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“Prompto,” Noctis begs. “Please? I picked up an extra shift at the sushi restaurant tonight to avoid a council meeting, and I don’t get off until after Game Dungeon closes...”
Prompto rolls his eyes at the adorable, bratty way that his prince is whining. Like the common rabble, Noctis wants to take part in collecting a deluxe 1/10-scale Bayek figure from Assassin’s Creed: Origins. Prompto’s already at work, on his break at the grocery store where he’s stocker—which means that he’ll get off earlier than Noctis will, and totally in time to make it to Game Dungeon before it closes.
“Fine, fine,” Prompto clicks his tongue as he checks his watch—five minutes left. He sips the last of his water and tosses the bottle in the recycling bin. “I’ll see what I can do. You better CashApp me, y’know. I’m just a lowly Speedy Mart boy. I don’t have that kinda dough.”
“Already did, with a little extra to get yourself something too.”
Prompto blushes—he's still not used to Noctis spoiling him, but he’s long since learned to just let Noctis spend his royal money how he wants. “Alright buddy, thanks. Gotta go, break’s almost over.”
“You’re the best, Prom.”
“Yeah yeah, I know.”
As soon as six o’clock hits, Prompto rips off his signature red apron and yanks his chocobo-print messenger bag so fast from his employee locker than it almost tears. He races out the back door of Speedy Mart, taking shortcuts through all of the alleys that he knows in order to get to the video game store at a decent time. He almost knocks into an old lady at the newspaper stand, nearly collides with a man and his foot-long club sandwich, and he’s pretty sure that he’s in the background of a marriage proposal picture in the park before he’s leaping in front of honking cars and skidding on his Doc Martens to a halt in front of Game Dungeon. He checks his mobile app—sure enough, Noct is good for the money, giving him more than twice what the figure should cost, and Prompto gulps and maneuvers the balance transfer in one hand on his phone as he swings the glass door open.
“Hey, other people wanna get inside too!”
“Huh?” Prompto turns and nearly trips over himself.
Standing right behind him is a shorter girl, cute and chubby, wearing a Kirby t-shirt and peering at him through thick, black-rimmed glasses. Prompto finds himself blushing—when is he ever going to be able to talk to girls? “Hi, oh, uh, sorry!” He sputters, scrambling to get in the shop so that the girl can enter, too. “Sorry, uh, buddy of mine sent me money to buy something, was just transferring it to my bank account...”
“Dude, calm down. It’s okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just excited.”
“Oh, uh...sure,” Prompto says. “Still, sorry for blocking the door.” He looks down to make sure the money is in his bank, pocketing his phone and digging for his wallet. He looks back up at the girl. “I, uh. Like your shirt,” he says quietly.
“Yeah? Kirby is my favorite. I main him on Smash. Did you ever play Planet Robobot for the DS?”
Prompto’s face lights up and turns about the exact shade of Kirby as he chats with the girl, all animated in his movements and probably laughing too loud for comfort—but he can’t help it. Prompto Argentum could never refuse a pair of pretty eyes and an easy smile, and this girl has all of that and more. He fiddles with his black wrist cuff that hides his soulmate’s name, and then he goes quiet—better to not get too attached to this stranger. He should hold out for whom the Astrals have picked.
The girl notices his sudden change in demeanor, but gently changes the subject. “Hey, we can finish talking at the Ebony Roasters café? Let me get my pre-order real quick.”
“Oh uh, sure! Me..me too.” Prompto tucks a long side piece of hair behind his ear and rocks on his heels behind his new acquaintance. At the very least, he thinks, he made a new friend. He pulls out his phone to read his Twitter timeline while he waits.
“Hey Questus,” says the girl. “I had the Bayek figure on hold?”
The cashier smiles. “Hey _________, sure, I remember.” He squats behind the counter and pulls out the large box—Prompto gawks at the display picture. It’s super detailed, and it looks like it’s worth every penny Noct is about to pay.
Questus types in some numbers and scans the receipt that’s taped to the top. “Cool, cool. So you still owe 500 yen, okay?”
“Sounds good.” The girl digs in her purse—Prompto doesn’t miss the King’s Knight keychain—and hands him a handful of bills. Then she’s grabbing the huge bag and making her way towards the door.
Prompto watches as she checks her phone, and she frowns, looking up at him.
