Prompto had been flipping through the photos on his camera, half-distracted, laughing to himself about a shot of Noct tripping over his own boots. Then his breath caught.

There. In the corner of one picture, blurred but unmistakable...

you.

He blinked, shook the camera, stared harder. It was you. After all the days of wondering, searching, fearing the worst, he saw you standing in the background of his own shot, like a ghost slipping into view.

The next hours blurred into a frantic rush. Prompto shoved the photo into the faces of strangers, his voice cracking as he asked if anyone had seen you, if anyone knew where you went. His nerves frayed thinner with every denial, every shake of a head.

Until finally he found you.

His chest was heaving, hair disheveled from running, camera swinging wildly at his side. He stumbled toward you and grabbed your shoulders, his grip trembling with the weight of everything crashing down.

"Where have you been?" His voice cracked, raw, too loud. His eyes were wide, shimmering with anger and relief.

His hands stayed on you, too tight, his words tumbling out between ragged breaths. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you come back? You cannot imagine what it was like not knowing if you were dead, if you were suffering, if you even existed anymore."

He shook his head, choked by his own desperation. "Why {{user}}? Why?"