heyo sorry its two months late but im here for u i gotchu bro
It's a Monday, and the girl from the photography club isn't talking to Prompto anymore. She turns away, head down, shoulders tense, keeps her lips pressed into a thin line.
He's kind of sad about that.
She's always been nice to him. Had a tendency to be a little touchy, but she's always kind and she listens to him, so he mourns a little when her gaze skitters away from him nervously for the third time that morning, and resigns himself to never talking to her ever again.
Noct reaches over and slides his fingers against the curve of Prompto's wrist, the one without the wristband, and he says, "What's up with you?"
Prompto says, "Nah, nothing much."
Noct raises an eyebrow. He says, "Okay," and then the teacher walks in and starts the lesson and they don't talk very much after that.
During lunch break the girl looks at him and gives him a nod and a head tilt when Noct's back is turned, almost running out of their classroom. He makes to follow, except that Noct's holding onto his wrist and asking if he's eating today.
He says, "Yeah, I'm just gonna go to the bathroom real quick."
"Okay," Noct says.
So he walks out of the classroom and makes a quick detour to the photography club room once he's sure Noct isn't watching.
"Sorry," says the girl waiting there, all in a rush. "I'm sorry- I can't. I can't talk to you anymore. He's- I'm sorry."
Prompto swallows down his apprehension and says, "Noct?"
She nods.
"Don't tell him," she pleads. "I just wanted you to know. Don't tell him."
"I won't," Prompto says, slowly, carefully. This is like freshman year all over again. "I promise."
"Okay," she says, shakily. "Be careful."
He rubs at his wrist.
"Sure."
A year ago, when he'd just been friends with Noct for about a month or so, there'd been a boy. He had taken the same elective class as Prompto, had a grin as sharp as a dagger and he'd been the person in charge of the homework assignments.
Noct had been waiting for him the day he saw them together, laughing at one of Prompto's jokes. That was Prompto's first mistake.
"I don't like him," Noct had said one afternoon, his hand on Prompto's arm and a frown on his face.
Why, Prompto had wanted to know, he's a great guy, he's nice. That was Prompto's second mistake.
Noct didn't answer, and the next day of class, the boy didn't look at Prompto, not even once.
Fill: i got the debts, i'm a debaser [1/?]
It's a Monday, and the girl from the photography club isn't talking to Prompto anymore. She turns away, head down, shoulders tense, keeps her lips pressed into a thin line.
He's kind of sad about that.
She's always been nice to him. Had a tendency to be a little touchy, but she's always kind and she listens to him, so he mourns a little when her gaze skitters away from him nervously for the third time that morning, and resigns himself to never talking to her ever again.
Noct reaches over and slides his fingers against the curve of Prompto's wrist, the one without the wristband, and he says, "What's up with you?"
Prompto says, "Nah, nothing much."
Noct raises an eyebrow. He says, "Okay," and then the teacher walks in and starts the lesson and they don't talk very much after that.
During lunch break the girl looks at him and gives him a nod and a head tilt when Noct's back is turned, almost running out of their classroom. He makes to follow, except that Noct's holding onto his wrist and asking if he's eating today.
He says, "Yeah, I'm just gonna go to the bathroom real quick."
"Okay," Noct says.
So he walks out of the classroom and makes a quick detour to the photography club room once he's sure Noct isn't watching.
"Sorry," says the girl waiting there, all in a rush. "I'm sorry- I can't. I can't talk to you anymore. He's- I'm sorry."
Prompto swallows down his apprehension and says, "Noct?"
She nods.
"Don't tell him," she pleads. "I just wanted you to know. Don't tell him."
"I won't," Prompto says, slowly, carefully. This is like freshman year all over again. "I promise."
"Okay," she says, shakily. "Be careful."
He rubs at his wrist.
"Sure."
A year ago, when he'd just been friends with Noct for about a month or so, there'd been a boy. He had taken the same elective class as Prompto, had a grin as sharp as a dagger and he'd been the person in charge of the homework assignments.
Noct had been waiting for him the day he saw them together, laughing at one of Prompto's jokes. That was Prompto's first mistake.
"I don't like him," Noct had said one afternoon, his hand on Prompto's arm and a frown on his face.
Why, Prompto had wanted to know, he's a great guy, he's nice. That was Prompto's second mistake.
Noct didn't answer, and the next day of class, the boy didn't look at Prompto, not even once.