Like something he would do.
Past Prompto would never go off on his own, but during the dark years now behind him, he learned to cope with solitude in a better and healthier way than he coped as a child. Being alone didn't have to mean he was lonely.
As he debated what to do about the bag situation, he flipped through an old photo album full of pictures of the early part of their journey and felt equal amounts of happiness and sorrow. The first few days of that trip, before Insomnia fell, were a lot of fun.
Except for when the Regalia broke down, through absolutely no fault of his own, no matter what Gladio said. And maybe having to kill Reapertails to pay for food and lodgings wasn't so much fun either. The sandstorms sucked pretty bad, too.
But there were good things about it, things that made the not-so-fun parts worthwhile. Without the city lights polluting the view, the desert sky at night was full of millions of bright stars, so many it boggled the mind. Getting to try out Ignis' new recipes. Interesting rock formations and the stark beauty of crumbled buildings and rusted, decaying equipment. Hanging out with friends. The thrill of finally belonging somewhere. Meeting the Goddess of the Gears for the first time and falling head over heels in love, or what he thought was love at the time.
Had they ever really looked so young and innocent, though? At the time, Gladio and Ignis looked so much older to him than they did in these photos. Prompto himself looked not a day over twelve in spite of his ropy arms.
With a heavy sigh, Prompto closed the album. As the pages snapped shut, a folded, yellowed scrap of notebook paper flew out and landed on the carpet in front of him.
He unfolded it and laughed. It was a list, written the first or second night on the road after both he and Noctis split a six pack at the camper at Hammerhead. The conversation that sparked said list was one of those that seemed philosophical and deep at the time but was clearly just two dorks who couldn't handle more than a beer apiece.
"If you knew you only had six months to live, what would you do?" Prompto had asked Noctis.
"You mean like a bucket list?"
"Yeah," Prompto said. "All the stuff you wanna do before you die."
"I don't know," Noctis said. "Beat King's Knight?"
Prompto, buzzed to the point of perma-grin, lamented Noctis' lack of imagination, but reading over their respective lists now, he wasn't exactly a font of inspiration himself when it came to end-of-life last wishes.
Prompto's Bucket List
Ride a chocobo.
Buy a motorcycle.
Learn to ride it.
Ask Cindy out on a date.
Write Cindy a poem.
Conquer fear of bugs.
Learn to cook something besides salad.
Conquer fear of heights.
Tell my parents how much they suck.
To their faces.
Shotgun an Ebony.
Skinny dip in the ocean.
Punch Gladio in the nose and live to tell the tale.
Get at least one photo published.
Eat the spiciest pepper in the whole world.
Out-Pun Iggy.
Conquer FEAR.
Marry Cindy.
Ugh. Embarrassing how many times he put Cindy on the list. That wasn't to say he didn't still have a huge crush on her, but man. How desperate was he?
He shook his head and moved on.
Noctis' Bucket List
Adopt all the cats.
Beat King's Knight.
Fish.
Reel in a monster.
More fishing.
Sleep.
Purge all vegetables from the world.
Sleep forever.
Prompto wiped a hand over his face at the last item on Noctis' list and let the paper rest against his knee.
"Shit," he said. "You've got me beat by a mile, buddy."
Prompto thought about how people always seemed put off the things they wanted to do for later. Life could be painfully short, and sometimes later never came.
"Time to step up, huh?"
No more putting things off. It was time to make a new list.