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Most people in Eos are born with a unique connection to one other person – their soulmate.
Soulmates feel each other’s pain. It’s not really a good thing, most of the time.
For example, having been attacked by the Marilith as a kid, it’s not only you who has to deal with the pain for years after, possibly for your whole life – no, you are also burdening your soulmate. You are hurting the one person who is supposed to be the most important part of your life.
Noctis hates it, hates thinking about it. He doesn’t really get many sensations from his soulmate – just the odd twinge here and there, some strained ankles and the burn of a good workout in his legs that definitely couldn’t have come from Gladio’s upper-body training session. Really, the worst pain he’s ever felt from his soulmate had been when he was six. He’d been halfway through lunch with his father in their private dining room, when a sudden sharp and blinding pain flashed through his arm, sending Noct tumbling from his chair with a scream. His father had immediately taken him to the citadel doctor, who had declared him healthy after a thorough examination. He’d only prescribed him painkillers. It hadn’t made any sense to Noct.
“But why does it hurt?” he asked.
His dad had gently taken his hand into his own bigger one, his gaze soft and intent “It’s your soulmate’s pain, Noctis. Your soulmate has hurt their arm, possibly broken it. As soon as they receive treatment, the pain will stop for both of you. But for now, painkillers are the only thing we can give you.”
“But why do I have to feel their pain?”
“It’s how you know you are connected. Your soulmate is your other half, so you feel each other’s pain. That’s how you will find each other.”
Noct pulled a face. “That’s stupid.”
His father chuckled and smoothed a hand over Noct’s hair. Noct leaned into his dad’s chest and let himself be carried to bed like a baby, even though he was a big boy. But it didn’t matter, because he felt warm and safe when his father stayed with him until he fell asleep.
Two years later, he was pinned under the cooling body of his babysitter, drenched in blood, his back shredded, ripped open in hot agony. He was screaming, retching, choking with pain and pain and there was nothing but-
He didn’t think of his soulmate during the attack, or when he first woke up from his coma. It wasn’t until later, during the second week of his new life of white walls and hospital beds, where his father was the only solid presence between a myriad of doctors and nurses. Stuck in bed, in this new, terrifying monotony, which was only broken by his father’s voice and the occasional visit from the oracle. Whenever he woke up, crying out, in pain, his dad would be there within a few moments, his hair streaked with more gray than Noctis had ever seen. It was then that he remembered.
His back gave a twinge when he twisted to pick up a water cup by himself – he couldn’t feel his legs, and the sharp shock sent waves from his lower back all the way up to his neck, his skull, numbing the entire left side of his face. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden nausea. His father, ever at his side even with his infinite obligations, took Noct’s hand into both of his, squeezing them with infinite care. It didn’t help. Somewhere, his soulmate was in the same agony as Noct. And it was only because of him.
Hot tears spilled over, running in wet streaks down his face, and neither his father’s careful fingers nor his soft words could stop their flow.
Sometimes, he wondered if his soulmate had also had to relearn how to walk.
Sometimes, he wondered if his soulmate hated him.
***
Noct’s Dad once told him that as a baby, Noctis wouldn’t stop screaming until he was just over a year old.
***
Prompto was the best. Hanging out with him was fun in a way that it wasn’t with Ignis and Gladio, whose duties and obligations were like a constant undercurrent – invisible but inescapable. Noctis was essentially their job. It was something they all knew, and they all ignored, but the thought still crept up on Noct, and he didn’t always manage to successfully shake it off.
Prompto was just Prompto, all easy laughter, horrible puns, wide smiles so genuine it sometimes almost hurt. Hanging out with him meant afternoons at the arcade and evenings at Noctis’ apartment, playing video games on the couch until Ignis bullied them into doing homework. Fortunately, Prompto never asked any uncomfortable questions about why Noct stayed home from school sometimes, and his friendly pats and playful shoves always miraculously missed any aching body parts still giving off occasional twinges on his bad days.
Really, Noct didn’t know what he had done to deserve Prompto, but he wouldn’t let him go for anything.
***
It was after a few months that Prompto got suspicious. Well, not suspicious- it was more of a nagging feeling that started building up until he could no longer ignore it. He’d always known something was up with his soulmate. There had been this day when he’d been eight when something horrible must have happened to them. He’d been in so much pain, he barely had any recollection of the day, and what he did remember was almost lost in the haze of agony. The doctors had quickly realized that it was his soulmate’s pain, and that the only thing they could do was pump him full of drugs and wait it out.
A few years later, Prompto had realized how lucky he’d been that his parents had even been home. When he was suddenly in so much pain there was nothing he could do but scream and scream and scream, hot agony tearing itself down his back and up until his knee - pain radiating across the length of his spine, reaching so deep and wrong that he threw up all over his mother’s shirt when she picked him up from where he had fallen out of bed. She had rushed to the car while he was shrieking in her arms. His mom’s pale face and his father’s urgent voice were the only things he remembered from that night before he passed out. The next thing he knew, he woke up in a white room with a cotton-feeling in his mouth and his back radiating a raw, deep ache, strong enough to drive tears to his eyes again.
His parents both had to go back to work the same day. He cried alone in the hospital bed, with no one but a sympathetic nurse for company, who held his hand until she hurried away to treat patients who actually needed her help.
***
Prompto figured out Noct was his soulmate three months into their friendship. He had found the first clue in early November, when a sudden drop in temperatures paired with harsh winds brought the first snow storm of the season, and with it returned a wave of the old pain deep in his back and knee. Prompto had learned over the years that abrupt weather changes often aggravated his pain – or rather, his soulmate’s – but really, the pain had been with him for so long that he sometimes forgot it wasn’t technically his. It felt real enough for sure.
Those pain days, as he’d dubbed them, told him two things. One, whatever had happened to his soulmate when he was eight had never healed completely. Two, his soulmate lived somewhere in Insomnia, or at least close enough for the weather to match completely. Of course, that only narrowed down the possible matches to, like, a few million people. But it meant that there was a chance that they might accidentally meet, or walk into each other on the street or in the subway, probably without even realizing!
So there was a chance of them meeting, and Prompto wanted to be ready. He would do his best to be a good soulmate, to be supportive and thoughtful and loving and just hopefully good enough to not be rejected (he would settle for polite friendliness, at this point). Even though his soulmate deserved someone who wasn’t a complete loser at, y’know, life.
