#post-ffxv

Prompto glanced to his left, watching Noctis from afar, trying his luck at fly fishing. His smile grew bigger. The sovereign of Insomnia liked the challenge, and he was indeed having rotten luck in spades, judging by the sour grimace on his face. It had been what—two or three hours now—and still no bite? Meanwhile, Prompto had an ice chest with four large fish, two of which barely fit in the container. He couldn’t help but beam, knowing this was taking the piss out of Noctis, the self-proclaimed king of fishing.

“Hey, Noct!”

Noctis glanced up, shrugging, squinting at Prompto’s shit-eating grin.

“Maybe if you offer to kiss one and turn it into a prince, you’ll get a fish!”

“As if!” Noctis hollered back with a scoff, then laughed. “I think you’d have a better chance of turning into a prince if I kissed you!”

“Gee, you think? Don’t threaten me with a good time!” Prompto’s belly laugh was cut short when the current tightened, nearly knocking him off his feet. With a gasp, he buried his feet into the soft soil, toes hooking around smaller rocks.

“Maybe you should shut up ‘cause you’re pissing off the river spirits!” Noctis called, smirking at Prompto’s glare.

“Pfft, after everything we’ve been through with gods, that’s the least of my problems!”

“Can’t argue with that!”

Noctis returned to his routine, reminding himself that fly fishing was all in the wrist. Easier said than done. Still, he was never one to quit, much like Prompto. He turned to the side, getting a better view of him, noting his lazy, effortless posture. It was astonishing he hadn’t been swept away yet, but something seemed to be favoring him. The painful reminder of Prompto’s virtue stared Noctis in the face when he glanced at the lopsided fish tail sticking out of the cooler. He grumbled and shook his head.

Noctis was about to admit defeat when suddenly his body jerked forward, and he went flying into the river. A splash swallowed him whole.

“Prompto!” Noctis gasped as he surfaced, then vanished under again, bobbing as he clung desperately to his rod. He slammed into several large rocks, glaring through silt and bubbles at the fish that—dare he say— looked pleased with itself. “Some help would be great!”

“Oh shitshitshit!” Prompto flung his rod to shore, not caring where it landed as adrenaline spiked. He clumsily dove into the river, nearly bonking his head on a rotted log, then began the chase, letting the current carry him while he paddled with his arms.

He spotted Noctis heading for an area packed with sharp rocks, stomach dropping.

“Noct! Just let the fish go! He ain’t worth it!”

Noctis resurfaced, bracing his feet between two rocks as the fish thrashed, holding himself in place. “Yes, he is! Yes, he is!”

“Are you insane!?” Prompto balked. “He’s gonna fuck you up if you keep at it!”

“Not before I fuck him up first!” Noctis barked a laugh, the kind that made Prompto wince.

“Dude, you take fishing way too seriously!”

“You have no idea!” Noctis gritted his teeth and jerked the rod, then jabbed a hand toward the rocks. “Stand in front of me—I’ll lower the rod, and you help me tug!”

“Noct, my guy, we’re gonna go flying if he gets the upper hand! Aren’t the fish supposed to be flying in fly fishing, not us?”

“Prompto, just do it! Trust me!”

“Fine! Fine!” Prompto obeyed, planting himself between Noctis and the rocks. The current surged. His heartbeat quickened. When the rod lowered into his grip, he tugged in sync with Noctis, and for a moment...

—he wasn’t in the river anymore.

He was breathing soot. Fire roared around him, Ignis, and Gladio as they sprinted through ruined streets toward the castle. Daemons snarled in the shadows. Heat seared his clothes despite the magic shielding them. And at the front of the pack was Noctis: Charging forward. Eating blows. His crow's feet deepened as he grinned in the face of death like it was a game. He had seen suffering beyond compare, endured ten years in the crystal, and nothing—not even Ardyn—could stop his determination.

Prompto recalled what it felt like to be protected and empowered. Noctis did that for him many times, and it was time to return the favor.

And that memory flooded him now—the strength, the fear, the devotion.

With a shout that nearly knocked Noctis backward, Prompto heaved the rod with everything he had. The fish launched into the air, a massive five-foot beast soaring straight at them.

Time slowed.

Noctis toppled back. Prompto smashed into him. The fish slammed into Prompto’s face with a slap heard around the world, and all three of them were swept downriver in a burst of white and sound.

Everything blurred after that, except the sky. And Noctis leaned over him as Prompto blinked awake.

Prompto sneezed violently, making Noctis recoil.

“Aw, dude!”

“S-sorry!” Prompto coughed, sitting up as the world tilted. “W-what happened? How long was I out?”

“Not long,” Noctis said, grinning as Prompto blinked around in a daze. He nudged the enormous fish washed up beside them like a defeated sea monster. “Whatever made you rage sure did us some good. You helped me get the big bastard!”

Prompto groaned, rubbing his jaw. “Yeah? Well, he nearly killed me! I’m gonna feel that in my face for a week!”

“Worth it,” Noctis replied smugly. “Beats you getting surgery to fix that nose of yours.”

Prompto rolled his eyes, but despite the throbbing headache, laughter crawled up his chest—breathless and wild. Relieved, even. He knew this would be one for the books.

They slogged back toward the shallows, arms looped over shoulders, hooting and hollering about their catch. The river settled around Prompto’s legs again—warm, familiar—like greeting an old friend after a chaotic party.

His fishing rod still lay where he’d thrown it, crooked in the grass. Prompto picked it up, shaking his head in disbelief.

Fishing wasn’t for chumps.

It was for idiots like them—idiots who survived gods and daemons and still found ways to laugh in the middle of it. And as Prompto glanced at Noctis, soaked and grinning like he hadn’t just been dragged halfway downstream by a goliath fish that had better business being a shark, Prompto realized something:

He wouldn’t trade moments like this for the world.

And...