Prompto watched him with that same panicked, helpless stare; there was nothing more he could do. He could only watch. His eyes followed Ardyn's awful smile, his movement as he settled almost intimately close, his hand, the knife. He tried to stop the shallow heaving of his chest as the point of the blade settled closer and closer, until he wasn't breathing at all when he felt the soft, barely-there prickle of a sharp edge.

The tears stung his eyes, gathered on his lashes. Prompto's fists, clenched in white-knuckled terror, strained against the cuffs so his muscles stood out tense and quivering, his heart a frantic drumbeat in his head.

Noct. Iggy. Gladio. Please.

He didn't want to die. He wasn't ready.

"Please... don't..."