002. prompto/gladio; i'm yours

[messofhangups]

anywhere you go i’ll be going too because i belong to you

( Silence settles between the group after Noctis tells them what really is about to happen tomorrow. Not that it's surprising, what really can you say to that. Nothing. Nothing that wouldn't take more time than they currently had at least. Though after a few minutes it seems like Ignis was tempted to at least try. And it wasn't hard, to slip away a little. Round the back of the haven and jump to the ground like he used to years ago. Not entirely away, and his back against the rock of the haven still safe, but just a bit out of sight. Noct's words heavy on his heart as he looks out over the landscape, littered with the tell tale flicker of flames of countless daemons. Their new world. And it was strange to think that tomorrow it might all be changed. Ten years. They had waited ten years for Noctis to come back and all they had was this? A handful of days and nothing more. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair. Not for them and sure as hell not for Noct. Prompto's heart breaks for his friend, for the raw deal he had been handed and how he'd never gotten a chance. Ten years looked in a crystal was no life at all. And while the world was in ruins at least Prompto could say he lived these past ten years. As hard and as downright heartbreaking they could be there had still been good. There had still been moments that made the bad times seem a little less that. Noctis hadn't gotten that and it kills Prompto. The years he's missed and will now miss again. And it's not that the possibility of none of them coming back from this fight hasn't crossed his mind. It's just hard to know that in Noct's case it's an inevitably and not just a possibility. He sinks to the ground, one leg stretching out and the knee of the other bent up. Selfishly he lets his mind wander to other things. The things he's longed to tell Noct for ten years. How strong he's gotten, how many daemons he's taken out and how the world as awful as it was had still pulled itself together. How amazing he thought that was, people helping people and making it work. And Gladio. Gods how he's wanted to tell Noctis about Gladio. It hadn't exactly been a secret before Noct left — after everything following Altissia, the tension that had settled between them from the fallout of Ignis’ losing his sight and the way Gladio and Noctis had been at each others throats things hadn't been great and then Prompto fell from the train. The emotional toll that had been, everything that had happened to him and Ardyn’s games, well, could Prompto really be blamed for the way he had flung his arms around Gladio when they were finally reunited, effectively ruining any last semblance of secrecy to their relationship. But still… that was ten years ago. And even more selfishly he thinks of five years ago. When they had first spoken the words marriage. An idea that while they both wanted never sat well without having Noctis there to see it. Their friend, their family in all the ways that mattered. It had just never seemed right without him. After all, it was Noctis really that had brought them together. If Prompto hadn't befriended Noct, well, none of this would have happened. Prompto’s pretty sure he probably wouldn't even be here in general right now if it hadn't been for Noctis. And he knows now if they do manage to make it out in Insomnia in one piece it will be the same — and as much as he doesn't want to be selfish and wallow in that pain, he can't help it. He glances up as he hears footsteps above him and then back out forward when he sees it's Gladio. A small shrug of shoulders — shoulders that had filled out a little in those ten years, he was still all lean muscle but not quite as scrawny as he'd been barely into his twenties. The heel of his hand presses hard into his eyes and he takes a moment before he speaks. ) This sucks. ( Understatement of a lifetime. )

Comments

[oversights]

( sometimes, he catches himself wondering how he'd made it through those ten years without thinking — at least once — that they were never going to get here. that they would find themselves around the same campfire again, as friends, brothers, the sort of thing brought together by circumstance and held together by sheer force of will. how many nights had he spent, lying awake and thinking of the moment the crystal had taken their prince ( king ) inside of itself, held him captive for the pass of so damned many years that he's almost convinced he's forgotten what the sun even looks like?

an unfair question, when it all comes down to it, because this is where their journey had taken them. and sometimes, he catches himself thinking about the words his majesty had given them on the day of their departure from the crown city, as sure as he'd ever given anything before, carrying so much more weight than they'd been aware of in their ignorance.

( you place a great burden on those who would bear with you.
i ask not that you guide my wayward son, merely that you remain at his side. )

gladio still, sometimes, isn't sure of what to think of the fact that their king knew all too well what fate awaited his son. perhaps it had been out of a simple need to let him live as he'd seen fit, without the weight of something so precarious resting on his shoulders, when the expectations of the crown prince as a whole were already too much. some manner of protection from what lay ahead, in the larger scheme of things — at the very least, he could rest assured that it wasn't out of anything but love for the son whose destiny would not wait for him.

they have one night left that they can take for their own, and none of them really know what to do with the time. seconds, minutes, hours that seem to dissipate beneath the decade that's already passed them by, the darkness stretching out in all its infinity, mindless of that which plots to end it.

he watches carefully when prompto disappears, wanting to follow immediately but forcing himself to wait a moment, another still, a handful before he's slipping to trace the same path with worn boots, careful steps that lead him to where he's got his back braced against the rock, sinking down next to him with a small exhale that sounds … like something's missing.

