Author's Notes: The title of this fic was inspired by 'While My Guitar Gently Weeps', a song originally sung by the Beatles and sung by Regina Spektor in 'Kubo and the Two Strings'. This entire fic was inspired by an in-game campfire moment, in which Prompto bounded up to Ignis while he was cooking.

This was originally going to be just Prompto and Ignis, but I always feel the need to feature all of the Sailor Scouts, as they're one happy family.

Prompto looks at the one that's given him life, hope, the strength to get out of bed every morning. The man at his side has shown him happiness beyond measure, kindness beyond words, and it's because of those gifts the gunslinger's ready to explode. The clamor of life fills him, makes it nearly impossible to breathe, and it's because of the one sitting at his side. There's so much he wants to say, so much he needs to say to his sanctuary, tenderness, warmth, bliss beyond explanation. He bows his head, shivering, tears consuming all. Takes a deep breath, and-

"You really shouldn't have done that, Iggy."

Every thread of his being goes against that declaration, but Prompto does nothing to erase them, engraving them into time's fibers as undisputable truth. He keeps his eyes averted from Ignis despite wanting to lose himself in them, still trembling. For what must've been forever and a day, the only sound either of them heard was the soft roar of their camp's bonfire, protecting them from the night's unrelenting cold. Prompto found himself unable to speak as the world lay frozen, trapping him inside meteoric pain, pain, so much pain. Too much pain. None of it coming from battle wounds. The day's earlier tangle inside the cavern left a lot of scars, and electricity was still pounding against his skull, but his friends-no, his soulmates-worked their magic on him. Healed him in more ways than one. Let the bright, purifying energy of life into him when he should've remained in the dark. And then-

And then there was Ignis.

Prompto bites into his bottom lip so hard he draws blood. Ignis barely avoiding death isn't something he can find pride in, especially since Ignis came within death's reach on his behalf. "I really wish you hadn't done that," he repeats, over and over again in the chamber of memories, happiness, warmth, so much warmth. Ignis' voice. Touch. Ignis opens his mouth to respond, but Prompto cuts him off at the pass.

"I mean, you kept me safe when you should've been focusing on Noct. That's your job, right? Your duty? You're supposed t' protect him until death do you part, or something like that, right? It's not like you're supposed t' die for me or anything. Pretty sure that wasn't in the contract, getting killed over an idiot that's not worth anything."

Winter chills him, erasing the touch of their campfire. Tears, so many tears, begin to roll out of his eyes. He shakes so hard he comes dangerously close to breaking. Everything hurts, everything's so loud. Cold. Ignis is there, right there, close enough to touch but so far away. And that's the way it needs to stay.

Ignis. Ignis has been kind, too kind. Ignis listens to him. Never makes him feel small, useless, moronic. Noctis' advisor listens and responds to everything he says, never making a single word of Prompto's into something worthless. It's not that Gladio's in any way cruel, and Noct's amazing beyond words, but there's something special, illuminating, about the way Ignis treats him. Something uplifting, magical.

Prompto's voice becomes hoarse.

It becomes harder and harder to speak, even more difficult to breathe.

"You got really hurt and I hate it," he whimpers, curling into a ball, hiding himself not only from Ignis but from Gladiolus, Noctis, from the rest of the world. His brothers are out 'painting the town red' (as Gladio put it), but the gunner still wants to hide. Wants to hide in a void so deep, so dark, they'll never be able to find him. Ignis is the last person he wants to be found by, the one person in all of Eos he wants to be held by, comforted by.

Prompto remembers. Remembers Ignis throwing his weight against him, pushing him out of harm's way. Remembers Gladio crying out his name. The grimace on Ignis' face. The grimace. Damn, the grimace. Red. Too much red.

Pain. There was only a flash of it on the bladesman's face, but it cuts into Prompto like a knife. The sensations of a blade piercing his flesh are real, despite there being no blade in sight.

"If anything ever happened to you, Noct would lose his wing-man, and that wouldn't be cool. You gotta play it smart, man."

Sunshine paints memories. Memories of Ignis driving to Wiz's Chocobo Farm, just because he knew how much his friend adored them. Memories of their conversations, their chats about fluffy yellow birds and the stars. Ignis patting him on the head, thanking him for a job well done. Ignis shouting at him only when he threw himself against a beast that could've ripped his head off. Memories of never feeling lonely, lost, useless.

Memories of feeling special. Of feeling like-

Royalty.

Prompto smiles.

"Don't pull any more stunts like that, okay? Noct needs you. So does the big guy. You know how they are-they'd be nowhere without you. Don't want the Crown Prince of Lucis eating Cup Noodles the rest of his life, do you?"

Ignis is staring. Confused. It's as though his gunslinger's speaking in the ancient language of the Astrals. The Royal Advisor can handle most things but not this, not Prompto speaking of things that should never even cross his lips. "Anyways, you should probably get some rest," their photographer goes on, still smiling, fighting desperately to hold back the tears that won't stop.

"The guys are gonna need you later on, so you'd better-"

Ignis cuts him off with a voice like a whip, dipped in icy cyanide. "Now I've got it."