Prompto wanted to be that. A good soulmate, someone who would be wanted. Who wouldn’t be laughed at, looked down upon, and wouldn’t stumble over both of his feet at every chance. Someone who walked with confidence, who could stand up for himself and lift up others. He had almost succeeded at the first few goals (or at least, his track record was a lot better since he’d started losing weight), but the last one, well. Debatable. But he was working on it, okay?
On that November morning, he woke up from a sharp twinge of pain jolting down his back. The wind was howling outside and rattling on his windows, the flurry white snow visible from behind the half-pulled curtains, and he resigned himself to at least skipping his morning run. He still needed to go to school – he didn’t want to miss more classes than necessary – and more importantly, he now had a friend to spend time with. There was no way he would be staying home instead of hanging out with Noct, not to mention, they had planned to visit the arcade today. He’d been looking forward to that the whole week – there was no chance in hell that Prompto would be cancelling because of a little back pain.
After half an hour, he managed to drag himself out of bed and into a hot shower. It didn’t really help with the pain – the only thing that Prompto could do was take painkillers, since it wasn’t actually his muscles seizing up – but at least he wasn’t sticky with sweat anymore. So he popped some painkillers and ignored the new sweat already pearling on his forehead, as well as the fact that even with both hands clenched in a death grip around the handrail, he barely made it down the stairs without falling. He had just managed to sit down, slowly and carefully, to tie his shoes while trying to ignore the pulsing pain in his back - when his phone pinged with a text from Noct.
‘No school today, sick :/ ’ it read.
Prompto felt almost light-headed with relief, quickly followed by a wave of guilt, because Noct was sick and that shouldn’t make him happy. He shot back a quick ‘oh noo, hope u feel better soon!! Arcade on weeknd?’ and proceeded to make his slow and painful trek back up the stairs. After sinking back into his bed with a relieved sigh, he read Noct’s answer (Ur on!), emailed the school, and slipped into an exhausted sleep when the painkillers kicked in.
The next day, his back was only a little sore, and he ignored it in favor of going for a run – but only after taking more painkillers. Actually, the amount he was taking probably wasn’t healthy, but not exercising wasn’t healthy either. And it was only the over-the-counter stuff anyways, so he’d just have to suck it up and hope for the best.
When he arrived at school, Noct was already there. He didn’t really look worse for the wear, if maybe moving a little stiffly. Prompto skipped up to him.
“Glad you’re better, buddy! History would’ve been a drag without you.” Prompto balanced on the balls of his feet and rocked back on his heels. An inexplicable buzz had started up under his skin, like he was pent up with extra energy – even though he’d gone running! Normally that powered him out enough to calm down a little.
“Yeah… hope you weren’t too bored without me?”
“Aw, no, it was fine. You know good ol’ me, never bored, except during calculus. That one should be banned from Eos.”
Noct snorted. “I’ve asked my dad before. Not a chance.”
“Such a pity.” Prompto said, and sighed theatrically.
“You had calculus yesterday, though,” Noct said, raising an eyebrow at him. Prompto tried to ignore the fluttery feeling at Noctis remembering something as unimportant as Prompto’s class schedule.
“Yeah, I guess”, he said. He had never told Noctis that he’d stayed home the day before, had he? “But actually-” Prompto flinched when a sharp pain seared down his back for a split-second. Next to him, Noct let out an almost silent groan, hunched down in the middle of picking up his bag. Prompto watched in silent horror as Noctis picked up the bag (another twinge in his lower back) and slung it over the shoulder (a softer ache, almost easy to ignore), as Noct settled the bag on his shoulder. The bag stayed, and the pain did, too.
Prompto’s body was suddenly filled with ice. All blood had fled from his face, leaving him light-headed and unable to do anything but stare. No way. There was just no way.
“But actually…?” Noct asked. He had his bag in his hand now, the corner of his mouth pinched slightly, the same way as when he’d just been through an especially gruesome training session with his shield – which always coincided with days when Prompto was sore from a workout he’d never gone through, as Prompto now realized
Prompto’s words were stuck in his throat, he couldn’t remember what he’d been about to say. There was nothing he could say except for blurting out I think you’re my soulmate like a total dumbass. He didn’t have any proof, anyway. Maybe it was just nothing. It had to be.
He swallowed painfully, trying to quench his panic. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
“Prom?” The glance Noct sent him was slightly more awake.
“Oh, hah, it’s nothing, don’t worry about me,” Prompto said and laughed slightly hysterically (and probably wholly unconvincingly). He ignored Noct’s now definitely awake stare, grabbing him by the arm to pull him towards the entrance.
“Let’s just get to class, yeah?” The bell hadn’t rung yet. Normally, they’d wait until the last minute to part ways.
He didn’t wait for Noct to answer and instead skipped ahead, ignoring the prickling stare in his neck – Noctis definitely knew something was up. He caught up to Prompto (sending a few pinches of pain into his lower back, and making his stomach churn with guilt), but Prompto managed to cut off Noct’s half-formed question with some mindless chatter, which he kept up until the bell rang. They separated to head for their respective classes, where Prompto proceeded to silently lose his shit.
Of course, he tested it out as soon and inconspicuously as possible. He’d managed to calm down enough over the course of his Lucian class to keep up a thin veneer of normalcy, which meant that he plastered a cheerful facade on his face throughout lunch. Noct sent him a few odd stares, but he didn’t call Prompto out on it. Afterwards, they had history together, and it (predictably) took less than ten minutes for Noct to nod off on his desk, head buried in his arms. When Prompto was sure that Noctis was completely asleep, his shoulders rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, Prompto jabbed his own thigh as hard as he could with the end of his pencil. Ouch. Next to him, Noct jolted, his head jerking up, hands flying to his leg, covering the exact spot that Prompto had hit on himself.
Petrified, Prompto stared ahead at the teacher droning on, and watched out of the corner of his eye as Noct rubbed the sore spot (Prompto didn’t dare do the same, not now), the look of bewilderment slowly morphing into a scowl, before he dropped his head back onto his arms with a huff.
He tested it a couple of times over the course of the week, jabbing himself sharply with his pencil when Noct was asleep in class, or deliberately pinching the soft inside of his elbow when Noct wasn’t looking – there was no doubt, it was definitely him.
