The worst part was that Gladio was absolutely right. And Prompto knew it. He’d made that morning about as awkward as awkward got and of course that’s what Gladio took from it. Because that’s how it had looked. So why would he stay. Prompto sure as hell wouldn’t if someone had done that to him.

But hadn’t that been the point he reminded himself. That the night before had just been fueled by desperation, misplaced emotions… two friends getting carried away in an attempt to find some kind of solace in the never ending darkness.

But if that’s all it was… why did the thought of Gladio leaving hurt so damn much. Why was it sheer panic at the idea of watching Gladio drive off and not being certain when (not if, never if - Noct was coming back… eventually, Gladio would be there when that happened) he’d ever see the other man again.

He’d had sex plenty of times and walked away without a second thought. Why was it so damn hard to do it now.

He rubbed his eyes again, forced the breakdown away and let his hands drop with an audible exhale once at least somewhat more composed. “I -” he bit at his lip and started again. “I know, and I’m sorry. I - I kind of.. Freaked out I guess,” he tried to explain. He took a deep breath and closed a bit of the space between him and Gladio. “I just… I don’t sleep with people, I mean, I sleep with people but I don’t like, you know… sleep sleep with them and it was…” he can feel the redness across his face as he completely botched any attempt at translating the jumbled mess of his mind to Gladio. “And it was nice and I don’t know… I just…” a shrug. “Freaked out.” He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, certain he probably looked like a tomato with hair right about then.