Prompt Post Round Five

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  Welcome to Round Five of the FFXV Kink Meme!

Closed for prompts | OPEN for fills

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New Prompts are Closed for this round. Please wait until 11/13/2017 for Round Six.

 

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FILL: Gen or Ignis/Prompto, Ignis worries about Prompto [5/?]

[(Anonymous)]

It was drizzling – the kind of rain that was more mist and wind than anything else. Ignis ducked his head and stuck his left hand in his trouser pocket, regretting not having brought his jacket. He hadn't had the chance to wash his hands after preparing the vegetables; his fingers on the cane were greasy, but he didn't have anything to clean them on, save his shirt sleeves, or trousers.

There wasn't anywhere in particular to go, so he picked a direction at random and concentrated on trying not to bump into anyone or anything. If he'd had a car he'd have retreated there, as he had done countless times in Insomnia. He did not have a car. He didn't have Noct and Noct's flat to retreat to, either. He ended up on the road leading west out of Lestallum, then walked along the perimeter fence until he reckoned he was out of sight from the road. Climbing up the rocks proved something of a challenge, given his lack of ability to pick an easy route up, and the back of his neck prickled with the expectation that any moment someone would shout out at him to get down, ask what did he think he was doing. No one shouted; perhaps he was alone. He sat down where the rocks levelled off a bit, below one of the powerful anti-daemon lamps that circled the city. The rain made a gentle noise as it hit the ground. He was muddy, damp down to the skin, his hair plastered to his forehead. Now he wasn't moving there wasn't anything to distract him from why he'd walked out in the first place.

'Wow, Iggy. You actually think, between the two of us, I'm the one who needs looking after?'

Everything Prompto had said, he thought as he rested his head against the cold metal of the lamp-post, was true. He'd been getting it wrong this entire time.

He was the one who'd been raped, not Prompto. He wasn't the one looking after Prompto, because Prompto was here to look after him.

Was it the humiliation that was biting into him, hard enough to really hurt? Or was the pain from something else?

Why hadn't he seen it? Laughter bubbled in his chest but came out as a grimace. He hadn't seen it – yes, a good pun. A joke. One giant, walking, talking joke. Cripplingly embarrassing. And there – another one. He didn't know why anyone, least of all Prompto, put up with him.

Lestallum was perpetually hot. If he'd been sitting out in Insomnia all night, in the rain at this time of year, he'd have been courting hypothermia. As it was it was only mildly uncomfortable. The ground was rocky, but a muddy kind of rocky; he pulled up stones with his hands, digging his fingertips into the cracks until they gave. He didn't know what to do. He was being disgustingly melodramatic and childish, sitting out here in the rain, playing in the dirt. He could be dealing with this like an adult, yet here he was. And he still hadn't given Prompto that apology.

He'd been pretending he was still useful; that in serving Lestallum he was serving Lucis and therefore serving Noct. He could see it now, could feel the definition of each sharp edge – how hard he'd been clinging to that fantasy.

'Noct,' he said. The rain hushed him. 'What am I doing?'

If he were someone else, he would tell himself that he needed to drop the fantasy and start over. Blindness was not the end of the world; plenty of people were blind and enjoyed life and accomplished much. The loss of the sun was not the end of the world; humanity was, still, clinging on. People lost loved ones. People lost their jobs and homes. It was not the end of the world. These were not good enough reasons to fall apart, he would tell himself. He needed to get a grip and start over.

Starting over felt like an astral looming over him. If he moved even an inch it would notice him, then, with the pads of its fingertips, crush him against the ground.

He wasn't strong enough. His own pulse in his chest and stomach made him feel queazy. The lamp post felt sickly hot against his forehead where he'd leant against it and warmed it, but the metal where he shifted to was achingly cold, and the new position squashed his visor into the bridge of his nose.

He wasn't strong enough. He couldn't do it. Prompto was here to protect and look after him, after all.

He felt like something very small, pinned to a card and dissected, inspected then tossed away. He felt cold, even though it wasn't ever very cold in Lestallum. He felt tired. Exhausted.

Maybe he could leave to find Gladio, and Gladio would tell him to stop being pathetic.

Prompto was far too kind. He should have left Ignis to his failure, and stopped letting him drag him down.

Noct – if Noct were here, Ignis probably wouldn't be so useless in the first place.

He didn't have his phone with him, and no other way of telling the time. Ignis shifted slightly, moving away from where a stone was digging into his shin. He ought to go back and find Prompto. Prompto would be worrying; after all, Prompto was here to look after him. And here he was making it hard for him, like Noct had made it hard for Ignis. The only difference was that Noct had been worth it, no matter how hard it had got.

