‘ Well, you don’t have to travel very far ——— ’ But a confession is a confession nonetheless at this hour. It springs a rose touch across his cheekbones and nose until he’s choking awkwardly to cover it up.This is a different branch of life. Rough hands against his on occasion, and the world’s worst secrets that slip out when it’s just the two of them. It’s been like that since they met again. All nights of bad karaoke and staying up far too late. ‘ You’re, uh, ’ he says, but it catches in his throat. You’re my world, you know that? But he stares somewhere else instead until the thought of it goes away. ‘ Same, Prom. As long as you’re here, what do I gotta be afraid of? ’Let’s keep going, he doesn’t say, for a very long time.Because he’s the kind of boy that always looks home.It wasn’t always like that. Seeped ‘til death with things that go wrong and the stubbornest hope for comfort they could get. Things used to be lighter, like talking, like looking through photographs and laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.Noctis didn’t even realize he was craving that. Aching in his lungs and trying to find a way to stay on the ground for just a little longer. He’s never bragged about the different levels of trust, about how he’d give Prompto his heart if he asked him for it because if he needs it, then it’s the least that Noctis could do after everything.Those thoughts are like shallow waves dancing along the edge. Pulling and tugging, but aimless, and frigid, and colder than remembered. But it’s fine. They’re sitting together, swinging their legs of the pier because they’re too lazy to do anything else. ‘ You’re my best friend. ’At this hour, his only friend. A nice weight, but a bony pillow, but there. It’s a cordial kind of shyness that brews. These are the worst things he’s ever said, but the best things, and he can’t stop them now that they’re slipping out, exposing his mind.It’s a funny little pull. An endless tug at the drop of his stomach. He tries to put out the fire by ignoring it, but that’s harder. He’ll burn instead. It simmers and raises the hair on his arms. More than that, his mind demands. You can do more than that. So he pushes off until he’s standing upright and dizzy from the effort.He bites his lip and decides that he hates this angle. It’s too high up. Makes him a little bit afraid of the drop, so he eases himself down lower. He’s determined like he’s never been before, and it shows because his hands are shaking when he reaches out. He seeks purchase on Prompto’s shoulders, and then further, and further, until they’re in some kind of awkward embrace.He hides his embarrassment shallowly, hoarse little laughs that can only be counted as giggles, and a hug that lingers a little longer than it ought to. He only lets go when his eyes water ; useless. ‘ You’re my … ’ he tries. ‘ You’re my world, ’ he says, and then wrinkles his nose.
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