Deciding to be better is monumentally easier than actually being better, Prompto comes to find out very quickly. In fact, this self-improvement may be the hardest thing he's ever done, and though he's young, he feels like he's done a lot.

He had only planned on working out until he could properly face up to Gladiolus again, but it rapidly becomes more than that. He settles into a new schedule over the next few weeks. He's already used to running in the mornings before school, so that's not too hard an adjustment for him. But he does up the intensity, waking before the sun every day to add an additional couple of miles onto his route.

The park where he had had his first training session with Gladiolus becomes like a second home. If he's not at school, or at his apartment, he's almost guaranteed to found circling the track or hanging from the playground bars, trying to perfect his pull-ups. By the time he's been doing this for a month, people have begun acknowledging him with a smile or a friendly tilt of the head. It's nice, almost like when he first started running all those years ago, and it fills him with a strange sense of pride.

The first week or so had been absolutely brutal on his body. He had pushed himself hard- harder than he probably should have. There had been a few times when, lying in bed with his legs twitching and the muscles in his arms feeling like they were being prodded with red-hot pokers, he had seriously considering throwing in the towel. But he had pushed through.

And things did get better. Slowly, at first, his legs got stronger and his arms began to fill out in ways he couldn't help but admire in the mirror. Prompto had realized one evening with a start that it had been at least a week without being woken in the middle of the night by his various aches and pains.

There were some downsides; his grades, which were not stellar to begin with, had definitely started to slip into the not-so-acceptable category. He tried to care when his teacher handed him another paper with a red F across the top and Noctis arched a questioning eyebrow at him. It was hard though. He felt like a shark with the scent of blood in the water. He had a goal and a plan and school was not a part of that, for now.

At some point, Gladiolus had begun to watch him. The first time Prompto had noticed, he had been circling the track in an almost lazy way, debating in his head whether or not he had the money for take-out that night, when he felt the familiar creep of eyes on the back of his head. When he had finally caught sight of Gladiolus, leaning casually against the nearby swing set, eyes following Prompto's every move, he had flushed red from the bottom of his neck to the tops of his ears. After that, he had done his best to ignore both the big man and the sudden flurry of butterflies that had seemed to take up residence in his stomach.

Gladiolus had stayed, silent and watching, until Prompto had finally called it a night. He never approached him or said anything and by the time Prompto had finished his cool-down lap, the bigger man was gone. It appeared that whatever he had seen had made him happy though, because after that Gladiolus began to appear once or twice a week. He only ever watched, arms crossed, face expressionless, but still his presence spurred Prompto to improve his performance even more. It also made him nervous, but Prompto told himself it was just because he wanted Gladiolus' approval. Probably.

Sometimes Noctis comes with Prompto and those days are his favorite. Having the prince with him makes the workouts go by that much faster and it's always good to have someone else encouraging him besides himself. Prompto occasionally finds himself staring with envy at Noctis' upper arms. They're lean and nicely muscled from years of wielding a sword and Prompto can't help his jealousy. He sighs and remind himself that he will get there too eventually, as long as he doesn't mess this whole thing up.

To Prompto's surprise, one afternoon Ignis joins them for a run, stripping to the waist to reveal a chest that's much more toned than he was expecting. He tries not to stare. The prince's advisor keeps up easily with the pace Prompto sets, though Prompto is secretly pleased to discover that of the three of them, he's the fastest.

"He's all bark and very little bite, you know."

"Huh?"

For a moment, Prompto is so taken aback he doesn't even process what Ignis is saying. It's astonishment, really. He can't remember the solemn man ever really speaking to him beyond a perfunctory 'hello' as their paths crossed in the parking lot after school.

"Gladio," Ignis explains, something like amusement playing across his features. "He may be occasionally rough around the edges, but he's a good man. You're lucky to have a chance to learn from him. He doesn't take many students."

"Well, he almost didn't take me," Prompto replies. They've just finished another loop of the track. He figures a few more times around should just about do it for today. "I'm not even sure if he's still my trainer or not. I kind of ambushed him."

He hears Noctis stifle a laugh from a few paces behind him. Ignis shoots the prince an admonishing glance and continues. "Yes, well he's impressed with your progress. He said he didn't think you had it in you."

All of the sudden, Prompto is very happy that they're running so hard. He thinks he can probably pass off the brief coloring of his cheeks as exertion. "Hmmm," is his only response.

They're quiet after that, the only sounds are their footfalls and breathing, and the occasional shriek of children from the playground.

He feels the rock underfoot at the last second, too late to do anything but frantically throw his hands out in front of himself as he goes down, hard. His right knee twists beneath him and hurts like a son of a bitch. It's a familiar pain. He realizes with humiliation that Noctis and Ignis have both slowed to a stop and are looking down at him with twin looks of concern.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Prompto insists, trying to wave them off. "I've done this before, no big deal." He has a history with this knee, but this is the first time it's acted up in quite a while. He's just glad it didn't happen one of the times that Gladiolus was watching him. Prompto attempts to rise and his knee immediately gives out on him; he falls back to the ground with an 'oomph'.

Ignis drops to his knees beside him and just like that, the older man is all business. He's clipped and concise and Prompto's more than a little impressed at how quickly he transitions from casual friend to caretaker. Ignis' slender hands encircle Prompto's knee, fingers probing delicately at the sore flesh. It's beginning to swell and darken. Prompto takes a sharp breath, hissing slightly, when he presses on the spot where the pain's the worst, but besides that it's not too bad.

"Nothing torn," Ignis announces, as he releases Prompto's leg, rocking back onto his own heels. "Just sprained, I believe." He rises and begins to brush the red track dust from his pants. Prompto feels a twinge of embarrassment for making the normally uptight man kneel in the dirt.

"It's an old injury." This time he accepts the help as both Noctis and Ignis reach down to pull him up. He stands, carefully balanced on his uninjured leg, and when Noctis offers his shoulder for support, Prompto takes it gratefully.

Between the two of them, they manage to get Prompto to the car with no further incident. As he slides into the backseat, ignoring the twinge of pain in his knee, he's secretly relieved the prince and his advisor are there to help. He doesn't even want to imagine the walk home otherwise.

"So," Noctis asks, once the car is underway. It's starting to get dark and the streetlights flickering to life cast alternating bright and dark bars of light across his face. "How long until I can officially make fun of you for this?"

Prompto groans and hangs his head. "At least give me until I heal. By then, I'm sure you'll have plenty of ammo anyway." He sighs unhappily. "There's no way he'll teach me now. I'm pretty sure being able to walk is one of those things you have to do to fight. How embarrassing."

He catches Ignis' eyes in the rearview mirror; they look like he's smiling. "I wouldn't be so sure."

The next morning is a Saturday and Prompto's exhausted, so he sleeps until almost noon. He's annoying at himself for setting his training schedule so far back but also a little grateful that he won't have to do anything today.

There's a package on his porch when he hobbles out to check the mail. His name is scrawled across the top in an untidy script, but other than that the box is blank. He frowns as he opens it, at a loss as to what it might be. He knows he hasn't ordered anything recently, and no one ever sends him mail.

Inside, there's a knee brace. A good one, he realizes, with much more support than the old one he's been using. Digging deeper into the box, he comes up with a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers. There's a note wrapped around it.

'Next Saturday. 3 pm.'

It's not signed, but it doesn't need to be. Prompto smiles at the warm rush of pride he feels in his chest as he slips the note into his pocket.