And Prompto didn’t know what to do – there was just no way he was even remotely close to being suitable as Noct’s soulmate. Actually, even without all the crown stuff, he was so far out of Noct’s league it wasn’t even funny. He couldn’t even see Noct’s league, it was so much higher up than Prompto.
And he had meant to bring the whole thing up, he really had- but how do you tell your best (and only) friend that hey, don’t mind me, but I’m the person who is supposedly your other half, not a hot princess or famous actor, just little ol’ me, who you’re now stuck with for the rest of your life-
So he just…didn’t.
He didn’t say anything.
Every time he almost worked up the courage, he had ultimately chickened out. He was such an awful, horrible soulmate. And a bad friend. It wasn’t long before he’d been lying to Noct for far too long, because omissions could be lies, too!
Noct would hate him. Prompto was a liar, a coward and an all-around horrible person.
He had tried so hard to be better, was still trying so hard, but he would never be good enough for Noct.
***
Having a pair of soulmates in a team of four can prove to be a hazard in fights. Ignis doesn’t have a soulmate, something he cannot help but be grateful for. It would not bode well for his duty to Noctis if he was impaired by phantom pain, even with his pain tolerance being fairly decent.
Discovering Noctis’ soulmate to be Prompto had been a surprise, even if it seemed fairly obvious looking back. After all, Prompto had never once attempted to come over on the days when Noctis’ back was giving him trouble - but he had visited plenty of times when the prince had come down with the flu, even with the risk of catching the infection himself.
When they started taking hunts, Ignis had drawn up strategies upon strategies to avoid leaving simultaneous openings and reduce the backlash of two fighters out of commission, and later, contingency plans. Gladio’s insight had been of great help, but in the end, it came down to the same result: If either Noctis or Prompto were hurt badly enough, both of them would be down for the count.
Ignis and Gladio would be left to defend them both, or else pick up the pieces.
***
Sweat soaks the back of his shirt as Gladio swings his sword in an arch, hacking against the swiping claws of the biggest sabertusk of the pack while Noctis warps out of the way. The sun blindingly reflects off their weapons, and the roars of the demons mix with their own banter and the sound of Prompto’s gunshots. Gladio is just about ready for this to be over. Fighting in the heat sucks when it goes on for so long that the sweat starts dripping into your eyes.
It happens without warning. Just a sickening smack and two overlapping screams.
“Noct!” Gladio whirls around to see the prone form of the prince on the ground. He dives to Noctis’ side, just in time to parry a giant claw aimed at his head. Gladio hacks at the leathery limb, earning a high-pitched screech from the last daemon, which pierces his ears and rattles his skull. He ducks, and rips up his sword in the last second to catch the sabertusk’s throat mid-lunge. Heart pounding, he drops at Noct’s side, already pulling a potion from the armiger.
“Noct?”
The weak moan he gets as response isn’t reassuring at all, so without further ado, Gladio opens the bottle to pour it over Noctis’ prone form, their funds be damned – but a feeble grip on his wrist keeps him from spilling it. Noct’s eyes are crunched up, sweat pearling on his forehead, but he’s shaking his head.
“…it’s…Prompto”, he says, his voice alarmingly faint, and there is a waver in it that Gladio hasn’t heard in a long time, and that he doesn’t want to hear again, ever. A quick visual body-check reveals a lot of splattered mud and demon-goo, but no blood.
Prompto, then. Why hasn’t Ignis healed him yet?
On the other side of the plateau, Ignis is bent over the prone form of Prompto, whose unusual stillness sends an uncomfortable tingle down Gladio’s back.
He carefully loops one of Noct’s arms over his back and carries him more than he helps him walk through the demon splatters and the burned and torn ground towards their friends.
Prompto’s face is so pale it’s gray, glistening with sweat in the unforgiving desert sun. Ignis turns, and his expression is grim, it shortly but thoroughly swipes over Noctis hanging off Gladio’s shoulder, before meeting his gaze.
“We are out of antidotes,” he says, already getting up. “One of the sabertusks had poisonous claws. Be careful not to jostle him.” Ignis gently tugs Noctis from Gladio’s grip and settles his arm over his own shoulder. Noct’s head lolls against Ignis’ chest, he mumbles something unintelligible.
Gladio slides his arms under Prompto’s back and knees and lifts – the kid is a fucking stick, he weighs practically nothing. And he’s shivering already.
“What sabertusk has poisonous claws?” Gladio asks, stepping into the forest.
“None. Sabertusks do have poisonous saliva, though. It seems the variety in this region has taken to licking their claws in order to increase lethality.”
Noct makes a small sound from where he’s hanging off Ignis, and Gladio can imagine the desperate look on Noctis’ face without even looking.
“Don’t worry, princess, we’ll get him an antidote, and he’ll be fine.” A jarring thought catches Gladio unawares. “Are there any vendors close-by?”
“Not close enough for the antidote to still work. The hospital might be our best bet.”
“To the hospital then,” Gladio says, and bites down on his further questions. If Ignis knew anything useful about the effects of the poison, he would have said it by now.
Gladio quickens his step and prays to the Astrals that they will make it in time.
***
Ignis was in the middle of summarizing the main points of the morning’s council session when the doorbell finally rang. Ignis had been waiting for Prompto to arrive with the prince’s homework for almost an hour.
When Ignis opened the door, he was greeted with the sight of a windswept Prompto clutching a white plastic bag.
“H-hi, Ignis. I brought Noct’s homework,” the boy said with a strained grin.
“Thank you.” Ignis took the bag from him. He could feel Prompto’s fingers shaking when they brushed against his. In the harsh lights of the stairwell, Prompto’s face looked even paler than usual. Suddenly, Ignis loathed the thought of having the boy go out in the cold again. Even though Noctis was indisposed, Ignis could at least get Prompto something warm to drink.
“Thank you. Do come in.” he ushered Prompto inside. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”
“Uh- I should probably go home, I don’t wanna bother you while you look after Noct-“
“Nonsense, it’s no problem at all.” Ignis said decidedly, and led Prompto to the couch, onto which he sank in a stiff, careful motion.
“Prompto,” Ignis said, bending down to the boy and carefully putting a hand on his arm. “Are you feeling ill? What’s the matter?” Prompto’s muscles were tense under his touch, his breath shallow.
