Beta read by: SinikkavonWolperting and istoleyourcheesecake
"Noctis..." Prompto's throat seemed to collapse in on itself, words beyond the uttered name refusing to exit. His eyes remained locked on that artificial gaze, the absent stare which bore hollowly into his own awe-stricken one. A suspended moment of burdened and thick silence; a split second of hushed expectancy, they held one another's eyes. The blond's foot scuffed over an inch, sliding involuntarily, the anticipation staggering what little composure he still had a trembling grasp on. He felt a creeping bead snake down the side of his face, trailing down his neck as it bobbed with a nervous swallow. He felt nauseous, altogether sick at the emptiness those blackened orbs held.
The other emitted a strange and gargled sound, almost like that of choking, hacking as he nearly doubled over with the force and pain of it; enough for him to rip through the chain that bound their gazes. "Wh-what's wrong?" he asked against his protesting heart, stifling its persistent warning with another unsteady step forward. Congested and muggy, a wail bled out, stretching out and winding as it escaped. This sound, piercing, unnaturally being carried out, beckoned him to go to its aid. So he did, he walked forward, feet hovering over the floor, not a thought being spared as he moved. More hacking was choked out, followed immediately by a wet and splattering squelch; his guts twisted and churned at the noise, eyes darting down to the floor. Black. Black gunk, dense and waxy in appearance, adorned the floor in front of him; bits of it reaching as far as his own shoes.
A strangled and agonized sob whined out, and he wasn't quite certain, but there seemed to be another underlying, desperately suffering voice supporting Noct's. This, of course, tolled the warning bells in the blond's head; he had to convince himself that something was terribly wrong with this, but overshadowing his familiarity with the sight of his friend was proving to be problematic. His logical side being restrained and snuffed out by his emotional and irrational side; the side that needed, that persuaded him that walking away wasn't an option. "Hey," he reached a hand forward once again, aimed at the other's quaking shoulder, "We should," he shivered, tongue swiping over suddenly dry lips, "get back to the others."
He froze, fingers brushing over waxy clothing, pressing into the oddly soft material. They curled slowly, tips digging further in, scraping against 'fabric' as an oily substance oozed under his nails. Breath catching in his chest bitingly, he convinced his limbs to react, gradually pulling his hand away from the other as strings of black still connected the two of them. He brought his fingers to float in front of his fluctuating vision; mouth unhinged subtlety when he looked over the dark matter coating them. In a moment of burning curiosity, he lifted it to his nose and inhaled, the stinging aroma of paint filled his nostrils. "Wha-" his voice was squeezed out, struggling to make sound as it contorted to break free of the confines of his throat.
His sight blurred in and out of focus, his hand becoming a warped semblance of what it was and breathing transformed into heaves, gulps as oxygen was getting scarce. Blinking away the obscurity, he uncertainly and slowly lowered his hand, hesitantly, the fear of what he might see past it berating him. All it took was a glimpse, a fleeting snippet for him to take a few fleeing steps back; misplaced and uncoordinated in their placement, he gasped, feeling himself descend backwards as he tripped over his own feet. Prompto's stare stuck on the other, who was now twisted inhumanly, facing him and arm outstretched towards him. "Bitte..." he... no, it spluttered, more black paint cascading down its chin as it used its other hand to drag itself closer.
Prompto used his own limbs to pull himself backwards, his flight or fight instincts finally kicking in and choosing on the former. His emotions thoughts were now a jumbled fray of internal wars, battling with one another to try and make sense of this situation. But, there was no rationalizing this, was no reason to what was happening. No explanation. No anything, it just was. It was something that shouldn't be and he was at a loss for how to process it. He scuffled back a few more inches, retreating seemingly becoming more difficult with each pull, yet the gap between the two of them was diminishing rapidly; the speed and ferocity of the other rising exponentially. "W-What do you want?" he questioned, stuttering, tone sharp with a heightened pitch.
