Beta read by: SinikkavonWolperting and istoleyourcheesecake

Only two more chapters after this one. ;w;

websky: So glad you're liking it. :D It's a lot different than what I normally do, but it's quite fun to say the least...in a weird and messed up sort of way I guess.

Bagpipes5K2: Yeah, it had to have been hell, in more ways than one, and I was honestly really hoping they would have showed at least a few scenes from that period, it would have been nice to have at least a little something, but nah. Nothing. Are you doing yours during the timeskip as well? Because I would so read the crap out of it. I mean, I probably would either way, lol, but yeah. We need more stories during that time.

Weaselandcherry: Yeah, that's one thing that usually worries me about writing this kind of stuff, since I know there are people that have gone through this kind of stuff, so to hear that I'm getting it fairly close to what it's actually like is a bit relieving. And honestly, I'm not really sure how they would handle this kind of thing, I kinda touch on that a bit more in this chapter, both of them kinda have something to say about it. I'd say the drinking has been going on for close to two years, enough tie for it to really start to settle in and become a real issue, not that it would really take long, but still. But, thank you so much, and, well, I kinda have bad news for this one, it's not gonna be a happy ending; no death at least, but not pleasant either. ;w;

"It's no-one else's fault more than it is my own," he whispered to himself, taking the vodka out of his lap so he could stretch his aching legs out once again. Prompto knew there were things he could have done, measures he could have taken to prevent things from going the way they did. Or at least have delayed it if nothing else. Deep down, he knew it was going to happen one way or another, but it didn't need to occur when and how it did. On that day, the day he was shoved off that train, he should have tried harder to convince Noctis it was really him; if he had known what he had seen, he would have... but, that didn't matter anymore. It was over with, not like he could redo it now.

He swiped a hand over his face, the sensation lost and tingly, deluded by his dissolving feelings. "If only," he sighed, taking a small sip, "If only I figured out what the hell was going on... then maybe." A cough tore out of his throat as the liquid tried to go down the wrong way, causing it to splutter out and run down the side of his mouth. Wiping it away with the back of his hand, he placed the bottle to his side, hoping that putting it out of sight would help in some way. Though, he knew that wouldn't be the case, it was almost a second nature by now.

"Just keep hoping," he told himself, again trying to get to his feet, his mind telling him to put some distance between himself and the alcohol; hopefully he'd just forget it was there. Using the foot of the bed, he pulled himself up with a light groan of discomfort and disorientation, the sudden movement not helping with his already swirling vision. He just had to make it out of the door, that wasn't asking for too much.

Finally there, he gripped either side of the door frame, and he was sure it was the only thing keeping him upright at that moment, otherwise he'd have quite the unplanned date with the floor. He leaned to his right, propping his body up against his wooden support and used his now free hand to run through his hair repeatedly. "I should have known," he mumbled, sagging even further against it, "It was so obvious."

"I should have done more," Prompto drawled on, shifting miserably under his mountain of covers. "I should have known, what kind of a friend doesn't notice something like that?" He bit his lip and thrust over to his other side and pushed a good majority of the blanket from his head so he could gaze over at Gladio sitting opposite him. "I was too stupid and believed he was really attacking me, and I should have known."

The brute sighed heavily, clearly growing tired of hearing the blond's ramblings. But, it was a nice change from he and Ignis being blamed, but still. "Prom, just give it a rest already, will you? We've been through this, haven't we? It's no one's fault but Ardyn's."

Prompto shook his head slowly, a small cough as he cleared his throat bringing back that bitter and foul taste. "I don't care," he slurred, reaching a hand out from under his sanctuary to grab for the can on the bedside table. One lift told him it was empty, and out of frustration, he tossed it to the floor. "I should have been able to tell he wasn't himself."

"I'll be back, I'm going to pick up a few things," the larger man stood with a more than sympathetic glance in the younger's direction. "Need anything while I'm out?" He wasn't sure why he asked, he knew what the answer would be.