“No, I just- I’m fine, Iggy. Nothing to worry about. Thanks, really. Just, uh, feeling a bit under the weather.” His stilted movements paired with the drawn expression on his face were clear indicators of pain.
“Where are you in pain?”
“It’s nothing, really… I guess I must have overdone my workout.” Prompto chuckled weakly. Ignis had heard about Prompto’s laudable running routine, and a certain degree of muscle pain seemed plausible, however…
“You run for endurance, correct?”
There was a beat of silence, before Prompto answered.
“Yeah. Most days, at least.”
While Prompto’s careful descent onto the couch was an indicator of muscle pain, his running regimen alone could not have been the cause of such a full-body affair. However, Prompto seemed unwilling to divulge the nature of his pain, and Ignis was loath to cause him even further discomfort.
Ignis straightened and moved towards the kitchen. “I will fetch you pain medicine.”
“No, you don’t have to-” Prompto flailed on the couch. “I already took painkillers. Like, an hour ago.”
And yet, Prompto was still barely able to move.
“I wish you had told me about this, Prompto,” Ignis said. “I would have asked Gladio to fetch the homework.” A sick feeling pooled in his stomach at the thought of Prompto dragging himself through the city in this condition- and only because Ignis had asked.
“Don’t worry about it, it’s not so bad.” Prompto waved a limp hand. “It’s just cramps, right? I guess I’m- I’m probably just a bit of a wuss.”
“That’s certainly not a description I would use. Pain can be debilitating.” He stood. “Let me fetch you some warming packs to relax your muscles.”
Prompto’s quiet answer stopped him. “That won’t help, either.”
“Warmth does generally help to alleviate muscle cramps. Unless… Prompto, forgive me if I’m being too forward, but are you quite sure the pain you’re experiencing is your own?”
“Uh- um,” Prompto’s gaze jumped from Ignis to the door and back again. “I- uh, I guess… it might be my soulmate’s pain, too,” he swallowed audibly, then continued to talk while looking down at the blanket he was wringing in his hands. “It’s just a little, though! Most of it is my workout, yeah, um, I really went for a few rounds too many.” He gave a weak laugh.
“Is your soulmate’s pain troubling you often?” Ignis asked.
“No! No, not at all, I hardly ever notice anything, really.” He tapped his fingers on the blanket. “It’s no biggie, it hardly ever- if it ever gets bad, I just pop some painkillers and it’s all good.”
Which meant the pain did come from his soulmate in this instance. And Prompto didn’t want admit to it. Which was curious, since experiencing pain from soulmates was quite a common occurrence. Even so, soulmates were a private matter, and Ignis did not want to pry. He took care to not let his confusion show, and instead straightened. “I will prepare some chamomile tea, then. It will at least help with the soreness of your own muscles.”
Its calming effect would hopefully also help to settle Prompto’s nerves, since he still hadn’t completely shed the panic-stricken look. Prompto let out a big breath and settled into the couch. “Thanks, Iggy,” he mumbled, closing his eyes.
Ignis returned to the kitchen and set up the kettle to boil. He would also make Noctis a cup, even if it wasn’t likely that he would drink any of it. The prince was not prone to consuming much at all, during the days when the pain of his old injury flared up. Ignis could do nothing but stay close and bring him heat packs to place on his back, and to help him to the restroom on the worst days. Noctis usually preferred to be alone during those episodes, so Ignis took care to keep his presence as unobtrusive as possible.
Even Prompto’s visit might be unwelcome today – though the boy certainly did not seem up for any major activity anyway. With the amount of pain Prompto appeared to be in, he and Noctis-
He and Noctis.
The dish towel slid through Ignis’ fingers and landed soundlessly on the floor. It was as if all the pieces in his mind aligned unexpectedly, painting a picture that made sudden, visceral sense, and Ignis felt incredibly wrong-footed. Noctis and Prompto. How could he have missed this? Noctis had been friends with Prompto for a year. Had all of them missed the signs? How had nobody noticed?
No, Prompto had definitely noticed, which now became abundantly clear. And he had not told anyone.
If Noctis knew – Noctis probably didn’t know. If he knew, he would be fraught with worry over Prompto. Ignis still remembered the time after the attack, when Noct had returned, pale and withdrawn, and how he had told Ignis, in a choked whisper, that he didn’t want a soulmate anymore, because his soulmate would certainly hate him after all the pain.
The manner in which Prompto had gingerly settled onto the couch made a sick sort of sense now. And he had gone to school and come all the way to Noctis’ apartment, two bus rides and a walk away. Ignis stomach clenched with guilt - he had asked Prompto to deliver those papers. Even though he could not have known of Prompto’s state, and wasn’t the cause of his pain, he was still the reason the boy had dragged himself all the way here.
The kettle gave a shrill whistle as the water boiled, and Ignis moved it aside. He should pour the tea and serve it to the poor boy he had made travel through half of Insomnia while in agonizing pain. Ignis braced his arms on the counter and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When overwhelmed, focus on your breathing, his uncle had once told him.
Breathe. He could not undo what had been done. He had to focus on choosing the best action moving forward. What he ought to do was inform Noctis, the King and his Shield immediately. But that would be an incredible disservice to Prompto, who was quite obviously terrified of the prospect of Ignis, maybe anyone, finding out about the soulmate connection. He would need to be careful in addressing this issue.
When Ignis returned to the living room with two cups of tea, Prompto was still on the couch, pain evident in every line of his tense body. He had curled up on his side, knees half drawn up and his face buried in the crook of his elbow. He jerked up when Ignis carefully set down the tea on the coffee table and took a seat next to him.
“Thanks, Iggy.” Prompto sounded exhausted.
He sounded like Noct, when he did decide to speak on bad days.
Ignis opened the package of high-end pain medicine he had taken with him from the kitchen.
“Which pain medicine have you taken today, Prompto?”
“Huh?”
“Before giving you a dose of stronger ones, I have to know which ones you have already taken.”
“Um, just a few of the usual, y’know, ibuprofen.” Prompto lifted his head from his arms and frowned when he saw the package in Ignis hands. “Wait, that’s not the normal over the counter stuff.”
“Indeed, it is not. This medicine has to be prescribed by a medical professional.”
“Uhh… so are you sure you should be giving it to me?”
