[It's okay bubbles out of him, helpless counterpoint--not because it is okay, but because the only way Prompto can imagine going on right now is to make it okay, for Summer. Everything she did is still done. They'll have to talk about it. Even he knows that.
But right now, she's crying in his arms. For him, even. And there's something he has to say, to make sure Summer knows before they go anywhere else, physically or conversationally. She has to know it the second he does, and that's right. Now.]
I love you, too.
[It's the second-absolute-worst time to say it, he realizes. But the first-worst time was when she did, after taking his color and leaving him unable to respond on any level, so fair's fair. It makes it a lot less fairy-tale, in any case.
Prompto holds Summer tight both to steady her and to keep himself grounded, drive the both of them solidly down into this moment. This is the realest he's ever been. They'll ever be.
Saying it to Ignis was different. That was stating a fact that's been true for years, and getting to tease him, too, a little bit. This--telling Summer--is making a decision. Realizing that fact, putting it into action. Prompto's placing his bruised heart in her hands with all the vulnerability she bared by stepping, slight thing that she is, into his arms. Like a light, feathered thing with hollow bones. That's all either of them is, sometimes.
He feels tall and protective and small all at once, holding her here on the stairs. Something inside him is shaking.
Maybe it's the friendless little boy he saw in the mirror.]
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But right now, she's crying in his arms. For him, even. And there's something he has to say, to make sure Summer knows before they go anywhere else, physically or conversationally. She has to know it the second he does, and that's right. Now.]
I love you, too.
[It's the second-absolute-worst time to say it, he realizes. But the first-worst time was when she did, after taking his color and leaving him unable to respond on any level, so fair's fair. It makes it a lot less fairy-tale, in any case.
Prompto holds Summer tight both to steady her and to keep himself grounded, drive the both of them solidly down into this moment. This is the realest he's ever been. They'll ever be.
Saying it to Ignis was different. That was stating a fact that's been true for years, and getting to tease him, too, a little bit. This--telling Summer--is making a decision. Realizing that fact, putting it into action. Prompto's placing his bruised heart in her hands with all the vulnerability she bared by stepping, slight thing that she is, into his arms. Like a light, feathered thing with hollow bones. That's all either of them is, sometimes.
He feels tall and protective and small all at once, holding her here on the stairs. Something inside him is shaking.
Maybe it's the friendless little boy he saw in the mirror.]
I want to say that now. So. S-so much.