And, like he expected, a single finger pointed where the can had landed, and that was his reply. "The answer is no, I'm not feeding your problem any. You want it, you can get it yourself," he narrowed his eyes and turned his back on him before he said something he'd regret. "Iggy, what about you?"

"I'm quite alright," the adviser breathed out, his head tilted in a way so his ear was facing more towards their direction. "And Gladio," he spoke lower and waited until he could detect the subtle movement indicating that he now faced him, "Do be careful out there," he lowered his head, his face looking uselessly at the floor.

"Yeah, I will."

Ignis kept his attention cast downward until the 'click' sounded out, and then he decided to look towards the blond as he continued to twist from side to side, quickly growing restless. "Prompto, I think we need to talk about this," he wasted no time and skipped the pleasantries, getting right to the point. "This has to stop, it's been quite long enough."

"We don't need to talk about anything," he huffed, turning to his back to gaze up at the ceiling, still after all this time, having a hard time looking the other in the face without feeling some sort of pity for him.

Ignis breathed out in exasperation, "Prompto, you have a problem, and it can't carry on like this. You know it, and I know it; you need help, and there's no shame in admitting it. But, if you keep denying that fact that you have an addiction, it will get worse, and there will be no helping you at that point."

"I don't have a 'problem', my only 'problem' is you two breathing down my neck about nothing," he huffed in irritation. "So, I like to have a drink once in a while, it's no big deal," his voice grew quieter as his short rant went on, and he knew he was lying to himself. "Alright? I assure you, it's no-nothing." He pulled the covers the rest of the way off so he could sit up, and the switch in position made his world spin, unbearably so.

A hand now clasped over his mouth, his legs unsteadily taking him towards the bathroom as he prayed he'd make it this time. Ignis again lowered his attention, inwardly cringing at the gagging that stumbled by him and the retching that followed soon after. "Sure sounds like nothing to me," he said loud enough to be heard. He began tapping his foot as the sounds of sickness reached him a couple more times, and when it ended, there were no returning steps.

"Prompto?" he asked after a minute, starting to grow concerned. "Are you alright in there?" He was slightly relieved when he got a small moan in response, but that wasn't quite what he wanted to hear, and using his cane, he pushed himself up and tapped his way around the corner. A dark life was still something he was growing accustomed to, so the going was slow and tedious, but the sound of his guide clacking against tile told him he made it without incident.

"Iggy?" he whined out, sounding absolutely dejected and weak, "I... I don't know what to do," his tone strained and tense, he swallowed against the upcoming sob. "I don't know," he repeated, his head falling back to rest on the edge of the tub. "What am I supposed to do?"

Ignis crouched down where he assumed to be in front of the other, "You know you need only to ask for help." He breathed out through his nose and held a hand out, "Come on, if you're done in here, it's probably best if you go lie down for a while. Eating something will help you feel better as well."

"Yeah," he agreed, taking the offered hand, the idea of a blind man supporting him not sitting well at all with him and only serving to make him feel even worse about this situation. He tripped over his own feet on the way back, almost taking them both down, but luckily Ignis was a bit more coordinated than him and was able to save the both of them from an unwanted tumble.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he dropped himself on the edge of the bed, leaning forward when the nausea never quite went away. He cut his eyes over to the table, which was littered with empty cans and bottles, and the sight made him feel sick, but in a different way than he already was plagued with. "I'm an idiot, aren't I?" he asked rhetorically under his breath.

"That, you are," Ignis answered, knowing full well one wasn't needed. "But, realizing it is the first step, so that's alright." Ignis sat next to him and didn't complain when he leaned over against him, obviously needing the closeness in his intoxicated and debilitated state.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his hand gripping the man's pant's leg, "I should have listened to you guys before, but I," he took a shuddering breath, "I didn't want to hear it, I guess. I should have known you guys only meant w-ell," his voice hitched, moisture stinging his eyes. "I'd give anything if I would have just listened." The other never said a word as his eyelids began to feel heavy and his sight started warping, "Just like back then, I should have fucking listened, maybe then..." he sighed out and relaxed completely against the brunet, barely aware of the sound of the door opening as Gladio returned.

