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“Still…. waiting?”
Looking up, Prompto flashed the girl a smile and she seemed to relax just a little bit. He didn’t blame her for being nervous, even though he never thought he looked particularly threatening. Out here on the border settlements, it was easy to get hurt if you weren’t suspicious of everything and everyone, and a man sitting alone in the back of a bar ordering nothing but water for almost two hours was suspicious. “I’m starting to think I’ve been stood up,” Prom tacked on with a laugh, and she gave him a sympathetic look. “Sorry. Don’t see how. I mean… I wouldn’t have.” Tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear nervously, she looked away and shifted her weight. “Sorry, I’ll…,” she sighed, “This is awkward. I’m just gonna…. Go. Flag me if you want me to get you anything? ‘Kay?” And with that she turned on her heel and hurried off, hiding her face in her hands. Prom watched her walk away, feeling a little bad for her. How many years had he embarrassed himself in pretty much the same way, awkwardly flirting with his friends? Too many to count, he’d realized and he felt his face heat up just thinking about it. He wondered if they had felt bad for him, or if they’d even noticed. Why would they have ever looked at him like that? Prom was just a nobody. A sigh — ’Don’t you know you lose happiness when you sigh?’ Prom could still hear his mother’s voice telling him that, even though she’s been gone for a long time — escaped him then as he sat back in the chair, giving the room a cursory glance, sharp lilac blue eyes scanning the milling patrons for the person he was looking for. It hadn’t been a complete lie, what Prom had told the waitress, but it wasn’t what she’d thought either. A few days ago, he had managed to track down a favorite haunt of a smuggler known for kidnapping droids and unceremoniously selling them off or pulling them apart for scrap. It turned his stomach, just thinking about it, how someone could do that to a sentient being. It reminded him of Besithia, how he hadn’t seen the life he’d created as anything more than a means to an end, just a serial number. One of millions. But Prompto had swallowed his anger and posed as a potential buyer, asking after parts he knew would be expensive to pique his interest and get him to agree to sit down and talk. Prompto wasn’t sure if he was even going to show, if somehow he’d gotten wind it was a set up. Which, as glad as Prom was to not have to sit across from him and look into his dead eyes, he wanted to put an end to his dealings more. That was when he noticed a jittery, nervous looking person walk in. Android, he corrected, when he saw them turn and saw the characteristic lock over their charging port. Knocking twice on the table, which had been the signal he’d conveyed to the smuggler, Prom watched the android jump and then turn to him. Prom offered them the chair opposite them and when all the eyes in the bar turned away from them, Prom rested his right arm on the table, sleeve pushed back just enough to show his barcode. “You’re-!” “Yeah,” Prom cut them off with a hushed whisper, but a soft smile. “I take it he’s not gonna show.” To that, the android shook their head and looked down at the table. “What’s your name,” Prompto asked quietly and they just shrugged in return. “I’ve gotta call you something,” he insisted as he reached into his inside pocket to pull out a special tool he’d made specifically to get those lock collars off. “What do you want to be called?” “... Riza?” “Riza, it is. It’s nice to meet you,” Prom replied, a warmth in his smile that only widened when Riza returned it with a tentative smile of their own. “Let me see that lock.” Holding both hands up so they could see, Prom made quick work of the device once the android leaned in and he pocketed it to dispose of later. “Since there’s no point in hanging around here, let’s go. Anywhere you’ve ever dreamed of seeing?” Standing up, Prom left behind a too-generous tip for someone who only ordered water all night along with his calling card and headed towards the back exit, keeping his head down as he escorted the android out. Just as he was heading out the door, he heard the girl’s voice ring out, loud and clear, “It was him! It was the Captain!” Shaking his head, he kept walking. |
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Being back in the outer edges after his brief stay on Andromeda was a bit strange if Gladio was honest with himself. Or maybe it was just that constant doubt of had he done the right thing by leaving Noctis in the first place. Even just what he figured would be temporary. Sever some ties out here, finish a few jobs, attempt to get his shit together and then… well, and then was still a bit of an unknown really. As tempting as the idea of going back to Andromeda - to Noctis - was, he still wasn't entirely convinced it was the best move.