Prompto looks at him, eyes wide and heart racing. "You've got what? Another recipe?"

Noctis' advisor has his arms folded and eyes firm, filled with the strength and light and guidance Prompto loves so much. "No, I finally understand what I don't like about you. I have also discovered what I adore about you. Conflicting revelations of immense importance have come about, and I'm ready to share them."

It's strange, the way the world inside their tent becomes so warm, so frightening and exciting all at once. It's strange how everything becomes warm, wintry and beautiful. All because of him. Him. "You hold yourself in the lowest regard, and apparently, someone somewhere along the line drilled those loathsome ideas into your mind. While I'd love to chat with the darling chap-" Kill him, in other words, as proven by the warm, magical look of death on the Grim Reaper's face.

"I'll continue to provide you with my undying attention. First, allow me to explain what I find magical-no, enchanting-about you."

Ignis touches the freckles on Prompto's cheeks, looking as though he's painting a chalkboard with a math equation but treating them as though they're sacred, pure, beautiful. All in one simple, graceful movement. "You're like the stars that reside in the sky, proven by the stardust on your cheeks," Noctis' advisor proclaims, and shivers thrill the younger man's spine. Everything still hurts but nothing feels real any more, as it has all become strange. Surreal.

So warm. Sitting there, being so close to Ignis is like having air violently shoved into his lungs.

"From the moment we met, I knew you weren't like anyone else. I instantly recognized you as something different, something that stands out amongst all others in Eos."

Prompto's spirit breaks. Remnants of that spirit erupt on his face, each shard on fire with the deepest sadness. But then everything changes. Everything changes with the glimmer of warmth in Ignis' eyes. "You were something I couldn't put my finger on, until now," the tactician confesses, rubbing his chin. "But I now I know. I know you're made of the stars, proven by the stars that shine on your face. You're made of light, illumination that's not meant to be understood by mortals. It is proven not only by the guiding lights on your face, but by the light that blossoms whenever you're around us. Whenever you're talking about something you hold dear. Which brings me to what I despise about you."

"You're trapped, trapped in a cold, odd darkness of your own making, and I can't find you. Which brings me to something I despise about myself as well-I am at a loss on how to aid you. But let me tell you this. I swore eternal fealty to the Crown Prince of Lucis, as his guardian and friend. However, my generosity doesn't end with our darling Noct. None of it extends to Gladio, but that's a beast of a different matter. I care for you, Prompto, deeply, as a matter of fact."

Hiccups and whimpers follow those declarations. Prompto looks at him pleadingly, desperately fighting to pour everything out, desperately fighting to keep everything in. Ignis waits, forever patient. Calm.

The gunslinger's voice cracks. "Iggy?"

"Yes?"

Prompto opens his mouth to continue, but the words disappear, replaced by indecisiveness. Fear. Tears that threaten to go on without end.

"Never mind. It's stupid. Can't say it. I shouldn't. Sorry, Ignis."

Face as still as daybreak, Ignis reaches for his travel bag. Out of it comes a small book and a pen-his constant travel companions.

"Can you write it for me?"

Prompto looks at him as though he's suggesting a plunge off the point of no return. Ignis presses his travel journal and pen towards him, still as calm as the first movements of day.

"Go on, take your time. Write it for me. Whatever you have to say. Please."

The items are taken by shivering, tear-stained hands. Ignis waits as the gunner opens the book to a blank page, takes the pen and writes, each word painted with tears. Hiccuping, Prompto shows Ignis the words he could not speak.

I'm in love with you.

Ignis stares, eyes widened with disbelief, at a loss over how someone so innocent could be so strong. Stares at the trembling young man holding out the page that was once empty, but now sings of tears and words borne of light. He-

-begrudgingly pulls his phone out his pocket.

Sighing, Noctis' advisor answers the call. Prompto, no longer sobbing, eyes him with great curiosity and amusement, loving the sight of an aggravated Ignis. It's his brothers, going at it again. The scowl on Ignis' face quickly confirms it.

Prompto can't help but chuckle, despite the avalanche he had just been buried under. The aggravation on Ignis' face grows darker by the second, thanks to the fiery clamor pouring in from the phone. Noting the photographer's infinite curiosity, Ignis holds the phone out so the conversation becomes easier to hear.

"Ignis, I TOLD him to stop but he just wouldn't listen!"

"He started it! I was only trying to help!"

"You aren't helping anything by being a big, fat jackass! You're committing treason against the Crown Prince! Treason!"

"Say that again and I'll cream you!"

"If you two don't end this game, I'll silence BOTH of you FOREVER!"

Ignis ends the call in a huff, cheeks red with frustration. Aggravation simmers once he hears Prompto's chuckles. "They just won't stop, huh?" the gunslinger asks.

The master chef rolls his eyes with a sigh. Another amusing sight that lightens Prompto's heart. "Much to my horror, no. Don't expect them to get any dinner. Now. Back to business."

Ignis takes the journal and pen back. On the same page he writes a message, every word carefully nestled underneath Prompto's. In mere moments, the message is revealed.

I'm very fond of you as well.

Prompto reads the message and throws his arms about Ignis' neck, painting the other's chest in tears.