#And I find myself frustratingly human. I get tired. I’m paying almost half of my monthly paycheck in student loans and I’m much more

[trashratofgarbagehill]

I find myself growing super frustrated with everything personal lately. Graduating doesn’t fix my burnout, I’m still struggling to recover from writing/editing a thesis for like 5+ hours a day for like 2 months. It’s hard to get back into personal projects when the thought of writing makes me angry, especially when my main WIP has given me writers block.

I’m hoping that this holiday break will be good for me. I feel happy for the most part but I keep trying to get back into what I feel born to do (create art) and it’s not working! Oh, well, no one ever said it’d be easy.

[faierius]

Good Enough (Chapter Five)

               Holding his glasses in one hand, Ignis rubbed his eyes with the other. They had exhausted the locations Gladio was familiar with and had chosen to split up to look for Prompto. He felt silly treating this the way they were, searching for Prompto as though he was a runaway child instead of an independent adult.

               He had been on his own half an hour now, stopping passersby to ask if they had seen his friend. As of yet, no one had. Prompto must have found an obscure corner of the small city to hide away in because not a soul had seen him. But he continued asking. This would have to bear fruit at some point.

               It was late in the evening, nearing ten PM. For the lively denizens of Lestallum, this wasn’t late at all. For Ignis, who frequently rose before dawn, it was much too late to be out and about. He was worried, exhausted, and desperate to set things right with Prompto. His chest ached at the thought of their budding relationship withering before it even had a chance to blossom. He cared deeply for the younger man and hated to see him hurting. Ever since that night at the camp fire when Prompto’s honest admiration brought him to tears, when Prompto held him silently for long minutes without judgment, when Prompto promised he would never let him go hungry for human contact, Ignis’ heart belonged solely to him.

               Yes, he had his duty to Noctis to consider first and foremost, but now he knew love beyond familial bond and the undying friendship and camaraderie he shared with the others.

               Ignis swallowed thickly and took a deep breath. He needed to find Prompto and tell him just how important he was. Though something told him Prompto would vehemently disagree. The young man refused to believe he had any self-worth. Ignis wasn’t sure what gave him that impression, but he would change that perspective.

               “Excuse me, Miss?” Ignis approached a pair of women leaning against the side of a building.

               “Miss? Well ain’t you polite?” the shorter of the pair laughed, standing up straight to face Ignis. “What c’n I do for ya?”

               “I was wondering if I could ask you a question,” Ignis replied, a friendly smile on his face.

               “Sure,” the second woman replied with a one-shouldered shrug.

               “I am looking for a friend of mine. He’s shorter than myself, blond hair, freckles, was wearing a black top with a white pattern, and coeurl-print jeans. Have you seen him at any point this evening?”

               Both women furrowed their brows in thought.

               “Hey, wasn’t that the guy Izzy was talking to at the bar?”

               “Oh yeah! He was cute. I was working up the nerve to talk to him myself. He left with her, didn’t he?”

               “Yeah.”

               Ignis felt his heart leap into his throat. “Could you point me to this bar?” he asked, swiftly concealing the hitch in his voice.

               “Yeah, sure. Don’t know what good it’ll do since that was almost two hours ago,” the short woman answered.

               “Just go through that alley, take a left at the end, then a right at the house with the yellow door, then up the stairs. Really, just follow the thumping they pass off as music,” explained the second woman.

               Ignis dipped his head in a shallow nod. “Thank you very much, ladies. Enjoy the rest of your night.” He didn’t—couldn’t—wait for the ladies to respond before heading in the direction he was pointed. His stomach flip-flopped, and nausea washed over him. How could Prompto go off with some stranger? Was he really so desperate to drive Ignis away? It wasn’t like the shy, sweet, awkward Prompto.

               Hands shaking, Ignis walked quickly. He was unaccustomed to this kind of anxiety. It was clouding his judgment and making his muscles twitch. He briefly feared this anxiety would cause him to do something stupid when he eventually found Prompto. Though as he walked, almost ran, toward the bar, he didn’t have much time to ruminate on the problem before his phone rang in his pocket.

               Not slowing his pace, he pulled out his phone and checked the display. Noctis. He answered.

               “Specs, where are you?” His voice was tight.

               “On my way to a bar where Prompto was seen.”

               “Where?”

               Thinking for a moment, Ignis gave the best directions he could, basing the Leville as the starting point.

               “Okay. Wait for us there. Prompto’s in trouble.”

               Before Ignis could ask, the other man disconnected. His blood ran cold and his hands balled into fists. Forcing his feet on, he prayed Prompto was okay.

 ***

                 The room wouldn’t stop spinning. The boxy, industrial-turned-living space cell he was stuck in turning, rotating, quick, slow, clockwise, counter clockwise, it wouldn’t stop. Blood caked his nose, his lips, his chin, shirt, spattered on his pants, and the floor under his head. His lip was swollen, he was sure he had a nasty shiner on his left eye, and his cheek felt tender and bruised. And that was just his face. He was sure bruises littered his chest, back, sides, and legs, wherever the barrage of punches and kicks landed.

               Prompto thanked the Astrals Joe was not a strong man. He felt no worse for wear than he had after starting his combat training with the Crownsguard. Though he still felt pretty crappy. Sore, achy, dizzy, and wanting a week-long nap. Things wouldn’t be this bad if his hands hadn’t been bound behind his back.

               Prompto’s fingers twitched, wanting freedom.

               “Did you really need to make such a mess of him?” Izzy sighed, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one leg.

