Good. Because Noctis was going to regardless. Hug, cling, but not once shake. He accepted this, resigned himself to his fate. For it wasn't just his past, but his present; his future.

"Prompto, I-" I don't know how and I'm sorry are what he wanted to say, but like so many times, words failed him. Instead he shook his head. Prompto's here, but he shouldn't be. No one should see him like this.

His words weren't quite reaching the dreamer, the pull of memory too strong. "You do, too."

Go back. Go back.

Just like that. The memory ripped them apart, Noctis curling back into himself as Prompto's presence disappeared.