Chapter Text
How delightful, to ruin something so beautiful...
Everything's fine now.
I'm okay.
Prompto stood under the stream of a hot shower, somewhere deep in the bowels of Zegnatus Keep, his body an impressionist painting of bruises and a cacophony of aches. Traces of blood swirled down the drain, some his, some not, and it tinged the lather from his rinsed shampoo a dingy pink.
Everything's fine.
He scrubbed once, twice, three times, until his skin hurt and a few of his wounds opened up and started to bleed. He needed to be purged, needed the poison out of his veins, and the feel and smell of him off his skin. No matter how hard he scrubbed, it didn't go away.
I'm okay.
"Prompto? You fall asleep in there?" Noctis called.
"Be out in a jiffy!" Prompto shouted back.
Gods. He sounded so fake, so forced.
He turned off the water and wrapped himself in a towel, warm for the first time in days, maybe weeks, months, a lifetime. The fabric of the towel, laundered too many times to be soft anymore, chafed his already tender skin as he dried himself off. Better that than the phantom sensations that crawled all over him like insects.
Okay.
Prompto emerged from the shower, the towel wrapped around his waist, and pawed through his bag for clean clothes and a comb.
At the sharp intake of breath behind him, Prompto turned around to face Noctis.
Noctis' normally sleepy eyes widened at the bruised ribs and bite marks, crescent moon shaped gouges and dark fingerprints above Prompto's hips. Too tired to be ashamed, Prompto watched his friend's expression shift from horror to sorrow to fierce anger before it finally settled on something like compassion.
"You really put up a fight, didn't you?"
"Wasn't going down without one," Prompto said. He took care to keep his tone light. "Gotta help this guy I know fulfill his destiny, you know?"
Noctis didn't buy it and Prompto's smile fell away.
"What did he do to you?"
Prompto looked away. "... a lot."
Too much. And not enough.
How delightful...
Easier to remember now why he wanted to live with Noctis here in front of him. Easier to remember where he started and how far he'd come and why giving up was not an option.
Noctis stood and dug through his own bag. From it, he retrieved an elixir and offered it, shy and guilty and beautiful in his humility.
"Thanks, buddy."
Prompto accepted the vial, opened it, swallowed it down and waited for his rough edges to smooth out, for the worst of the aches to fade. Relief was swift, but not complete. Easier to breathe now, without his ribs on fire, but it didn't do anything to quiet the noise in his head or take away the presence of something other slithering under his skin.
Let me hear you scream...
Without thought, he rubbed his arms to subdue the itch he couldn't scratch. If he could reach the source, he would scratch until he bled.
Noctis reached out and took Prompto's wrist, the one with the codeprint, and brushed his fingertips against the mark. Prompto flinched. The skin remained sensitive and sore and bruised all the way to the bone.
He fought hard. Even when it didn't make sense to fight. Even when escape was not an option. A third of his injuries were his own fault for not lying down and taking it.
"You know," Noctis said, "it actually looks kinda badass."
"Don't," Prompto said. He looked away and pulled his wrist free. "I know you're just kidding around, but..."
"Sorry."
He closed his eyes. Ardyn's mocking face sputtered to life behind his lids and he opened them a second later, sure it was real. He was bone tired, but he didn't know if he'd ever sleep again.
scream my name...
"Hey," Noctis said and stepped forward. He lay a hand against Prompto's jaw and peered into his eyes. Prompto jumped at the contact. "Where'd you just go? Looked like your soul left your body for a second."
The attempt at humor fell flat. Prompto wasn't entirely sure he had a soul, and if he did, he wasn't sure it belonged to him anymore.
Prompto answered him with a kiss, a soft pass of his lips against Noctis', a desperate attempt to feel something besides the bloody ache in his chest and Ardyn's hands all over him.
This is going to hurt...
In the five years they'd been friends, Prompto never mustered the courage to do this but he never wanted anything more. It was almost not a kiss, but that light touch sent a sizzle along Prompto's nerve endings and a spike of need so powerful, it wrenched a whimper from his throat.