Of course all of that was moot if he couldn't score a gig to keep himself flying in the near future. So he'd headed into the bar, hoping to find a lead on a job. A plan that was quickly sidelined as he heard the chatter as he headed in, apparently just a few moments behind the illusive Captain and Gladio couldn't help but shake his head a little at the tizzy. At least until his eyes fell on the feather left behind on the table he'd eyed out for himself. It was dumb really. It was a feather. Nothing special really. Except Gladio knew that feather. He'd seen it time and time again on the road trip, read about it, studied it. And where before he might have been inclined to write it off as coincidence. Or not even have given in a second glance, it tugged at him now. He was there. Noctis was there. And for the first time since he'd heard of the person himself, Captain Quicksliver of the Praespero suddenly sounded like something else entirely. Gladio paused, picked up the feather and twirled it between his fingers. It was a fucking long shot and a half and he knew it. But Noctis was there. And had been there. It was a long shot, but it wasn't an impossibility and for the first time in nearly a year, Gladio was finally opening up slowly to the idea of hope again, of ridiculous coincidences and the idea of fate tying them all together and ensuring that somehow, they would all find each other again. Well, that and if he didn't at least look he'd be a really shitty friend. Feather in hand, Gladio darted out the back of the bar - sure he couldn't be that far behind given the chatter and he glanced around the area. Sure enough up ahead he could see a blonde man - gait familiar and gods he didn't want to get his hopes up but yet there he was - flanked by another person. "Captain?" Gladio called out when he was in hearing range. Tone not necessarily friendly, but not rude either. Just a means of getting attention. |
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A long time ago, Prompto had given up on hope. Truthfully, it was less given up and more felt it die because he had. More than just his best friend was laid to rest that day; Prompto had buried hope and happiness too. His soul had fracture, part of it died and pieces of it were estranged from him when he and Ignis and Gladio went their separate ways and knowing he could never be whole again killed that optimistic hopefulness he had always carried around in his heart. Prom had felt that fire in him burn out, unable to sustain itself, and he felt his body run cold. Fueled only by a determination not to waste the life Noctis had given his own to make possible, Prompto struggled to find some kind of meaning in life, something to live for because he needed that reason to help make sense of everything. To help him get out of bed in the morning when the pain in his chest made him want to stay and wither away like that hope he’d let die.
A long time ago, Prompto had given up on hope and then a too-familiar and yet somehow strange voice was behind him. But that was impossible and there was just enough doubt in Prom’s heart to convince him he’d heard wrong. There was no other explanation. Prom was sentimental even if it hurt him and maybe he just wanted it to be him, wanted to turn and see who he had mistaken that voice for, but he was gods knew how far away from Eos, from that place he had called home once when he had still felt like it was. But Eos has stopped being home around the same time that hope left him, all his feelings of safety and belonging and comfort drying up and disappearing too. There had been nothing left of the world he’d known, and when the people he’d loved, the ones he had left, walked out of his life, even though it wasn’t done out of malice, Prom felt the last of his ties there snap and he was left, untethered, on this stormy sea of mourning and loss with nothing but the vastness of the ocean and those terrifyingly tall waves around him. No beacon or light to be found, no port or safe haven. Whatever had pulled him here ten months ago had done him no small mercy in saving him from that. Prom still edged along that brutal and tempestuous water, but he wasn’t just adrift in it anymore. He had found something like purpose here, something to distract him from the feeling of slowly drowning, as the captain of a ship that stood for hope for others, as a beacon and a safe haven for those suffering. Tense, and fearing that the voice belonged to another agent of that smuggler who had tried to trick him, or maybe even the man himself, pissed that Prom had stolen what the smuggler considered his “property” by liberating Riza, Prom didn’t move for a moment. Quickly contacting Ciri back on the ship, he checked in with her, told her he was sending a guest back and that he might have run into trouble. If she didn’t hear from him again in twenty minutes, then it was safe to assume the worst. Handing Riza one of his, well, what he still called phones even though they were more than that, he showed Riza how to use it and where they could find where one of his crew members would meet them to take them the rest of the way to the Praespero, never too cautious. They were wanted vigilantes with thousands or maybe millions in bounties on their heads. On his head. Giving away the ship’s location was just too risky. That was when he turned and hope, once thought long dead, flickered inside him like dim embers being fanned to bring them back from the brink. Eyes wide, Prompto tried to suck in a breath but it was like he’d been kicked right in the chest and it just wouldn’t expand. The hand he had poised over his revolver fell limply to his side and, as if made of stone, he stood there, motionless, even though every atom in him wanted to close the distance between them, to put his hands on that ghost to see if he was real. But he just couldn’t move. “Gladio,” Prompto questioned weakly, voice barely above a whisper, full of disbelief and so many other emotions, so many that Prom couldn’t name them all and wouldn’t. Doing that wouldn’t only make this hurt more if he was wrong. But how could he be wrong if proof was right there? When Prompto finally managed to breathe in deep, it tasted like seawater and it felt like drowning. |
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Regret was a constant for Gladio. The kind that mingled with the guilt of his failures and his inability to push past Noctis' death. The regret at shutting Prompto out in the wake of all of that, that was one that weighed heavy on Gladio, and had for years now. That he had taken the easy way out and just let that distance seep in, grow and finally get to a point that had seemed far too insurmountable to fix. But as hard as it had been when Noctis had just been in the crystal, it had become a million times worse once he was gone - and Gladio hadn't had it in himself to mend a damn thing really.
