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for reeler.

[ He hasn't seen Noct in almost two days.

Of course it's going to be busy—preparing for a wedding that spans the world must be exhausting. And Prompto does what's asked of him because... because that had been the whole point of this trip. This was the reason they'd come to Altissia, and despite the hardships, despite what had happened to Insomnia and all the mishaps along the way, they'd arrived in one piece with their future king ready to marry the Oracle. It's a conflicting one he doesn't know how to handle, especially after having finally met Lady Lunafreya and felt her sweet touch on the top of his hand, on his cheek when she'd thanked him for seeing Noctis safely to Altissia. That same feeling of guilt explodes through his chest shortly after, and he knows he's a fraud. He'd betrayed her trust by loving Noct in a way he shouldn't have, and worse, still, is that he can't force it to go away. Noct is his whole world. But how is he supposed to explain that to his fiance?

After that, everything had blurred together, and it's like some slow-motion movie with hyperfocused edges. He hangs out with Ignis as he goes over the catering, and he runs errands for Gladio when he has something for him to do. He tries to stay busy, to keep his mind off a truth that continues to loom closer and closer until, suddenly, it's upon them.

He catches a glimpse of Noct when they exchange their vows, eyes meeting from where they stand, but he looks away before it can linger.

He's so distraught that he forgets to take any pictures.

And the reception is overwhelming loud. Music plays, chatter rising up as guests dine and dance and compliment the happy couple, and conveniently, he slips away to wander the grounds because he needs air or else he'll suffocate. His walk somehow ends with him sitting alone on a balcony overlooking the canals of Altissia with a half empty champagne bottle. Prompto has his camera in his lap, flipping through the pics there and swallowing the heartache that blooms in his chest. They're the usual fare: several of the guys, some mid-battle, a couple landscapes. Then, there's the not so usual fare: selfies of shared kisses, soft skin in the dark of some motel. He doesn't know when he starts deleting them, but he's crying by the end of it, tempted to chuck the entire camera into the water and wash his hands of it.

Yet, that does nothing for the memories, wiping at his face and deciding to return to the celebration when he gets a text from Ignis asking him where he's at.

A toast. Right.

Prompto feels sick sitting there and listening to everyone give their congratulations, little speeches that carve pieces of his heart from his chest, and when Gladio nudges him into standing, his stomach drops to his feet. The glass he holds in his hand is heavy, tongue thick in his mouth, but... but he can do this. He can fake it. So, he plasters on a lukewarm smile and says, To Noct and Lady Lunafreya – So happy for you both. Love you, ah, guys. And he drinks his glass so fast he almost throws up right there, giving one last glance in Noct's direction before muttering something to Gladio about running to the bathroom. He pukes enough to burn his throat, the acrid taste weirdly bitter but welcome, and he's rinsing his mouth out when he hears the door opening. He figures it's someone else, keeping his head low and disliking his reflection in the mirror—eyes rimmed red, his tie loose and the first button undone. Even his hair is floppier than usual, but it really doesn't matter, raking his fingers through it before turning to go.

Except... except Noct is standing right there, and he feels the flush of the champagne rising fast in his face. Shit. ]

Uh, hey – [ Yeah, that's convincing. ]

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[ He nearly melts at the touch, soft and familiar, but he can't allow himself to fall for it. Prompto reaches for the discomfort instead, forces it to fuel him so he can stand toe-to-toe with Noct and not think he's committing some of the worst treason known to Eos by defying his king. But when had that ever really mattered to him? It hadn't, and he doesn't want it to come between them the way Noct had nearly shoved it down his throat, swallowing around the lump there in an effort to focus. There's still so much he wants to say to him, but he can't seem to form the words despite the way he tries. So, all he can do is stand there and clutch at him, cling like it's the only lifeline he has in this never-ending ocean of doubt and insecurity. ]

I would never ask you to give up all that, Noct, because I – [ He's not worth it. He never will be, and nothing could change the way Prompto thinks so little of himself. Still... ] I've known all that since high school. Maybe before, I dunno. But...