Noctis pulled back with a sharp gasp, but his hand remained where it was. Prompto couldn't look him in the eye, his feelings made known and denied.
"Prompto?"
Prompto's chest rose and fell as anxiety swelled and twined with shame. What was he doing anyway? What was he doing? What kind of sicko wanted sex after being raped? What kind of masochist?
"I'm sorry," he choked out. "I needed... I'm sorry."
I needed you.
Noctis laid his other hand against Prompto's burning cheek and leaned his forehead to Prompto's. The tears Prompto held back all day spilled over and he cried bitterly over his lost innocence and his brutalized and violated body. If he let Ardyn fuck him, it was only for the sake of survival.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Noctis whispered. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."
"Don't be mad," Prompto whined. "Please don't be mad."
"I'm not mad..."
Prompto kept crying. It felt like he would never stop.
"Come here," Noctis said. Gentle hands drew him forward into a tight hug. "You're okay."
I'm okay.
….ruin something beautiful
Prompto melted into the embrace and rested his head against Noctis' shoulder, hacking and sobbing and needing this so bad, bawling half because it felt so damn good to be touched with kindness, by someone who would never deliberately hurt him.
Everything's fine now.
Prompto was so lost in his tears, he was scarcely aware of it when Noctis drew him into the bunk and seated him in his lap. Noctis kissed his temple and curled a hand around the back of his head to cradle him against his chest, so tender and loving it almost hurt. Nobody, not once in his life had ever held him like this and it brought on a fresh round of tears, a waterfall, a catharsis, a purging of every pain he'd ever been subjected to.
It should have been you.
His sobs gave way to sniffles, then to slow, calming breaths and the occasional hiccuping gasp. Noctis' hands soothed him and kept the monsters at bay. His fingers combed through damp hair and glided over his cheek and bare shoulder and Prompto wanted more. He wanted Noctis to touch him everywhere. He wanted Noctis to erase the feel of Ardyn's hands on him. To wash the taste of Ardyn from his mouth.
"Better?" Noctis asked.
Prompto lifted his head, opened his mouth to speak, but not a word came out.
It didn't even matter. Noctis claimed his lips with a tender kiss that was oh-so unlike Ardyn's forced invasions they scarcely seemed the same thing. Prompto didn't hesitate to kiss back. He slipped his arms around Noctis' neck and let it dull the pain. Noctis was kissing him back, and gods it was everything.
Mindless with the need to kill bad memories and replace them with better ones, he tugged at Noctis' shirt and lifted it over his head. His body trilled at the press of skin to skin, at the love he felt in Noctis' careful touches, at the sweetness in Noctis' kiss.
So much better.
"I don't want to hurt you," Noctis said against his lips. Light fingers brushed over the deepest, blackest bruise on his side. "Or make it worse."
"Just watch the nose," Prompto said. "The rest looks worse than it is."
It wasn't really true, but the worst was over. Pain be damned, he needed this.
Noctis hesitated.
"Please don't stop," Prompto said, his voice small and pitiful. "I don't want you to stop."
Noctis' touches and kisses remained almost too gentle until Prompto, emboldened by desire, pushed Noctis back onto the mattress and cast his towel away. Noctis rewarded him with a low groan and a harder, more demanding kiss.
Yes. Yes. This. This was how it was supposed to be, how it should have been.
Prompto was moving too fast, maybe, but he was driven to stop the bleeding, to drown out his voice, to put out the fiery ache building in his chest.
….not so innocent now, are you, sweet boy?
So close, but so in need of more, more, more, it wasn't quite enough to kill it, not quite enough to stop the bleeding, but it's so good to be in Noctis' arms, to feel skin pressed to skin, their bodies moving together, his soft moans echoes of the squeak of mattress springs beneath them. Noct above him, eyes soft with love, was Prompto's entire universe.
He came hard, his cries swallowed by Noct's passionate kiss and his body enfolded in Noctis' arms. For a moment, there was nothing inside his head but sublime quiet, no voices, no fire, no blood, no violence. It was gone for now. That powerless misery was gone and there was only Noct. He was safe. The worst was over.
