Beta read by: SinikkavonWolperting and istoleyourcheesecake

And only one chapter left. Sorry this one is so short, but I'm hoping it hits hard enough to make up for that.

Song is: Suicide is Painless, and it should be the first one that pops up on youtube. And, as always, I marked where to start listening at.

Quirky Rikku: Lol, don't worry about it, as do I. ;w; Yesssss, and even in the game you can see how much he changed during those ten years...I mean, he definitely changed far better in that than he did in this story, but that's not the point. lol But, thank you so much, it's much appreciated. ^/^

Bagpipes5K2: Oh God, I can't stand beer, the closest thing I'll drink to that is Apple's Ale, but that doesn't count. Honestly more of a rum kinda person. And I could never do the pills, had some weak ones, ibuprofen when I broke my finger last year, and even that little bit made me feel sick, so only took like half of what was prescribed, and that was just to be able to sleep. They really are the best. ;w; Ohhhhhhhh, I like that. Have you started it yet? :0 And, yeah, I've noticed the astrals can be quite dickish quite often. XD

Weaselandcherry: XD I try to warn people when it's not going to be good just so people can't blame me when they get to it and aren't satisfied. lol Yeah, and all that stuff is a slippery slope; there's a fine line between coping and falling into addiction and sometimes it's hard to pinpoint exactly where that place is. Oh yeah, and for a while I think it would have been enough to keep him out of it, but then when he hits a spot like this again, stranded and not really seeing a way out of it, I'm really not sure how he would deal with it at that point. I don't know, things like this are always finicky and really hard to relate to when you've never had to live through it, so I have 0 experience with it and just going off speculation, but I can see a bunch of different outcomes to something of this degree. And thank yeah. :D You, now one left. lol

websky: Well, I think it's about to hurt your heart again. ;A;

He lied there, not caring that he was in a not so comfortable looking position, he couldn't be bothered to move, knowing that it would bring nothing but another overwhelming surge of pain and nausea. He could feel every bead of sweat that surfaced on his face moments before it trailed down his face only to join the other drops in soaking the sheets beneath him. Clearing his throat, Prompto cracked open an eye to peer at the brunet sitting across from him, and he was so thankful he couldn't see what he looked like right now. He was certain it couldn't have been pleasant.

The blond couldn't stifle the pained groan as cramps again gripped at his abdomen, forcing him to curl up a little more on himself, his breath coming out in shudders until it faded into something more tolerable. And, he was almost positive death would have been preferred at this point. Everything burned. "D-dammit," he muttered, tightly closing his eyes against another rush of sickness threatening to assault him.

"I told you," Gladio breathed out, but not bitterly. "This wasn't the way you wanted to do things."

"Shuddup," the younger bit back, not caring how harsh it came out. "Does i-it mat-ter?" he whimpered again, tossing to his other side in a fruitless attempt at an escape. He wanted nothing more than to rip everything out, just tear everything from his body to make it all stop.

The shield shook his head slowly, he had to give the kid credit for determination, but this definitely wasn't healthy. "Just sayin'," he huffed, "There are better ways."

"I d-don't care," he sighed, turning his head to bury it in the pillow, fighting the nagging need to throw up right there where he was. "I-I wanna do it this way," he spit it out fast, already clambering and stumbling to his feet to head to the bathroom. Without a word, Gladio was at his side, making sure he made it in time this round, not wanting to clean up another mess.

As soon as they were over the threshold, the gunner dropped to his knees at the toilet, hands clutching the sides of it. "At least this is the worst of it," he tried to assure, one hand holding his hair back and keeping it from falling in his face. "Get it all out."

"Do I r-really have a cho-" he was abruptly cut off by another gag, followed mostly be strained and painful dry heaves. It took a bit longer than last time, but eventually it had passed, and he was left panting and leaning heavily against the brute. Hot tears that he no longer had the strength to hold back flowed freely down his cheeks, tickling them slightly as they flowed. "I hate this," he whispered, his eyes once again closed.

Gladio took a deep breath and slowly lowered himself, seeing that moving any time soon was unlikely. "I guess you don't," he replied, grabbing a small towel from the rack and handing it around for him to take.

Prompto gladly accepted the offer and swiftly began wiping his face off with it. "I really am an idiot, huh?" he flatly asked, dropping the fabric to the floor.

"Yeah, but we already knew that," he lightly chuckled. "Here, lean against the tub for a moment," he didn't wait for a reply as he manually moved him over and scooped the towel off the floor. Getting to his feet, he stepped a couple feet away and turned the sink on to run a bit of cool water over it. "This should be better," he nodded to the object in his hand as he handed it over.