~SONG HERE~

"Two years later, and wouldn't ya know it," he laughed bitterly to himself. "Still don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do." He ripped his hand away from his hair so he could get some leverage to get off the frame, his feet catching in the process; it seemed like nothing wanted to cooperate anymore, and the only thing still working was the one thing he didn't want to work. Prompto hummed to himself, trying to bite down the nausea that came in a pair with the discoordination.

He knew he didn't have much chance at making it far, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try; he needed a distraction, anything to get his mind on anything other than his own self-pity. "Nothing I can do," he repeated, "Nope, not a thing." He figured if he kept telling himself, he'd believe it sooner or later. "Just going to have to... deal with it," he finally built up the motivation it took to step completely out of the doorway. Again, he looked up and down the hallway, choosing to go farther down to take a look in the other rooms.

Prompto got a few feet and stopped to lean against the wall again to get his bearings, his head swimming with colors and shapes, causing him to have to close his eyes to prevent himself from getting too dizzy from the sight of it all. But, somehow, he still craved the release that would come if he would only allow himself to indulge in it more. He wasn't sure what was stopping him, there was no-one to stop him, no-one to tell him how stupid he was for it, and no-one to prevent him from taking that huge step back.

"I don't think realizing the issue will really help me out here now," he pushed himself to walk a few more steps, his eyes only cracking open enough to vaguely see where he was going. And, to his left was the next room over, looking to be in no better shape than the others, and he wasn't sure what he was expecting; definitely didn't think it would exactly be in mint condition. He had only made it a few yards, and already he was winded from the small trip. Not even bothering, he just plopped down where he was to stare through the room and out the window.

Out of habit, he grabbed to his right, his hand gripping empty air, his chest clenched at the mere instinct of that action. The blond tossed his head back with a resounding 'thud' and fiddled with his thumbs to keep them busy; the idea of heading back to the other room crossed his mind more than once, but he forced himself to stay put. "You're better than this," he mouthed, lightly banging the back of his head against the wall repeatedly. "You were over this, so don't be an idiot."

But, his old ways won over, and it seemed it was no longer a battle with his mind, but more so a war with his body, and it wanted what was familiar and what would help it all recess back into the shadows of his memory... even if just for a little while. Though, he despised every craving second that went by in the process of returning to his worst enemy, or his savior, he didn't know what it was anymore. He didn't care. "Screw it," he muttered, tripping back in to fall to his hands and knees, pain shooting numbingly through his limbs, and he was actually thankful for the effects of the alcohol at this point, making this much less hurtful than it would have been otherwise.

Figuring this was far enough, he rolled over to his back, his left hand wrapping naturally around the glass container, though he never took a drink this time; just having it in his possession was enough of a comfort for the time being. His fingers stroked over the smooth surface, his body finally losing what little energy was left in it, begging him to finally take the break it needed. Prompto decided he could at least give it that, at least for a bit; not like he could exactly go anywhere and he was only wasting time and strength with his needless roaming around. He closed his eyes, the sensation of the world dancing around him continued to tease him, and he let out a miserable groan as his free arm flung over his shut eyes.

His head pounded and his body was killing him, not to mention that feeling of sickness that had almost become a daily routine by now. There was a weight on him and it didn't take long for him to realize it was blankets, draped over him in a caring fashion and not a heap that he was so used to. As comfortable as it was, it didn't quite make up for the price he was paying for the previous night's binging. The worst part, it didn't deter him from planning on doing the same this night as well.

Prompto tried opening his eyes, but the light rays that shined through prevented him from accomplishing much with that task and an unintentional gasp came out and he pulled the blanket up to cover his face.

