with all the blessings a heart can give
Prompto is still on the couch when Noctis slips through the door. He’s turned the television off, gathered the blankets around himself, and dozed off for a bit. He turned off his phone at some point to stop himself from doing something stupid like search up other media on the press conference or worse, sending Noctis a text.
He’ll wait for Noctis. He promised.
Noctis comes into view, hair dishevelled and expression exhausted, one hand pulling at the knot in his tie. He’s muttering, “Gods, how does Specs wear these things and not strangle himself…” when he catches sight of Prompto all curled up. Noctis stops. “Prom? What’s wrong?” he says, alarmed. “Are you feeling sick? Did you forget your meds today?”
“I’m fine,” Prompto says, pushing himself up. He watches Noctis round the couch and settle in the spot next to his legs.
“What’s going on then? You look worse than this morning.”
Prompto stares down at his lap. His voice is quiet when he says, “I watched the press conference.”