( there's nothing wrong with wondering – really, on his own end, he wonders what had been enough to make his efforts at catching the prince's attention successful in the first place. ( for as much as he'd introduced himself as if they'd never met before, noctis had immediately caught him – haven't we met before? – and it had been enough to make him feel briefly foolish, sheepish in the sense that he shouldn't have to act like they'd never crossed paths before in the first place, because you never know what someone is going to remember, and what they're going to forget.
but suffice it to say that it has never been a title, never what comes with such a thing that had made him want to be friends with him in the first place. that much is sure. )
and for all there has been little room for the crown prince to select those he wants to spend his time with, that prompto had made the cut at all is something that he sometimes still finds himself struggling to wrap his head around. and even with those moments that find him unsure of his place with the others, whether or not he belongs, one small look from his friend is enough to reassure him, to chase away the doubt that seeks to darken his ( sometimes forcefully ) optimistic attitude.
the corner of his mouth turns slightly upward at the comment, and up a little more still at the touch that lingers – and he unconsciously angles himself toward it, all but leaning against the other's side as he gives a sort of wistful sigh.
and it isn't about the flamethrower. ) Yeah? Oh, oh, y'know what would be cool? If Cid could upgrade my crossbow with one!
( prom … that is a terrible idea … and you know it. )
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but suffice it to say that it has never been a title, never what comes with such a thing that had made him want to be friends with him in the first place. that much is sure. )
and for all there has been little room for the crown prince to select those he wants to spend his time with, that prompto had made the cut at all is something that he sometimes still finds himself struggling to wrap his head around. and even with those moments that find him unsure of his place with the others, whether or not he belongs, one small look from his friend is enough to reassure him, to chase away the doubt that seeks to darken his ( sometimes forcefully ) optimistic attitude.
the corner of his mouth turns slightly upward at the comment, and up a little more still at the touch that lingers – and he unconsciously angles himself toward it, all but leaning against the other's side as he gives a sort of wistful sigh.
and it isn't about the flamethrower. ) Yeah? Oh, oh, y'know what would be cool? If Cid could upgrade my crossbow with one!
( prom … that is a terrible idea … and you know it. )