Beta read by: SinikkavonWolperting and istoleyourcheesecake
And finally getting this up, I was at a con the whole weekend, so I wasn't able to relly get to anything for the last three days.
MysteriousBean: I really think it was to be honest. Like, I know it was for the others as well, but it was most likely harder for him. ;w; Thank you so much. :D And now that I'm back, I can get back to it. Though, I will be working on FFXVWeek stuff pretty soo, so my usual stuff will be a bit delayed.
Bagpipes5K2: It is, and it really makes me sad to think about it, but at the same time, it's fun to imagine. Exactly, but they got no warning or anything. I mean, I'm sure they kinda knew what might happen and all, but it wouldn't have hurt to give a bit of a heads up. Unless they did and we all just missed it.
Weaselandcherry: Nah, they showed nothing after that, just skipped right on ahead without another word about it. :/ Yeah, I can't imagine him just accepting it right away, like there is just no way in hell he would. If anything they just raise more questions with each one they answer. They never explain anything about what happened with the crystal or anything. It would have made more sense to bring it back, but NOPE. It's all good, he knows where his home ism he'll find his way back. lol Food would make a lot of sense for him, but the only thing I think that would prevent him from doing that is because of how much work he put into bettering himself about that. Of course, trauma like this could easily bring it back up.
Annnnnnd, about that getting back thing...you'll see. ;w; I have a plan. Yeah, I hope to answer some of that stuff in the flashbacks, slowly piece it together. It will be choppy though since I'm only going to be covering highlights. And yesssss, you have no idea how much I love using these songs by these people, so I'm so freaking glad people like them.
MouseTalk: Eyyyy, a name I've never seen before. :D And thank youuuu~ Happy to bring out some feelings, hopefully I can make you die on the inside by the end of it. C;
The amount of time spent in that position, staring and mulling things over was lost to him; but, it had been long enough for his mind to be smothered in bitter smog and his senses to be obscured. Long enough to be flooded with shameful bliss. Taking a deep and stiff breath, Prompto turned his back to the window and leaned back against it, his head falling to rest against it as well. Slowly, with a small sound of squeaking as the leather patches rubbed against the surface, he slid down to the floor; the room fluctuated subtly with the action of it. "At least you aren't here to tell me what an idiot I am," he whispered, raising the bottle to toast to a friend that was all but present before taking another small sip. His left fingers drummed over the glass nervously, his gaze dropped to settle on the floor beneath his feet.
He closed his eyes, drawing his legs up to wrap his arms around them, seeking some comfort in the confines of this godforsaken place. His hand abandoned its habitual tapping to ball into a fist, and without thought, it was brought back full force into the wall behind him; the bang it produced rattled through the tattered walls and bounced around eerily. And, by the time silence rolled back in he could hear his own labored breaths, his teeth doing what they could to keep it under control. His sudden outburst did nothing but remind him of his own solitary confinement. He was alone here, and that was it, there was nothing more to it.
"All because I was too weak to do anything," he grit out, his fist slamming against the wall again, and then a third time, vibrations ran through his arm with each hit. "I was," 'bang', "supposed to," 'bang', "be there," he bit down, ceasing his shuddering breaths on the verge of breaking down.
His eyebrows knit together; he didn't have that much, and to verify, he raised the vodka to eye level, and his heart dropped. "Dammit," he sighed, lowering it back down, but keeping it in his grip. At least a fourth was gone already, but, he was sure it was only a few sips. Was it really that much? A berating pang pierced through the haze and struck right where it hurt the most. "What the hell am I doing?" he asked himself, glaring down as the contents sloshed with the tremor of his tightening grasp.
But, he never released his hold, instead he uncertainly got to his feet, having to use the wall to keep him from falling back against it and to the floor. He then stumbled and limped his way forward, pressing on until the materiel beneath his feet shifted from crumpling carpet to crumbling tile. And, he stopped, glancing off to his left where he found his warped reflection staring back. All he could see was a pathetic man, drinking his sorrows away like a fucking weakling; just the sight of it disgusted him. One foot in front of the other, he leaned forward, placing his drink on the counter for the time being. The palms of his hands framed either side of the mirror as he traced over particularly long crack that disfigured his face, splitting it over the bridge of his nose.
His perfectly imitated gaze pried into his own real one, searching and seeking for he didn't know what. But, whatever it was, he knew it couldn't be found. Almost on autopilot, he snatched his only liberation back up and took another drink before slamming it back down with a pitiful and hateful whimper, and glared back at those disgraceful blue orbs.
He stared down at his hands, still shaking slightly from the lack of use over Gods know how long. How long had it been since he had been dragged here? A day? A week? Either of those sounded plausible. The blond couldn't shake the lingering dread from his mind, couldn't fathom how he was going to tell the others about what he had found out about himself. After that short talk with Aranea, he thought for sure he was ready to face anything, but now that he was face to face with them again, he wasn't so sure.
He bit his lip out of prolonged anticipation, a presence behind him tore him from his internal reverie before the steps queued him to the prince taking a seat on the other side of the bed. A few seconds of tense and awkward silence ensure, tearing the blond up from the inside. "Hey," Noctis started, voice subtly weighted with uncertainty, "I'm sorry."