“I’m sorry, rain check on that coffee date.”
DATE, screams Prompto’s goblin brain.
“I have to go, my dad just texted me.” And then, she’s out the door.
Prompto’s brain works ten seconds too slow as he shouts “How do I contact you?!” to a banging chime above an empty doorframe. He huffs, cursing himself for not being more assertive, and then turns to the cashier.
“She in here all the time?” he mutters, red-faced.
Questus chuckles. “Yeah, practically lives here. Surprised you’ve never ran into her before.”
Prompto mutters to himself before sighing, fiddling with his bracelets again. “Okay, so...I guess, that figure that the girl had...Noct wanted one. I have the money for it.”
Questus shakes his head. “Sorry Prompto. Even the prince is not above exclusive pre-orders. That was the last one we had. I don’t know when we’re going to get another wave in.”
“Ugh, are you kidding,” Prompto whines, pocketing his wallet. “Can I like, put my name on a list? And Noct’s? Both of us?”
Questus nods. “You’re not the only disappointed customer I’ve had today, trust me.” He pulls out a clipboard and adds Prompto’s and Noctis’ names to the bottom of an already-full sign-up sheet. “I’ll give you boys a call when we get more in. Wanna make a deposit on it to hold the spot?”
“The full price of one,” Prompto huffs. “Just put it on my account, I’m freer than Noct, anyway.”
Questus takes his loyalty card and his debit card and does his thing.
And then, Prompto’s brain works ten minutes too late before the Astrals drop a proverbial behemoth on his idiotic blond head. “Wait, what was her name again? ”
Questus looks up from the staff computer and hands Prompto his cards. “Uh,” he says. “___________?”
Prompto’s jaw drops as he claws off his wristband and stares at the pretty pink script at the top of his wrist. “__________ __________?!” he cries.
Questus peers over his bifocals at Prompto’s wrist, and then clicks his tongue. “Ah,” he says. “You’d better catch her.”
“Shit!” Prompto grabs his cards and steps on his own feet as he puts his runner’s legs to work for the second time that day.
Insomnia is crowded. Like. Stupidly full of people, and Prompto’s about to lose his damn mind. He doesn’t know which way she’s gone? How many minutes had passed since she’d left? Prompto groans aloud and, running on instinct and borrowed time, he chooses a direction and pushes past the unassuming throngs.
Shiva herself must have guided his feet, because Prompto sees the wave of _____ hair and the big white bag boarding a bus at the corner stop.
“Wait!” the cry rips from Prompto’s throat as loud as he can manage.
The bag stops, and the girl attached to it leans back from the steps. Prompto pushes past the public in annoyance—hello, I’m having a moment of glorious destiny here—and stumbles up on the bus, right behind her.
The bus driver raises an eyebrow, but pulls the lever to shut the doors. Prompto doesn’t care where he’s going. He’ll call Ignis to come get him, or an Über. He urges __________ forward and throws both of their bus fares into the change slot, tugging her down into an empty seat.
“Hey, if this is about me getting the last figure, you can get your own,” she huffs. “I paid for this, dude.”
“No—I know—it's not...that’s not it,” says Prompto, trying to catch his breath. His black cuff is still in his one hand, so he shoves his bare right wrist in her line of sight. “I have...I have your name.”
The girl looks at his wrist in shock. She licks her finger and sticks it on his bare skin, rubbing across her name. “It’s not fake,” she whispers.
“Gross,” laughs Prompto. “And no, it’s not fake.” He clasps his bracelet back on and shuffles his bag. “So, I’m...”
“You’re Prompto,” she finishes reverently. She tugs the high collar of her t-shirt to the side and there, in pretty black script above the jut of collarbone—which does things to Prompto’s stomach, if he’s being honest—is Prompto’s first and last name, beautifully rendered. Prompto thinks he’s never liked his name so much as he does now, seeing it on the skin of his—very geeky, super cute, extra thick—soulmate. Before he can stop himself, he leans down to kiss her, and she seems just as ready as she opens her plump lips wide and swallows Prompto whole.
Later, Prompto texts Noct about the whole Assassin’s Creed figure thing, and Noct is lowkey pissed; but it all fades away to overwhelming excitement when Prompto tells him about the much more valuable prize he’d scored at Game Dungeon.