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[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. ]

It has everything to do with it.

[noctis would not be able to understand the fatigue from just going to school and back, of feeling so hungry when his lunch wasn't filling enough back in elementary, when he would get tormented by other kids who would give him creative names, or being called the most unattractive person in his grade along with a bunch of other "fat losers" in class. noctis couldn't possibly understand prompto being so hyper aware of the people around him, of figuring out if he's the biggest person in the room and consequently feeling horrible if he was, or judging any other chubby person in the room as ugly and incompetent, consequently himself. noctis would never know of the fear he faced every morning getting up on a weight scale when he reached fourteen and was tired of being judged but didn't know where to even start, simply to fall into a routine of feeling sorry for himself, constantly, of hating that fateful day when it felt like an cold ice bucket got dunked over his head, when he read the number 200 on the scale, and his immediate response to that was to order large fries, soda, and a burger with chicken and an apple pie from the nearest fast food place, utterly hating himself for it and feeling sick to his stomach.]

[noctis could never possibly understand the shame of not wanting to see himself in the mirror when he first did go to the gym; of scrutinizing every aspect of his body, of hating how he looks, of taking sixty selfies before settling on just one that makes him look thinner; of hiding away his remorse in eating by pretending intolerance to dairy, fake it until you make it, remove the offending extra calories from his diet by force or for pretenses.]

[prompto gulps for air, says nothing, but his mind reels, eyes watering at the unkempt emotions he feels over this whole thing; of his complicated feelings towards eating, how much he loves food but feels absolutely disgusted afterwards.]

[noctis could never know just how much a passing comment of "oof, you're heavy," meant to be cute and jokey while picking him up from the couch sent a string of self-deprecating thoughts through him, or how noctis sometimes jokes about how fat he looks in selfies just to tease him, an endless stream of fat. fat. fatfatfatfat. FAT. chanting in his head until he's finally able to go to sleep, every glance at food a guilty reminder of just how fat and disgusting he is.]

[his pinched thighs are a secret, now that winter allows excuses for long trousers at all times, where his stretch marks rise from, of prompto pinching himself at night, in bed, tears in his eyes, cursing his body for being so ugly, so unforgivably fat--]

[he's trembling at this point, hands locked in a grip onto his jeans]

You just will never get it. You're fortunate to be your weight and never worry about getting fat.

[having a boyfriend so good looking who doesn't even try and barely gets a pimple for his shitty poor choices-- man, it must be so easy.]

I'm doing fine.

[ Well that... Hurts.

Noctis seems a bit put off from that— He’s spent the better parts of his life ridiculously ill. Pronounced dead twice in his life. Given little choice in anything because he’d been hooked up to machines. He would like to think he might get it more than most but...

Eventually, Noctis comes to a point where he sees very clearly that they’re discussing two completely different perspectives. Sure, he’s never been heavy, but he’s never been where he should be either. And it’s not a way of life that he enjoys, and he’s sure that deep down, Prompto knows that. Because he’s seen the ugly sides of Noctis’ situation, and he stayed despite all that.

Maybe that’s what this is for Prompto. He can’t see clearly because he’s never had to talk about this before. Because he sees himself differently compared to how Noctis sees him. Noct sees himself as imperfect and burdensome, but Prompto finds him perfect and without worry for his physical appearance. Noctis has always perceived Prompto as well out of his league. So... He starts to get it. So he doesn’t allow himself to be angry, and he realizes that he can’t. Cant argue either.

So, he softens, looking down at Prompto’s hands wringing at his jeans and he reaches forward again, simply putting his hands over them. ]

Forcing yourself to puke and not eating means you’re not fine.

But okay.

Help me get it, and I’ll help you any way I can.

[prompto is ready for noctis to argue with him, to get into a fight that's going to blow out of proportions, and maybe that's it; this would be it, the end of their relationship, lasted two fucking months before prompto managed to find a way to let all his stupid insecurities surface and ruin everything--]

[but noctis doesn't.]