And it pulled at him even more when Prompto turned. When a familiar gait became a familiar face and Gladio realized just how long they both must of been there without knowing. Gladio knew, logically, that even if he'd had been in the mental state to look for Prompto, he may not have still found him. But that didn't stop the guilt from rushing over him at never having even tried. Much like the guilt he felt for doing the same with Noctis. He was supposed to take care of them, all of them, and he hadn't even made an attempt to do so. But as he looked over Prompto in front of him he realized he could at least do something. If nothing else Prompto deserved to know Noctis was there too, and Noctis deserved to have Prompto back as well. He could manage to make that one a reality at the very least. "Hey, Prompto," Gladio replied. He took a few more steps forward, closing some more of that distance but wholly prepared to back off if it seemed too much. He lifted his hand that still held the feather and twirled it lightly. "Some calling card you got." |
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Guilt, regret, sorrow — Prompto knew them well, too. And it was… deceptively easy to grow accustomed to their weight, the chill that came with them, until it became easier to hold them close than try to push them away. Not that Prompto had much strength to even try to reach the surface. Being numb hurt less in the end, and being numb was how he was still standing now. Except he could feel things starting to wake up inside him, old emotions and dreams that he had tried to lock away slowly trying to come back to life.
This was why hope was dangerous and why he hadn’t missed it once it had died. Hope could kill him and it would do it sweetly, holding his hand the whole time and whispering kind words to him as he slipped away. Prompto felt strange as Gladio looked him over and he couldn’t help but wonder what his old friend saw. Did he see a person he remembered? Or did he see a stranger? Studying Gladio’s face, Prompto wasn’t sure who he saw. So much was the same but there was something different, something missing. Prom got that same feeling anytime he caught an image of himself in the mirror, when the face that looked back at him just didn’t reflect what he expected. The sun had risen, but the light hadn’t returned, Prompto had realized, and it was clear in his face, in his own eyes. Maybe it was true for Gladio too. Despite the fact they were out in the open, the expanse of the sky stretching over them, Prompto felt claustrophobic. The closer Gladio got, the further the pit of Prom’s stomach dropped and if he hadn’t still been frozen, he might have instinctively taken a step back. But at the same time…. there was something comforting about Gladio being closer. Everything was a mess of contradictions and it was confusing. “Hey,” he answered finally, tone even but stretched thin, too many emotions pulling it into too many directions at the same time. Seeing the feather, Prom offered a half-smile. “You like it?” |
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The loss of Noctis had broken them all. Left them hollow husks of the men they had once been. And maybe that was why it had always been so easier to let the distance settle between them. They could fake being "okay" for other people. Could pretend well enough. But under the gaze of each other… it was a whole other story.
It was a little surreal though, standing there and looking over Prompto, knowing now that Prompto and the mysterious Captain of the Praespero were one in the same. Not that he didn't think Prompto capable of the tales that surrounded the ship and its crew. Gladio had long held to the belief that Prompto was far more capable than most, including Prompto himself, ever gave him credit for. And as surreal as it might have felt, Gladio was happy to know Prompto had found some kind of purpose in this new world. Which was a lot more than Gladio could say for himself. Gladio managed a small smile at Prompto's question, though his own worry that Prompto might not want to hear him out, or it might be too much if he did kept the smile from being anything more than just a motion. "Suits you," he offered. And there was something bittersweet about it too, a little part of their home here so very far away from it. "You got a bit of time?" he asked. "Wouldn't mind catching up." |
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More than just hollow, Prompto was broken. At least if something was hollow, it could be filled with something, anything, even if it wasn’t good. But he was fractured, patched up badly with high walls that hid just how many pieces he was in and just how obvious it was that all of those pieces couldn’t come back together to make a whole. Those walls were good at making him look okay though, which is what they were for. That, and to help keep was what left of him close because he had already lost so much.