[ His teeth catch on his bottom lip, and Prompto feels lost. He has no idea what Noct wants from him or why he's even saying those things. If it's destiny he's so worried about, there's no way they could fight it; it'd be like swimming against the current and hoping to reach the opposite side without getting swept away in it. If it's about expectation and responsibility — he shakes his head, desperate for something to ease the pressure building once more in his chest and stop the way his eyes continue to burn. He's already cried enough, but if this is how it's going to be, he doubts he'll ever stop mourning this loss, blinking away the tears to gaze at Noct as though it would give him every answer he's ever sought.

Maybe what's required of him is being the bigger person, the stronger one. It's not in him, but Noct has done so much for him already, even if he isn't aware of it. And it's time to repay that in kind. ]

I'm still with you. [ His voice is choked, inching closer until their noses brush and he can feel the fan of Noct's breath against his lips. For the last time, he savors it. ] I'd follow you anywhere and never think twice about it, and I know it's probably poor taste to ask you this on your wedding day but – [ That same queasy heartache flares in his gut, and with his free hand, he reaches up to gently cup the side of Noct's face. ] Just don't forget me, okay? I can live with anything but that.

[ Because everything's going to change after they leave this room, and none of it for the better. In time, he thinks, they'll both get over it. In time, Noct would be happy with Luna and Prompto... well, he'd have all his memories. It just had to be good enough. ]

[ He's too childish to look up at Prompto, too afraid to see what his words have written across his face. Perhaps it would be easier that way: if he could look up and see hatred, or anger, or anything negative that would help make the distance between them solid, palpable, impossible to cross. It's worse this way, when his heart aches for another touch, another feeling, anything, just anything warm from Prompto, as if he's the only thing to keep him from going cold all the way to his bones. His eyes stay focused on the way his own fingertips look so marred, like they cover Prompto's smooth skin in the worst way.

But his chin moves, and their noses touch. He doesn't resist it because it's what he's wanted all along, what he's wanted to remember since that first night so long ago when they were both young and stupid and didn't know that kissing all night would stir up all these feelings, make them impossible to break apart. It's like a panic that spreads through him, and he knows without asking that this is a way of saying goodbye--of trying to separate those feelings with a knife of words, a resolve that neither of them truly have and Noctis knows it. Prompto's breath is soft and sweet against his lips and it--he can't take it, can't let it go.]

Maybe I can't live with it. [ He says, and the hand that's touching Prompto's folds down, fingers grasping his wrist, thumb to the steady splutter of his pulse beneath the skin. ]

Maybe I have to tell her that I'm yours. [ His feet turn, moving them forward, back, he isn't sure where it is exactly until Prompto's back flattens against the locked door and Noctis flattens in against him, feeling the way that they fit together so perfectly even when they're in these stupid clothes that neither of them enjoy wearing. And he knows that he's probably going to get hit, or even worse, pushed away--but Prompto's lips have to be covered by his, his hips have to fit under his palms, their bodies have to melt together, and Noctis kisses him like he's not sure he knows how to stop. ]

[ It's like the spark of hope beneath his skin ignites and catches flame, pulse racing with those words, and Prompto should shove him away. He shouldn't let this happen for a countless number of reasons – mostly because Noct is married now and that Lunafreya is such a nice and wonderful lady – but the equally selfish part of himself isn't even thinking about that when his back collides with the door and there's a mouth on his so hot that it drags a strained sound of desperation out of him.

He needs this, he realizes, and even if he tastes a little like stale champagne and probably puke, his arms loop around Noct's neck to drag him in even closer. It's only been days, but it feels so much longer than that, lips parting to ease them into something deeper, something that takes his breath and leaves him wanting so much more. His fingers find purchase in dark hair, gripping at the strands to hold him in place, worried that Noct is going to suddenly come to his senses and not want anything to do with him. He can pretend it's the last time the same way he'd thought that motel just before the last leg of their trip to Altissia had been, wound around each other and leaving lazy kisses on every inch of skin, and Prompto's tears make the air between them sticky and hot, a weird combo when every other part of him is desperate to have Noct see him and no one else.