"Feeling terrible, are we?" he recognized the voice as Gladio, a bit of sarcasm sprinkled his words. "That's what happens." Not that he had to be told that, he knew what to expect now. "So," he went on, changing the subject, "Ignis told me that you finally came to your senses." He heard a creak, supposedly from the man leaning back in his chair. "You finally ready to grow up and change your ways? Or was that just your drunk ass rambling nonsense again?"

The blond didn't answer, in fact, he barely remembered what even happened then, his memories of it only popping up in dismembered fractions. "I dunno," he slurred, swallowing thickly.

"You don't know?" Gladio questioned incredulously. "You either want to quit or you don't, there is no in-between." He folded his arms and set the shuffling covers with a watchful and narrowed gaze, "So, which is it?"

The younger held his breath, he could feel the weight pressing down on his shoulders, and he wished he could just be left alone for a few hours, at least until he had time to recover a bit before answering stuff like this. Then again, there was hardly a completely lucid moment for him these days. "Jus' gimme a second," he turned until he was facing away from the other, the irked sigh followed after him. "I just need to wake up."

"No, you need to decide," Gladio raised his voice, not caring that it sent a jolt through Prompto's head. "We can't keep doing this every other day, dammit!" he stood abruptly. "Make your choice now, you either want to kick it, or you don't, it's not something you need to think about."

"Yes!" he shouted back, thrusting the blanket off him and to the side, "Alright, I do," he was panting from the blood that ran roughly through his veins, his heart on overdrive, "Happy?" He looked right into amber eyes, his expression the never changing and unphased from his outburst. "You think I don't hate this, hate every moment of it?" his adrenaline was quickly running out and the aftermath of last night were starting to creep back up.

"Was that so hard?" Gladio nodded his approval, his face softening the slightest amount. "That's all I wanted to hear." He slowly sat back down and crossed his arms once more, "Now, if you can only manage to hold onto that decision from here on out, then we'll be good to go."

The blond raised a hand to massage his temple, pain hitting it in waves now that he was calming down again.

"I'll make some coffee, that normally helps with hangovers," the brute offered, his tone much more compassionate than it had been, "But, I'm sure you already know that." That part wasn't quite as kind though. Prompto gave him a fleeting wave in thanks and slowly lowered himself back down, even the gradual descent was throwing his senses through the loop. He felt godawful, there was no other way to put it. If it weren't for him and Ignis, he had no idea how he'd be fairing right now. Hell, he'd probably be dead in that facility if it weren't for them, and if that didn't do it, then he would have drunk himself to death long ago without them there to stop him.

"Gladio," he whispered, burying his face in his pillow, "Thanks."

"Gladdy," he whimpered, turning to his left side, over to face the vodka, and his eyes still shut tightly and his head objected to the change in angle. "Wonder what you'd have to say about this decision." He cleared his throat and worked ungracefully to sit up. Gazing around, he tried to gauge how long he was out, but the darkness swiftly reminded him that without some sort of technology, it was impossible to tell. How long had he even been here? If his slowly stabilizing vision was anything to go off on, it had been at least a few hours.

And just like that, he was back where he started, leaning against the foot of the bed; all that wandering around just to get back to square one. Funny how that works out. With the effects gradually fleeing his senses, he glanced back at the bottle, the fix to that problem right there. Hell, he already messed up, didn't matter what he did anymore, it wouldn't change the fact that he fucked up. Taking a generous drink, he slammed the now half-empty bottle back down, the taste and burn of such a large amount making him cringe with a shudder. No matter how often you consumed that stuff, that was one thing you never got used to.

Maybe he should just down the whole thing right here, he didn't see any reason not to, no reason to give a damn about anything. His fingers glanced over the glass as the place shook slightly from the roaming giants that were a bit too close for comfort. "It would be easy enough," he whispered, genuinely thinking about it, "It wouldn't take much effort."