AN: A huge thank you to my betas Elillierose and Bagpipes5K2 for pointing me to the right direction with this one! Sometimes I need to be told to pull the brake, lol. This was headed to the gutter, haha.

Alright, so things are about to turn darker in the second chapter, guys. It has suicidal thoughts in it, as well as one reference to earlier events of the Tool series that might throw off some people who haven't read Heart and Mind. I mention a scar Prompto has on his right wrist; it's just reminiscing the past events and holds no critical info plotwise. Just, if you haven't read Heart or Mind, know that it refers to past self-harm. Also, I realize that this is starting to sound like one-sided Promtis at some parts, lol. It's not my intention, really, but if that's your thing and you wanna interpret it like that, be my guest, lol. That approach just might make this a notch more hurt for you, tho. :D

The song for this chapter is Hibernating Heart by Von Hertzen Brothers. Please choose the acoustic live Nova Stage version. I've marked where to start listening. Please do, if you possibly can. I think it brings added value to the scene I have it for. .3

Now, enjoy the pain! :D

Oh yeah! And also, if anyone knows the real name of Gladio's girlfriend, please let me know and I'll change it! I tried to look it up but couldn't find it.


Chapter 2

The rattle of gravel beneath his tires was slowly lulling him into sleep. Realizing that his eyes were beginning to droop dangerously, Prompto jerked himself awake with a small jolt, and smacked himself across the cheek for good measure to drive away the sluggishness.

"C'mon, Prompto," he chuckled to himself darkly. "Keep it together, man…" The fingers tightened around the steering wheel with more determination, the blond trying to shoo away any remnants of sleep. A fleeting thought of pulling over to catch a short eyeful drifted into his mind, sneakily, like a thief in the shadows. It was quickly washed away, however, as an image from a few days ago resurfaced. The image of the chicks floundering around the pen after drinking that accursed water, the hens stomping around restlessly, trying to herd their young… the young man released a heavy breath. He didn't have time to sleep. He'd sleep when the new oscillator was in action and the birds had something decent to drink again. He'd spent enough time on this trip already.

He thrummed the wheel mindlessly, idle gaze tracing the passing landscape. The rising sun cast lengthy shadows over the land, none tall enough to reach the road and shield him, though, as the rays made him squint and shade his eyes against the brightness a little. Thinking about the old man, Prompto inwardly winced. He hadn't expected this to take three days, but apparently, whatever had broken the oscillator had done it in for good. Cindy had deemed it unsalvageable, but, before the blond had had time to despair, the amazement of a mechanic had promised him a new one. The downside (upside): time. Seeing no choice (not minding at all), though, Prompto had agreed (been delighted) to stay in the caravan and see if he could help around while Cindy worked her magic on the apparatus.

But three days had been a long time. Wiz hadn't been pleased when he had called him about the hiccup and that he'd have to stay in Hammerhead a while longer. The old man's health wasn't quite what it used to be, and despite there being only the three adults and four chicks to look after now, Prompto knew that he surely could have used the extra pair of hands around.

There was nothing he could do about that, though. Wiz had told him that he'd manage, but also for Prompto to hurry back with the spare part as soon as possible. His jaw tightened a little, and almost autonomously, his foot weighed down onto the pedal a bit more heavily. 'As soon as possible' hadn't meant three days, he was all but sure of that. A sliver of guilt for taking pleasure in his absence nagged in the back of Prompto's conscience, too, but he shoved it aside. Last night had been… well, Cindy was done with the repairs so late into the night that it wouldn't have done any good for him to head out before dawn, anyway. What happened last night… Prompto refused to feel a guilty conscience over it. When Wiz had told him 'as soon as possible', surely, he had meant 'as soon as sensibly possible', right? Cindy's schedule, being what it had been, he would have spent the night, anyway. As for how Prompto had spent the night, well, he didn't deem it as anyone else's business.

