The Content Creation Side-Blog.

Being chained up and left alone for so long(how long had it been now? Time was a blur. After so long it had been impossible to keep up with on his own), Prompto’s thoughts kept circling round-and-round what would happen when the guys found him.

Never If.

Despite his current state- bruises, blood, pain all over, even with the growing temptation to give into the encroaching darkness and his visions edge, it would always be when. Prompto absolutely refused to die before he could talk to Noctis again. Ask his best friend if he was worried about him- tell him face-to-face about being an MT. Part of his life that had been a bitter curse since he was a child. Only now did he know the truth of what he really was and the reason for the code on his wrist. A code he could never share with anyone back in Lucis growing up, one his parents always made sure he covered when he went out.

And then dealing with what Gladio and Ignis would say, hoping against everything they would still want him around too. As Noctis was his best friend, he had considered Ignis and Gladio to be close friends as well. The three of them treated him like a regular person, had fun together, took away a lot of loneliness from parents never being around and other kids back then keeping their distance. Thinking on it, they had been separated since the train, and he had lost count of how many days had passed.

“Ungh,” he groaned, blinking a bit to to stave off closing his eyes, feeling the aches and pains, bruises all over his body, feeling the effects from Ardyn’s torture times, then trying without success to tug at his restraints once again. It was always useless but he tried as best he could anyway. Prompto had been chained up so long, feeling more fragile than he knew he was, feeling only weaker as time went, but knowing he could handle himself once he was freed. “I can’t die, not yet. Not here.” He told himself in a low, determined voice.

In the haze of pain and exhaustion, his mind drifted, likening his determination to survive like that of a cockroach. They could survive and endure more than most insects. Back in their highschool days they had heard cockroaches could survive an intense explosion, coming out unscathed. Whether it was true or not, they didn’t know, but it was something to think about, and helping him get through this.

Prompto only had to try and keep his mind busy.

It felt like it came out of the blue, his stomach growled loud and angry. Prompto wasn’t exactly sure how long he’d been left there alone, and Ardyn was far from a gracious host. He had ended up provoking the older man and paid the price each time, but Prompto refused to break. To see Noctis again, he would endure whatever pain was inflicted. Mentally and physically.

Being used as bait to draw Noctis in only served to make himself angry. If Noct had gotten hurt because of him being an unwilling part of Ardyn’s plan, he doubted he could forgive himself for it. Ignis and Gladio might not either and that thought hurt deeply.

Worse than any injury gotten on their adventure to this point.

Breathing still very off, he sagged in his restraints, worn down and out, tempted to shut his eyes. But fighting as hard as he could.

This wasn’t from needing sleep, it was something else that was scaring him. A different kind of darkness trying to take over. “No, not now, not yet,” he thought out loud. “Gotta stay awake, think of something.” Prompto tried shaking it off as best he could, focusing thoughts on his memories- becoming Noct’s friend, late night study sessions, Ignis and Gladio slowly coming around to liking him, his trying out and making it into the Crownsguard and the celebration that followed, Chocobo rides, the Assassin’s Creed festival, so many cherished times and memories…

“In here, come on!”

That voice.

Prompto jerked his head up, hearing a faint voice, very briefly wondering if he was hallucinating or if that was Noctis’ voice in the distance.

Sounds were growing closer, louder.

For the first time in a while, he felt hope.

The sound of a door sliding open followed and before he could process it, they were around him, working on releasng the restraints. Their first words coming across as mumbling to his ears.

Prompto did not land on his feet after being freed, landing on his knees, dazed, looking at the floor and hearing them, his only real friends asking if he was okay, felt like he was rescued by angels at the time. Made him feel like the unavoidable reveal might be better than he kept thinking over and over again.

Prompto couldn’t answer right away, getting his head together, catching his breath, getting feeling back in his limbs. “Are you okay?” One of them asked before Prompto moved on his own. He ended up sitting on his knees, leaning back only slightly, lying through his teeth when he answered “Yeah, I’m fine,” to them as they hovered. The lie(none of them believed) was an old one that came too easily to him going back from childhood but he really did not want to think on that right now with the guys here in the present.

Now, struggling to look his best friend of many years in the eyes, the question he had been waiting for an undetermined amount of time to ask, needing to hear from Noctis that despite what he was, that he wasn’t just another MT clone of one of their enemies that caused Noctis so much pain, that he was really who he was, that things could go be the same among them, Prompto finally spoke the question that had been on his mind since he learned of his own origin.

He hadn’t been brave.

Laying on his side, he clutched the spare pillow in his arms closer to his chest and tried and failed to not let the commendations he’d received roll around his head too much.

The day after he woke up a few of the Crownsguard that had come to take his statement(that had been a living nightmare in itself, reliving everything had happened between breaks that morning) had told him good-naturedly, and with grins that didn’t quite reach their ears in his eyes, that when he was old enough he should consider the Crownsguard since they could “always use more guys made of tough stuff”, and that “you should be proud of yourself, not everyone’s that strong, kid.”

He hadn’t been strong.