After a while, he fell asleep.

He woke up a few times, but unwilling to move much out of his position or self-pity, he stayed still and each time nodded back off to an uncomfortable sleep.

When he woke properly he arched his back in a stretch and realised abruptly why sleeping outside in the rain, sitting up, on rocky ground, was a bad idea. His legs were numb; his clothes down to his underwear were soaked through, though it had stopped raining at some point. He didn't know what the time was, but it felt like he'd been sleeping for several hours at least.

And, of course, none of his problems were solved. On the other hand, new problems had been created.

Useless. Utterly useless.

Now he had to return, shamefaced, like a child who'd wanted attention so much they'd pretended to run away from home.

It was infinitely easier to carry on sitting there, so he did. He wondered what the time was, and where Prompto was, and what he was doing. Whether Gladio was safe. Had Prompto taken the vegetables out of the oven, or had he left them to burn to a crisp? Or had he finally had enough, packed his bags, and left?

When, some indeterminable amount of time later, he heard his name being called – not just his name but his name in Prompto's voice – it took a moment to realise he wasn't imagining it. He sat up a little straighter. That was definitely Prompto.

For a split second he considered staying very still and hoping Prompto didn't find him. Then he dropped the idea.

He'd had pride, and confidence in his own abilities, and look where they had got him; he scrunched them up like waste paper and threw them away.

'Prompto,' he called back, his voice scratchy. 'Prompto.' He would have got up, but his legs wouldn't seem to move. As the words left him he realised he felt oddly, pleasantly empty, cold and washed out, like clean dishes left to dry on the rack. Clean, but fragile – all it would take would be to drop him, and he'd shatter.

'Oh, shit,' was the first thing Prompto said. He stumbled as he scrambled up the rocks towards Ignis, the sound of stones rattling and crunching underfoot coming with him.

Ignis stayed still as Prompto grasped at his shoulders and arms and the back of his head, running his hands across him as if he were the blind one. His skin was uncomfortably hot. 'Ignis, Iggy, I'm sorry, but please never do that again – oh, fuck, I thought you'd just walked off and got yourself–'

'Prompto,' Ignis said, and found and grasped his hands, holding them still. 'I'm fine.'

'Yeah. Okay. Yeah. But still, don't do that again. I swear I had, like, five heart attacks this morning. I'm way too young to die from a heart attack.'

He was joking, but his voice still trembled. 'I'm sorry,' Ignis said. 'I won't do it again.'

'Right. Okay. Are you okay? I know you just said you were, but...' Prompto said, and swallowed the rest of his sentence. 'Come on, we should get back. You're... gonna catch a cold or something in those wet clothes.'

There was a pause before Prompto stood. He tugged at Ignis' arm to no effect; Ignis' legs still didn't want to respond. 'Ignis? If you want I'll go hang out somewhere else. Holly will probably let me crash at her's. But you probably shouldn't sit here too long. You're all wet, and... I'm sorry for not finding you sooner. I should have said that before, right? I thought – I went to bed after you left, can you believe it? I thought you needed to blow off some steam and you'd be in your office or something. I actually thought you'd be back by the time I woke up. I just went to bed and then you weren't there in the morning, or at your office, and no one had seen you...'

He'd given up trying to pull Ignis up. One of his hands disappeared from Ignis' arm but the other still clutched at it. He sniffed, wetly, then blew out a shaky laugh. 'I'm sorry. Shit. I really am sorry. And you don't have to come back now if you don't want to. I just thought – I dunno, I wasn't thinking. And I still don't even know what the problem is. I'm that shit a boyfriend, huh.'

'Don't be sorry.' Ignis pulled his arm back down; Prompto followed, settling next to Ignis. Their hands met, and they linked fingers. Ignis forced himself not to think of the mud that was getting on Prompto's trousers. 'And you're a wonderful boyfriend. You shouldn't have to cater to this, even if you'd been able to predict it.'

'Jeez, way to make it sound like you snapped and went on a murder spree or something.'

'I walked out of an argument to sulk all night in the rain and mud. It's behaviour hardly becoming of a teenager, let alone someone who was meant to advise the Crown Prince then King of Lucis.'

'Ignis. I mean, look. Seriously, hear me out. Apart from this, you're always so strong and sensible. You just do what you need to without freaking out about it, even if it's hard. I'd never be able to do, like, ninety per cent of the stuff you can, just because I'm no way that cool. And you've been like that ever since I met you. All this time, you always... get stuff done, quietly, no fuss. You deserve a freak out. And you've just been saving them up all these years for a really big one.'

'A freak out.' Ignis' lips quirked, tiredly. 'That's one way to put it.'

