#ofsnapshot

“Okay but, what if the girls wanted to do it with their own clones? What ya gonna do then?” {prom is such a lil shit}

“Easy, I will gladly take the girl and her clone at once.”

It’s days, feels like weeks, as he watched over the blond while the others went on a hunt or gathered supplies. Noctis wanted to go with them, but someone had to say behind to take care of Prompto. And-- the Prince, himself, wasn’t exactly fighting fit either. No matter how many times he’d try to protest, Ignis would put his foot down, and it’s rather hard to argue when you can’t. Nevertheless, despite that, chances are Noctis wouldn’t have left his side anyway. Every time he looked at the injures the blond has sustained because of him, there’s this bubble of guilt that seems to grow and eat away at him. What was the point of being some sort of savior, if he couldn’t protect the people he loved? That was bullshit.

His life wasn’t worth more than their’s, the Six can disagrees and he’d tell them exactly where they could shove that disagreement. Maybe that’s a bit harsh, but right now he was just angry. Mainly at himself. Prompto had jumped in to save him, which resulted in grievous injuries. In his upset state, Noctis charged in, and ... well, didn’t come out unscratched. Not that it mattered, his problem was nothing compared to what happened to his best friend. Gods, Prompto didn’t deserve this, he deserved none of this. 

Movement pulls him from his thoughts, Prompto was starting to wake up. A tentative smile graced his lips. He’s waking up, that means he’s a little okay. Just a little. 

Noctis opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The bandages wrapped around his wound, still fresh, his hand reached up to touch it. Grimacing as he realized-- he wouldn’t be able to tell Prompto anything. Because he physically couldn’t.

SAVE ME! GO PUNCH HIM OR SOMETHING!