kittycaterer | Ic inbox

[ Noctis can’t even focus on the movie anymore. His mind is going a mile a minute, scrutinizing everything he’s starting to notice because he wouldn’t put something like this past Prompto. He’s always been uncomfortable with his body, he knows about Prompto’s childhood. He just hopes he’s wrong.

Noct stares down at Prompto’s feet, starting to progressively feel even more worried because there are like, twelve red flags here. ]

You’re dodging

[ Screw the movie. ]

Are we-- talking 'bout the movie...?

[he really was focusing; he turns his eyes from the movie and then back at noctis, pointing at the screen, and then back, staring]

[his pizza remains basically untouched, all them slices growing cold]

[ Bad subject shift, he gets it. But Noctis has no idea how to approach this. ]

I’m not talking about the movie.

[ Which should say that he’s talking about the subject Prompto so willingly skipped over. His gaze is set, eyes on Prompto and expression completely firm. ]

[one of those moments. prompto sighs and sits up, legs crossed]

If it's about the pizza, I'll eat it later. It's no big deal.

[he presses forward, a hand over noctis' cheek, and presses a kiss to his lips. he's finding a way out of this conversation. worked once, it'll work again, right?]

[ Noctis needs time to process his words, because he honestly doesn’t know how to handle this. But he doesn’t want to upset Prompto either. His mind keeps reeling, moving quickly despite his indifferent expression. But Prompto seeks to stop that, it seems. And Noctis identifies it as yet another red flag.

Oh, but he’s so tempted. Noctis is an absolute sucker for Prompto, and he’s so close to returning it but—]

Prompto.

[ He places his hands at Prompto’s chest, gently pushing him away. Now he’s visibly worried. ]

What is going on?

[woah-- that didn't work out. noctis finally has a backbone??]

Uh.

[prompto blinks at him, mostly confused but also concerned. he doesn't want noctis finding out. but he also doesn't really understand that this is an issue that would show concern.]

You're worried about me for something, I guess?

[ He’s far too suspicious now to be delicate. That’s obviously not worked in the past, and Noctis went weeks without knowing about Prompto’s mark. This seems to be the same, and now he has to wonder what else Prompto is hiding out of fear of judgment.

So, he stiffens up a bit, wearing a stern, but worried expression. ]

You forced it, didn’t you? In the bathroom.

All I did was win over tons of top scores in Bejeweled.

[his story isn't adding up. he tosses a cushion at noctis, trying to relax again with his feet up on the other's lap.]

Told ya that cheese makes me sick, and I dunno, been feelin' queasy since Christmas dinner I guess.

You barely touched Christmas dinner. Didn’t eat when I came over either before that, after work.

[ And yeah, Prompto didn’t eat the rest of the day. Noct is immovable. ]

Dude.

[prompto starts, not feeling comfortable with this conversation]

Sometimes I don't feel like eating, big deal.

[ Noctis furrows his brow a bit there, looking absolutely taken aback by that response. Prompto says it like it’s not a problem, and suddenly he feels cold. Because that’s a scary thing his boyfriend just said. Noctis shifts to face Prompto on the couch, tense. ]

What?

That doesn’t make any sense. You can’t just stop eating. How long have you been doing this?

Woah, aren't you just jumping to conclusions?

[he knows what he said, but he didn't mean it like noctis should immediately infer that prompto isn't eating on purpose. did noctis already have ideas in his head? prompto needs to find a way to spin out of this one.]

Aren't you sometimes too tired to eat? Happens after work for me. Or like, after cooking all that stuff for Christmas, I really felt like I had eaten enough just from lookin' at the stuff.

It's fine anyway. I still eat breakfast and throughout the day.

And throw it up later.

[ Noctis did have some preconceived notions, but all of the red flags being raised here are just making him feel more sure. A lot of things Prompto does, right down to the obsessive working out, just seems to direct him in a fine line. He’s starting to get heated because it’s like this event an issue for Prompto and he’s defensive.

So Noctis is unmoving, expression no longer soft and now serious. Noctis glances down, catching a glimpse of Prompto’s hands. His fingers are red, and he snatches one. Taking a close look, he sees indents where his teeth once were. Now that he’s gotten a look at his complexion, he’s noticing red, signs that he’s sure aren’t normal. ]

How much weight have you lost?

[noctis snatches as his hands and prompto wants to protest, doing so in curling his fingers onto the other's hand, now sitting up. he doesn't know what noctis sees, and if he's found something that he's been trying to find, he says nothing of it. prompto remains unfazed.]

[until noctis asks how much weight he's lost, and there's a rather ironic change to his tone. prompto smiles, as if wishing someone would have noticed earlier and asked him about]

Eight pounds in the last two weeks. I know it's not much, but I'm closing down on 120 pounds. Just four more and I'll be there!

