Like Gladio, Prompto tried not to think too much about Insomnia. Anything he had needed - Noct and a memory card - he had taken with him. There wasn’t much he’d left behind. But the feeling of the place was something to miss. The ease of life there that he had more than taken for granted. He missed the stupid things. Bubble tea, the arcade, that space between the buildings in his apartment complex where the evening sun sunk down and casted reflected light across the walkway. Unlike the others he didn’t really have anyone to miss or grieve. A text message to the people he’d called parents but who never really were in the days after the fall that had gone unanswered and that was that.
“Naw, I’ve got a room behind the garage,” he answered and started them in that direction.
And he missed space. Which was weird since Insomnia was crowded and all buildings going high and stacked close together. But his apartment had been his and had a bedroom, a kitchen, a living room and a bathroom all of his own. He opened the door to a room, attached to the main garage building but at least a little private. And it definitely looked like what it was, a work and storage room that had been turned into a living space by necessity. Shelves lined the walls with various items and supplies, a long work bench against the back that had a few ongoing projects of Prompto’s along with binders stacked up high: labels in his writing indicating they were records of different kinds of supplies. A queen mattress (shamelessly stolen from a motel in one of the outposts gone under) had been placed on the floor, and a few duffle bags that were the extent of Prompto’s personal belongings next to it.
“Home sweet home?” he half said, half asked with a little laugh and a shrug. He moved to lean back against the work bench and suddenly realized that this kind of looked like he was indicating Gladio should stay here. Which - he wasn’t entirely opposed to he found, but also felt like maybe that wasn’t what Gladio wanted and really things were easier before they had slept together. “I - uh -” a rub of his hand against the back of his neck. “I could probably find you a room somewhere else too, or some of the hunters crash in the back of Takka’s…” the sort of unspoken if you wanted lingered after his words. "Or here works," a shrug. He was terrible at this.
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“Naw, I’ve got a room behind the garage,” he answered and started them in that direction.
And he missed space. Which was weird since Insomnia was crowded and all buildings going high and stacked close together. But his apartment had been his and had a bedroom, a kitchen, a living room and a bathroom all of his own. He opened the door to a room, attached to the main garage building but at least a little private. And it definitely looked like what it was, a work and storage room that had been turned into a living space by necessity. Shelves lined the walls with various items and supplies, a long work bench against the back that had a few ongoing projects of Prompto’s along with binders stacked up high: labels in his writing indicating they were records of different kinds of supplies. A queen mattress (shamelessly stolen from a motel in one of the outposts gone under) had been placed on the floor, and a few duffle bags that were the extent of Prompto’s personal belongings next to it.
“Home sweet home?” he half said, half asked with a little laugh and a shrug. He moved to lean back against the work bench and suddenly realized that this kind of looked like he was indicating Gladio should stay here. Which - he wasn’t entirely opposed to he found, but also felt like maybe that wasn’t what Gladio wanted and really things were easier before they had slept together. “I - uh -” a rub of his hand against the back of his neck. “I could probably find you a room somewhere else too, or some of the hunters crash in the back of Takka’s…” the sort of unspoken if you wanted lingered after his words. "Or here works," a shrug. He was terrible at this.