Nothing but more slavering cries as the goo kept streaming, leaving a twilight river in its path, it flowed across the floor, accumulating around its clawing hand and quivering knees. For a moment, it faltered, hand slipping out from under itself, more of the substance splattering over onto Prompto's face from the slight mishap. A strangled and agonized wail ripped from its vocal chords, "Warum... warum, warum, warum!" it repeated, struggling to right itself once more, "Ich will nach Hause gehen!" Its head was thrust back, a shrill and miserable shriek penetrating the air; the blond was compelled to clamp his hands over his ears in order to save his eardrums from combusting. His eyes unwittingly shut themselves against the sound, and his own lamenting wail joined the other's wretched one, his head teetering on the edge of exploding. Heated tears harassed the corners of his eyes, ultimately being forced out when they tightened further.
"Stop!" his outburst rang out when he couldn't handle the sound any longer. He hadn't yet realized he had taken on the fetal position, head tucked between his hands as he curled in on himself; erratic and prominent tremors racked his condensed form, supposedly sealing his fate. His dream made a reappearance, the feeling of himself being enveloped in fear and demise made a solid comeback. He could feel himself being covered by something, could feel the prodding touch of a hand whisping over his arm, over his back and neck in succession.
'No, no, no,' the thought frighteningly stuttered in his mind, 'Why is this happening?' A whimper, no louder than his relentlessly thrumming heart, leaked out.
"Prom?"
He didn't look, didn't react to the voice. He couldn't, or his body wouldn't allow him to.
"Prompto." They called louder, closer, footsteps followed after it, echoing off the quiet walls.
'Wait,' he thought, slowly prying his hands from his ears; it was silent, only the rushing of his blood ringing in his ears and the approaching steps as they drew closer. The pulsing gradually ebbed away, and he risked cracking an eye open, image before him foggy for a couple seconds until it finally cleared enough for him to make things out. "Hey, Prom?" They repeated his name, the voice sounded slightly gruff from overuse; it had an edge of grief about it, almost forced out. His gaze immediately darted to where whatever that thing was... and there was nothing. No distorted Noctis, no pools of darkened paint... nothing. Prompto dared to sit up now, cautiously so, eyes widened in lingering panic.
A light touch on his shoulder, and his hardwired need for survival kicked up again, the room spun with his abrupt turn. Already, he was backing away, never focusing on who it was until his back bumped into something, said thing wobbled with the offense. With nowhere else to go, his eyes at last settled on the newcomer, "Noct?" he asked, voice tight and unbalanced.
"Yeah?" his eyes scanned around in confusion, "Why are you down here?" he gestured his hand around.
The blond swallowed thickly, muscles tense in preparation to make a run for it if necessary, "Came here... looking for you," he bit his lip, attempting to prevent the quivering.
The prince's eyes narrowed at this, quickly looking over the other; he looked absolutely terrified, even from where he stood he could see the trembles shaking him. His chest heaved with quick and panted breaths, eyes warily locking on and assessing his every move. "Prom, what the hell are you talking about?"
His gaze shiftily glanced around and fixed back onto Noctis, "I, um, I heard you," he lowered his head for a short moment, looking back towards the far corner, "Or, I thought I did." He swiveled his attention back onto his friend at his slight step forward, and caused him to freeze where he was. "I must sound," he chuckled nervously, "Must sound crazy, huh?" Silence stretched between the two of them, neither moving for their own separate reasons; then the reason he even came out here to begin with dawned on him, "How you holdin' up? You know since... you know..."
At that, Noctis saw his eyes soften, his shoulders slumped minutely as he drew his knees up to his chest. He let out a drawn out sigh himself, "I dunno," he admitted, risking closing the space between them as he talked, "I-I don't even know if I believe it if I'm being honest," his voice cracked mid-way through as he blinked a couple times to rid of eyes of their sting. "How am I supposed to feel?" he asked rhetorically, finally making his way next to the other, who still had his gaze attached warily, "I want to go back; I need to go back, but dammit! I can't. With the... down-" he choked back a sob, slamming a fist against the canvas, tearing it with the released frustration. The blond flinched at the intrusive outburst, relaxing back almost as quickly.