Standing across from Gladio was surreal too because it was like stumbling across an old ghost in an unexpected place. If Riza hadn’t seen him too, Prompto would have thought he was hallucinating because how was it possible that he was here? Nevermind that Prompto had fallen backwards into this foreign space, but it was so vast that it seemed almost impossible for them to accidentally run into each other, so many bars in so many towns on so many planets that the fact they managed to find each other just seemed statistically miraculous when they had never once run into each other by accident back on Eos after they had separated. Prompto hated fate, had grown bitter towards it after learning what fate and destiny had demanded of Noctis, but he couldn’t help but wonder if this was the hand of fate trying to apologize. He didn’t miss the lack of real feeling in the smile Gladio returned but Prompto was guilty of that too, too afraid and hurt to muster the same emotions that had come to him so freely so long ago. Still, he felt more of that waking up in him the longer he stood here, like his heart was acting independently of his brain and it wanted to speak instead, it wanted control, when it had been silenced for so long. “You think so? I almost went with a chocobo feather, but this one was just…. The crew liked it better. It was more powerful looking to them, I guess.” Prompto shrugged, his smile softening a little at the edges. “Just let me contact the bridge first.” There was so much more that Prom wanted to say but he couldn’t get the words to come out. That he always had time for Gladio was one of them, but his throat closed up. That he missed him, but the words were too heavy on his tongue. Finally able to move, he paced a little as he called up to the Praespero, letting them know that he was okay and he was going to stay for a little longer. Prompto was a little surprised when the voice on the other end asked him if he was really okay. He assured them that he was fine, that he wasn’t in danger and they let it go. No, he wasn’t in danger but he certainly was edging close to trouble. Turning back to Gladio, Prompto found himself just staring for a moment, memorizing him all over again in case this was the last time. It always felt like the last time. “We can go anywhere but back to that bar,” he joked. |
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Gladio's own smile started to soften as well as Prompto mentioned his crew. It was undeniable the way the other man perked up as he talked about them, even just a little. And Gladio hoped whoever was involved there had given Prompto a little bit of something to hold onto. A way to maybe start to patch himself back together, if there was such a thing for any of them. He just nodded as Prompto said he had to radio back and focused his gaze elsewhere, not sure if it was his place to really linger on that call.
Gladio was grateful though, as Prompto's attention fell back on him, that this random happenstance came about now. As opposed to even a few weeks ago. A bit more cleaned up than he had been for most of his time in the Galaxy, the scruff looking purposeful instead of simply not taking care of himself. He huffed a small laugh at the joke, shrugged. "I've got a ship," he offered. "Just a bit up that way," he said and started them off in the mentioned direction. He was quiet as they walked, not really wanting to get into much while out in the open. When they came upon his ship, far smaller than the Praespero, he led Prompto in and to a small kitchenette/sitting area. Where Henruit immediately came to investigate. Gladio knelt down to greet the dog, speaking low as he gave a few good ear scratches. "Henruit, Prompto -" Gladio started to introduce as he stood up, "Prompto, Henruit." He moved to the fridge as Henruit wandered over to check out their new guest. "Want a drink? I've got… water… some tea -" and that was about it. |
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His crew turned into the family Prompto didn’t know he needed, a real purpose and thing to fight for, just like this cause he was standing behind and charging forward with. Making the world a better place for them was everything that kept him going, even when his body was made of lead and just throwing his legs over the edge of the bed seemed like an insurmountable feat. Knowing that there were people counting on him made him try, and that was more than could have been said for those three long years he’d spent on Eos after they had buried their king and friend. Back there, Prompto had lost everything, or at least, he believed he had, and belief was a powerful thing.