It comes to an end eventually, because he needs to breathe and because his heart can't take the ache that's settled deep within it. Because the words that croak out of him feel finite and fragile all at once. ] I want you. [ Not just here or in this moment but for always, until they grow tired of each other and there's no point to hold on anymore. Until he dies. ] I never stopped, and I don't think I can. [ It's such an impossible thing already anyway, their own destinies intertwined in a way that Prompto can't seem to differentiate between, but he can't point that out, not when Noct must still believe he has another path to take—the one designated for him since birth. And it hurts when he takes another kiss, sniffling into the contact but easing the pressure into a light touch of lips.

He should feel guilty. He should feel a lot of different things right now, but all he can muster the energy to feel is tired, unsure he'll be able to pull himself away now that they've come together like this. ]

[ Prompto kisses him back like they're in some ratty motel on some forgotten stretch of the highway, where their biggest worries are whether or not Gladio will hear it when the headboard rattles against the wall or whether they have enough time for just one more kiss, one more quick fling before showering. His arms go tight around his neck like he's not willing to let Noctis go, like they have all the time in the world to make decisions and live a life that neither of them want to see slip out of their fingers. And maybe the kiss tastes a little like champagne, the bitter gulp of it that Noctis had taken to try to steady his nerves, and maybe their skin sticks together when Prompto's tears smear down his cheeks and inch into the kiss, peeking at the corner of his mouth. But it doesn't matter because they're together--because they're so wrapped up around each other that nothing else could even matter, nothing else even begins to.

His breath feels shallow, when their lips break apart and he nearly leans in again, like he can't quite fight the delusion that they're truly alone--and Prompto's words don't help that, since they climb in and make a home in his heart and then the pit of his stomach. But the next kiss is different, small and quiet and with a sound that makes him feel like he's shattering, from head to toe. He doesn't know how he'll ever be able to make up for this hurt. He doesn't know if he should even try.

The grand gesture of ripping the door open, declaring to the whole party of wedding guests and the cameras and then the world that he's not able to take the Oracle as his wife--the thought is both delicious and devastating. He can't do that. He can't do that to the world, he can't do that to Lunafreya, or anyone else who's supported him this far. But-- ]

I'll talk to her. [ It's an option that holds a sliver of hope. Because she's a good person, and they've known each other for so long. ] Okay? I'll talk to her and I'll figure it out.

[ One of his hands lifts so that he can cradle Prompto's face in his palm, can use his thumb to rub away the tear tracks, dab at the moisture and circle it away. It's hushed and embarrassed but it's there, when their foreheads press together and his breath sighs out--] I love you.

[ He doesn't know what to say. So, in the end, he doesn't say anything at all. It's too much to hope for, too much to lean on and wish will come true because it's such a fragile thing to hold onto. The only response he can offer is an awkward nod of his head at that – I'll talk to her like it'll solve all of their problems, like it'll give them a solution they both want – and cling to him, his fingers aching and his knees beginning to crack under the weight of his own body. It's probably because he's a little drunk and Noct's confession explodes through him, those words heated and real and nothing he deserves but everything he could have ever wanted. Prompto swallows, the dry feeling in his throat making it difficult to speak, and the words are almost raspy, turning into the touch of Noct's hand and craving every second of it. ]

I know. [ Was that even loud enough to be heard? ] I know, Noct. I love you too.