( he tries not to think of the things they've talked about in the interim, the things they want so selfishly for themselves — if only because it's been so long since he's thought himself belonging to anyone other than the one sitting beside him, pale and beautiful and perfect. even himself, and that goes without saying, because a heart isn't worth anything at all if it isn't worth giving to someone else. )

gladio hums, leans close, until their shoulders brush and he finally stills, drawing both of his knees up and draping his arms over them. ) That's one way of puttin' it. ( he tries for a laugh, and it falls just short, something that catches in the back of his throat and holds it hostage. ) Couldn't have said it better myself.

What're you doin' out here by yourself, though?

[messofhangups]

( The presence settling beside him is something he’s both used to but at the same time entirely not. In the way that there’s still moments he glances up, catches eyes on him and feels the same skip of a heartbeat that he had a decade ago. But there’s a deep seated comfort now there too, the way the world just clicks into place a little bit more when Gladio is next to him. Something past love and want, something Prompto would be hard pressed to explain but that just exists. Something forged in an endless night, and Prompto knows that every inch of the man he’s become in the space between being the kid who’d watched his best friend get sucked into some magical crystal was completely and fully entwined with every inch of the man Gladio had become. And it’s a thought that’s filtered through his brain more than once, that he honestly doesn’t even know what he’d do without the other now. That he wouldn't even know where to begin to try.

His head falls lightly against Gladio’s shoulder. Drawing strength as he so often did from these quiet moments. In the knowing that even if the world was bound and determined to fall at their feet they still had this , they still had each other.

Another little shrug as he lifts his head, rubs a hand across the back of his neck. ) Just — I don’t know, needed a minute to process it I guess? ( Although really, was there any processing this. Where they had all started, where they were now. Sometimes it felt like a completely different life to him. That dumb kid who had been in way over his head, tagging along for the ride at the insistence of his best friend and dealing with things so much bigger than himself. And had he even the smallest inkling back then of just how things would end up? Well — he would have still done it.

Still though — he longs for something else, something more, for Noct, for all of them. Some cheesy happy ending that if he’s truly honest with himself he’s always known was never coming. Those little doubts during long, sleepless nights where he kind of knew deep down this was how it was always going to end. That Noctis’ destiny was always heading towards this conclusion — something bigger than any of them could have ever wrapped their head around, filled with prophecies and words that seemed so unlike the kid they’d all loved so much back then who slept too much and played to many video games. Maybe that’s what hurts the most, that they’d all only been fooling themselves to have faith in anything but the end they were now staring down. That every moment he had spent cataloguing their lives in the interim, carefully keeping photographs and other memories of the past ten years so that when Noct finally came back to them he would have their lives on record to show was all in vain in the end.

It wasn't fair. A thought he's had countless of times now since the inkling in the back of his mind during his less optimistic moments had become a nightmare of a reality. Noctis deserved so much more. Ignis and Gladio who had given their lives from a young age to their prince deserved more than being told there were things they simply couldn’t protect him from.

He slides a hand down Gladio’s arm, along his hand and then brings his other up, holding the larger hand in both of his. Fingers ghost over his knuckles as he talks. ) I just — I don’t know, wish there was another way you know? It’s not fair, he already gave up ten years, it’s not fair he has to give up — everything

( He pauses, swallows and then shakes his head as he lets it drop. ) And then there’s the whole part of me being a selfish asshole because there’s all that but there’s also that I just — ( Another little pause, his fingers lacing through Gladio’s ) Fuck, Gladio, I just really wanted to marry you. ( And it was so dumb, because Prompto knew it wasn’t something that needed to happen — they were together, he knew they were together and nothing was changing that, he didn't need some ring on his finger to prove that (it was just the idea, the thought of being able to say I belong to him and he belongs to me in every way possible that Prompto has clung to, has let himself get attached to) — and there were clearly more important things to worry about than what he wanted. But it would never feel right, it would never be right, with anything less than the four of them there when it happened. And he felt so selfish to be hung up on it, but maybe, maybe it was just culmination of all of it, wrapped up in one tangible idea. Noct was not back, it was just a short layover to the inevitable and he was going to miss not only his own life, but theirs too. )