“Can’t wait to see it,” Prompto replied, his voice a little lighter as he followed. He wasn’t sure how close to walk next to Gladio, and ultimately settled for just over an arm’s length and slightly behind him. The whole time though, he could remember when he would practically hang off of him, not afraid to casually touch Gladio like he was now. Besides the physical distance between them now, there was something more that Prompto felt pushing (or was it pulling?) him away. Holding his tongue on the walk back was all too easy, because he didn’t know what to say. Small talk seemed stupid and he wasn’t about to talk to Gladio about the weather. Prompto thought about asking him what he’d been up to, but that just seemed like an invasion of privacy now, so he didn’t. No, he just stayed quiet too, looking more at the ground than anywhere else. When the ship came into view, Prompto’s eyes looked it over. He was familiar with the model to a degree. Months ago, he’d piloted one of these but that was before he got the Praespero. Inside, he was surprised at the sound of clicking claws on the floor and even more surprised when a dog appeared. Slowly dropping himself low, Prom held his hand out for the dog to let it smell him, cracking up when Gladio introduced them. “You would name a dog Henruit,” he managed to choke out between bouts of laughter. “Water’s fine.” Prompto’s attention lingered on the dog for a few seconds more, petting them gently, glad for the momentary distraction to at least try to gather his thoughts. They were still entirely chaotic, but not as much as before. “So…” A great start, really. It would have been better if Prompto had actually followed that up with anything of substance. But he didn’t. |
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Gladio almost replied that Noctis had given him shit about the name too, but bit the remark back just in time. Instead he just mutered a yeah, yeah and set about getting them both a glass of water. Momentarily he wished for something a bit stronger for the conversation that was about to happen - but Noct and EDI had done a pretty damn thorough job of cleaning out the ship. And he didn't much blame Noctis for it, Gladio knew it looked like what it was. A problem. Travelling alone with bottles stashed in random cupboards and nooks wasn't exactly the healthiest of ways to live.
He set a glass down for Prompto and then sat on one of the crates that served as makeshift chairs for the small table. The dead air after Prompto's so... feeling heavy and awkward. And Gladio could remember when conversation flowed easy between them. During breakfasts after morning runs, afternoons spent with Noct and Iggy, all those hours of downtime on the trip when they easily chatted away over the seat of the Regalia, or poking around the little shops at rest stops, grabbing food. It had always been easy for Gladio to fall into conversation with Prompto, even without Noctis as a buffer. Until it hadn't been. Because there was a huge difference between Noctis simply not being there that day and Noctis being gone. Gladio knew he could fill the silence with idle chit chat. Give a few lines of what he'd been up to, glossing over the more depressing details. But it didn't feel right somehow. It would, in the end, just be delaying the inevitable. The conversation they needed to have, regardless of how hard it would be. And while there was a small part of him that felt like maybe he shouldn't say anything, uproot what Prompto had going on and throw it all into chaos, he knew that wasn't right either. Prompto deserved to know. "There's - uh - something I need to tell you, and it's going to sound… insane. But I swear to you I'm telling the truth." He paused, hands curled around his glass. "Noctis is here." A beat. "Uhm not here here," he added quickly, "but in Andromeda." Really, he could beat around the bush forever but in the end it was still going to be a shock, might as well just get it out. |
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Laughing at that response, Prompto almost felt like things were back to the way they used to be. Just two friends, making fun of each other like they used to do. That name was something from home too, a reminder of a different time. It made him think about the roadtrip, how he was always in complete awe at the way Gladio could read in a moving car when just thinking about a book while in one made him nauseous. Even looking at his phone made Prompto carsick sometimes and that was when Ignis was driving. If…
Prompto sobered up as he cut off that train of thought. Nostalgia snuck up on him and sometimes, it was easy to get wrapped up in it and to forget, but in the end, reality would come crashing back in and pull him back down. He lowered himself down onto one of the other crates opposite Gladio at the table, turning the glass of water in circles as a distraction. The weight of that silence after he spoke was crushing and he almost wished he hadn’t said it. It was just another thing to point out how everything had changed. Prompto missed the way things used to be, but he wasn’t sure if that was true for anyone but him. But then Gladio was talking and Prompto was thankful for that. It gave him something else to think about. Insane was something Prompto was, more or less, prepared for. Him and Gladio meeting on this planet could be considered insane. Prompto somehow becoming the captain of a spaceship could be considered insane. Prompto was okay with insane. What he wasn’t prepared for was cruelty and that was exactly what he thought Gladio’s next statement was. Stunned silence overtook him and he sat there, staring at Gladio until the anger swept in. “Wow,” he finally said, and his tone was biting. “Was that supposed to be a joke?” A humorless laugh escaped him. “I think we’re done,” Prompto continued, standing up and heading towards the door. He didn’t turn back around when he spoke next, just throwing his hand up in a half-hearted goodbye because he didn’t even want to look at Gladio again right now. “Thanks for the water.” |
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He'd expected disbelief, but he hadn't quite expected Prompto to just get up and start taking off. So it was a lag of a few seconds before Gladio caught up and reached for Prompto's arm, halting his movements. Not letting the biting tone, the anger that radiated off Prompto get to him because this was more important than any of that. If Prompto wanted to be angry at him, he could deal with that. After he got Prompto to believe him.