“If I’m right about my assumption, then it should not be cause for concern.” Ignis set down the package and turned in his seat to fully face the boy.
“Prompto. I have cause to… suspect something, and both as a servant of the crown and Noctis’ advisor, I need you to be honest with me. It might be of great importance for the crown, as well as the future of Lucis.”
Prompto sat up straighter, and swallowed. His response was almost inaudible.
“Of course, Ignis. I would never- of course,” Prompto said. He held Ignis’ gaze even while his hands clenched and unclenched on the blanket.
“Prompto,” said Ignis, leaning forward. “Do you have any reason to assume that Prince Noctis might be your soulmate?” Bluntly was usually the best way to go with such things, if one didn’t want to beat around the bush forever.
Prompto turned, if possible, even whiter, his freckles standing out starkly. He looked moments away from being physically sick.
“I would not be asking you such an intimate question if it was not of the utmost importance,” Ignis said, aiming for a tone that was firm but reassuring. “If there is even the slightest chance that you are Noctis’ soulmate, you need to reveal it.” Prompto lowered his gaze, and Ignis continued, “If not for your sake, then for his. Does he not deserve to know?”
Prompto’s gaze snapped up to meet his. “Of course he does! I just, I meant to tell him, but-” He buried his face in his hands.
So it was indeed him. And Astrals knew why he had not told Noctis, but it seemed to be an upsetting topic for Prompto, judging by the way he was shaking. Ignis laid a careful hand on his shoulder.
“What kept you from telling him?”
“I was gonna tell him! Really, I was, but then… I was there, in front of him, and I just. Couldn’t do it. I didn’t want him to take it the wrong way, y’know? Like, his soulmate should be this kind of amazing person, like- like Lady Lunafreya or something. I’m just…some pleb who got lucky. It’s not like I’m ever gonna fit the position of the prince’s soulmate.”
Ignis would have liked to shake this boy, to tell him how much more Noct smiled in his presence, how Ignis used to spend weeks between hearing Noct laugh, and now it would just be hours, how much of the gloominess had been lifted from the prince’s face, how the his steps were just the bit lighter.
Instead, he said, “While this is most certainly untrue, it is also unfair to Noctis. You are taking away his choice.”
“You’re right. I should tell him. I will. I just- I’m afraid that things will change.”
“They always do change, but we have the power to shape them according to our wishes, if we act in a thoughtful manner.”
“Okay. Okay, you’re right. I’ll-” Prompto took a deep breath. “I’ll tell him.”
“Do so. Sooner rather than later, because if you won’t do it, my duty will demand me to do so.”
“Yeah, I. Yeah.” His voice sounded watery.
“Prompto,” Ignis paused, unsure how to phrase what he knew deep down to be true. “Don’t be afraid. You mean a great deal to Noctis, and you are certainly worthy to be with him – at least in my eyes.”
“Thanks, Iggy,” Prompto said shakily and wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “It really means a lot.” He sniffed, then asked, “What do you think, should I just go over right now and tell him?”
“While I would usually recommend taking quick action, Noctis is not amiable to people being in his vicinity on days like this. And it would be advisable for you both to be in peak condition, both physically and mentally. Which none of you are at the moment. Which reminds me, Prompto, please take this pill. It is specifically catered to Noctis’ back pain, and should work for yours as well. It does not interfere with ibuprofen.”
“Thanks.”
“You are most welcome. Do remember to drink your tea, I will fetch some proper bedding to prepare the couch for you.”
“Iggy, you don’t have to- I can just go home.”
“You most definitely will not. The pills are quite strong, so it would be risky to let you return home alone, and I cannot drive you since I need to stay with Noctis. It’s much better to have both of you in one place. It’s no trouble.”
“Well. I guess…if you say so. Thank you.”
Ignis had two reports to read, a council session to prepare for, impending due dates for three university essays, and he was stuck in Noctis’ apartment looking after two bedridden teenagers.
***
“Thanks again Ignis, for last night. It helped a lot to have someone- it helped a lot to have you there, and thanks for taking care of me when I was…you know. Woozy.”
“No problem at all. Actually, it was… nice to have someone to look after. Noctis does not take well to people wanting take care of him during days like these. It helped to be able to do something.”
“Oh. Well, then I’m glad, I. I’m glad.”
“As am I.”
***
To say Noctis was surprised when he came out of his room in the morning after an absolutely grueling day spent in bed would be an understatement. Because Prompto was sitting at the breakfast table, hands wrapped around a cup and happily chatting with Ignis, who was leaning against the stove.
“Oh! Hi, Noct!” Prompto said, perking up and giving him a wave that was way too chipper for the time of day.
“Hey,” Noctis said, and trudged into the bathroom. It was only when he was washing his hands and splashed some cold water in his face that the cogs in his mind shrugged off sleep enough to realize that Prompto had, in fact, not stayed over last night. They hadn’t seen each other since two days ago, because he had been sick in bed yesterday.
Noctis left the bathroom.
“What are you doing here?” he asked Prompto, rubbing a hand over his face.
He might have been half asleep, but Noct didn’t miss the way Prompto seemed to slump into himself at the question, suddenly very focused on the content of his cup.
Ignis ducked out inconspicuously, which… was sort of suspicious. Noctis wasn’t awake enough for this. He let himself fall onto a kitchen chair, burying his head in his arms on the table.
Prompto didn’t keep still, thrumming with nervous energy and his leg jittering so much that it hit the table. Every rattle of the mug went straight to Noctis’ skull.
“So, what’s going on?” he asked, turning his head on his arms so he could look at Prompto.
“Why do you think anything’s going on?” Prompto threw him a completely unconvincing smile, carding his fingers through his hair. He was sitting on the very edge of his chair, his whole body one tense line.
Noctis sat up slowly, and sent him a flat look. “Right.”
Under his scrutiny, Prompto deflated. He stared at the floor, wringing his hands on top of his thighs. And he wasn’t talking. Noctis had never seen him this worked up. Except for the one time when he’d accidentally broken Noct’s controller. Which was-
“You didn’t break my console in a secret game marathon tonight, did you?”
Prompto squawked, outraged, head snapping up. “I wouldn’t!”
“And without inviting me!” Noctis said accusingly.
“I double wouldn’t!” Prompto yelled, throwing his hands in the air.