A lazy wrist clicked the blinker to tic-toc to the left; the truck slowed into a near-halt before Prompto allowed his body to slide to the side with the momentum of the turn. It was with a heavy exhale that the blond hauled himself back to sit properly. There was an oncoming car on the next lane; half-closed eyes followed it keenly as it rolled closer, and almost sneakily his thoughts shifted closer to the dark temptation again, and he imagined what it would be like to turn the wheel. To steer suddenly, just that much past the point of no return. He knew he wasn't going to, he never would, but he played with the thought. They would never know, the other people in the other car. There was nothing they could do. They would never see it coming. He would be the only one prepared.

The two vehicles passed each other, unsuspecting and mundane, and Prompto sighed again, ashamed of his own thoughts. It was at moments like these that he was afraid of himself, of what he had come to allow himself to dwell on. Despite never wanting to actually go through with that, he nonetheless found himself asking himself, what difference would it make? It was at moments like these that Prompto had learned to count to three. To name himself three reasons – three reasons to exist.

Number one, he couldn't leave the old man hanging. His eyes drifted to the rear-view mirror, to the reflection of the tarp spread over the cylinder-like object secured onto the bed of his pickup. Wiz wasn't exactly in his teens anymore. The long dark had taken a toll on him, and when he had finally been able to return to the ranch, only to find the dilapidated buildings in dire need of repairs before he could even plan on bringing in new birds, Prompto hadn't offered his help with an expiration date. He liked working on the farm, especially now that they had the birds again, and his aid was genuinely needed. It was nice to be needed.

Number two, he would have more to look after in a few months if what he heard from Gladio held up, and why wouldn't it? About six months ago, Gladio had married his girlfriend, Mirina, he had mentioned her when Noctis – the blond let out a strangled breath at the reminder – Noctis had come back and the four of them had met in Hammerhead after so long. Prompto had been the official photographer at their wedding, an asking-for-a-solid the blond had accepted more than happily when the big guy had brought it up. And he really liked her, too. Mirina was like a bottle of champagne, a bubbly personality with a razor mind and a tongue like a whip when someone got onto her bad side. She was a bunch of fun, and Prompto was secretly happy for his friend. And the pride he had heard in his voice when the brute had relayed the news about the baby… it had sounded like Gladio was having a hard time keeping it all inside. He had heard a female voice laughing in the background, but couldn't make out what Mirina was saying before Gladio had uttered some lame-ass excuse to cut the call short, and frankly, Prompto had snorted at the dial sound he had been left with all of a sudden when the brute had cut the line. Let them have their fun, though. At least, for them, it was honest. Prompto sighed in anticipation.

Number three…

He always got stuck in the number three. So far, he hadn't figured out a number three.

The gloved fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white; hissing a pained sound, a warped snarl rising onto his face. 'Well, two outta three isn't that bad, I guess,' he told himself not for the first time. So far, he had been satisfied with only two. 'Better than nothing, at least.'

He had barely paid attention to the changing landscape, but trees had arisen among the grassland and the disappearing prairie he was rapidly leaving behind; he glanced at the clock. 9:40. He should be back by noon then. He fished his phone out with his right hand; the gaze visited the display only briefly before it caught something familiar and almost automatically slid further onto the scarring over his wrist: the light, line-shaped mar that snaked its way beneath the leathery feel of the wrist band.

His sin. His symbol. His little white lie.

He had never told a single living soul who wasn't present that day how he had got it. Cindy, among a few others, had asked about that some time; he had told them it had happened on a hunt, an accident. Usually people left it at that. And despite everything, Prompto had wanted to keep wearing something over it. He didn't want to keep looking at it, knowing that it was there was enough. It had almost cost him everything once; he didn't need to be reminded of that every day. The others had understood. It had been Noctis, in fact, who had gotten him a new band. He had picked it up from some market in Old Lestallum, the day after they had returned to Lucis. Had said something about thinking that Prompto might like it. "And I guess I kinda got used to seeing it on you." He remembered, those exact words. Prompto remembered wanting to cry at the time. He hadn't. But had wanted to.