Prompto reached up to rub at his left eye, a small and annoying tingle prickling at it painfully.
The raven-haired let his hand slide away, letting out a calming sigh, "But, with the downfall of..." the words faded out, lost between his head and tongue, "there won't be any ways of transportation between here and there."
"Oh," Prompto replied; he was terrible in these situations, though he chose to blame it on his currently scrambled thoughts and feelings, "I think we should head back to the hotel," he whispered, wanting nothing more than to get out of this room and away from the damned painting. "I'm sure the other two must be worried about you by now," his voice had an air of monotony to it.
The other made no move, keeping his eyes forward and stared blankly. "I guess," he finally answered after another few seconds, "But first, I have a question," he turned his head and cast his eyes down at Prompto who looked at him expectantly, waiting for the words that were about to come. "When I was walking by, I heard... you screaming," he watched the way the blond tensed back up, gaze going from soft and thoughtful to hard and shelled, "What happened?"
The other fidgeted in his spot, eyes frantically darting as a telltale sign he was trying to piece together his thoughts and formulate a proper excuse. A couple times, his mouth unhinged in a silent attempt at something, but soon he settled on the first thing that came to mind, "Letting out some... bottled up frustration?" he lied; he couldn't tell Noctis what he saw, who would believe that? Hell, he barely believed it as it were, despite how tangible it was. His eyes inattentively drifted back over again, wanting to be completely certain the coast was still clear. He looked back to Noctis, his obvious incredulity written all over his face in bold and underlined print.
"Sure," he deadpanned, finally turning away from the painting, as ready as he was going to be in returning. Keeping his eyes down on the blond, he extended a hand, nodding towards it and leaving it there until it was grabbed. With a small noise, he hefted Prompto up, not at all missing the way he continued to watch him with an observant and untrusting glare. He dismissed it for now, he clearly didn't want to tell the truth which alone was rather odd, but surely he had his reasons. "Let's hurry back, I don't think this weather will be letting up any time soon."
The blond nodded, keeping close, yet still putting some space between the two of them as they walked; he tossed one last glance back at that mocking canvas as they ascended the stairs, eyes locking with theirs, scanning over the light rip across one of them, until they were out of view. He wrapped his arms around himself when the hand hit him, shielding himself from the stabbing droplets of water that pelted the both of them upon reaching open air.
For a time, they were walking in silence, only the barrage of rain creating a backdrop of white noise to keep them from going insane. There were minimal passers-by, and they assumed them to have taken refuge in any sheltered area until this storm passed over; though, there were still a few brave souls who carried about their day as normal, brushing off the cumbersome downpour as if it were nothing more than a light breeze. Prompto, more than once, looked over to Noctis' expression, the voidness it seemed to withhold stabbing a knife in his gut, and the longer he would look at it, the more that blade would twist. "You wanna," he cleared his throat, raising his voice when he realized it was being drowned out, "You wanna talk about it?"
"No, not really," he spoke at his normal volume, words almost getting lost in the fray 'plips'. He held his head straight, allowing the streams of moisture to roll down his face, and Prompto couldn't help but wonder just how many of those trails were caused by the rain.
Specs clung to the window for only a fraction of a second before the weight would become too much and drag the droplet down, leaving behind smaller specs that would quickly be carried down by larger ones. Close to an hour of this played out before him, yet he still held a watchful gaze on them. Ignis leaned forward, intertwining his fingers together as he leaned his chin against them, a soft and burdened sigh breathed out. Watching another drop race down the length of the glass, his head dropped with it, lowering and burying itself in his hands; his fingers gnawed at his hairline, skimming across it and slowly traveled deeper until eventually running through his hair. Loose strands rebelled, falling back to land against his forehead. Swiping a slender hand back over them, pushing them back into place, he leaned back in his chair, letting his head fall back as well until the ceiling became his new distraction.