"For what," he replied immediately, almost out of a reflex as he peered over his shoulder, waiting for a response.
"For falling right into his trap," guilt tangled with his words, his head hung down as if looking in Prompto's direction was too painful, "And for hurting you like that."
Prompto looked back down to his lap, balancing those words in his head as he pondered over them. "I know, right?" he lightly chuckled out of no better way to deal with his emotions, "How could you possibly do such a horrible thing-" he mocked upset, his sentence sounding like that of a bad actor as his head lifted, "-after everything we've been through." More awkward silence, he had hoped that his forced cheerfulness would have at least lightened the mood, but of course not. "Nah, it's ok. You're not the only one who fell for it." His gaze dropped back down, assuming it's previous stare at the floor.
"Once this is all over, I say we break down the borders, come together as one nation." The blond's 'huh' followed like an echo to that declaration. He stared at Noctis for a solid few seconds before his eyes were met. "I mean," the raven sat up straighter and leaned against the frame of the bed, trying to look casual, "What does it matter where you're from anyway?"
"Ya'know," Prompto pushed himself up despite how much his body preferred staying where it was, "I never thought I'd say this, but you sounded like a real king for a second." He leaned forward with his hands supporting him against the top bunk. He stayed there and looked to Noctis.
Unfolding his arms and looking away, he replied, "Better late than never." The sounds of Prompto's light shuffling filled the momentary quiet. "I'm gonna make this world a better place," he promised. Looking back with a light smile, he added, "You with me?"
The questioned shocked him for a second, and he wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, but there was a swell of pride with that. "Uh-huh," he finally found his voice, "Ever at your side." He smiled back, the sense of relief flooding back through him at last. Everything would be alright.
His hands were almost digging into the decaying surface as that cursed pledge reared its ugly head. "You're a liar," he told himself, dropping his attention downward, landing directly on a discarded piece of wood; he assumed it to have come from the door frame. Gritting his teeth harshly, he crouched with a groan and clutched the object. And, taking a step back, he glanced from that to his reflection. "A foolish naive liar!" he swung forward with it, putting every inkling of his strength into it and not so much as flinching as shattering deafened him and expelled those thoughts for a brief period of time. Glass rained down, only a few clung to their home, refusing to falter.
"Nothing..." he breathed out, "...but a traitor." The plank slipped from his palm, upsetting the shards in its wake and he took a crunching step away, unconsciously snagging the alcohol as he departed. He stumbled through the doorway, catching himself on the frame of it before he could topple over. There, he stayed for a few moments to collect himself so he could continue on without incident.
Back to the bed he headed, he needed to lie back down; the most obnoxious bits of the pain may have been subdued, but even then he knew he shouldn't be wandering around so much. His body needed a break, whether he could feel it or not. He was so close, only a few feet away, only to have it yanked away as his foot on his bad side caught, pulling him down to the floor with a less than comfortable 'thud'. A tense gasp sounded out as his dulled senses couldn't catch up in time for him to catch himself this time.
And, to his disgusted realization, he worried more about spilling his vodka than making sure he didn't hurt himself in that fall. Glancing up, despite him landing in a near heap, his drink was still upright. He sighed as he worked his way back up, not bothering to get back to his feet and instead leaned against the foot of the bed. "That bad, huh?" he asked himself sourly, closing his eyes and allowing his head to fall back.
"Don't you think you've had quite enough?" Ignis questioned, with criticism in his tone. He may not have been able to see, but the deteriorating state of the blond's behavior was a clear sign.
He heard the sound of a liquid smacking the sides of glass followed by a stubborn, "Don't you think it's none of your business?" There was a 'clank' as a now empty bottle was harshly placed on the counter. "I'm not hurting anyone, am I? So why's it matter?" He cut his eyes over to the shot glass, then to the other side of it where Gladio sat, looking back to him as he shook his head.
"I think Iggy's right, maybe we should call it a night."
Prompto scoffed. "Guess things don't change, huh?" he asked, going to stand, but quickly discarding that idea as his legs refused to hold his weight at the moment.
The shield raised an eyebrow. "What's that mean?" he folded his arms as the other swiftly seated himself back on the stool.
"Both of you, always so quick to give up on something. 'Oh, let's just go to bed so we don't have to deal with this,'" he mocked incredulously. "'Maybe we should just leave instead of trying to save someone we've known for years!'" he slammed a fist down on the counter, disrupting the other customers, drawing the attention of a few of them. "You two were supposed to be there for hi–"
"Excuse me," the bartender interrupted, leaning intimidatingly against the bar, "I'm going to have to ask you to either keep it down, or make your leave." He set the young man with a glare, telling him that he simply wasn't going to have any of it.
He took a few heated breaths, temptation to argue with him on the tip of his tongue, but the heavy hand pulling on his shoulder tugged his attention away. "Come on, Prompto, we don't want to cause a scene," Gladio said lowly, only so the three of them could hear it.
