Summary: Prompto comforts Noct after his argument with Gladio on the train
(Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Established Relationship or Friendship)

"Noct!"

"Leave him!" Gladio shouted, and Prompto stared after his friend in dismay as he stormed out of the traincar. Ignis had always said that Noct and Gladio fought like brothers. Prompto didn't have any siblings, but he couldn't imagine a fight could get much worse than that, with both of them fuming and having said things they would definitely regret later. He knew everyone was hurting over Ignis, but he just couldn't ignore his best friend's pain, no matter how withdrawn—and perhaps even sulky—he was becoming. After all, he'd lost a lot that day, too.

And so, once Gladio had his back turned, Prompto slipped into the next car, and went searching until he found him. Poor Noct was hunched over in one of the seats, palms clutched together tightly, his face scrunched up in pain.

"Noct?" Prompto asked, gently. When Noct looked up, there were the beginnings of tears in his eyes, but he blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. He stared up at Prompto with sad, wide eyes like those of an injured puppy. That look was impossible to ignore, especially for someone as drawn to canines as Prompto was.

Instinctively, Prompto slipped into the seat beside him and Noct immediately leaned his head against Prompto's own. Prompto reached for Noct's clasped hands, and their grip loosened enough for him to wedge his own into the space between. He felt the circle of cold metal between his and Noct's palms, and discovered yet another source of his companion's distress. The Ring of the Lucii—the ring that Noct's bride-to-be had given her life for, so that it may be in the hands of the future king.

Prompto tried not to cringe at the feel of the metal, the way it seemed to be both searing hot and painfully cold at the same time, at the way it made his body feel weak somehow. It was probably the magics imbued in the thing that made it so taxing on the wearer, and if Prompto could help absorb some of the pain it was causing Noct in this moment, then by all means, he would continue to do so.

Noct sucked in a shaky breath, and let it out in an equally trembly exhale. It sounded like each hitch and warble was likely to become a sob, and Prompto wouldn't have blamed him if he wanted to break down, but he'd been doing that a lot lately; maybe he'd had his fill.

"I never should have dragged you into this. When we left home, I never expected any of this to happen," he said, solemnly, voice filled with audible pain. Prompto was saddened by the mere sound of his words. Here he was trying to apologize for bringing him along when all Prompto had ever wanted was to be included, when Prompto was the one who had been hurt the least of all by the incidents in Altissia.

"Noct, what happened with Luna wasn't your fault," Prompto cooed, his free hand falling to rest on top of their already entangled appendages. Four hands were woven together in Noct's lap, looking like a small tower that Prompto hoped was built strongly enough not to have its walls knocked down. The following conversation would probably give him the answer to that. Much to his disappointment, the conversation remained one-sided.

Prompto glanced down at Noct, watching the way his chin trembled as it rested upon his shoulder. He let out another sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a sob, but afterwards, his mouth pressed firmly together. It was so tight, it almost stopped his trembling jaw—almost.

"And you shouldn't blame yourself for what happened to Ignis, either. I know it's awful, but it all just boils down to bad timing."

"Everyone hates me," Noctis mumbled in response, scrunching his eyes shut.

"No, they don't," Prompto promised, giving Noct's hands a gentle squeeze. He nestled his head in on top of Noct's, feeling soft hair brush against his cheek. "They're worried about you. They don't want you to give up hope. Lucis needs you." The words might have been filled with anger or frustration from anyone else, but Prompto said them gently, making them into more of an explanation than a demand or order. Noct choked back an agonized sound.

"Lucis? What kind of king lets this sort of thing happen to his friends?" His fists would have been clenched if his fingers hadn't been tangled with Prompto's. Instead, they just curled a little tighter into his grasp.

"Noct, when I became a Crownsguard, I learned that it meant protecting you, no matter the cost," Prompto started, which only caused Noct to glance up at him with worried eyes. Of course, Noctis knew as well as anyone what being a Crownsguard entailed, but he'd never thought about the strict lessons that Prompto had had to undergo to become one, the training that probably scared him out of his wits and made him reconsider how much he was willing to risk for his prince.

"I was scared, but I was ready to do this for you. I wanted to, even though I'd never done anything like this in my life. But with Gladio and Ignis, they were born into it. Their lives have always revolved around the Crown, and they grew up knowing what kinds of dangers lay ahead."

"Yeah, but no one ever expects things to go this badly. You think the Glaive would have fought as hard as they did if they'd known how everything would turn out?" Noct tested, his eyes holding some sort of fierceness, but Prompto figured it was the sharp pain of grief. Thinking about the loss of Lucian territories, the fall of Insomnia and its king... It always filled Noct with emotions that he didn't quite know how to cope with.

"Noct, your Crownsguard are not just your bodyguards. Remember what Cid said?"

"You're my brothers," Noct nodded, pulling his head back to stare at Prompto.

"And your friends," Prompto smiled. "We protect you because we want to, not because we have to. Ignis took one for the team, but you would have done the same for any of us."

Noct looked pensive as the words sunk in, and he let his head fall as he nodded slowly. It was true. He would do anything for those guys, even if it meant taking a bullet for them or spending the rest of his life in darkness, like Ignis.

"So... you're not angry with me?"

"Of course not," Prompto promised, which lessened the tension in Noct's features. The line between his brows faded, and the corners of his mouth unfurled. "And Gladio will come around. You just need to prove to him that Ignis' sacrifice wasn't for nothing."

"And what about Luna? Am I not supposed to grieve for her?"

"That," Prompto started, lifting the hand that was on top of their pile and reaching for the back of Noct's neck. Gently, he brought his head back in to rest on his shoulder. "You can do right here, with me."

Noct nodded against him. Prompto was the one who would allow him to let his guard down, to let him cry himself dry, and not judge him. Crying to Ignis would have been selfish, whining to Gladio would have shown weakness. With Prompto, it seemed he was doing neither—he was merely leaning on a loved one for comfort, someone who didn't have a list of consequences attached.

Noct breathed in shakily, like he had near the beginning of their conversation. When he let it out, he clutched Prompto's hand a little tighter, and flinched at the feeling of the ring between their skin. He loathed how it wedged a distance between him and Prompto. It reminded him of the harsh reality that Luna was gone and that he still had a duty to fulfill as a member of the royal family. It pushed him to feel like he should press on, but he didn't want any of that. Not right now. Not yet.

Prompto made a quiet noise of disappointment when he felt Noctis tugging his hands free, and for a second, he thought their tower had collapsed under the pressure, but once those hands had unlaced themselves, Noct closed his fist around the ring. He pressed it tightly into his palm, bringing his knuckles to his lips for a moment and feeling the draining pull of its magics. Determinedly, he slapped the ring down on the seat beside him, between himself and the window, abandoning it there as he leaned in against Prompto's shoulder.

He let out a sigh of relief to have some separation from it, at least for the time being. No more pain, at least not physical. Prompto's hand found Noct's again while the other wove its way between strands of dark hair. Gently, he began to tread his fingers through it, whispering softly as Noctis let himself weep—for his country, and for those he'd failed to protect.

"It'll be okay, Noct," Prompto lulled. Noct nestled in against his neck, and Prompto tilted his head to rest atop the prince's.

"You... won't leave, will you?" Noctis sobbed, but he felt confident that if Prompto hadn't left by now, he never would. A kiss was pressed into the prince's hair, eliminating all of his doubts.

"Never."