Chapter Text
Prompto doesn’t realize his charger is missing until they’re already pulling up into Old Lestallum and the battery icon on his phone is beeping red. He checks his pockets, rifles through the beat-up knapsack he keeps in the Armiger that has all of his personal belongings, and even asks Ignis to unlock the Regalia again so that he can check the front seat and the glove compartment. It’s not there.
“Hey, Noct? Can I borrow your charger for a bit? I think I left mine back at the Leville.”
Noct is on the bed by the corner of their room, not even bothering to get under the covers yet. They managed to afford two rooms tonight: Prompto and Noctis sharing one and Gladio and Ignis sharing the other. Ever since they started taking Vyv’s photography gigs seriously, money stopped being that big of an issue. Especially when Noctis started letting Ignis hold on to their earnings from the hunts they take on.
Noctis pulls out his charger from the Armiger, not even looking up from his phone. “You sure it’s not just in the car?”
“Yeah, dude. Checked my bag and everything.” Prompto takes Noct’s charger, hyperaware of their fingers brushing.
Before this week, Prompto would have blushed at the contact or stuttered through his next words. He would have been unable to meet Noct’s eyes, afraid that if they looked into Prompto’s, he would just know.
But now, all Prompto does is chirp: “Thanks!”
His heart still leaps in his chest as if trying to escape. Prompto doesn’t think it will ever stop doing that. Not when faced with these displays of Noctis’ trust. Not when faced with Gladio’s grin at the end of a morning jog and the accompanying hair-ruffling. Not when faced with Ignis’ quiet laughter whenever Prompto manages to make him laugh while cooking dinner over their camp stove.
Noctis grunts. Prompto plugs in his phone and falls back onto his own bed. Watches his screen light up once with an update from King’s Knight. Ignores it until the screen fades to black.
“You’re quiet.”
Prompto hums. “Am I?”
Noctis grunts and curses at something on his phone. He’s playing King’s Knight. Prompto feels like he should feel left out, that he should feel compelled to play the same game so that he could at least pretend that there’s something more between them. That there could be something more between them.
Every moment, I’m desperate to earn my place--to prove that I’m good enough.
Noctis’ words from the roof of the Longwythe Motel rise up from the depths of memory.
Then you’re gonna have to try harder.
Prompto rubs his chest. Try harder. It’s been weeks and all he’s done is try.
Tonight, he’s tired of trying.
“Something on your mind?” Prompto looks up at Noctis. He still hasn’t looked up from his phone. And maybe before, Prompto would have read so much more into seeing Noctis like this: loose and open on the bed, doing his best to reach out to Prompto despite his own shortcomings when it comes to talking about his own emotions.
Maybe before, Prompto’s mind and heart would have been aligned in thinking: He loves me so much.
Try harder.
“Just thinking about if we lost other things in Lestallum.”
Noctis hums. “It’s a big city.”
Prompto nods. “We found a lot of stuff on the benches, remember? Even in the side streets behind dumpsters, we found shit like elixirs and even a plume of Phoenix Down.”
“Weird what anybody will throw away, huh?”
Prompto chokes back a wild laugh. “Yeah. Hopefully, we don’t lose anything else.”
“Like what?”
Prompto shrugs. Stares at his phone screen. Softly, he replies: “I don’t know. I don’t really notice what I got until it’s gone, you know?”
Prompto doesn’t miss the way Noctis stiffens. And before, he would have fallen over himself to correct what he said, to soften the reality his words evoked. And Noctis would have forgiven him, maybe give him the silent treatment for the rest of the night. But by the next day, they’d fall back together: Prompto and Noctis, one always reaching for the other. Prompto used to think that the reaching was mutual.
But ever since that night, he’s not so sure. And tonight, he’s tired of convincing himself otherwise. He’ll try harder tomorrow.
Prompto yawns and stands up. Starts collecting his clothes from his bag. He nods to the bathroom.
“Did you wanna go first?”
He meets Noct’s gaze, and it takes everything within him not to flinch at the weird, hurt look in his eyes. Noct doesn’t say anything, just looks at Prompto in that wide-eyed way… as if expecting Prompto to take back what he said because how could Prompto be so callous? So careless?
Of course , Noctis knew what loss was. O f course , Prompto knows that Noctis knows what that feels like
“What?” Prompto snaps. And Noctis flinches as though Prompto had fired a gun.
“You… you can go ahead.” Noctis says, his voice small. He looks away from Prompto and back to his phone. His fingers move and his eyes are trained on the screen, but even from where he’s standing, Prompto can see that Noct’s mind is elsewhere.
Prompto bites his lip. He considers what he should say next: an apology, an explanation, a reason. Anything to explain why he’s not falling over himself to make things easy for Noctis.
Before he can catch them, tears have started falling down his cheeks. He blinks. More tears fall.
Without fanfare, he grabs his clothes and toiletries and locks the bathroom door behind him.
Prompto doesn’t feel sorry for what he said. It’s something he would have said even if he didn’t feel the way he did now. Maybe he’s sorry for how he said it, for not going about it in the way Noctis knows Prompto (his friend ) would. But he isn’t sorry for anything else.
Prompto apologizes the next day because of course, he does.
Noctis grunts. “It’s cool. Bad day for you, huh?”
Prompto nods. “Yeah. But still: what I said wasn’t cool. Thanks for forgiving me.”
Noctis looks at him. Prompto shifts under the weight of his gaze, as if there’s something Noctis is trying to convey through his unmoving expression alone.
“What?”
Noctis blinks. Sighs. Did Prompto disappoint him? What did Prompto do this time?
“Nothing,” Noctis says before pocketing his phone and leaving the room. He had already packed his stuff back in the Armiger.
Prompto chances one last look in the mirror. He practices his smile. Heyaz. Good morning! You bet I’m ready for more! The skin on his cheeks feels stretched thin.