Uh. One chocobro comforts him, sort of? I hope this is OK, it went off the rails a little.
-
Two days after the fall of Insomnia, Prompto woke up crying.
He was aware of it immediately, lurching into consciousness with a hand over his eyes, before awareness of anything else filtered in. Then he felt the cold beneath him and heard quiet breathing in the dark, and remembered they were camping in a Haven, on the way to a royal tomb.
A tent barely counted as a room, but they were still all in the same one, and Prompto had never been a quiet crier. He tried taking deep breaths for a minute or two to get his breathing under control, but he couldn’t regulate his sobs at all. Finally he crawled over Noctis’ legs and out the main flap to sit on the hard ground outside. The air was cold enough that the tear tracks on his face stung, and he shut his eyes for a moment, focusing on the feeling.
Then the tent flap rustled again behind him. “Prompto?” Gladio asked.
Prompto buried his head in his arms, trying furiously to wipe his eyes on them. Unfortunately, skin didn’t make for the best tissue, and Prompto could feel how red and puffy his eyes were anyway. At least it was dark. In the bare glow of the Haven lights, it was hard to see anything at all. “I’m okay,” he called back softly, not wanting to wake the others. “Sorry I woke you up. I’ll be in in a minute.”
Of course Gladio didn’t listen, and within seconds Prompto had a big, warm shadow squatting down next to him in the dark as the tears kept leaking down his face. Just great. “Ugh, Gladdy,” Prompto complained. “Don’t you have a prince to guard?”
“He’s snoring. You’re crying.”
“Well, yeah, but you’re not supposed to bring it up. That’s not in the bro code, dude,” Prompto said, hunching down lower in the cradle of his arms.
Next to him, Gladio sighed. “It’s late, and we need to be rested for tomorrow. Just tell me what’s wrong so you can get over it and we can go back in.”
“Thanks, Gladdy. You’re so supportive.” But Gladio didn’t budge from beside him. He just kept waiting in the dark, a presence that was loud and pointed just by being there. Prompto sighed, knowing he couldn’t win, and tried to word it as simply as he could. “I think my parents are dead,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“My parents. They haven’t called me since everything…happened. In Insomnia.” Not that they had called him before that. But they would have called him to let him know they were safe, right? They wouldn’t have left him guessing, unless they couldn’t. Or at least Prompto thought. Was he hoping that his parents weren’t calling him because they were dead, and not because they had forgotten about him? Self-loathing strangled him again, and his next breath came out as a sob. He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, wishing he could stop the tears just by pressing hard enough. “Sorry, sorry.”
Gladio shifted beside him. To his knees, probably, but Prompto didn’t open his eyes to try and see for sure. “Prompto,” Gladio said.
“Yeah,” Prompto mumbled.
“Prompto, my dad died too.”
And – of course he had. The Shield to the King. If Regis had died, Clarus must’ve as well, right? Prompto thought it might even have been mentioned on the news. “Shit,” he said, feeling twice as bad. Crying his eyes out because his parents were maybe dead, while Gladio’s dad was definitely dead. “I’m so sorry, shit, Gladio.” His voice cracked on Gladio’s name because he was still crying, making it about him even when Gladio was telling him something like this. He turned his face away, ashamed.
He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, tugging him to face Gladio. He tried resisting first, but Gladio was stronger, so then he leaned into the tug, tipping forward until his face was smashed against Gladio’s bare shoulder. Awkward, maybe, but at least he didn’t have to look at him. “My dad died too,” Gladio said again, “but I always knew he probably would. That’s what it means to be a Shield.” His voice sounded thick too – for his dad, probably, but maybe for himself too. “But Iris made it out. And we made it out.” His arm came up around Prompto’s shoulders, tugging him in closer to Gladio’s neck. “I’m glad you made it out. And I’m sure your parents would be too.”
And Prompto – what could he say to that? He wasn’t going to say but I’m not sure, not to Gladio, not when he could never explain what he meant. Even if he could explain somehow that his parents weren’t actually his parents, he couldn’t explain that he was never really sure if they saw him as a real kid, much less their real kid. He couldn’t tell Gladio how he couldn’t be sure they weren’t right, not when he wasn’t sure if he ever really loved him. Not when he had checked his phone again and again the last couple of days in hopes that they would call him, sometimes because he was worried about them, but more because he hoped they were worried about him.
He couldn’t explain any of that to anyone, least of all to Gladio, who had always been someone, who had had a destiny from the day he was born. So instead he shoved his face deeper against Gladio’s chest, and wound an arm around his neck, and sobbed selfishly against Gladio for as long as he let him.
