Hard To Love (Noctis X Prompto)

13: Drinks On Me!

A whole month of misery.

That's how Prompto would describe the last few weeks that have flown by. The good news is that he indeed got a job. The joy he felt for actually getting somewhere in life made him howl in delight, and he was so excited to start that he had to prepare right away. He made the cut and he wasn't going to let anything weigh him down!

A new job is just what Prompto needed to get his life back on track! He would work his butt off trying to show his worth, no matter what job he would be placed in! Music may not be the career he's pursuing anymore, but there are always other options. Who knows? Maybe this job would be the kick he needs to find another passion, another long life dream!

When Prompto finally situated with his job, he found that after a few weeks working full-time at the same register every day, scanning people's groceries with half of them being ungrateful for his sevices, the job was a massive migraine. Each and every day he does the same thing the same way. Some people thank him and others scoff at him. He doesn't remember any negative people being at the pub, or maybe due to being in his own world on stage, he never really had the chance to properly meet them.

The repetitive beep of the scanner has become somewhat of a headache trigger. The more he listens to the monotonous sound, the more he feels his ears wanting to cry out in agony. The movement of dragging items across the platform has become such a bore that most days when he finds time off he still feels his arms moving in that practiced routine. It's awful, and Prompto doesn't understand how everyone else around him is so happy working at the counter. The blond dislikes his current position, but he's incredibly thankful that he isn't stuck in the deli with all the meats. The amount of effort it must take to get that clinging meaty scent out of their clothes must be a nightmare, and Prompto can't afford to buy the expensive products it would take to cleanse it. He should be happy he's only a check-out dude, beeping products and packing them into shopping bags. But he isn't.

He hates his job. It's not what he wanted, it's not where he saw himself, and he finds that the more he stands there, day by day, the more the heavy weight of sadness falls onto his shoulders. Tired blue eyes glance towards the clock that hangs above the entrance to the supermarket, fidgety hands playing with the bar that's meant to block one's groceries from another. There's only a few more minutes until Prompto's shift ends and the time seems to be going extra slow now that his eyes are watching the hands tick by.

Finally, the hands show him five o'clock and the man breathes out heavily as he places everything down and makes his way to the tea room. There, he clocks off, grabs his stuff, slinging his hooded vest over his work shirt and makes a quick stop at the joint liquor store. After the long, stressful and depressing day he's had, he needs some booze to help ease his sorrows.

Prompto ends up buying a slab of strong spirits and pays for the mound of alcohol with the intent of drinking at least half of it all tonight. He has work tomorrow, but who cares? He certainly does it. At most, all it's going to cause him is a headache, something he already gets at work anyway.

Once the evening air hits him in the face, Prompto finally feels as if he's able to breathe again. Able to wander free and never look back. There's something stifling about his workplace, and yes, he gets a 5% discount on all his groceries now, but the pros do not outweigh the cons.

A slight vibration in his front pocket makes him cease the journey to his car. Prompto securely holds onto his slab of alcohol and reaches for his phone. A text from none other than his best friend.

'Hey, dude, turn around.'

Creepy instructions, but Prompto follows them anyway, soon coming face to face with Noctis Lucis Caelum. The raven-haired Prince smiles lightly at the blond male, and then his eyes gloss over the massive box of booze Promtpo is carrying.