“I figured Specs might be in on it.”
“Iggy? Does he even know how to play?”
“Oh, he’ll absolutely destroy you.” Noctis said with a grin.
Prompto laughed, and Noctis relaxed. Whatever was bugging Prompto, it probably wasn’t anything serious.
But in the next moment, Prompto sank into himself again, and started fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Silence ensued, until Prompto broke it.
“D’you- I mean, I…“ He stopped, put both his hands over his face, and drew in a shuddering breath. “I fucked up.”
“What?” Anxiety rose in Noct’s throat at Prompto’s watery voice. “Dude, what happened? Is that why you stayed over tonight?”
Prompto let out a shaky laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s Iggy’s fault, kind of. I mean, he didn’t know, obviously he didn’t know, but it was his idea that I stayed-“
“He didn’t know what?”
Prompto jumped to his feet. “You know what? Let’s take a walk. I need some fresh air, and I can’t- I just really want to get some pics from that bridge. It’s got a great view.”
“Okay,” Noctis said, and felt almost a bit glad that the rest of this weird conversation had been postponed a little bit more. However, whatever it was that was bugging Prompto, Noctis would find out.
***
The winter air was crisp and fresh, and the sunlight glinted on the skyscrapers’ glass panels which adorned the streets of the fancy area Noctis lived in. Prompto always took his camera with him when he visited, because the reflections in the window panes made for the best kind of pictures.
On the way to the bridge, Prompto told Noct about the angle he wanted to try, the ducks he’d seen last time, and how the midday sun was perfect for capturing the blinding sparkle on the water.
Noctis definitely saw right through his stalling tactic, because he kept sending him sideway glances and small frowns every time Prompto forced a too chipper laugh.
The bridge spanned across the wide river, held up by metal beams. They walked up to the middle, where the shoreline was in perfect view for a good shot, but Prompto didn’t take out his camera.
The whole walk had been a ruse to get out of Noctis’ apartment. Normally, the place felt inviting and comfortable, but tonight it had started to suffocate Prompto with the weight of Ignis’ expectation and Noctis’ impending reaction looming over him.
And. If Noct reacted badly, it would be less awkward if they could just go their ways outside than if Prompto was at Noctis’ place.
“So…” Prompto said, looping his arms through the rail and looking over it. It was a long way down.
“So,” Noctis echoed next to him. He gazed into the churning water of the river for a moment, and then turned to Prompto, hands buried in the pockets of his coat. “What’s going on?”
Prompto gulped, and grabbed onto a metal beam, which was freezing cold.
This was the moment where their friendship would end.
“I’ve sorta… been keeping a secret from you.”
“Okay?” Noct didn’t look particularly outraged.
“It’s, kind of, a big deal,” Prompto said. “I should have told you.”
Noctis shrugged. “It’s not like I’m entitled to your secrets, dude.”
“Yeah, but it’s about you, kinda.” Prompto chuckled awkwardly. “So it’s your secret, too. At least a bit.”
Noctis still looked unperturbed. “Okay, well. Just tell me, then.”
“Promise me you won’t be mad? Or- wait, that’s not fair. Just, I’m sorry, alright? I meant to tell you, but then I just freaked out, and then-”
“Prom. What is it?” Noctis asked. “Just tell me.” He was looking at him earnestly, open concern edged into his features.
The cold of the metal handrail bit into Prompto’s palms, and he took a deep breath. And another.
“We’re soulmates.”
Noctis stared at him. Prompto stared back, heart fluttering in his throat.
“You’re kidding.”
Prompto laughed shakily. “I wish I was.”
“You… you wish you were? Don’t you want to be- oh.” Prompto could practically see Noct retreat into his shell. The surprised look had morphed into a frown, and he was now scowling at the handrail next to them.
Prompto was reeling. “What?” he asked numbly.
“It must be horrible,” Noctis whispered, without a trace of humor in his voice. “Being bound to me.”
“What?”
“You’re in pain all the time because of me. I wouldn’t have wanted that, either. I don’t blame you for keeping it secret.”
“Uh- dude, no!” Prompto practically shouted. “That wasn’t the reason at all. I just thought… I thought you wouldn’t want some pleb like me as your soulmate.”
Noctis scoffed, and Prompto couldn’t look him in the face anymore. But instead of finally dropping him like a hot potato, Noct took a step closer and grabbed his arm.
“Shut up, Prom, you’re not a pleb,” he said, gaze heavy and earnest. “You think I give a damn about stuff like that?”
Apparently, Noct didn’t have enough common sense for that. But… Prompto had known about Noct’s disregard of status and propriety for a long time. He hardly even noticed it anymore, even with Ignis frequently complaining about it. A light, hopeful feeling started to fill Prompto’s chest.
“Does that… mean you’re okay with me as your soulmate?”
“Dude,” Noct said, and hugged Prompto tightly.
Prompto exhaled shakily, and hugged back as hard as he could. They stood like that for a few long moments, long enough for Noctis to relax, and for Prompto to feel a bit warmer.
Cheek resting on Noct’s shoulder, Prompto said, “I don’t care about the pain.” Noctis started to pull back, and Prompto held on tighter. “I care that you’re in pain, because that’s horrible. But pain means you’re alive, so that’s a good thing.” He pulled back.
Noctis looked at him with a pinched expression. “But you’re hurting, too,” he said.
“And we’ll get through it together, right?” Prompto said, and took Noctis’ hand. It was warm against his icy fingers. “We can do this. I’m just glad I’m not alone anymore. You’re my best friend ever. Soulmate. Whatever.”
“We don’t have to tell anybody,” Noctis said, squeezing Prompto’s hand. “Except, I want to tell my dad, and Ignis and Gladio-“
“Iggy knows. He found out yesterday.”
“How did he- oh.” Noctis grimaced slightly.
“Yeah.” Prompto said, squeezing back. Holding hands was actually really nice. “By the way, your meds are the good stuff- I ’m never taking anything else ever again.”
“Good luck with that. Specs has a strict regimen. ‘Only one pill every eight hours,’” Noct said with a near-perfect imitation of Ignis’ accent. Prompto snorted, feeling lighter than he had in months. Noct grinned.
“Now let’s take those pigeon pics you wanted.”
“Ducks,” Prompto said, as he took the camera from his bag.