'Trust me, I'm an expert. I could probably write a thesis about 'em, I'm that much of an expert. So listen to me when I say you just gotta ride it out, and then when you're not freaking out any more you can look back and see how stupid you were.'

'Prompto, I don't think–'

'Nope. Listen to the expert.'

Something groaned a little way away, low and rumbling and definitely not human. On the other side of the fence, Ignis calculated. Out of the beam of the lamp. Prompto shifted, tensing then relaxing.

'I don't think you're that flappable,' Ignis said.

'Ha. Well, maybe not. But compared to you guys I'm freaky extraordinaire.'

'What is it?'

'Huh?'

'The daemon.'

'Oh, I dunno. It's below us, I can't see over the rocks.'

Ignis didn't reply, but shifted to accommodate Prompto, who'd moved over to lean against Ignis' side. The press of his body was warm through their wet clothes.

'I really don't think you're any more prone to freaking out than any of the rest of us. You were a civilian only a bare few years ago, whilst we were raised for it from the start. You've coped with everything that's happened remarkably well. Better than, even.'

'Ignis. Ignis, no. C'mon, I'm meant to be making you feel better, not the other way round.'

'I'm not sure what I've done to deserve it,' Ignis said, a gentle murmur. 'And no, that wasn't fishing for compliments, so please don't say anything.'

'But you know I'm think it. Even if I'm not gonna say it.'

'For all that I disagree with you, yes. Fine.'

'Good. Just checking.'

The daemon groaned again, further away this time. There was the sharp sound of wind on rock and not much else. The silence from Lestallum was eerie. The largest city in possibly all of Eos, yet all it took was to walk a few hundred metres and it was as if didn't exist at all.

'I hate it,' Ignis said. Prompto's hand, still in his, twitched. 'This life. All of it. It makes me... I really can't stand how much I hate it, sometimes.'

'I – yeah.' It was more of a noise confirming he'd heard than anything else. Prompto let his hand slip from Ignis'.

'I think we should...' Ignis said, trailing off as he shifted to one side. His legs had stiffened almost to the point of non-functional. Standing now would not be pleasant – not that he deserved any less.

The warmth of Prompto's body disappeared. 'You want us to take a break?'

'What?' Ignis said, alarmed, turning his head to face Prompto. 'No! Unless you want to? I was going to say we should get back home.'

'Oh.' Prompto sucked in a hard breath, then let it out quickly. 'Oh. Ha. Wow, okay. Never mind, ignore me, let's change the topic. And for future reference, no, I really don't.'

Ignis forced himself to smile in recognition. The alarm still hadn't quite faded, his shoulders and neck still tensed. Had he really let it get to such a state that Prompto would immediately think he didn't want their relationship any more? Despicable. He searched for a safe topic and came up empty-handed. 'Did Ardyn ever touch you?' The words slipped out before he could stop them.

'What? You mean – you're talking about, you know, sexually, right?' Prompto let out a quick breath, half an exhale, half a nervous laugh. 'Yep, that's changing the topic all right. And no. He didn't. He was a creep, sure, but not in that way.'

'Ah,' Ignis said. 'That's good.'

'Is that – he didn't with you, right?'

Ignis shook his head. 'No.'

'And... no one else did?'

'No,' Ignis said, with a sigh.

Prompto didn't reply, though he paused as if he were going to. Instead he leant down and rested his head on Ignis' shoulder, pressing the bridge of his nose to Ignis' collarbone. Ignis put a hand on his back, absently rubbing small circles there. A drop of rain landed on his hand, then another on one cheek.

'I'm sorry; I should clarify – everything but you, and Gladio when he deigns to show up,' he said. 'I hate everything but you.

'We should go home.'

Prompto nodded silently from where he was, still pressed up against Ignis' shoulder.

Re: FILL: Gen or Ignis/Prompto, Ignis worries about Prompto [5/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Oh maaaan, That metaphor about being like a plate, clean and terribly breakable, just hit like a punch. I can't tell if Ignis has hit rock bottom or if he's still quietly plumneting - I think this is the first chapter without Radix's voice intruding, and is that a comfort? or is it because his poisonous work is done? Ignis' admission He was the one who'd been raped, not Prompto. He wasn't the one looking after Prompto, because Prompto was here to look after him. is stark and simple and horrible. I really liked that Prompto was perceptive enough to ask if Ignis had been raped, but don't know if he believes his "no" (or whether it's okay if he does). Ignis admitting how much he hates his life just made me want to wrap him up in blankets and give him tea and happiness, IDK!

tl;dr still enjoying the hell out of this!

Re: FILL: Gen or Ignis/Prompto, Ignis worries about Prompto [5/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Thank you <3<3<3