[noctis... puts his hands over his instead, and prompto's eyes widen in surprise, the fight leaving him. his heart hurts--so much, at the words coming out of his mouth.]

[(deep inside, prompto knows that what he's doing is unhealthy, but he doesn't know a better way around it; deep inside, he's hurting, hoping for the recognition, for someone to tell him that it's okay, that he's ought to stop, that they'll help)]

[he bends over at his middle, holding tight onto noctis' hands and placing his head over them, trying so desperately not to start crying. taking a gulp of air, he sits up again, sits closer, and just puts his arms around noctis, forehead against the crook of his neck. this is helpful. to be allowed that safe space, that room to just--speak, worries set aside over reprimand or anger... it's what he's always wanted and needed.]

[so prompto starts, explains to noctis all about it; about his early childhood memories, of all the torment he received at school, at home, by others and himself. of all the stupid thoughts in his head of self-deprecation and judgement, and how no matter how much weight he's lost now, he still can't really bear to look at himself in the mirror in the gym. there's always some imperfection, something wrong, something worth judging him about]

[when he's done, he's speaking softly, in whispers, voice wet and sniffling, rubbing at his face and nervously shaking, the heaviness he's been carrying with him for years ever present, not so easily lifted.]

--and I, really love food a lot. I miss just -- eating, and not worrying, and, fuck, I miss cheese and hot chocolate, but it's calorie heavy...

Edited 2017-12-27 03:03 (UTC)

[ Noctis sits in silence and waits for Prompto to respond. What he gets is a dialogue of why. A desperate plea for consoling when he practically crawls into Noct’s lap and he absolutely opens up for it. He wraps his arms around Prompto, crumbling from the inside because he feels like shit for panicking at all but gods, he can’t let Prompto destroy himself. He loves him far too much to walk away from this or to hate him in any capacity.

And so, he listens.

He listens and it’s awful. Because who could seriously look at a guy like Prompto and treat him so poorly? A boy who’s got nothing but sunshine in his eyes and demeanor. Who absolutely steals the hearts of every single person he meets because you can’t help but fall for the guy. And Noctis feels his throat constrict because he knows he’s said shitty things just to make a joke but it was wrong.

Knowing that? Knowing how negatively all of this has affected Prompto? It destroys Noctis. He sits in silence, holding tight to his best friend and beloved because what else is he supposed to do? He can’t allow himself to crumble too much, but he can’t help it, and so he puts his hand gently behind Prompto’s head just to make sure he doesn’t look at him and see him crying over it. It’s a few years, short-lived because he knows it’s his turn to keep a strong composure for Prompto’s sake. His other hand simply rubs gentle circles at his back. ]

I know you see things differently but—

Prompto, you’re perfect to me. You could be 500 pounds and I’d still love you. Your friends would still love you.

I’m sorry if I ever made you feel differently. I’m—

[ But he digresses, because he has a feeling that won’t fix things. ]

Listen, we’ll take it a day at a time, okay? I’ll help any way I can.

[ When he knows he’s dry enough to show himself, Noctis leans down, cupping Prompto’s cheek to better regard him. ]

But I need you to eat. And not toss it after. I’ve seen what that does to people, and I can’t—

[ Lose you. ]

Just. Please. For me?

Edited 2017-12-27 03:15 (UTC)

[he looks up when noctis urges him to, and he just nuzzles closer, because the words are caring and warm, and not criticizing him at all. part of him wants to rebel on the part about eating, but he's solemn in the fact that perhaps--if noctis is willing to listen and understand, then prompto can also do the same and try to find a better way to sort his shitty habit.]

I... could try.

[he manages a laugh, ironic as it were]

Don't think I could stomach pizza though.

[ Gods, he feels awful. The guilt is pretty heavy because he hates knowing he’s contributed to this at all. But he pushes through, because this is how he fixes it. He helps.

So he forces a smile, soft and caring, brushing his thumb against Prompto’s cheek and wiping his tears. He kisses Prompto’s forehead and tugs him in closer. ]

It wasn’t that good anyway.