A trembling and pallid hand carefully took the towel back, the other hand wrapped securely around his middle as the aches started up again. "I'm dying," he muttered, pressing the cool rag over the entirety of his face, "I am, aren't I?" The other would have laughed if it weren't for the seriousness in his tone, and it sounded as though he genuinely thought he was.

"No, Prompto, you aren't dying, it just feels like it," he gave the simple answer, the one that was better for both of them to hear at the moment. "But, like I said, it shouldn't get much worse than it is right now." He knelt back in front of the other and carefully took the cloth from his hand to take over wiping the sweat from his features, "As long as you hang in there and fight through it, then it'll work out in the end."

Prompto took his eyes away from the bottle to stare at the far wall instead. "Probably not a good idea," he whispered to himself, recalling those horrid days with a shiver. Despite his cravings, that was one thing he never wanted to risk going through again; he could still vaguely remember the sensation of his body punishing him for his weak will. But, against it all, he still took another hefty swallow of the stuff, now going through it quite a bit faster than he had initially.

As the flames slowly extinguished themselves, he was left with an emptiness that he knew full well couldn't be filled in the way he was trying to, it would only make it worse, but he still didn't care. He sat there in agonized silence for a few moments more, running his tongue around the interior of his mouth, still tasting the foul and offending taste and his left hand tightened with each resurgence of the flavor. Prompto blinked rapidly, his eyes stinging with fresh and unshed tears until his hand reached up to cover them.

He sniffed against it, but they spilled over nonetheless, "Son of a bitch," he whimpered, fingers rubbing against his lids in an attempt to stunt the flow. It was hopeless; he was hopeless, and no amount of drowning himself was going to wash that away. "I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry," he ducked his head down, the tears now streaming steadily as he took in shuddering breaths.

He didn't want to move, everything hurt too much and it took too much effort to do so. His eyes flicked over to Ignis, who had long since fallen asleep in the chair closest to the window; or Prompto assumed him to be asleep. He had no idea where Gladio was, he remembered him mentioning something earlier, but he hadn't paid attention, the words slipping right out of his grip.

His mouth fell open in a silent gasp as another pain claimed him, but he just lacked the energy to voice his discomfort anymore. 'Worst part,' he replayed in his head; what a joke that was. The other day had been much more tolerable than this mess. And, regardless of what his body was going through, it continued to plead for him to give in and cave; to give it what he knew would make it go away.

But, he couldn't do that, not now, not when he's already suffered almost three days as it were for the sake of himself as well as the other two. For Noctis. He took in a deep breath, or as deep as he could muster and held it for a second before slowly blowing it back out.

"-to," his head twitched sideways at the voice.

"Iggy?" he asked, barely audible, but the light snore he got in response told him it wasn't the adviser he heard. Maybe Gladio got back and he wasn't aware of it.

"Prompto," his gaze gradually averted to his right, trying to peer over his shoulder, but he couldn't quite make out that far, but he was sure it was right behind him; it sounded so close, hushed, but right there.

His chest locked up at that tone; it was so familiar, and he knew exactly who it was, there was no doubt in his mind, but it wasn't true... it wasn't real. "Shut up," he whispered, his breath hitching, "Just shut up." Even as he said this, there still remained a small piece of himself that longed to hear it again, and deep down, he begged for him to speak once more.

For a solid five seconds, he dared not breathe, afraid if he did he'd miss it. After a few more, he took in a quick and short one, only to sigh it back out when it never came. Then, just like before, he felt the whisper tickle across his cheek, "Prompto, what are you doing?"

He didn't know if he should be overjoyed or terrified. "N-Noct?" he asked, finally willing himself to turn over to his other side, his eyes flicking around frantically trying to locate the source. He now panted as his heart kicked up, his adrenaline pumping harshly through him. "Noctis?" he called out again, a bit more desperate, "No-ct!" his voice cracked, his limbs fumbled with the sheet that was tossed carelessly over him, the sounds of the adviser jerking awake lost in his panic.

Then he heard it, the sound of the door closing, and he knew where he was now. "Wait, please, don't go," he pleaded, his sorrow reflecting heavily off his tone; he was too tired to hide it. "Come back," he demanded, finally freeing himself of his confines and climbing shakily to his feet, only to stumble forward and fall roughly to his knees. He went to stand back up, but a firm arm wrapped around his shoulders, preventing him from doing a thing; his body now too weak to fight against it. "Ignis, he's back, I heard him, we... we have to go after him," he pulled against the brunet, but it was of little use.