They lay face to face, Noct's caresses painfully gentle and Prompto shuddered pleasurably under his touch. This was the opposite of Ardyn's brutality, the opposite of pain. This was beautiful and Noctis was beautiful and everything else, all their responsibilities could go to hell.
Prompto wished he'd had the courage to do this sooner. Maybe, he would have had something good to take with him, something to make the damage less crushing, an antidote to the poison in his blood.
"Where the hell did that come from?" Noctis asked after a while.
Prompto shoved his shoulder playfully and ignored the stitch of pain that lit up in his back.
"You're really going to act like you didn't know?"
Noctis brushed a fingertip over Prompto's bottom lip, a sensation that went straight to Prompto's groin.
"I didn't expect you to pounce on me like that."
"Oh, whatever dude," Prompto said. "I almost died."
Guilty. Noctis looked so guilty.
"I didn't mean that," Prompto said. "I meant the rest."
Noctis was quiet for a minute.
"You've done that before."
I'm okay.
Everything's fine now.
...how delightful
"Nah," Prompto said. "I just watch a lot of porn."
Noctis shoved him back, a smirk on his face.
"You're such a liar," he said with a tired laugh. "Do I even want to know?"
No. He did not.
That was a secret Prompto would take to his grave.
At almost 5:30 in the morning, the day's first light should have burned bright on the horizon, but the sky above Lestallum remained dark as pitch. No moon, no stars, the city streets bathed in artificial light.
It didn't matter. Lestallum didn't sleep and the dirty, litter-filled streets were crowded at this hour. It was just past shift change at the power plant and the ladies were either on their way home or headed out for a bite to eat and a drink or two after work. Members of the Kingsglaive patrolled in pairs and refugees sought shelter – a luxury now that the city was the only place besides the Hammerhead with power.
Prompto sat in an alcove just off the market, his headphones in and the music tuned to something loud and rhythmic to drown out the noise in his head. He should have been asleep in his bed at the Levelle, he should have gone back hours ago. Iggy would worry. But he couldn't bring himself to lay down in an empty bed to contemplate what was missing.
If Noctis were still around, maybe sleep wouldn't be such a problem. Maybe he would still have nightmares, but at least there would be something solid to ground him, someone he could reach out to until his terror passed.
Prompto hadn't slept a full night since Noct went into the crystal. If it wasn't the Daemons, it was Ardyn, and he couldn't shake that awful crawling sensation somewhere between subcutaneous tissue and cords of muscle. It was a gross, insistent, gnawing that wouldn't go away.
And the dreams. Gods. If Iggy or Gladio knew just how fucked up he was, Prompto was sure they'd lock him up forever.
All they knew was what they saw on the outside after they rescued him. Broken nose. Body mottled in black and purple and green. Wrists chafed and bloodied.
Ignis probably suspected it was worse than it seemed, too perceptive for his own good, but if he did he never voiced his concerns.
It was far worse than anything Ignis might or might not suspect. Ardyn's violence opened up some deep well of perversity and despair Prompto couldn't shake. Even the memory of his last night with Noctis couldn't damp down that particular fire.
Better they didn't know, and Prompto was not about to volunteer that information.
They treated him like he was going to fall apart and burst into tears at the slightest mention of Gralea or the Keep or Noctis. Like he was some fragile porcelain figurine that might shatter from careless mishandling. As if he hadn't already experienced a lifetime of mishandling and neglect.
Ignis walked on eggshells. Gladio bit back his usual bullying remarks, but was getting frustrated Prompto hadn't snapped back to his usual cheerful self yet. Prompto sensed a dressing down looming in the near future, and he wasn't sure if he could handle it without it driving a deeper wedge between himself and his friends.
His insides were scraped raw and he missed Noctis so bad, it was a physical ache as sharp as a blade. He tried to maintain a cheerful facade, but he couldn't force it. It was all he could do to hold himself together. After all, he hoped being with Noct, even if just that one time, would obliterate Ardyn's touch, but all it did was make him want things too shameful to think about.
It started to rain, a light drizzle at first, then a steady shower and Prompto breathed in petrichor and earth and let it calm him.