At the time, in the dimmest of ways, he was aware they’d injected him with something. Prompto remembered feeling goopy; his eyes were heavy, couldn’t concentrate, his brain refused to work how he wanted it to and the teen had been positive if it hadn’t been for the restraints he would have fallen into a heap on the floor. It was only a guess whatever it was hadn’t worked how they wanted because as soon as it became clear coherent answers weren’t coming, that was when masked man number one brought the knife out…

In the beginning, he hadn’t been silent.

Lost in the memory playing against his will, the blond hugged the pillow as tight as he could, remembering their cruel taunts, threats, being unable to answer them as they wanted and the sudden spike of pain once combined with pained scream that was forced from him once the man plunged the knife into his shoulder. That had been where the worst of the nightmare started.

Taking a shuddering breath, he had jumped from the bed, discarded the pillow and left the room in favor of finding something else to pass the time since sleep wasn’t coming tonight.

He’d been scared.

So, so scared. More-so than he had ever been in his entire life.

In desperate need of a distraction, Prompto went to the living-room, careful to make as little noise as possible so he wouldn’t wake Noctis. Just because he couldn’t sleep didn’t mean he had to drag his best friend down with him. However, thinking of Noctis, he didn’t mean to, but frowned a bit.

Things had been awkward between them in a way he wasn’t sure how to fix.

Favoring the lamp over the main light, he kept it dim and looked around, noticing the remnants of the start to their weekend; half-completed home work scattered on the coffee table, empty snack bags and soda cans. Dinner dishes lay waiting in the sink to be washed. Ignis was unable to join them that evening, leaving them on their own.

He was really going to have to start getting back to his morning runs soon.

Pushing the aches and pain from his injuries to back of his mind, Prompto let his body work on auto-pilot and started cleaning the mess. It was something familiar, something calm and easy. And if he kept the noise down then he wouldn’t have Noctis coming out reminding him of something he didn’t want to hear.

Meanwhile, what Prompto was unaware of was that he wasn’t the only one unable to sleep.

Noctis turned onto his side, facing the digital clock on his nightstand instead of the wall, again. It was past 2:30am and while he had dozed off earlier, it hadn’t lasted long. It wasn’t exactly a mystery to the teen why sleep continued to be difficult. Noctis thought that after he’d gotten Prompto back that sleep would come easier and longer as it did before the ordeal started.

It did not.

While he had not been privileged to the full details of what Prompto went through and the rescue that followed, he had learned that had the team arrived the smallest bit later they would have been bringing a corpse back instead. A masked woman was in the room next to where Prompto had been found, a loaded gun in her hands ready to be used. The only reason the Crownsguard had gotten their location in the first place is thanks to one of their guys cutting a deal and ratting them out since he was too scared to see their full plan through, didn’t want to be killed and thought torturing a kid was too cruel; he hadn’t signed on for that.

At that time the prince still had no clue the shape his friend was in, but his imagination made up for it.

The times he had managed to doze he’d dreamt of Prompto’s bloodied (and sometimes mangled) corpse coming to accuse him of being the reason he’d been killed- hadn’t he been looking for him? How could his supposed friend let this continue for days? Didn’t he even care? Other times it was a sad, despair riddled whisper of ‘why?’ while staring at a ghost with chains hanging loose and rattling loud around his wrists and neck, not unlike the spirit in that old holiday film they watched every year. Wide-eyed and hollow, Noctis could only accept blame for some of it with a small ‘I’m sorry’ and it didn’t feel like enough. It never would have been.

But, with real Prompto, things had been drastically different.

After waking up that afternoon, Prompto repeated his name in that same way he did when he said the answer twice to a test question at one of their cram sessions when he wasn’t sure of the answer but couldn’t come up with anything else for the solution.

The autumn air is crisp, the sky as blue as can be and with it comes a certain chill in the air. It does his aged bones no favor, but he’s not about to let a little pain stop him from his visit. He’s already had to cut them down to once every few months as it was. The only sounds around are the ones of his cane and footsteps on the sidewalk and occasional crunch of leaves that are in his path.

Once he reaches his destination the familiar ache swells in him and a few tears threaten to fall down his face. A little over two years now it had been. Even so, it did not feel right to him to still be the one standing there and his husband the one buried in the ground below. Not even having the brunette around felt off to him. He blinks the tears away and smiles at the grave. The flowers he placed from before were still there and the plot(along with the others) was well kempt. It was a small thing, but it did give him some peace of mind to know his husband was resting somewhere nice.

His days of sitting at the grave are long since past, he had to stand these days. His joints were not what they used to be, and with a smile and light in his eyes that never left him, he started to talk to Feliciano as if he were there and could answer him back.

Alfred told him news of their grown children, and that their daughter finally had a little girl of her own and that they knew he would love her to no end as well. There was never any doubt about that. Alfred spoke of other news about their still living friends and how they were doing, things in his own life and a few other things he knew Feliciano would have liked to hear.

Sooner than Alfred would have liked, the sun was showing signs of setting for the day and he knew he had to go before the evening cold came in. “I’m sorry, Feli. It’ll be a while before I can come back. But I promise I’ll see you again soon.” Turning away, a pained expression shown on his face. Leaving was always the hardest, and this would be his last visit.