[ Hollow laughing but... it helps. ]

You always go for the crappy pizza. Athen's is a lot better, even Napoli's.

[he grins despite himself, pulling back, feeling a little less winded about it. a hand over noctis' chest, he just--stares at him]

Could I still... order something?

Ugh, but Napoli does the thin crust.

[ And he hates thin crust. But he digresses. The dramatic tone and nose wrinkle disappears at Prompto’s question. Because he’s asking for food and Noctis absolutely wants him to eat. ]

Yeah. Anything you want.

[ And so, he reaches over for his phone, handing it to Prompto. ]

I gotta get up a sec. Go ahead and order something.

[ He kisses Prompto’s nose in punctuation before untangling himself and getting up. ]

[prompto goes through the food app on noctis' phone, smiling at noctis after the kiss and as he gets up. he takes a while, wondering what kind of thing he would feel like, without having to feel too guilty about what he's eating and...]

[he glances]

[deli gourmet sells salads of all sorts. pesto ravioli salad, waldorf salad, corn and beans--it seems doable, and prompto actually does have a fondness for salads. they're as heavy as he's willing to make himself eat.]

[he turns back on the couch, an arm over its back, and he calls out to noctis in the kitchen]

--hey, stud. I'm gonna order a buttload of salads. Is that allowed in your PH?

[ Noctis looks around the kitchen, checking the fridge and realizing that while he has what he wants? He’s never used his stove before. Thankfully, he’s got a brand new pot sitting in a cupboard. He snatches that, milk, chocolate, and quietly gets to work. And work it is, because the dude’s maybe used the stove once in his whole life.

He rubs at the back of his head, staring at the pot that is now full of milk. How hot should he set the fire at? Medium? High?

Prompto calls for him and he’s forced out of concentration, pausing when he hears the word “salad” and... crap. At least Prompto can’t see his grimace. Oh, but he loves the guy and he really needs to eat. And he’s... still hungry as usual but...

Damn it.

Oh god that’s going to be so nasty. ]

Ah—

Yeah. Sounds great.

[ Ughhhhhhh. You love Prompto, Noct. You love him and you sometimes have to do things you hate for the ones you love. Like shovel gross rabbit food down your throat.

At least Prompto thinks you’re a stud? ]

Really?

[the question isn't so much a question as an awed response to noctis, the excitement filling up pretty quickly]

--yeah! It does sound great!

[if noctis is willing to eat salad (who invited him), for his sake, then this will be so many layers of delicious]

Okay. Comes down to -- woah, eighty four dollars, sorry. [uh] It'll be here within thirty minutes...

[that's gonna be a lot of salad. literally all the salads.]

[ Oh gods, he’s actually going to have to eat this. Because Prom sounds so happy already. Noctis sighs to himself, dropping his head down in defeat as he stirs at the milk and chocolate in the pot. At least he’s not burning it—

Wait. Fuck FUCK. It’s burning?!?!

Okay. No. False alarm. Noctis lowers the heat and minds it. Eventually finishing and pouring the contents in a mug. ]

Don’t worry about it.

[ Money is no object for this Caelum. His response is only delayed because he’s distracted. Noct is relieved to see whipped cream in the fridge, so he tops off the nice mug of hot cocoa he just whipped up for his boyfriend. And boy, he hopes he didn’t fuck it up. But hey, if it’s poisonous, they’ll die together, right? Noctis thinks that to himself as he makes himself a mug.

He comes around the corner with both mugs in hand, sitting back down beside Prompto and handing his to him. ]

Here.

[he sets the phone back down, then looks up at noctis. he's confused for a second, before grabbing at the mug that is -- pretty warm. he sets it down on the table, taking a moment to realize that it's hot chocolate and whipped cream.]

[he returns his eyes to noctis]

...do you realize that whipped cream alone, just a bit of it like that on the cup, is 257 calories?

[old habits]

Isn't that crazy?

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