               “Stop worrying about shit that doesn’t concern you, Iz. I just roughed him up a little.”

               “His entire face is covered in blood and bruises!”

               “So what? I didn’t kill him.”

               “That’s not the point, Joe! Do you think they’re gonna pay us what we ask now that he looks like this?”

               “Shuddup!” barked their leader, tossing Prompto’s phone onto the couch beside her. “The prince is gonna meet us at the lookout at midnight. Five hundred thousand gil.”

               “He’s not gonna pay that,” mumbled Prompto, wincing at the pain in his lips and jaw. “I’m not worth it.”

               “Not anymore, with your face looking like ground Garula meat! Gods be damned, Joe! This was supposed to be our ticket out of here!” With a huff, Izzy dropped to a squat before Prompto again, wrinkling her nose at him. She clicked her tongue, she stood again, punched Joe on the arm and plopped down on the couch.

               “Jeez, calm down, Iz!” Joe grumbled, turning away to join his friends.

               Inhaling a painful breath, Prompto closed his eyes. He was tired, had no will to move, yet at the same time wished he had something he could use to escape with. He couldn’t tell his captors there was no way Noct would pay what they were asking. Not because he didn’t think Prompto was worth the ransom, but because they simply didn’t have the money.

               Prompto’s fingers twitched again. He wanted something to defend himself with, something he could use to escape. The only weapon he had in his arsenal was ballistic firepower, and even if his hands were free, he had no plans to shoot anyone. While he would defend himself if need be, he hated violence and liked to reserve his bullets for daemons and MTs.

               A tingle of magic rippled through Prompto’s fingers.

               Brow twitching, Prompto opened his eyes again. The trio was conversing quietly on the other side of the room while he lay here, bleeding. But that tingle brought back a hint of that bravado he felt half an hour ago. It was strange, though. It was the same sensation he felt when he summoned his guns, only his guns didn’t appear in his hands.

               His fingers twitched again, and he felt a definite connection to Noctis’ magic, the magic that allowed him to access his weapons. But there was something else there. A block of some sort. Kinda like when he was first learning how to summon his pistols. He could feel it, just out of reach. Frustratingly close, yet uselessly unobtainable. The more he struggled to call on the ability, the more slippery it became. He needed to relax, breathe, focus, but not force it. It was second nature to him at this point, he didn’t even have to think when calling on his arsenal, so why was this different?

               Blinking long and slow, Prompto tried to shake his blood-sticky bangs off his forehead. When he opened his eyes, he watched the trio carefully, flexing his hands in his ropes. They weren’t paying attention to him, too busy working out how they would conduct their exchange. As long as they were distracted, he could focus on getting out of this.

               Rolling onto his back with his hands pinned uncomfortably under his body, Prompto forced himself to relax. Pain jolted through him, but he struggled to keep his muscles loose. Keeping his breathing slow and regular, he called on his connection to Noctis and the Crystal. With his body blocking the ethereal blue glow, a weapon materialized in his palm.

               Prompto swallowed hard at the feeling. He could have cried. Without seeing it, he could only make a guess, but somehow he knew the perfectly weighted weapon he now held was one of Ignis’ daggers.

               Rolling the blade in his hand, he ran his thumb over the handle, feeling the embellishments, the weight of the artistic sculpting that made the bulky hilt, the flare of the handle to keep it comfortable in hand.

               Carefully flipping the blade so he didn’t drop it, Prompto repositioned the weapon so the edge was against his ropes. He arched his back to avoid cutting himself and started wiggling the dagger. Keeping his movements to a minimum, he worked the sharp blade against his restraints. As he worked, he nicked his forearm with the tip of the blade. He bit his tongue against the sting and continued with the ropes.

               It took a few solid minutes of gentle maneuvering of the dagger to slice through the rope. He had to freeze occasionally when one of the group glanced over at him. Eventually, he felt the edge pop through the final strand, and he sagged in relief. He wasn’t about to give away his newfound freedom, however.

               Keeping his arms behind his back, Prompto moved back onto his side and gripped the dagger tightly. “I dunno why you guys picked me, but it’s really not gonna do you any good. You’ve seen my friends, right? You think they’re just gonna give you money?”

               “Prince Noctis seemed pretty willing to make a deal.”

               “Good Gods, I shoulda taped your mouth shut an hour ago,” grumbled Joe, turning back toward Prompto.

               The big woman, whose name Prompto still hadn’t learned, smirked. “Never too late to shut him up. Might be more effective than the love taps you gave him. We’ve gotta deal with him for a while yet. Duct tape is in the drawer over there.”

               Prompto watched Joe move over to a chest of drawers, his muscles tense with anticipation. He waited for him to grab a roll of silvery duct tape, then saunter over to Prompto. Grinning, he crouched before the blond.

               “Y’know, you guys are really bad at this kidnapping thing,” taunted Prompto.

               “Yet you’re still here, helpless,” replied Joe, peeling back a corner of the tape.

               “I wouldn’t say that.” Swinging his leg up and forward, Prompto caught Joe off-guard. His ankle hooked the man’s throat and knocked him backward. With a speed his battered muscles screamed at, he propelled himself upward and on top of Joe. Straddling the man’s waist, he held him down with one hand and brandished Ignis’ dagger at the trio.

               “What the hell?” squeaked Joe, eyes wide.

               Prompto grinned, barring bloodied teeth. “Weapon summoning. Perks of being friends with the future King of Lucis.”