[ It's like relief and pain all at once, drawing away when Noct does and letting his eyes take in all those familiar features he's painfully aware of. Even in this weird light, it's all there: the gentle curve of his face, the bow of his mouth and the sweep of his hair Prompto had spent lazy hours running his fingers through. The one thing that's missing, the one that causes his heart to clench fiercely in his chest, is the submissive mark he'd gotten so used to seeing tattoo the length of Noct's throat, and something inside him clams up at the thought. Had he gone back home and then come here? Or had he always just been here? There would probably be no memories of Duplicity, and he doesn't know if that's worse or not. It means they would never share those experiences, that he wouldn't be able to talk about the Up or the friends they'd made or reminisce about Ezio unless they were just talking about the game.

... it means Noct could never know how he felt, and he lifts a hand to wipe at his face, trying to suck in the tears that are right at the edge of falling free. ]

Come on, dude. You wanna get out of here? [ Maybe it sounds like a line, but he really hopes it doesn't, reaching out to take Noct by the hand as if he plans to lead the way out of this mess of writhing bodies. ] We can catch up somewhere quiet. I don't really feel like yelling at you over all this music.