He only took it off to bathe.

The sudden strong trembling of the truck brought him back. "Shit!" A strong twist of the wheel, and the truck swerved back onto the lane again; the blond cursed under his puffy breath. His heart beating a few extra, he panted lightly as his eyes scanned the road up and down. It hadn't been exactly a close call, but his teeth clenched in irritation nonetheless. He couldn't trust himself at this rate. Grunting, he picked his phone up again, recalling the task that he had been meaning to do. A few blind taps, only an occasional glance to make sure he was selecting the right number, and Prompto brought the phone up to wait for the other to answer.

It took a while, but on the sixth ring, there was the tune, and Wiz's voice greeted him, a degree of relief audible in it. "... Yeah, hey. It's me… yeah, I'm on my way." Prompto's lips tugged up a little at the sound of the man. "Yeah, uhm, sorry about that… yeah, it's fine. Cindy did an amazing job… it should… yeah, I'll be there by noon." There was the reply, the older man's thank yous and reminder for him not to speed, it wasn't that dire since there had been rainfall and that he could let the birds drink from the barrels until he got back. "Alright. Thank you, Wiz. I, uh, I've got this… yeah. Yeah, no worries… alright, see you in a few… right. Bye!"

He almost threw the phone down as soon as the red icon signaling the end of the call flashed over his screen, and leaning forward a little, brought his attention back to the road. His tummy made it known that he hadn't had breakfast, but Prompto ignored it the best he could. It was only a couple hours now. As soon as he was back home, he could just plug in the part, and go crash until dinner. It wasn't the first time he had gone a day without a meal; perhaps he had it too good if his stomach had the nerve to protest. He let out a breath; many weren't as lucky. Even though humanity had formed a resemblance of order, there was still far-spread famine in some parts of Lucis, especially around the Ravatogh mountain where the farmable land was scarce, and the livelihood of the people relied on importing. Plus, raider gangs plagued even some of the major roads, and sometimes entire truckloads of goods got pilfered, never to be heard of again. There was only so much the Hunters' community or what remained of the former Kingsglaive could do to maintain peace. They still had a long road to go, Prompto knew. And Noctis had left it up to them to rebuild. He had said, "I leave it to you." He had brought back the light, but had entrusted them with the future.

So, why did Prompto still feel like none of it mattered?!


Wiz was out to greet him as he curved up onto the front yard. Prompto jumped out of the driver's seat and slammed the door shut, giving the vehicle's door a couple appreciative pats as the older man stepped closer casually. "Welcome back, lad! Good to see you."

"Hey, Wiz," the blond flicked a wrist before pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "Shall we plug her in?" he grinned.

The senior's hands were loosely in his pockets as he sauntered closer. "You sure you're up for it, kid? You've had a long drive. Sure you don't need a little shut-eye before?" He offered him a quick welcoming hug, which the blond answered a bit awkwardly before pulling back.

"Sure, definitely. Rather get this over with so that I can go crash for real," the blond forced a laugh as he was already skipping towards the bed to undo the ropes holding his cargo. Wiz chuckled into his beard a little as he followed him.

"Hehe. If only I had that enthusiasm still, kid. The age doesn't come alone, you know," he shook his head, sounding a bit sad, and something about it made Prompto freeze his fumbling, and turn to face him again.

"Everything alright, ol' pal?"

Something changed in the other's demeanor at those words, like a cloud had slid off from blocking out the sun. Wiz shook his hand dismissively. "Blimey, didn't mean to… everything's fine, kid. It's just…" he hesitated a moment. "Well, it's good to have you back, Prompto."

The said man's eyebrows shot up a little, with a wave of concern. The times he had heard Wiz call him by his name were few in number. In fact, the fingers on just one hand were plenty to count the times. Something was up with him, but the way the older man avoided his gaze now suggested that he wouldn't be finding it out any time soon. It nagged in the back of his skull even when the men maneuvered the cylinder, the size of a small pony, down from the bed, and using two of the birds, hauled it up into the water circulator unit. As the machine whirred back into life, Prompto wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "You think that did it?"