[ Noctis feels like he’s investigating too far but his gut is running the show. He doesn’t pay mind to Prompto’s fussing, eventually looking back to his face. And he’s ready to point out his findings until something shifts in Prompto’s demeanor. It’s like the defensiveness and irritation is gone when the subject of his weight comes up. And it’s almost disturbing how quickly he gets over it.

Not as disturbing as Prompto’s goal, though. Because that’s about as much as Noctis weighs, and he’s had plenty of doctors tell him he’s underweight, not over. Especially considering his height and health problems. And Noctis knows enough about that to recognize that it’s a problem for Prompto, because Prompto is built. Muscular. Which means most of that weight is just muscle and muscle only.

Noct’s throat constricts. He knows Prompto’s height. He knows how often Prompto works out. And he’s spent enough time with him this week to notice he has barely eaten at all. It’s hard not to draw conclusions. Now he’s just mortified.

And Prompto’s happy expression over this just makes it worse. ]

120? That’s how much I weigh, and my doc has been all over me about it. To gain more weight, not lose it.

[ He drops Prompto’s hands, shoving them into his lap. ]

You’re making yourself sick!

That--

[prompto feels his throat go dry. noctis looks angry, and he's even raised his voice. this isn't the kind of fanfare he was expecting that would roll at his 'victory.' because it is one, in his book, to reach down to an ideal weight in which he can fit a smaller size of trousers, where his arms don't look fat when he rests them against his side, or in which his fingers don't seem like ugly potatoes.]

[noctis wouldn't understand]

It's -- different, between the both of us. I weigh a lot, you -- don't, and that makes sense.

[he doesn't have a good case here, he realizes; it's hard to explain why it is the way it is, for him]

I don’t weigh a lot because I’m sick, Prompto!

[ His blood pressure is high. Hot, even. Because he’s worried, because he loves Prompto and he knows where habits like this can make him end up. So his voice is high, cracking, because he doesn’t know how to handle this. ]

Look me in the eyes right now and tell me you didn’t just shove your hand down your throat to throw up that pizza you ate.

[he makes it sound so ugly--and when prompto's overwhelmed with emotion, he retreats to numbers]

There's 285 calories in a slice of pizza, and I had two, so that's pushing up to 570 in one sitting. I should be doing less than that-- Week one, calories per day: 500. 500. 300. 400. 100. 200. 300.

[he starts listing this, looking at his fingers]

It's worked so far, so I can't just throw it out the window. For week two, it's different, the calories per day: 400. 500. Fast. 150. 200. 400. 350.

[stop him or he'll continue reciting numbers]

[ He looks like Prompto has grown a second head because he might as fucking well have. He’s counting calories like an obsessive tick, going on and on about his intake and what he should have. Without answering him. ]

Answer the goddamn question.

[he finally looks up and he doesn't... look too convincing. he falters, instead, still not answering the question]

You're making it sound worse than it is. It's not like there was any nutritional value to it--

[ And yet, Prompto answers the question all the same. Noctis’ expression goes from angry to just... Shocked. That’s all the confirmation he needed, and now he’s just completely speechless. He’s worried. Ridiculously so, and so of course he’s a bit panicky here, even if it only shows in the softest ways. Just a tiny shift in expression, but his insides are twisting because he’s imagining this escalating.

He does not want to see Prompto in a hospital bed.

But how the hell is he supposed to take care of this? How does he make this stop? Noctis sits there in awe because Prompto is genuinely believing that this isn’t a problem. ]

Prompto...

[ He’s not yelling anymore. He can’t. Noctis just speaks with a cracked voice because this is horrifying. ]

How long have you been maintaining this?

Dunno.

[he very well knows]

I mean, sometimes I totally slip out of the routine. Like, back in August, when reality shifted with the monsters and stuff... uh. I mean, I've been trying to lose weight for years, so it's not like--

[this sounds stupid]

It's fine. I'm not sick or anything. I'm managing my weight.

[ His brow knits, pained, because the more he listens to Prompto, the more he starts to realize that he simply doesn’t see it as a problem. He sees it, genuinely, as him doing the right thing. And that much is obvious. It diverts Noctis’s anger in that he can’t really feel it anymore. He just feels concern. Heavy and thick.

And he sounds it. ]

That’s not how you manage weight. At all. You’re destroying your insides like that.

[ He takes Prompto’s hands again, not forceful or accusatory in the way he does it. It’s caring, concerned, and he’s honestly mortified right now. ]

It’s not fine.

[for prompto's part, he doesn't look entirely convinced by noctis' concern. he feels judged, in a way.]

You're saying that, but you've never been fat.

[ Okay.

He gets it. He can’t be entirely shocked knowing how Prompto feels about his appearance. About his shitty childhood that made him so self conscious. Worries of abandonment, judgment. He’s sure Prompto is seeing this as judgment, and that much is confirmed at the response. And yeah, that pisses him off a bit. And it takes everything in him not to snap. ]

Mind telling me what that has to do with anything?

[ He lets go again, sitting upright. Keep calm. ]

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