"Prompto, you have to believe me when I say, he's not there, Noctis is gone. He's gone and we don't know when he'll be back," he used his other arm to try and pull the blond in. "Settle down, it's just the two of us, alright?"

"N-no, I heard him..." he tried to explain, his voice fading and his breaths stuttering.

The adviser furrowed his brows in understanding. "I'm sorry, but that wasn't him, it's the withdrawals, your head is just messing with y- Prompto?" he questioned, feeling a slight shudder run through the blond, but it didn't feel like the normal ones. "Shit," he spat as the subtle tremor slowly became more violent as his form tensed up in his arms.

As quickly as he was able, he carefully placed the younger on the floor, wasting no time as he stepped uncertainly in the direction of the bed and grabbed the first pillow his hand came across and he swiftly shoved it under Prompto's head before the seizure could escalate too far. With a sweeping motion, he brushed his hands over the floor, making sure it was clear of any hazards. In the middle of it all, he picked up on the small 'click' of the door opening.

"Hey, I brought back a few things to he-" he froze mid step, eyes darting to lock onto the shaking form of the blond and then up to Ignis he was knelt next to him. "What the hell is happening?" he asked, tossing his bags on the table to rush to their sides.

He didn't reply right away, instead he listened, focusing on the breathing, listening intently to that to make sure he didn't hear any choking or anything that didn't quite sound right. And, slowly the tremors slowed down, cuing him that it was safe to touch him now and he gently rolled him over to his side. A hand was already cupped in front of his mouth, the uneven yet strong puffs of air blowing through his fingers. He let out a sigh of relief. "He's fine," he assured, but kept a hand on his shoulder just to make sure he didn't roll back over to his back.

"That's it," Gladio grunted, pushing himself to his feet, and Ignis could feel the movement of the blond as he was hefted up.

"Gladio, what do you think you're doing?" Prompto could barely make out what they were saying, but it was there, vocalizing or showing any signs however, were a different story.

"What's it look like, I'm taking him to get the help he needs."

Ignis chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. "That's not what he wanted, he wanted to get this done here, where he'd be more comfort-"

"I don't give a damn!" the shield snapped. "If he wants to stay here and deal with it like this, he's going to die!" He was breathing heavily after that short outburst, "This isn't something to take lightly, and you know it as well as I do. Home detox is too dangerous, and I knew it was from the start and I should have never allowed this."

"No," Prompto muttered, the single word coming out sluggish and forced, his head slowly shaking from side to side, but his eyes still refused to open.

Gladio seemed to soften for just a moment, "Sorry, but you don't have a say in this anymore." And, the lack of a reply he got after that didn't sit well; not so much as a protest, he just looked too exhausted to put up a fight anymore. "I'm taking him to the hospital," he turned his attention to Ignis, and turned and headed right back out the door, nearly slamming it behind him.

~SONG~

Prompto drew his knees back up, placing the bottle to the side once more in order to tightly hug his legs closer to himself, his whimpers slowly progressing into full sobs. And, he bit into his thumb, clamping down as he tried to control himself, his shoulders trembling violently with the tightness that now compassed them. "It's hopeless," he wept, releasing the hold on his finger to choke out another uncharacteristic noise. Leaning to the side, he allowed himself to slide until he was lying on his side.

"Dammit!" he shouted, the words grating painfully against the back of his throat, "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" each one was emphasized with a fist against the floor, and his mouth hung open as he took quickened and uneven breaths, every exhale carried a small whimper on its back.

He was left a shivering and muddled shell on the floor, his eyes eventually settling on a spot on the wall as his bout of self-pity fled him, abandoning him to meddle in his own disgust. His blood ran cold with the realization of just how deep he was, how impossible all this was for him.

It was clear now...

He wasn't strong enough...

He was weak.

And, there was no helping it anymore.

"I can't do this... I can't," he turned his head to bury into the ragged and musty carpet, the dust instantly causing him to cough and choke. "Ignis... Gladio... Noctis, I can't; I'm nothing... I'm meaningless and powerless alone," he coughed harshly again, gagging a little on the tickling in his throat. "I'm just not as strong as you guys. Not... not as strong as you give me credit for."

He tried to slow his breathing, tried to will his heart to settle down, but it stubbornly pumped on, defying his wishes and continued to distribute numbness through his limbs and mind. "I don't want to do this anymore." 'I'm tired...' he thought to himself, his voice growing hoarse and painful to use, 'I'm tired of fighting, and I'm tired of waiting.'

"You're taking too long," he whispered, "Noct, you're too damn slow."