"It should." Wiz patted the trembling metal casing as if to make sure it was really running. "With this, the birds should have their water source back in no time." His gaze sought the blond's before he added, his voice pure gratefulness: "Thanks."

Somehow, it was like someone had shoved something hard down his throat. Taken aback, Prompto could only hum, a little lost for a moment before, "It's, it's nothing."

"Was not! The birds couldn't have gone on for much longer, and had I ran up to Hammerhead myself, I'm afraid it would have been too late. You're practically a hero, kid. And the birds are gonna thank ya for it."

A nervous hand found its place on the back of his neck; flustered, Prompto scratched idly as his gaze swept the ground. What's this, all of a sudden? "It, it was nothing…" He was glad to be of help. "It was no big deal."

Wiz simply motioned him quiet. With a heartfelt smile on his face, he brushed off all his protests. "And bollocks, kid. I've lived long enough to tell when someone's heart is in the right place." And Prompto was sure that his just skipped a beat. "Say, kid. I've been thinking… would you like to take over the ranch after me?"

Okey, now Prompto was sure that his heart had skipped a beat.

"Ta… take over? Me?!"

"Yep. Look, I've seen the way you work with those birds, kid. You really give them your all. And a heart in the right place is what this place needs after I'm done. I'm not getting any younger here, kid. A couple years, maybe, and I'll have to find someone to take care of the birds. So, I was thinking…" he motioned towards the dumbstruck blond.

"Me?! Wow, I, uh… I mean, thanks. Thanks, Wiz. I… I just…" he couldn't find the words. Too dazzled to speak, he just mumbled something until the other's gesture silenced his attempts.

"I understand that it's a big thing, kid. You don't need to answer right now. But think about it. I'd be happy to have you here, knowing that the birds would be in good hands with you." The look on his face let the other know that he was happy with his silence for the time being, he wasn't pushing him into anything. Sighing out a held breath, Prompto shook his head a little, his lips tugging up as his cheeks glowed hotter than usual.

"I will. Thanks. That's… that's pretty awesome though," he grinned. The older man held his gaze as he rested a hand onto his shoulder, gave it a light squeeze before he withdrew himself and made a move to leave.

"Take your time, kid. There's no rush. But away with you, now. Better catch some sleep before you drop on the spot," he chuckled, the older gaze lingering on the shadows under the blue eyes, the evidence of his exhaustion written all over his face.

"Y-yeah…" a lone hand found the back of his neck again, his gaze avoiding the other's. "I… should go lie down now. I'm beat."

"You do that," Wiz nodded with a small wave of a hand. "See you at dinner."

"Yeah. Thanks." The blond shuffled on his spot for a second before turning to head for his camper lodgings.

(*Click on the song here*)

The trailer had seen better days. Hell, Prompto could remember the better days. It hadn't been exactly glorious back then, either, the bare minimum in terms of spending the night indoors, but it had still beaten camping outside ten to zero. With a sigh, the image of what he remembered it to be like painted the grim contrast onto his retinae now. The paint was chipping on the outer surface, and rust crept out from beneath, slowly corroding the flimsy flight of stairs and licking the door frame. But at least it was relatively warm and dry on the inside, and although it lacked the luxuries like plumbing, it was enough for him.

The metal made a nasty creaking sound as his boot stepped on the second-lowest stair, making him wince with the pitch. Momentarily frozen on the spot by the hair-raising noise, shivers ran him through as he forced air out in a held-back huff, accompanied by a small head shake of disgust. The pitch of that, that metallic screeching… it brought back memories he didn't care to recall. A bad taste finding its way onto his tongue, he forced himself to move, and skipped the rest of the short ascend in one leap before pushing open the door to his seclusion.