He was never able to return after that last trip, personal health declining too much to allow it. One night that winter, he was laying in their bed, keeping only to his side as usual and a strange, but welcome, warmth washed over him. Opening his eyes, the sight he saw was not one he was expecting, and while it should have scared him, he wasn’t frightened by it. No one could be scared of that kind smile that often adorned the Italian’s face when he was alive.

“I have been waiting for you, Al.” Feliciano told him while holding out a hand, tears brimming his eyes. “It is time for you to come with me.” One thing Feliciano was grateful for was that his request to be the one to come get Alfred was approved, and not have some stranger do it. Like one that had taken him. They were kind, but he had been waiting so long now to see Alfred this close once more.

Alfred couldn’t quite figure it out at first. Feliciano seemed rather different and it only occurred to him after he took the brunette’s hand. He looked as young as he did in their wedding photograph on the mantle in the living room.

Alfred was bordering on agitated and felt it was justified given his current situation. He stared the brunet in the eyes while crossing his arms, not hiding the annoyance that was evident in his actions and current expression. Feliciano, on the other hand, frowned a bit and narrowed his eyes slightly. “If you do not get your butt back to bed, I will drag you back there myself. And do not give me that look, you know I will.” Feliciano knew he sounded a bit bossy, but Alfred was still early in his sickness and had a fever that had yet to break, only having just lowered a little, and he wasn’t about to see the blond get any worse because the other was bored. “I will bring you what you need in a minute, but you need to rest and should not be up walking around just yet.”

If he had felt a little better, even just by the tiniest bit, then he would have protested and simply made his way past Feliciano to get what he wanted himself. Alfred knew Feliciano meant well, but he didn’t like the feeling of being bossed around- especially in his own apartment. For now, he still felt terrible and turned to go back to his room, trusting the brunette to keep his word and bring something to do. Most of his entertainment was in the living room and he wouldn’t have minded sleeping on the couch at least. Except Feliciano was a little too adamant that he stay in bed until his fever broke, at the very least, and then spending time out of bed would be acceptable. Settled back in his bed, he closed his eyes and waited for Feliciano to bring him what he had originally gotten out of bed for earlier.

A few short minutes later the brunet came in, an apology ready on his tongue for taking longer than expected, but the words never left his mouth, which shut as quickly as it was opened, after going into Alfred’s bedroom. His breathing was a little off(something to be expected), but the blond was asleep. As quietly as he could, he set the laptop on the nightstand and plugged it in to finish charging. He saw no need to wake Alfred up right now, so he quietly left the room to go start work on dinner.

Sleepy:

Veneziano very badly wanted to keep his amber eyes shut and enjoy resting between Japan and Germany like he used to more often a long time ago. Forcing a yawn back, the Italian questioned if he could really sleep right now. Fear, guilt and knowing what was to come if he messed up again helped in staving away slumber while memories of failed loops played like a nightmarish reminder to not make any mistakes. ‘We’ll all get out together this time,’ he thought, trying to push aside memories of loops past. They would. He would make sure of it. ========================

Content: They were hurt, but they were alive and that was what mattered most to the Italian as he fought to stay on his feet, knowing deep down it was futile. It was his time to fall now, Veneziano felt it and at the same time he could with a sense of peace knowing his friends would escape and be okay. Collapsing to the ground, the Italian’s time was greatly limited; using what strength he had left, the brunet spoke his final words to his friends, able to pass on with his lips turned upward into his last small smile.

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Energetic: Veneziano was excited to share his information and idea with the others at the upcoming meeting. The brunet knew he could convince Germany and Japan to come; the others would not be swayed so easily. He would need help, and knew a certain blond to ask. Veneziano had more of a bounce in his step walking into the building that morning, already thinking of how nice it would be to spend time with his friends somewhere where business was not involved. Spotting America outside of the conference room, he spiritedly told him of his idea, thinking ‘It will be fun.’

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Stupid: In nearly all of his trips through the loops trying time and time again to not make any mistakes, Veneziano unknowingly doomed himself to repeated failure each time. It was a selfish fear that blinded him and now the Italian felt like a fool. A loved one, but a fool all the same. The brunet had been too focused on his fear of his friends blaming him for this and his goal of freeing them that he long since lost sight of the knowledge that working together would increase their chances of survival, and maybe they would even escape together.

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Grief: It wasn’t fair! The brunet thought with great pain while throwing a vase against the wall, continuing to vent his sorrow by wrecking as much of the room as he could. Veneziano knew their sacrifices should not be in vain, but he could not bring himself to leave yet. The Italian was about to continue when a book on the shelf caught his attention along with a roar that made his blood run cold. It was close, he needed to run now to stand a chance. Fleeing, book in-hand, Veneziano got an idea, one he prayed would work.

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Anxious: The Italian could not be at ease just yet. They were still on the monsters territory and now even more of them were there. If any of the fellow nations that had been fighting on the outside were to fall, he would go in time back again. There was no question in his mind over it. Heart racing, eyes darting back and forth to check for any more of those monsters while others shared their cheers and hugs, Veneziano felt as though he could not breathe and them getting far away from there at last was not happening fast enough.