[ And he means it. He means it so much that he's shaking with it, still so unsure how their tentative friendship had escalated into something like this, how he could be standing here with him on the eve of his wedding to someone else while they're locked away in a bathroom kissing each other. But he can't question it, not when he knows it'll just make him crazy, and he leans into Noct like he's everything, pressing his fingers into his hair and tilting his head so he can kiss him again. So he knows this is real, that he hadn't gotten drunk enough to pass out somewhere and dream about it. There's another apology on the tip of his tongue, but everything feels like it's winding down, the ache a bit more manageable when they kiss this time.

He sighs and sniffs and feels incredibly gross for a number of reasons, but none of that has to do with how warm Noct is against him. ]

We should – [ Words are so hard now. ] Maybe we should get back. They're gonna wonder where you went off too. [ Because Noct is important here, not him. The only ones who might have noticed his absence would be Ignis and Gladio, and even then, they hadn't tracked him down after all this time to find him, so... ]

[ His nose twitches, but it's only a faint, playful sort of movement, and the fact that he can even make the face at all is surprising to him--maybe it's just out of habit, seeing the way that Prompto sighs and sniffs and he lifts both of his own hands up so that he can try to help him, to piece a bit of his unruly blonde hair out of the way, to dab at his cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket. He doesn't care what happens to it--he doesn't care if Prompto wanted to blow his nose on it, it means so little to him, and he knows that no matter how much he wants them to stay there, far removed and out of reach of everyone else, they can't keep themselves locked in the bathroom forever.

Prompto is right--people will wonder where he's been, where he's gone, and he doesn't want to cause any trouble, not when every bit of his existence feels like trouble now. Reluctantly, his hands drop, and he finds himself straightening out the rest of Prompto's outfit instead: he steadies his tie, fixes the seam of his shirt. His glance goes over him once, cursory, before he spares what could possibly be the smallest smile he's ever given--and that says a lot. With the fumbling earlier, maybe he doesn't trust that Prompto can do it, so--he reaches, above his shoulder, turning the lock on the door and the one within himself, the one necessary to endure slipping on his royal mask again.]

You should go out first. [ Softly, and as much as he wants to reach and pull Prompto against him and kiss him again--he can't, he won't, and he takes a few steps back, enough to clear some space for him. He needs to wash his hands, splash his face, get a grip. ]

And take it easy, on the champagne.

[ It doesn't feel so suffocating when Noct pulls away from him this time, that spark of hope burning harder and brighter as those small touches fall on him, and in the end, when Prompto sees that smile, he knows. This won't be all there is, not if he just believes in it hard enough and has faith Noct does what he says while he does whatever he needs to do too. There's still going to be so much they'll have to fight for, feeling it in his bones and not really sure he's ready for it. But it's not like he's ever been ready for anything, taking this whole trip into account with the added bonus of being in love with his best friend, and he sighs, letting his fingers graze Noct's wrist one last time before they part for good. Before it's another few days until they see each other again.

Prompto gives him a shy shrug, his expression sheepish. ]

Never really thought it tasted that good anyway. [ He'd just been so heartbroken that it hadn't had much flavor, and on top of that, he regrets having deleted some of those photos. He'll never be able to get them back, but at least there's still the chance for this. And he takes a scrambling step forward, needing one last reminder as his mouth grazes Noct's cheek so he's close enough to whisper, ] Text me when you can.

[ Because it's probably all they're going to have for a while, not entirely certain Iggy isn't going to have him running all over the place or maybe Gladio will step up his training until he's too tired to think about anything else. Whatever it is, Prompto, for once, welcomes it. It'll keep his dumb brain from thinking about things he shouldn't, and he bites at the inside of his cheek, offering Noct the smallest smile before he slowly turns and ducks out of the bathroom. His gait is still a bit unsteady, not used to struggling with all that emotion and the overlying knowledge that he's kind of drunk, and he reaches up to loosen his tie so it's crooked again ( sorry, Noct ) before making his way back to his seat.

He ignores the look he gets from the other two, soft questioning he doesn't feel like answering, and when he's certain it doesn't matter what he does, Prompto rests his cheek on the fine cloth of the table and squeezes his eyes shut. What a night. ]

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