Closing it behind him slowly, Prompto slumped his weight against the wall and let himself slide down as his knees turned to jelly. His head lolling forward, he brought a hand up to cushion it against his knee as he pressed his forehead into skin. Heavy breaths were let out into the surrounding silence, the exhales lengthy and drawn-out, inhales hasty gasps. His mind was quiet as he slowly became one with the emptiness.

Prompto pressed his head against the wall; a runaway tear slid down his cheek as his eyes squeezed shut tighter, then another. "Shit…" he whispered into the air as it became obvious he couldn't stop them, not this time. His exhales grew shuddery, and instinctively he pressed his head into the metal more firmly, like he was trying to fuse himself with it. His chest quivered, his heart clenching, fighting the icy claw that had closed around it.

He should have been happy. But the hollowness inside left him a husk, a lifeless puppet incapable of happiness or pride or fulfillment as his world was slowly ripped of colors, turning it all into a sea of grey, cold and lonely. A ghost in a shell with no purpose to live but too much of a coward to die, Prompto had resigned himself to this. This misery. No matter what he did, it wouldn't shake away the unjust. No matter where he went, this inadequacy would follow with him. It was like a shadow, always there but indomitable.

His eyes flickered open enough for his gaze to trace the inside of the trailer until it landed on the photos pinned onto his fridge door, and his breath hitched a little. There were several familiar faces, but most were of the four of them, back then, before it all went down the drain. His gaze stayed with one, one with all four of them smiling; Gladio's arm was thrown over Ignis' shoulder, who was looking like he was about to say something; Prompto was making the peace sign; and Noctis striking a movie star pose, looking smug. The lights of Lestallum shimmered in the background. A fresh pain tore at his heart; it was the same one Noctis had requested, had wanted to take with him. The breaths grew shuddery, his teeth grit.

He had found it sitting on the throne's armrest. Next to his friend's death-stiffened fingers.

What had beckoned him to take it, he didn't know. As they had gently lifted the prince's - no, the king's - body from his forever throne, it had felt wrong to leave it behind. It should go with Noct. So he had snatched it, telling himself that it would follow him to his final rest, so that they could be with him. But as it turned out, if that picture had been Noct's last memory of them, it had equally been his last memory of Noct. He couldn't let it go. Even as the king's body had been laid to eternal slumber, Prompto's fingers had clutched the wrinkled paper like a treasure.

Turning his eyes from the past, Prompto drew his knees to his chest, his arms snaking around them to hug them closer. It wasn't fair! None of it, it just wasn't! The way Noctis had gone - no, had been taken from them! - where was the justice in that?! Prompto's jaw tightened almost painfully. He had saved the world. His friend, he had given everyone hope. With the new sun came the new chance. At the cost of the life of the one who had given his all for others. How was that justifiable?

How was Prompto to accept such bullshit?!

The world could have rotted in darkness, for all he cared.

It had been too sudden, too soon, too sharp. Shakily, Prompto extended his aim arm, just like he had for so long. Ignoring the small voice in the back of his head that told him the truth, the man summoned the gun.

The fingers twitched irritably when they half-closed around thin air, the shock of the weight not being there traveling up his arm in bursts of tension. Prompto let out a quiet hiss of disappointment, a fresh salt stinging his eyes.

Of course he had known. It wouldn't be there. It would never be there again.

Noct. They had waited for ten years. Ten years that had felt like an eternity. But at least then, the gun had come. That thought, that treacherously simple gesture had become their beacon. As long as the weapons would come, they would hold onto hope. Wait for him, their king, to come back and right the wrongs done to this world.

But what good was the new world if there was no justice in it? Ten years, for three days. They had waited so long, only to have him torn away again. So soon, so brutally. And this time, Prompto gulped, his fingers clenching, this time it was permanent. What comfort was the light, when it had cost him so much already? What future… what future could there be if just making it to the next day felt like a chore? Lowering his forehead onto his knees, Prompto let his shoulders slump. What good did it do to plan for a future… when he wasn't living in the first place?