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Rain pounded on the roof and cloaked the house in a muffled roar. It was the type of heavy downpour that sounded like a white noise machine directly in your ear. Soothing, easy to fall asleep to, yet it hid all sorts of sinister activity. It made the dark darker, the night spookier, and loneliness lonelier.
Well acquainted with the dark, and the night, and loneliness, Prompto had no problem sleeping through the hiss of rain on the windows. And the buzzing of his phone, and the numerous times the screen lit up with an incoming message. He didn’t even wake up the first two times the door was pounded on.
The third time, he was dragged from his dreams. Drool glued his pillowcase to his cheek, and his hair stuck out at every possible angle. Blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes, he glanced at his clock as he turned on his lamp. Three AM.
Bangbangbang.
Frowning and grumbling under his breath, Prompto combed his fingers through his hair and got up. He was too tired to be worried about robbers or threats as he plodded barefoot through the house toward the door.
Bangbangbang.
“I’m coming!” Prompto called, flicking on the kitchen light and squinting at the brightness. Without looking through the window or peephole, Prompto unlocked the door and opened it to the person demanding entry.
His heart dropped when he saw his guest.
In a scene out of a drama, Noctis Lucis Caelum stood on his doorstep, cold and wet. Rain poured off his limp black hair, soaking through his white tee-shirt, and saturating his jeans and sneakers. Thin arms wrapped around himself, he shivered, his teeth chattering. He stared at Prompto through his bangs, his brows drawn, blue eyes tired and red-rimmed. His parted lips, tinged blue, quivered. He may have said Prompto’s name, but the roar outside sapped away any other sound.
Not even the rain could hide the tears rolling down Noctis’ cheeks.
Fear replaced shock and Prompto yanked Noctis against his chest. “What’s wrong?” he asked, breathless. Noct was so cold against him, shivering and dripping. The foyer floor was flooded, but Prompto couldn’t have cared less about that.
Noctis didn’t speak, just buried his face in the crook of Prompto’s neck, twisted his hands in the back of his shirt, and crumbled. His legs could no longer support his weight, and he leaned heavily on the blond.
Oblivious to the water splashing against his feet, freezing his toes and soaking his pant legs, Prompto held Noctis tight. The cool wind blowing through the open door chilled them both, but they paid it no mind. Noctis cried, long and hard. The sobs wracking his voice sounded like his soul clawing its way out. His entire body shook with stress, agony, and fear as he clung to Prompto.
Heart thumping hard against his ribs, Prompto blinked against the sting of tears I his own eyes. He pet Noct’s wet hair and clutched his waist, holding him up.
Minutes passed and Prompto knew they had to move back into the warmth of the house. Noctis was already likely to get sick, but he could at least warm him up for now.
“Can you walk?” he whispered, tipping his head to look at Noctis’ face. He pushed still-dripping bangs off his forehead and held his frozen cheeks tenderly.
Swallowing hard, Noctis managed a nod.
Talking his hand, Prompto closed the door. He helped the teen remove his shoes, then gently led him into the house. They left a trail of water in their wake as they moved through the small house to the bathroom.
“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes, okay pal?”
Noctis didn’t react, just stood before Prompto, shaking and downtrodden.
Biting the inside of his cheek to prevent his own breakdown, Prompto took the hem of Noctis shirt in trembling hands. “C’n you lift your arms for me?” he asked, voice soft and soothing. When he obliged, his movements stiff and mechanical, Prompto pulled the soaked cotton fabric over his head. Tossing the dripping shirt aside, he briefly struggled with the fly of Noctis’ jeans, then pushed the sodden denim to the floor.
The small, too-bright bathroom was silent as Prompto finished removing Noctis’ wet clothes and dried him with a soft towel. Noctis only moved when asked, and he struggled to put on the clean clothes Prompto offered him.
Seeing the person he loved so hollow and broken destroyed Prompto. But he couldn’t let his shattered heart distract him from giving all the love and care he could to Noctis.
Leaving another mess in the bathroom, Prompto took Noctis down the hall to his room. Sitting the prince on the edge of his narrow bed, he knelt on the floor at his feet. Cold hands clasped, periwinkle eyes peered up into midnight blue.
He didn’t ask again about what brought Noctis to his door, crying, in the middle of the night. Pestering wouldn’t help. He waited for the information to come forth, offered in trust.
Tears rolled silently down Noctis’ cheeks and he stared blankly at his hands in Prompto’s. “My dad is dying.”
The words, now free, hung heavily over their heads. Prompto wasn’t even sure he heard them correctly at first, and he had no idea what he should say in response. Mind racing to find words, he sat on the bed and gathered Noctis into his arms.
“Oh Gods, Noct,” he breathed, hot tears burning his eyes. He had seen the King on the news recently, but only thought he was an exhausted man dealing with political nonsense. He never realized his rough appearance had an underlying direness.
“It's that Gods-damned Wall!” Noctis shouted against Prompto’s shoulder.
Prompto didn’t pretend to understand Lucis-Caelum magic, but he knew it took a lot of energy to maintain the Wall protecting the city. “Noct,” he mumbled again.
Words remained unspoken between them; I don’t know what to do.
So, they did what they could, and held one another.
Prompto hated himself for not having words for such a horrid thing. He wanted to reassure Noctis, to let him know it would all be okay. There were no words, though. Everything he could say would sound hollow and insincere. All he could do was be here. And he would always be here, at Noctis’s side.
Rain pounded on the roof and cloaked the house in a muffled roar. It was the type of heavy downpour to wash the world clean. It was also the type of downpour to pummel the soft earth and churn it into a muddy mess. But even that mess would dry out and harden again in time. All it took was a little sunshine.