Noct shrugged. “Pigeons, ducks, chocobos- they’re all the same.”
“They’re so not!” Prompto squawked, jabbing at Noctis. “Take it back!” Noctis laughed and dodged Prompto’s fingers.
They ended up not only taking pictures of ducks, but Prompto also convinced Noctis to take some selfies. Even though half of them weren’t properly in focus, their matching grins were wide enough that the blurriness didn’t matter at all.
When they later returned to the apartment for an impromptu game night, Ignis took one look at them, their wide grins and red cheeks – just from the cold, of course – and actually gave Prompto an approving nod before pulling out the ingredients for hot chocolate.
The selfies became some of Prompto’s most treasured pics, permanently earning the best spot on his desk.
***
He wakes up and the world is moving. Every jostle sends a wave of pain and heat through him. It’s sickeningly dizzying.
And dear Astrals, the pain. Hot and wrong, buzzing under his skin and throbbing along with his heartbeat. Thump. Thump. The sound rings through his head, sends ripples through his whole body. Someone is keening.
“Can’t you go any faster?” a voice says. It sounds familiar. Prompto can’t get a grasp on the name through the haze in his mind. A sword. Or no, a flower?
“I will be more likely to cause an accident than deliver us in one piece if I speed any faster.”
He knows this voice, too. It’s sharp, every syllable poignant and in place. It’s creaking leather gloves and cans of Ebony. The most delicious green curry.
The world jerks, and a wave of white-hot pain hits him full force. He can’t breathe. His side is on fire. A scream.
“Ignis!”
“I know,” comes a sharp reply, and then, hushed, “Try to get him back to sleep.”
His body throbs again, and there is another moan. Labored breathing.
Arms are holding his torso, which Prompto realizes when they move. There is a touch on his shoulder, in his hair.
“Prom,” a strained voice says. “I’m here.” A hand slips into his own, threading their fingers together. “You’re gonna be okay. I got you.” Prompto knows this voice, too. It’s laughter, and safety. Fishing hooks and video games. A brilliant flash of blue light.
Someone has started carding their fingers through his hair, and the hand holding his own squeezes gently, and despite the pain, he slips into unconsciousness.
***
Prompto looks too still on the hospital bed, the only movement the slow rise and fall of his chest. Gladio can hardly bear looking at him. Prompto has the air of the deathly sick, his ashen face gray against the sheets. His limbs don’t seem lanky anymore but frail, his frame haggard instead of lean. It’s a stark reminder that Prompto is barely out of his teenage years. Seeing the kid so motionless, devoid of his usual energy, doesn’t sit right with Gladio.
And of course, Noctis hasn’t left his side. None of them have – Ignis has only taken off once to make some very necessary purchases, and Gladio ducked out of the room a few times to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But his walks through the nearby park have done nothing to settle his restlessness, and he always ends up back at the hospital room before he knows it.
When he enters, his eyes first land on Ignis, who is rigidly perched on the one chair next to the bed – the only place to sit except the bench at the wall. Until now, Noctis had been rooted to the chair ever since they arrived. Ignis catches Gladio’s gaze and puts a finger to his lips.
Gladio looks more closely at the bed, and snorts softly. Noct has obviously given up his seat in favor of climbing into the bed completely. Now he is snuggled up against Prompto, one arm loosely flung over his middle, already deeply asleep. Prompto’s face has regained some color and his freckles stand out less starkly against his skin. Some of the worry lines have left Noct’s forehead and the corners of Ignis’ eyes.
Gladio sits on the bench and leans against the wall where he’s got the bed and the door in his line of sight. Prompto doesn’t look as lost with Noctis next to him, looks more like himself. Neither Gladio nor Ignis make any move to dislodge Noctis from his position. The nursing staff can take it up with a clingy Noct, if they dare. And it’s not like the bed doesn’t fit both of them easily enough.
***
Prompto wobbles his first few steps out of the hospital doors and into freedom, taking the deepest breath he’s taken in his life. Or, you know, since he’s been confined to a hospital bed for almost a week. He stretches out his arms to the sky and grins. The cool wind feels amazing on his skin.
Gladio chuckles behind him, and Noctis returns Prompto’s grin with an actual smile. He can even see Ignis’ lips quirking – oh yeah!
“Let’s get outta here,” Gladio says. Prompto nods enthusiastically and barely keeps himself from skipping over the car. He might be off bed-rest, but his legs still feel a bit shaky.
He slides into the passenger seat, and wow, someone put their free time into good use. The car interior is polished – cleaner than he’s ever seen it. There is not a single speck of dust on the dashboard, and he catches a whiff of a citrus-y smell. It almost feels like climbing into a completely different car.
“Wow, you guys really went all out! It almost feels like a crime to sit here, it’s so clean. Your work, Iggy?”
“Yes. Gladio and I cleaned the car a few days ago,” Ignis says next to him.
“Aw, just in time for me to get released!” Prompto sinks into his seat, stretching his legs. “You guys really didn’t have to do that just for good ol’ me.”
He grins and looks at Ignis, who pauses for a moment after putting the keys into the ignition, then turns them without answering or looking at Prompto. The silence stretches, until it has been going on for way too long.
Prompto shifts awkwardly in his seat. It always sucks when he drops a joke that no one finds funny – though normally, it doesn’t create a silence this uncomfortable.
Iggy still hasn’t moved the car, just sitting there with the motor running, hands clenched on the wheel. Prompto darts a glance at the other two – Noct’s stare is zeroed in on the back of Ignis’ head, and Gladio’s mouth is a grim line. Prompto’s palms start to sweat – had his comment been that annoying, or dumb? Maybe it hadn’t been Iggy who had cleaned the car?
“Sorry, guys, I-“
“The blood was a bitch to get out,” Gladio says. “Took me and Iggy almost a day.”
Prompto glances at Gladio and his clenched fists. “Oh,” he says. There is no air left in his lungs.
Ignis turns off the engine again. The ensuing silence rings louder than the car had.
“In the rush of getting you here,” Ignis says, in a carefully controlled voice, “cleaning the car didn’t cross our minds until you were in a stable condition. By that time, the blood had long dried.”
Prompto hadn’t even thought of that. They’ve had some close calls before – one memorable time, Ignis had been bleeding so heavily from a head wound that Noct had needed to drive, but all had been well after they had found the nearest curative supplier and slathered Ignis in potions.