"Fine," he fumed, stumbling off his seat and only staying upright thanks to the other's support. Once they were outdoors, Prompto wasted no time in pulling away to stagger a few feet before turning back on him. "I don't need your help," he tried to say bitterly, but only sounded slightly pitiful. "I'm going back," he mumbled, turning on the spot and getting a few steps before he had to stop and place his hand against the side of the building.
The brute sighed heavily. "Our room is this way," he reminded.
"You think I don't know that?" the blond straightened up. "I'm going back for Noct; it's been long enough, dammit."
It was Ignis' turn to let out a sorrowful sigh, "Prom, that's probably not a wise idea. I know it's been over a year now, and I know you're still not over it, none of us are. But, you can't go back there."
"Watch me," he muttered, taking one step and immediately fumbled down to his knees. He fell forward to his hands as he took a few deep breaths, "Someone has to, because it sure as hell isn't gonna be you two." It sounded as though he were more or less speaking to himself at this point.
"Trust me, we wish we could," Gladio replied anyway and made his way over to help the kid back up. "But it's as Iggy said, it ain't happenin'!"
"Why?" Prompto asked, accepting the help despite his hateful words towards them.
The other was confused by the question, "Because going back isn't going to do any goo–"
"No," Prompto interrupted. "I mean, why did you guys go there in the first place? It was an obvious trap, so why did you let him go there? You're his shield, you're supposed to protect him!" he snapped, slamming a weak and flailing fist against the man's chest. "And you," he looked over to the brunet, "Aren't you supposed to see these things from a mile away, shouldn't you have at least been able to see through it?!" He bit his lip to keep his sob under control, "So why?"
Neither knew how to answer that right away, but Gladio at least gave it a shot. "Well, we couldn't very well leave ya there," he shrugged with a humorless chuckle. "Not like that was an option."
"It was and you both know it, but you still let him go. Even after all of Ardyn's gloating and tempting, you still let it happen," his fist was now clinging to Gladio's jacket as he hid his face in his shoulder, he was the only reason he wasn't curled up on the ground right now. "Because you two couldn't do your job, he's gone!"
"Prompto, I've been patient up until now," Ignis spoke unnaturally calmly and precisely. "But if you are honestly suggesting that what happened is a fault of ours, or that by some miracle there is something we could have done to prevent it, then I can't stay silent about it anymore." The adviser slowly made his way over, still getting used to this whole blind thing, "You need to understand that this would have happened regardless of what we wanted, and our feelings on the matter mean absolutely nothing. This was going to happen, and there's nothing that will change that."
He said nothing, but the fire that ran through him didn't cool any with that revelation. His pulse continued to thrum in his veins and his heat kept beating roughly against his ribs. And, at this point it was hard to tell if it was from his animosity or his intoxication, but it didn't feel agreeable in the slightest.
~SONG HERE~
His eyes snapped open to stare up at the patchy ceiling above, dizziness fogged his senses subtly. "I was sure someone could have done something," he whispered, blinking slowly and swiping a hand down his face, the feeling lost to him, "Anything." He could still feel the stab of regret from throwing the blame onto them like that; they hadn't deserved it, and he very well knew it. They didn't deserve any of that, and he never even apologized for it, merely let his own despair ferment and dig down deeper instead of trying to fix the problem.
He wondered how they felt about him now though, after all that. Maybe they held a grudge against him for all the shit he put them through. He cut his eyes down to the bottle. Well, if they saw him now, he was positive they'd have something to say, none of it pleasant either. "Good thing they can't," he rolled his head to the side to look back out the window across the room; fire flared outside, spreading across and consuming what little foliage it was able to bite onto. "Don't even know where you guys are right now. Hopefully doing better than this."
The sinking sense of isolation began to finally settle within him, and his left hand instinctively reached into his vest, the familiar edges of polaroids flitted under his fingertips. But, he couldn't bring himself to pull them out, couldn't stomach the thought of facing the others, even if they were just pictures; to him, it was the same as seeing them in person right now. He traced over the borders of them, trying to remember which ones they even were, and he tried to remember how many of them showed how much he changed since then. He didn't want to see that. He was naive, and he was oblivious, and he hated every ounce of it.
His old self would have never been seen in a situation such as this... and he despised him so much. Wetness obscured his vision and ringing tickled his ears, "What the hell was wrong with me?" So many stupid jokes and countless light-hearted mood-breakers in serious situations, and all of it meaningless now, all humor had been abandoned long ago, "A little too late."
Prompto pulled the bottle into his lap, drawing his knees up to allow it to lean against his legs. "'This was going to happen, and there's nothing that will change that,'" he repeated to himself. "'This was going to happen,'" he grit his teeth and ran both hands through his hair to cup the back of his neck as he curved forward, "'And there's nothing that will change that.'" He threw his hands to his sides and tossed his head back, "What a load of horse shit!" Grabbing the closest chunk of debris to his right hand, he grabbed it up and thrust it across the room, a resounding 'thunk' followed when it struck the window.
He held his breath, swallowing down the sob that begged to be freed. "All of it... a bunch of..." he breathed out slowly, "A bunch of excuses." He gazed emptily at the drink in his lap, stained fingerprints covering it, "And, I guess that makes me the worst of 'em. Constantly trying to think of why it could have been anyone else's fault."