He could feel Gladio somewhere behind him, but the man hadn't expressed a single syllable for some time now; his pacing and occasional shuddering breath were the only indications that he was still there, wondering aimlessly back and forth. The rare stop here and there in order to huff out sourly and cross his arms impatiently. Another concerned huff and the creak of a mattress as he finally seated himself, trying to appease his flaring nerves; the shield mirrored Ignis' previous actions in running a numb hand through his hair. Only difference being, he fell back afterwards, staring absentmindedly upwards and zoning in on the ensemble of floods as they beat down on the roof and windows.
"Think we should try calling him again?" he asked after a moment, desperate to break this unwieldy quiet, "If we pester him enough, he has to answer eventually, right?"
The adviser turned his head, eyes slinking down to meet amber, "I don't believe that's how that works." He gripped the back of his chair and pushed himself up, rotating his gaze back towards the window and stepped closer to it; he walked close enough to feel the coolness radiating off the surface. "Like I said, we have to give him time, he'll come back on his own terms. Trust me, it's better to just leave him be for now," he stared back at his own reflection as it warped and altered his graceful features.
"You're too soft on him; this isn't the time to be running off," he spoke, sitting up. His words said one thing, but his tone had an undercurrent of understanding and... sympathy. The kid did just lose so much, and of course he knew how detrimental that could be to someone his age, but at the same time, he needed to be able to pull himself together, despite whatever cards he was dealt. For the sake of his home, if not for himself.
The brunette's hand clenched at his side, "You believe I don't know that, Gladio?" he could feel his pulse pick up by a few notches, "I am perfectly aware of what needs to be done, as well as the severity of the circumstances. But, we mustn't dismiss the turmoil one goes through upon losing everything. How much could he possibly do when his emotions, his world, has just been jaggedly sawed to pieces?" His face felt slightly heated by the time he was finished with his stress-induced and short-lived rant, both from his pent-up anger and his festering shame at snapping like he had.
"I know exactly what he's feeling, but as the prin-" his face faltered before he lowered his voice for the single word, "king... of Lucis, he has a duty and an appearance to uphold."
"And there will be a time for that, but now is not that mome-" His head swiveled around at the sound of the door creaking open; the choir of the storm increased in volume as the other two stepped through the threshold, cascades of water dripping off them. "Gladio, go fetch a couple of towels," his voice softened at the sight of them, chest cramping when he landed on Noctis' downcast presence. "I suggest the two of you change out of those clothes before you catch a cold."
Prompto was way ahead of him, eager to peel his clinging vest away and let it drop to the floor with a 'squelsh'. A quick glare from Ignis, he leaned over to scoop the garment up, "In the bathroom, right," he laughed lightly, draping it over his shoulder and heading over. He glanced over to Noctis in his retreat, "You coming?"
"Nah," he whispered, eyes glued to the floor, "I'll wait until you're done."
"Alright," the blond replied, giving the other a small and diffident wave as his shoes squished cringily along the floor. Ignis felt his eye twitch with each step, fighting the urge to say something. "Oh, forgot my bag," he snapped his fingers together and turned to start heading in the opposite direction.
The brunette was quick to react, "I'll get that for you, just please, try not to track water everywhere if you can help it." He laced his arm through the handles and lifted it with ease and elegance, handing it over to the perpetually dripping gunslinger who nodded his thanks and ducked through the door. Once through, he discarded his soggy vest over the edge of the tub, the rest of his clothes following suit. As he bent forward to dig out some dry clothing, he wavered, a dull ache striking across his shoulders; they felt heavy, stiff in the way they disagreed with his movement. Reaching back, he tried to massage the soreness away, which only helped to alleviate it slightly. With a sigh of discontentment, he rolled them back and straightened back up, fresh clothes in hand.
A white object shot through the partially ajar door, earning a pathetic yelp and jolt form the blond at the unwelcomed and abrupt entry of a new, spotless towel. "Oh, thank you," he muttered, accepting it gratefully.
Gladio grunted his response, slinging the second towel over his shoulder as he continued towards the second sodden mutt. "About time you decided to wander back," he needlessly snipped, tossing the cloth over to the other, who in turn snatched it out of the air before it had the chance to blanket his face. "Does this mean you're ready to actually talk this over now? Maybe discuss what you plan on doing from here?" he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms with a set stare on the king.