They’ve had blood stains in the car before, but it’s never been difficult to clean. Prompto swallows. “Sorry guys,” he bites the inside of his cheek. “I guess the next turn cleaning is on me.”
“You lost so much blood,” Noct says tonelessly. “You were bleeding all over - the seats, floor, there were even splatters on the windshield.”
Prompto twists in his seat, turning to look at Noct, who is staring down at his hands. Prompto reaches towards the backseat, stretching between the gap of the seats to take Noct’s hand into his. He squeezes, and gets a slight squeeze back.
“I’m okay now, right? I got through it.” Prompto glances around in the car, to Gladio, who isn’t even wearing the shadow of a smile, and to Ignis, who is watching him with a focused intent usually reserved for Noct.
“And that’s only thanks to you guys.” Prompto’s throat closes up, and he swallows thickly. “You’re… the best friends anyone could ever want.”
And suddenly, Noct’s arms are around him, despite the awkward position half between front and back, Prompto hugs back with all the meager strength that his noodley arms hold.
***
Noctis teaming up with finally healed-up Prompto has made for a dream team in convincing Ignis to get lunch at a greasy, delicious diner. They’ve squeezed into a cozy booth with worn-out leather seats, Noctis on the bench next to Ignis and across from Prompto, who is devouring his meal like an overly excited puppy.
“Finally some real food!” Prompto says with his mouth full of fries. “Honestly, I thought I would go crazy from the stuff they served at the hospital.”
“What, Noct sneaking you his chocolate bars wasn’t enough?” Gladio asks casually. Prompto squawks and Noctis kicks Gladio under the table. The asshole doesn’t even flinch.
Noctis keeps his eyes strictly on his plate, but he can still feel Ignis’ stifled sigh next to him.
“You will need something more nutritious than sweets to aid your recovery,” Ignis says, delicately cutting off a piece from his burger. “Chocolate and fast food are certainly not enough.”
“But they’re good,” Noctis says, taking another delicious bite of his burger. It’s only this good because he’s removed the tomato slices, onion and lettuce. Perfect.
“We should eat like this all the time.” He bumps his feet against Prompto’s under the table, and they exchange a grin. Prompto has ketchup on his cheek.
“I don’t know, buddy, Iggy makes a mean curry.” He waves a hand. “And stir-fry. And pasta. And- you know, I think I’d rather eat his cooking than just fast food.”
“Why, thank you, Prompto. I am certainly looking forward to preparing proper food again.”
Noctis stabs a fry in Prompto’s direction. “Just see if I’ll share any of my snacks now, traitor.”
“Says the one who-”
“Says the one with ketchup on his face!”
Noctis gleefully watches as Prompto scrabbles for a napkin and wipes it over his mouth.
“Other side,” Noctis says, even though the ketchup is gone. This is too much fun. “Other, other side,” he says, and Prompto keeps scrubbing until he notices the grin on Noct’s face.
Prompto scowls at him, beet-red, and throws the napkin at him. Noct ducks behind Ignis. “Help! He’s attacking me!”
“You’ve certainly brought this onto yourself,” Ignis says, without a hint of sympathy. Noctis comes out again, but Prompto is ready with Gladio’s napkin, and this time, Noctis gets hit in the face.
“Another betrayal!” Noctis waves his arms. “Gladio! Do your shield duty!”
“Nah, I think I’m good,” Gladio says, and leans back with a grin. “I’d rather watch. Not like you didn’t start it, princess.”
“Yeah, punishment where due, Noct!” Prompto yells gleefully, and throws another napkin. He’s taken Noct’s, so there is no ammunition to strike back.
“Argh!” Noctis dives back into the relative safety behind Ignis’ back.
“Please be careful not to get anything into the food, Prompto,” Ignis says genially.
“Sure thing, Iggy!”
“I’m getting more napkins,” Gladio says, and gets up. “This is boring without ammunition.”
Prompto laughs. “You’re the best, dude!” he says.
“Suck it, Gladio!” Noctis yells.
“No napkins for the princess, got it.”
***
The first hunt after Prompto’s injury goes exceedingly well. Ignis is particularly careful not to let the others out of his sight, while taking every opportunity to strike. All their attacks are perfectly timed and well-coordinated, and when Gladio fells the last behemoth with a strike of his sword, Prompto lets out a loud whoop.
“Group hug!” he cries, and Ignis is jostled into a crushing tangle of limbs, his face pressed against Noct’s soft hair. There are multiple hands on his back, reeling him in – he doesn’t know whose, but it doesn’t matter. The adrenaline and exhilaration make him hug his friends back just as fiercely. He has one arm across Gladio’s back, the other one around Noctis. Prompto is pressed into his side, giggling, and Gladio’s deep chuckle reverberates through Ignis, matching his own.
***
On the hotel roof, Prompto sees Noct’s silhouette right away. He’s perched on the edge, facing the sun which is bathing the sky in orange. The perfect backdrop – Prompto can’t resist, he puts the cans down and snaps a pic. Or two. Or five.
“Got some good ones?” Noct asks, and turns to look at him over his shoulder, a half-smile on his face. Click – another great shot. That one was definitely the best, Prompto can feel it.
He lowers his camera, picks up the drinks and bounds over to Noctis. He drops down next to him and lightly bumps their shoulders together.
“It’s the golden hour, baby! Everything looks good in this light.”
Prompto passes one of the beer cans over and opens the other, taking a large swig. The sun paints the flat house tops orange. Warm wind ruffles through his hair, the perfect temperature on his skin after the heat of the day. He closes his eyes and basks in the fiery evening glow of the sun.
Noctis takes a swig of his beer, which prickles cool against his tongue. Next to him, Prompto has tilted his head back, face glowing in the evening light. His hair is streaked with gold. He looks so alive.
Noctis puts his arm around Prompto’s shoulders, leaning in close. He rests his head in the crook of Prompto’s neck, closing his eyes against the glow of the sun. Prompto’s breathing is sure and steady, and his skin is warm against his cheek.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Noctis says, and wraps his other arm around Prompto, who shifts to hug him back.
“Me too, buddy,” Prompto says, and Noctis holds on more tightly, glad to have his best friend safe in his arms.
They stay on the roof until night falls, and the stars stretch out over them in eternal abundance.