so... i made ghost!noctis part two... might make a part 3 but idk
part 1
***
"I-I think... I think I need help."
Gladio and Ignis sit there in a concerned silence that immediately makes him feel like an outsider. Not that he'd exactly felt comfortable before. Gladio and Ignis' shared apartment isn't clean, not exactly, but it's definitely cleaner than his- not to mention, it clearly belongs to people who, at least, sort of have their lives together. It's decorated, personalised, lived-in.
Definitely not a place for a ghost.
"Help?" says Ignis, carefully. He always chooses his words carefully, like they're daggers that need to be aimed, lest they cut someone accidentally. If anyone could kill with words alone, it'd be Ignis. Even the slightest hint of disappointment from him often has Prompto feeling like he's brought shame upon his entire bloodline. Despite the fact that he's a clone, and his 'bloodline' would be Verstael Besithia's, meaning he doesn't much care if he lets down that monster's ancestors somehow.
"Prompto, you good?" Gladio leans forward, elbows on his knees, dark brows furrowed. "No offense, but you look awful, man. Like, really bad. When was the last time you ate, or even slept?"
He doesn't answer, mostly because he doesn't remember.
Out of the corner of his eye, in the reflection in the TV, he sees movement. There's a figure sitting on the couch beside him, and the air shifts slightly as if something is moving beside him.
But it isn't, because there's nothing there.
Initially, the plan had been for all three of them- himself, Gladio, and Ignis- to live together in one apartment. But he knows that they'd rather not have him there, can tell by the way they act around him sometimes. He's a mess. He's not the person he used to be. He's a husk of his former self. It's just a fact, and he doesn't blame them at all.
Besides, they're close friends, and he only really ever knew them through N-
Through mutual friendships.
He lacks the shared experience that comes with being a royal retainer. If it hadn't been for the... circumstances under which they'd all met, they probably never would've been friends at all.
"Prompto, are you quite alright? You've been zoning out a lot."
He jumps, violently, as Ignis' hand lands on his knee. Ignis withdraws his hand immediately, appearing alarmed.
"Apologies. I didn't intend to startle you."
"N-no- no. You're fine. Just, uh, a little jumpy today, is all. Didn't sleep well." It's not a lie. He hasn't slept properly in weeks. Not since he started seeing things out of the corner of his eye.
Ignis hums, unconvinced. "What is it you were saying about needing help? If there's anything that Gladio and I can do to assist you, know that we are happy to provide it. If you'd like to move in with us, we'd welcome your presence."
Lies. Obviously. Again, he doesn't blame Ignis. He's just being tactful. Ignis is a good man, one of the best. Would probably do anything for anyone.
It's a shame there's nothing he can do about this.
"I've been... um." The presence beside him shifts again, a whisper of displaced air where the air should be still.
"They're not gonna believe you. I've tried getting their attention, but you're the only one who can see me. As much as it sucks, I think they might just think you're crazy."
Which means we're stuck together.
He ignores the words, the poison of his own thoughts leaking out from his subconscious, taking form in the voice that he so badly wants to hear.
"I've been seeing things." The words leave him in a rush. "And hearing things. V-voices."
The concern on both his friends' faces is undisguised. There's a growing pit in his stomach now. Gladio’s brow creases, and Ignis' mouth forms a thin line.
"... Voices." Ignis chooses his words with caution. "I see. What kind of things do you see and hear?"
"Just- just one." He swallows, hard. Gladio seems to realise what he's implying immediately.
"It's Noct. You're hallucinating Noct."
Ignis jabs him in the ribs with his elbow, at the same time as the shadow gives a huff of frustration at being called a hallucination.
"See? They don't believe us. We'll have to- I dunno, figure out a way to communicate with them. But to do that, you actually need to acknowledge me, y’know. You can't keep ignoring me forever."
He remembers a book he read when he was a kid about a monster that would lure sailors from their boats and into the depths. It would take on the shape and voice of a loved one- a lost lover, a dead relative or friend, even sometimes a pet. He understands those stories a lot better now.
"Prompto, I believe we need to discuss something." Ignis' tone is heavy. Not disappointed. Not fearful. Not even sad. Just... just heavy. "Gladio and I have become rather concerned for you."
Of course. How could he not have seen it coming?
"We fear your mental state may be... well, let's just say, fragile. It is completely understandable, after all that you've been through, and perfectly natural. However, it's clearly causing you distress." Ignis' slender, elegant hand cups his own,as if it's made of glass. "There's a psychiatrist who I've spoken to on numerous occasions. She mainly works with people who suffered trauma due to the Long Night. She's very reputable, don't worry."
Gladio chimes in. "You need help, kid."
'Kid'. As if they aren't all in their mid-thirties, as if he hasn't seen worse things than Gladio has ever imagined- in the facility, in Zegnautus Keep.
Maybe the- the voice... maybe it was right. Maybe they'll never understand.
" We're just trying to help you," says Ignis, and that's when he stands up to leave.
"I need to think about it." Another lie. He just needs to get out of here before they convince him he's insane. He probably is, but the idea of sitting there and talking to a therapist while that thing following him around tries to convince him of who-knows-what, makes him feel a primal sort of panic he usually only feels when bullets are flying.
"Thanks for the help," he says, already heading for the door. They don't get up, but he hears Gladio day, "Prompto, wait-" before he's shushed by Ignis immediately.
Outside in the lobby, he stops, feeling a wave of overpowering nausea wash over him. He doubles over, clutching at his middle, trying to catch his breath, trying to make sense of his racing thoughts.
The shiny reflection in the floor takes on a face he recognises.
"Okay, you just learned I'm not lying to you. I was right about Ignis and Gladio. So, you finally ready to talk to me?"
"Go to hell."