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timeasmymeasure
[FILL] Re: Prompto, crying, hurt/comfort
Date: 2017-01-09 07:20 am (UTC)-
Two days after the fall of Insomnia, Prompto woke up crying.
He was aware of it immediately, lurching into consciousness with a hand over his eyes, before awareness of anything else filtered in. Then he felt the cold beneath him and heard quiet breathing in the dark, and remembered they were camping in a Haven, on the way to a royal tomb.
A tent barely counted as a room, but they were still all in the same one, and Prompto had never been a quiet crier. He tried taking deep breaths for a minute or two to get his breathing under control, but he couldn’t regulate his sobs at all. Finally he crawled over Noctis’ legs and out the main flap to sit on the hard ground outside. The air was cold enough that the tear tracks on his face stung, and he shut his eyes for a moment, focusing on the feeling.
Then the tent flap rustled again behind him. “Prompto?” Gladio asked.
Prompto buried his head in his arms, trying furiously to wipe his eyes on them. Unfortunately, skin didn’t make for the best tissue, and Prompto could feel how red and puffy his eyes were anyway. At least it was dark. In the bare glow of the Haven lights, it was hard to see anything at all. “I’m okay,” he called back softly, not wanting to wake the others. “Sorry I woke you up. I’ll be in in a minute.”
Of course Gladio didn’t listen, and within seconds Prompto had a big, warm shadow squatting down next to him in the dark as the tears kept leaking down his face. Just great. “Ugh, Gladdy,” Prompto complained. “Don’t you have a prince to guard?”
“He’s snoring. You’re crying.”
“Well, yeah, but you’re not supposed to bring it up. That’s not in the bro code, dude,” Prompto said, hunching down lower in the cradle of his arms.
Next to him, Gladio sighed. “It’s late, and we need to be rested for tomorrow. Just tell me what’s wrong so you can get over it and we can go back in.”
“Thanks, Gladdy. You’re so supportive.” But Gladio didn’t budge from beside him. He just kept waiting in the dark, a presence that was loud and pointed just by being there. Prompto sighed, knowing he couldn’t win, and tried to word it as simply as he could. “I think my parents are dead,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“My parents. They haven’t called me since everything…happened. In Insomnia.” Not that they had called him before that. But they would have called him to let him know they were safe, right? They wouldn’t have left him guessing, unless they couldn’t. Or at least Prompto thought. Was he hoping that his parents weren’t calling him because they were dead, and not because they had forgotten about him? Self-loathing strangled him again, and his next breath came out as a sob. He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, wishing he could stop the tears just by pressing hard enough. “Sorry, sorry.”
Gladio shifted beside him. To his knees, probably, but Prompto didn’t open his eyes to try and see for sure. “Prompto,” Gladio said.
“Yeah,” Prompto mumbled.
“Prompto, my dad died too.”
And – of course he had. The Shield to the King. If Regis had died, Clarus must’ve as well, right? Prompto thought it might even have been mentioned on the news. “Shit,” he said, feeling twice as bad. Crying his eyes out because his parents were maybe dead, while Gladio’s dad was definitely dead. “I’m so sorry, shit, Gladio.” His voice cracked on Gladio’s name because he was still crying, making it about him even when Gladio was telling him something like this. He turned his face away, ashamed.
He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, tugging him to face Gladio. He tried resisting first, but Gladio was stronger, so then he leaned into the tug, tipping forward until his face was smashed against Gladio’s bare shoulder. Awkward, maybe, but at least he didn’t have to look at him. “My dad died too,” Gladio said again, “but I always knew he probably would. That’s what it means to be a Shield.” His voice sounded thick too – for his dad, probably, but maybe for himself too. “But Iris made it out. And we made it out.” His arm came up around Prompto’s shoulders, tugging him in closer to Gladio’s neck. “I’m glad you made it out. And I’m sure your parents would be too.”
And Prompto – what could he say to that? He wasn’t going to say but I’m not sure, not to Gladio, not when he could never explain what he meant. Even if he could explain somehow that his parents weren’t actually his parents, he couldn’t explain that he was never really sure if they saw him as a real kid, much less their real kid. He couldn’t tell Gladio how he couldn’t be sure they weren’t right, not when he wasn’t sure if he ever really loved him. Not when he had checked his phone again and again the last couple of days in hopes that they would call him, sometimes because he was worried about them, but more because he hoped they were worried about him.
He couldn’t explain any of that to anyone, least of all to Gladio, who had always been someone, who had had a destiny from the day he was born. So instead he shoved his face deeper against Gladio’s chest, and wound an arm around his neck, and sobbed selfishly against Gladio for as long as he let him.