"Prom… wait - " he said. He dropped his hand, momentarily - though still prepared to keep Prompto from leaving again if needed though. "I know what it sounds like," he admitted. "But ask yourself this - why would I of all people ever joke about something like this?" Hell, Gladio could barely say Noctis' name back home, let alone ever think of a lie or a joke like this. Everything good about him may have been rotting away inside of him, dying a little bit more every day he had lived without Noctis, without his godsdamn purpose in life - but he wasn't that far gone. "Noctis is here," he said again, every ounce of conviction he had left to give behind the words. He fumbled, dug his device from his jacket pocket, made a few swipes and all but shoved it at Prompto - a photo of himself and Noctis making some goofy pose at the camera, clearly recent given their appearances and the fact the background visible wasn't anywhere they'd been in Eos those brief moments they'd had with Noctis before he took his throne. "I ran into him a few weeks ago in the outer edges. He's here, Prompto - he's alive." There was more, so much more, but Gladio needed Prompto to believe this before anything else could be said. |
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Prompto jumped when he felt that hand on his arm, and it was a second or two before he pulled himself out of thinking how much he missed the comforting strength of it and yanked his arm free. All Prompto wanted was to get out of here because he was going to have a breakdown and he didn't want to do that here. Not when he felt such a horrible disconnect with one of the few people he used to be able to trust. Of all people, Gladio would have been the exact person he would have looked for but now Prompto wasn't so sure that was true.
The only thing that stopped him was the sound of Gladio’s voice and he paused but he still didn’t turn to look at him. Not yet. “I don’t know. Why would you,” Prom returned, voice like acid and it burned all the way along his throat too. It was clear he was hurt and he bit down on his lip almost hard enough to draw blood. It had been a… really long time since Prompto had heard Noct’s name said out loud. Only once had he heard it in the almost year he had spent here and it had come from the doctor on board, asking him what that word meant because he’d woken up screaming it once when he had been laid up in the infirmary after needing surgery to remove a bullet. Prom gave a clipped and non committal response to his question, and they agreed never to talk about it again. Taking a deep breath, Prompto held it as he slowly moved to face Gladio again. “If you knew what it would sound like, why would you say it?” Searching Gladio’s eyes, Prompto tried to find something to believe in, something to hold on to, but he couldn’t. Noctis was just…. He was a memory Prompto didn’t want to belittle, because a memory was all he had of him now. Noctis is here, Gladio repeated again and this time, a horrible sadness swept in and clashed with the anger still in him and Prompto felt weak. Prompto wanted to believe him. More than anything he wanted to believe. Even when Gladio handed him the device, he stared at the picture at the screen and he wanted to believe. But he just…. couldn’t. It looked like him, it really did, and for half a second, a smile tried to really bloom on his features but Prompto just wouldn’t let it. Because to accept that Gladio was telling the truth would open him up to hope and Prompto was sure that was just a certain death. Clicking the screen off because he just couldn’t look at that image anymore, Prompto quietly held the phone back out to Gladio and then shoved his trembling hands into his pockets. “If he’s here, why aren’t you with him then?” |
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They really need some sort of handbook for this, a guide as to how to approach someone with completely world shattering news and not have it turn into a complete clusterfuck. Because Gladio was pretty sure he was failing badly right then. When this was the one thing he really couldn't fail at. Not for Prompto, not for Noctis. They had been best friends, more that that really. Gladio didn't forget, how could he? The way Prompto had inserted himself into Noctis' life and how much that had changed everything for Noctis. Someone who wanted to be there, not laced with duty or a job hanging over every word and move. Someone completely of their own accord.