"No," Noctis answered simply, giving no explanation or reason.
A scowl slipped onto the shield's face at that, "What, you plan on sulking all day? I hate to break it to ya, but you being who you are, you don't get the luxury of taking this at your own pac-"
"I know that!" he snapped back, teeth grit together, "I know that, Gladio, alright?" he stripped off his own jacket clumsily, struggling with getting it unclung to his skin in his agitated state. "Just, get off my back for one day, please," his tone dissipated as he held his jacket over the sink, twisting it to expel a majority of the water infesting it.
The larger scanned over him again, taking in the slumped shoulders, the lethargic movements, the wilted head, and finally, his gaze made their way to his eyes; he found them red-rimmed and soulless in a sense. "Yeah, sure," he breathed out wearily, "Take your time." He pushed himself away from the counter, leaving Noctis to grieve in peace for a bit, or until he was emotionally stable enough to hold a proper and civil conversation without losing his composure. "How about I make some coffee? I'm sure we could all go for something hot right now," he lifted the pot and gestured it towards Ignis, who nodded his approval on the proposal.
"Go ahead and make a full pot," he added, knowing he would probably down half of that himself with the way his nerves were acting up. He stepped over to the bathroom just as Prompto was walking out, "Are you done with your towel?" he asked, trying to peek around the blond.
He glanced back, "Yeah, it's hung on the rail." As the adviser brushed by him, he flinched at the slight touch, chills prickling at his exposed skin with the contact. 'Get over it,' he told himself, 'Just forget about that; there's more important things to be worried about than some weird hallucinations.' He shook his head lightly, rattling his brain in order to cast those memories and concerns away, and hopefully for long enough to deal with the shit they've just been dropped with. But, how the hell was he supposed to forget about that; how does one dismiss seeing your best friend bleed black, pleading to you and literally dragging themselves towards you? He could barely face the man without feeling a shudder run through him.
And, to be honest, it tore at him; it ripped his conscience to shreds at the knowledge that when Noctis needed their support the most, he could hardly bear to look him in the eye. Not only that, but he couldn't very well give him a valid reason for the apathetic behavior he'd been having towards him, at least not a believable one. He stopped when he reached the bed, turning his attention over to the raven-haired as he leaned over the sink, wringing out his jacket which had long since stopped producing water, and bit his lip. 'Maybe later,' he thought, falling forward and sank into the soft and welcoming sheets, 'Give both of us a chance to calm down.'
Ignis dropped the dampened cloth on the floor, and using his foot, began to mop up the water. Sounds of brewing coffee and sloshing swabbing soon managed to muffle the dreary orchestra of nature, putting them at ease for a while. With his leg moving on autopilot, he gazed back over to Noctis, "Perhaps you should change now; I'm sure that's wrung out enough for the time being," he spoke lowly, placing a hand on the other's upper arm in a friendly and compassionate manner, "Coffee should be done by the time you're out, if you would like a cup, of course."
Noctis nodded, a scarcely noticed bob as he dropped the garment into the sink and leaned forward to gaze down at it momentarily. Breathing heavily through his nose, he worked up the motivation to carry out the suggested task, and unlike Prompto, remembered to take his bag with him. The other watched on thoughtfully, staring off at his back until that contact was severed by the door and he got back to his cleaning. He ignored the few swears and 'bangs' he heard sound off from that direction; as long as he didn't break anything, it would be fine.
The shield, however, listened to each punch, and every word spoken out of anguish-sustained anger. His own hands clenched at each single strike, and teeth clamped at every heated expression. He turned on the spot and sat himself in his earlier perch, taking no heed to the fact that Prompto was right next to it and disturbed with the motion. As he realized the presence there, he looked over, catching sight of the even rises and falls of his back and the serene and emotionless face. Damn, he fell asleep fast. Zipping his focus back over to the bathroom when another accentuated swear sounded, he mirrored Ignis' earlier position, elbows on knees and head in hands and remained that way until they eventually died down into relative silence once again.
