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i wrote a random thing in, like, an hour. read the tags, there's nothing extreme at all but i'd still recommend being careful. enjoy, i guess
"Prompto."
He doesn't look up. He can't look up, because if he does, it'll make it real. The cold ceramic of the sink bites into his palms, the chill sinking deep, deep, deep into his bones. He hasn't felt this cold since he was twenty, lying on his side in the snow, feeling like the world was ending.
Now, here, the world has ended. It ended over ten years ago, in Zegnautus Keep, with a blue crystal and a goodbye he didn't fully understand at the time. The world has ended, and he is already dead and rotting, while life goes on around him.
Maybe this is proof of his stagnation, of his rot, that he's seeing dead things now. Maybe he's died in his sleep, and this is the afterlife.
Maybe he's just finally lost his mind.
He takes a shaky breath. In, out. In, out. Reaches over, turns the tap on. Splashes water over his face. Doesn't look in the mirror.
"Prompto."
He doesn't look in the mirror.
"Prompto, please. Please look at me."
He doesn't look.
"Hey. C'mon. Please. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry."
He doesn't.
"Is that what you wanna hear? Is that what'll get you to look at me? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
He-
"Guess not." Pause. In, out. Don't look. "I didn't want to leave you, y'know."
No.
"I didn't wanna leave any of you. If there was any other way, I would've taken it. I know that doesn't make it better, and I get why you're mad. Just- I need you to understand. I need you to know that I didn't want to hurt you."
He doesn't-
"How are Gladio and Ignis?"
Silence.
"Guess they'd be in charge of rebuilding Lucis." Pause. In, out. "Can't think of anyone better for the job, to be honest. I mean, Ignis is... well, he's Ignis. And Gladio’s speciality is barking orders at people. Surely that's come in useful at some point."
The laugh sounds so real.
He needs to leave the bathroom. To get away from the mirror.
His legs won't move, the ice of the tiles beneath his bare feet freezing him in place. He's so cold.
It's snowing, and he's alone, and he's chained up in Zegnautus Keep with Ardyn's mocking echoing in his ears, and there's a blue crystal, and the world is in darkness, and he's alone-
"Hey, hey, hey, breathe."
Something touches his shoulder. Air. A breath. Movement out of the corner of his eye. A hand, then, maybe. The absence of one. It doesn't matter. It's not real. He's nobody, and he's nowhere. Just another faceless clone.
"Hey, Prompto, c'mon. Don't freak out. I'm not gonna hurt you. It's me. You know I wouldn't hurt you, right?"
His best friend pushed him off the train. His best friend left him alone. Alone in the dark. Alone in the snow.
Maybe he died in the snow. Maybe his life's just flashing before his eyes. Maybe this is all a dream, and he'll wake up in his twelve-year-old body, a body that doesn't fit him, that can't run for more than a few minutes at a time, that can't nail a target from a hundred metres away. He'll wake up, and he'll always have been alone.
"Please." The voice that isn't there sounds strained. Broken. "You're scaring me, man. You can see me, right? You saw me earlier. Come on. Talk to me."
"Go away." His voice is hoarse with disuse, the rough edges of it scraping against his throat. It hurts.
The thing that isn't there startles- he sees it out of the corner of his eye, because he still refuses to look up, to acknowledge it head-on. It isn't him. It isn't real. He's alone.
"I... Prompto?"
"You aren't him. You aren't real."
"I-I- I swear, I- it's me, it's Noct. Please, just- look at me."
"Noct is dead."
Another laugh, this one strained. "Y-yeah. Yeah I am."
"... Don't know if you've noticed, but dead people don't usually talk."
"I'm a... special case."
Noctis is. He's always been, in everything. He'd been destined to die since before they met.
They were never meant to be friends, or even meet. He- Prompto- was always meant to be alone. Noctis was always meant to die.
Maybe this is the universe's way of punishing him for daring to actually care about the gods' sacrificial lamb.
Maybe he's just delusional. Maybe he's going insane.
...
He looks up.
Noctis stands behind him in the mirror. He looks the exact same has he had ten years ago. Not when he died. When he left.
Somehow, that's the part that makes this seem most like a sick joke.
He touches the mirror. The glass is cold under his fingertips, cold like absence, cold like darkness.
Cold like the snow.
He watches Noctis' face light up with hope, and then immediately fall as he begins to walk away.
He leaves the bathroom, and, immediately, the ghost is gone. The voice goes silent. Blissfully, horrifyingly silent.
Here's part 3 of the Ghost!Noctis saga! This one's a little darker than part 2 (although not part 1, now that I think about it), so I do apologise in advance. Check the tags for the content warnings please!
part 1
part 2
“Haven’t seen any photos around here.”
Ah. So they’re doing this again. Prompto pauses to stare at the reflection in the microwave door. Its face- no, he’s just going to think of it how it appears- Noctis’ face is schooled, perfectly neutral. It reminds him of how Ignis looks at him sometimes, like he’s something to be managed, a wildcard that could snap at any moment and start freaking out over nothing. Prompto ignores him, turning his attention back to the slice of cold pizza he’s currently warming up.
“Haven’t seen your camera, either.” Noctis sounds like he’s trying far too hard to be casual. “You, uh, you still take pictures?”
The microwave beeps, and Prompto tugs the door open with more force than he probably should, pulling the plate out. He turns his back, to make a point, and is immediately faced with the darkened TV screen, and a scowl.
“You can’t just ignore me! You’ve been doing it for months now. I know this is weird, and I- I’m really trying to give you space, or whatever, but- but you’re not the only one who’s having a bad time right now. I’m stuck in your reflection. I can’t talk to anyone else, I can’t go anywhere that you aren’t, I can’t even sleep. I feel like I’m going crazy here, man!”
He pushes aside a few dirty (and clean) shirts and an old comic to make room for him to sit on the couch. Maybe he should throw out the TV, and all the mirrors. He’s already drawn all the curtains in the house.
“You know, you’ve changed, Prompto.” Noctis sounds outright angry now, rather than just frustrated. “You don’t take pictures anymore. You don’t hang out with the guys. You just stay in your apartment all day and sleep, or watch TV, or just lie there. And you wanna know what the worst bit is?! That you keep pretending you can’t even see me! Don’t you think I would’ve faded by now if I was a hallucination?! I mean, ghosts aren’t exactly the craziest thing we’ve ever run into-”
He’s done. “You know what?! Yeah, N-” His voice breaks on the name. “Yeah, Noct. I have changed. I am different. I’m not twenty anymore. People grow up. I’m allowed to move on. You- you died five years ago. And even before that, you were asleep for ten years. I already grieved, and now the gods are just- what, taunting me?!”
“From where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like you’ve moved on. It looks like you’re still wallowing, even though I’m right here. Why don’t you get over yourself, huh?! Why don’t you stop with the self-pity, accept what’s in front of you, and grow the hell up already?!”
Prompto stands up, abruptly, and grabs a shirt from the couch. He watches Noctis’ eyes widen with panic as he realises what he’s planning to do.
“No- no, no- Prompto, wait- listen, I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry for saying all that-”
He approaches the TV, and throws the shirt over it, before turning on the microwave.
“C’mon, please, we can talk about this, please, just don’t leave me alone-”
Prompto covers the microwave, too, and the voice goes silent. He’s alone again, at last.
As he sits back down on the couch, he wonders where Noctis goes when he can’t see him.
Hopefully nowhere at all, for both their sakes.
***
End note, if you've read this far: I do worry that Prompto is a little bit out of character here, but then again, this is a version of him who's completely consumed by his grief after Noctis' death (plus, he's around fifteen years older at this point, so a lot has changed)
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?"