Gladio knew that maybe he'd let things get to a point that was so broken between him and Prompto that it could never be recovered. And he'd deal with that. It would hurt like hell but he would find a way. Prom and Noct though? They deserved this second chance with each other. Gladio would never forgive himself if he didn't get this conversation to a point where Prompto could at least try to make that contact. He took the device from Prompto, held it in his hands. The question was fair enough really, given everything. And it tore at the guilt he felt for leaving in the first place, still not entirely sure he'd made the right move. Gladio rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and shrugged a little. "I - uh - might be involved with some people that I'm not a hundred percent sure are doing things that are entirely legal and kind of need to sort that out?" Which was the most he had admitted to his nagging doubts of just what he'd fallen into. "Figured I probably shouldn't drag Noct into that mess - given he's been working as a Senator." Gladio might have ruined his name around these parts but he'd be damned if he let Noctis get smeared through the mud alongside him. |
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Gladio was failing. He was, but anyone would have in this situation. Because Prompto wasn't really opening himself up to listening, even though he was still standing here as if he was. How could he, though? Open up? Shutting himself away had been how he had managed to keep himself together and bringing down those walls was like letting go of the only thing keeping him afloat. Without them, Prompto was so sure he'd just sink into the cold, dark abyss and while it was just a little tempting, he wasn't ready.
But also, he had promised not to waste this life that Noctis had sacrificed himself for even if Prompto didn't want it sometimes. Without his best friend, without all of them, he felt lost. It always came back to that fractured feeling, the fact that his heart and soul had been split apart and carried to the far ends of the world, of the universe, it seemed, but Prompto was looking right at a piece of it and it hurt being so close and knowing that he might lose it again. Because this all felt so surreal, like any moment, he would blink and this would be gone again. Memories and ghosts and nothing more. But didn't he and Gladio deserve a second chance too? Prompto missed him too, but he just couldn't get the words out, worried that they weren't what the other man wanted to hear. The guilt on Gladio's face tore at Prompto and he wanted to say that he was sorry. Prompto wanted to say a lot of things. "And I'm the captain of a wanted ship. I have bounties on my head that could pay for a house on Andromeda four times. None of that sounds like it's any better for a senator to get involved with." |
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Gladio just smirked at the reply. "From what I've heard though you're at least doing something good in this world," he paused briefly. "Which is more than I can say for myself." And for the first time since he'd shown up in this world the desire to change that really began to take hold. He didn't want to be coasting by on a technicality anymore. Feigning ignorance to his involvement. Prompto and Noctis had both done something since they had shown up. Something worthwhile. Gladio wanted to be able to say the same for himself.
He just hoped he could get there. "Look, Prompto -" Gladio started as he moved to sit back down. "I'm not gonna tell you what to do, or what to be okay with," because wasn't that half the battle there. The fact this was a huge thing and if Prompto didn't even have the capacity to unpack it then no one could really blame him for that. "But I know how much Noctis means to you, and how much you meant to him, and you both deserve to have that back." He paused briefly and glanced over at Prompto, a wry smirk on his face. "And I think we both know that the only thing Noct will think about you being the Captain of a wanted ship is that it's badass as all hell." |
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“I hope so,” Prompto answered quietly to the comment about him doing good, looking down. It was hard to really say he was doing the right thing, and he was sure there were more than a handful of people across the galaxy who would insist that he wasn’t, but Prompto had needed to do something. It was the right thing to do, and that it helped stave off the hollow feeling inside of him, gave him a reason to keep getting back up was just a bonus. What Gladio said about himself though made Prompto frown a little as he regarded him. After a beat, he put a smile back on his face. “Well if you ever want to be a wanted space pirate, I know a guy.”
The offer was genuine, but Prompto wasn’t sure if Gladio would take him up on it. Maybe seeing him was just a bad reminder of a past life, but Prompto wanted to open that door for him, just in case Gladio wanted him in his life again. “He means the world to me,” was his reply, though he still wasn’t quite sure if he believed Gladio or not about him being here. “And so do you, you know.” And maybe that was a can of worms he should have left alone, but the words were out in the air between them before he could stop them. “We all deserved a lot of things,” he continued and he worried his lower lip between his teeth in thought. |
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Gladio couldn't help but smile a little himself, seeing it cross Prompto's features. But then Prompto had always had a way with that - making him lighten up despite whatever situation they might happen to be in. "Oh yeah? Maybe I'll take you up on it one day," he found himself saying. Truth was Gladio had no clue exactly what he was going to do with - well - anything. He wanted to go back to Andromeda and Noctis, but Noct had a life there. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to take off for a bit of time every now and then with Prompto too - see what the other was up to.