He opened his eyes, sight portraying nothing but an endless void, senseless and boundless in every direction he turned his gaze. "Hello?" Prompto called out, only getting his own multiplied echo as a reply, bouncing around off seemingly nothing. On the third repeat of his voice, he let his stare fall down, fear now hitting full force as again, there was nothing; there was no solid terrain beneath his feet.
"Prompto?" a disembodied and ambiguous inquiry cried out to him, "Prompto!" another one yelled, panicked and helpless; pleading underlined it. "Prompto?" a disembodied and ambiguous inquiry cried out to him, "Prompto!" another one yelled, panicked and helpless; pleading underlined it. And a third, coming across as harsh and resentment; three separate and highly ranging voices calling out for him, over and over as they gradually became louder and closer. As the questioning voice seemed to shout just next to his ear, he spun on his heel, coming to face nothing.
"W-who's there?" he stammered, taking a retreating step back. A wail answered back, just as piercing and just as desperate as the one he had endured earlier. Only difference being this one came from all around, meeting at the point of which he was standing. "Please," he begged, "Just tell me what you want," he dropped to his knees, barely aware of how he sunk subtly into the ground; tendrils of oily black climbed up them, tightening and grounding him in place.
"Prompto!" The frenzied one beckoned again, shrill and unbearable in tone. He could feel the substance soaking into his clothing now, making contact with his skin as it continued to consume him; the voices remained screaming, articulation becoming muddied and meshing together into disjointed noises.
He couldn't take it anymore, they were boring into his skull, managing to penetrate his hands shielding his ears. "Why?" he asked again, his own words waning from his overwhelming discomfort. Everything was blurring rapidly, swirling and mixing together into one cumulative bundle of agony. "Just tell me," he repeated, pulling his head down to rest on his knees, forehead pressing into the blackness that was painstakingly devouring him. "Tell me and I can help..."
Prompto jerked awake, panting heavily and greedily as beads of sweat rolled down every inch of his body; small tremors lingered throughout him, fear still pumping through his veins. He brought his hands in front of his face, staring at where he knew them to be, but unseeing from the lack of light. Taking a few calming deep breaths, he leaned back down, lying on his back as he waited for the rest of the terror to flee him. 'Of course,' he thought to himself, 'a dream, that's all it is.' He took one more heavy inhale, holding this one for a few seconds before blowing it back out slowly.
Once he had settled enough, heart beating normal, and brain functioning normally, he realized the absence of the weight next to him. And, reaching over, that suspicion was confirmed; Noctis wasn't there, his spot empty and cool, indicating that he had been gone for a while now. "Noct?" he asked quietly, his previous expectations returning to him as panic began to rise with the burning bile that joined it. But, his festering skepticism was pacified at the sight of light filtering under the bathroom door. He chastised himself, getting worked up over nothing again. Sighing, he relaxed, letting the tension drain from his continuously aching shoulders, again rolling them back and careening his neck to the side.
He felt exhausted, but after the imagery he was just faced with, he was afraid he wouldn't be graced with more sleep for a while now. Lying there, he let the near silence wrap around him, and he just realized, the rain had stopped; only a few drips from loitering rainwater fell from the edges of roofs. And then, there was one other sound, a light sniffing sound, and his attention was drawn back to the bathroom door. Was that Noct? Crying?
'Of course that's him,' he shook his head, 'Who else would it be?' He turned back to stare at the ceiling, the sounds of his friend's suffering the only thing he could hear now. And, he hated to admit it, but he would have honestly chosen to return to that godforsaken hell of a nightmare than have to listen to someone he cared about hurt alone like the way Noctis was choosing to do. He felt the edges of his own eyes sting, threatening to mimic that of the king, trying to share the same anguish he had thrust upon him. And they did, warm tears leaked out, quiet in their departure, but deafening in their reason.
So, while writing this one, I came to the realization, that I never have Ignis and Gladio really interact with each other very often. O-O
Lol, and I promise this is still a possession story, just don't wanna brush off any of the other stuff.