He pocketed his phone to shield it from the moisture. If he broke or damaged it, there was no telling when or if he'd get a new one. He needed to get back to the Levelle anyway. Before Ignis started making calls.
He passed through the market, past the entrance to a small pub that remained open and rather busy for the hour. He glanced inside, expecting the usual assortment of ladies still dressed in work clothes, but there were far fewer of them clustered around the bar than there were men.
With only enough cash on him to cover an ale, Prompto wandered inside, lured by thoughts of a cold drink, distractions, and other, baser possibilities. He ordered an ale in a glass and drank half at once, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let himself be lulled in to a near meditative state by the low hum of voices around him.
It didn't take long to be approached. The man was a little older than himself, unremarkable but not unattractive and he wore his Kingsglaive uniform jacket unbuttoned to reveal the armored vest underneath. That in itself Prompto found attractive. A soldier. A man who knew how to fight.
He finished his ale and the man ordered him another. Prompto drank it down. He wasn't much of a drinker and the alcohol hit him fast. He refused the offer of another. Any more and he would lose any sense of control or agency.
"Wanna get out of here?" Prompto asked.
The man smiled. "Hell yeah."
In a small apartment on the edge of the city, Prompto lost himself in sensation, blocking out all thoughts of either Noctis or Ardyn. Bright morning sunlight should have burned behind the closed blinds as the stranger tugged off Prompto's Crownsguard uniform and pushed him down onto the bed. Birds should have chirped as the man fixed his mouth on Prompto's cock and sucked him into a mindless oblivion.
Darkness prevailed as he heard himself beg for things he could never have imagined himself asking before. Face down on the bed, his wrists pinned somewhere above his head, Prompto moaned into the sheets, whispering pleas for more, more, more but it wasn't quite enough to satisfy the hungry beast inside him.
On his way home later, intoxicated from two post-sex glasses liquor, and wrapped in the heady scent of another man's cologne, Prompto looked up at the sky and cursed the darkness. He cursed the Gods. The Kings of old. Ardyn. Even Noctis. He needed the goddamned sun. He needed Noctis back and Ardyn dead.
He stumbled into the room he shared with Ignis and Gladio at the Lestallum, tripped over something on the floor and took a header into the bathroom door. He landed on the cold tile and pressed his cheek to it, thought of snow, and recoiled. He hated snow. Never wanted to see it again.
"Where the fuck have you been?"
Gladio stood over him, towering and mighty and really, really pissed off.
"I don't need to get your permission to be out, big guy. You're not my mom."
"Are you drunk?"
"What about it?"
Gladio lifted Prompto to his feet. Set him upright. He took Prompto's chin roughly in his hand and peered into his face until Prompto wrenched away from him.
"Why do you smell like budget store cologne?" Gladio asked. "The fuck have you been doing?"
Prompto shoved him away.
"None of your business."
Gladio pushed him back into the wall and pinned him there. He took Prompto's arm and glared at the red marks on his wrist, marks that would be bruises by morning.
"What happened?"
Panic.
"Get your hands off me," he snapped and fought himself free of Gladio's grip. "Don't fucking touch me! Don't touch me!"
Ignis emerged from the darkness of the bedroom and Prompto collided with him, almost knocked him down, muttered an apology, and lurched for his bed.
"The hell is wrong with you?" Gladio asked.
"Gladio, perhaps this conversation is better left for later," Ignis said.
"He stumbles in here drunk and smelling like the gods know what, all banged up -"
"Gladio. Leave him be."
"Guy can't even get laid around here without getting the third degree," Prompto slurred. He sank down into the pillows face first. "Guess you're the only one who can act like a giant man whore without having to answer for it, hunh? Do me a favor and fuck off, will ya?"
Stunned silence. Too tired to care that they cared or that maybe he'd hurt some feelings, Prompto thrashed at the blankets, found the edge of the sheet and covered himself with it. He turned over, away from the empty space, and faced the wall.
"Oh how delightful, to ruin something so beautiful..." Prompto murmured into the pillow. "Well, fuck you, too."
"What was that?" Gladio asked.
"Nothing," Prompto said. "Nothing at all."