It was the next comments though that Gladio wasn't sure what to say to. Far as he was concerned, he didn't deserve much of anything. His failures - in his mind at least - far outweighed anything grand he might have done to earn a happy ending. Gladio shifted his weight, pressed his lips into a tight line and then moved to find a scrap of paper and something to write with. "Look - " he started, fully intending on just pushing past any conversation of what he might or might not deserve. "If it's too much I get it, but I know he'd be thrilled to know you're out here," he continued as he kept writing. "Here's his number," he paused, jotted down another before he handed the paper to Prompto. "And - uhm - mine too." |
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“Yeah, standing offer.” Prom smiled a little easier when he saw Gladio’s features soften slightly into a smile too, even if he wasn’t sure what would happen after they parted ways. More than anything, he wanted Gladio to stay a part of his life, but he didn’t want to ask that because it felt like demanding something he didn’t have the right to, even if it hurt not to. One day could just as well be never, just a polite way to turn him down without saying no outright.
That felt more likely at the way Gladio’s expression shifted and fell, how he seemed to skim past what Prom had said. It was a risk, opening himself up to that, he knew and Prom focused on pulling himself back, snapping the walls back up because he didn’t want to break himself any more. “It’s not too much, it’s just…” What was it though? Prompto wasn’t sure what, exactly, his hangup was. Was it that he didn’t want to have hope that Noctis was here, that he was really here, only to find out he wasn’t? Or was it the same thing he felt right now? That maybe he was an unwanted memory? He was afraid they didn’t want him in their lives anymore and he would rather live with the uncertainty than with the truth. At least if they never told him they didn’t want him around, he could pretend that maybe one day they would. Falling silent for a moment, Prom just watched Gladio as he jotted something down and hoped he wouldn’t get caught staring. “You think he would be?” Once, Prom wouldn’t have doubted that. Now? He wasn’t so sure. He accepted the paper when it was handed to him, and read over the numbers on them with a small, almost melancholy smile. With a practiced ease, Prompto typed Gladio’s number into his device and sent just a heyy it’s me. “You can have mine too. I’m just a message away, okay? Just like I’ve always been.” |
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"You're his best friend, Prompto," he pointed out gently. The first real friend Noctis had ever had - outside of duty and always shadowed by the worry it was only from obligation. "You meant -" he paused, corrected himself, "mean the world to him. Of course he'd want to know you're here."
Gladio glanced down at his device and quickly saved Prompto's information. "I know you are," he answered. Idly he let himself wonder how different things might be in that moment if he'd been a better friend to Prompto these past years. If he'd had the strength to fight more for their friendship instead of letting all that distance settle between them. "I am too," he added. He set his device down and picked up the feather. He smiled, a little bittersweet, and twirled it between his fingers. "I'm keeping this," he told Prompto. A reminder, of Prompto - of the life they'd all had all those years ago. |
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“Yeah.” It was, admittedly, a lame response, but Prompto didn’t have a better one to offer. All of this seemed too good to be true, like at any moment, he’d wake up and realize that all of this wasn’t real. He wanted it to be, but there was a horrible nagging feeling in the back of his mind and cold, icy fingers wrapped around his heart and he was uneasy.
Part of the blame fell on himself too, Prompto knew, when it came to the distance that had formed between them. He hadn’t reached out as much as he’d wanted, always talking himself out of it or keeping himself too busy to be able to. At first, when they’d all separated, he told himself he had to do it so he could be strong on his own, but eventually that excuse wore thin. That didn’t stop him from trying to use it, but now he couldn’t help but feel that was part of why they had drifted apart. “Seriously. If you ever need to talk, I’m here.” Watching him pick up the feather, Prom tried to return a smile that wasn’t so almost sad, and maybe he managed. Maybe he didn’t. “Go ahead. Something to remember me by.” That seemed bittersweet too, like a goodbye that he didn’t want but he wasn’t sure what to do about it. “I need to get back, but if you ever want to… I don’t know, meet up again, I’d like to.” Prom wanted to hug him but wasn’t sure that he should, so he just offered one last smile, scratched Henruit behind the ears one more time, and left. |
